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Across The Room_Updated 2018

NOTES; Two guys are together, committed to each other for the long run even though, for the present, one wants an open relationship while the other doesn't, but who, because of fear-of-abandonment issues and an honest belief in their love, their destiny, chooses nonetheless to go along. What might happen within him internally as opposed to what he shows externally when he inadvertently finds his partner with someone else in a club where they are somewhat known.

Across the Room

Room twists and spins, melting, dissolving, finally resolving into nothingness when I see you with him. Closing my eyes, I remember how to breathe and the room refocuses, refocusing into the clearest of crystal clarity, but only just where I see you with him, holding him. Only just where I see you touching him with fingertips just as tender, just as caring, just as knowing as when you touch me, as when you hold me. Just as tender, just as caring as when you, only you, know me.
          Everywhere else, everyone else dissolves, white-clothed tables bathed in golden candlelight, the other slow-dancing couples that surround the couple that is you and him. All else pales to sheerest gray. Shimmering all around me. Everywhere else, everyone else loses all relevance except where you are, except who you are, with him. What is real is where you are. Only where you are dancing, sweet slow dancing with him. What is real is who you are. Only who you are when held, when gently held in his arms. Closing my eyes for a second, for only a second, I fear what I've never understood. Why? Why him? Why anyone? Please tell me why you need anyone but me.

        At my side Jonathan asks, You alright? I nod. At my side Marcus asks, You wanna leave? I remind, Marky, we just got here. They lead me away from the door and to the bar. Our friends at my side. Ours. I straddle a barstool, order a drink, turning away from the soft smile of our bartender, away from his questioning eyes as he glances toward you. I follow his glance. His glance toward you, toward you with him. And I watch.
         Watch as tender fingertips, your fingertips, stroke a stray brown curl behind his ear, drift easy across his cheek, and the room quiets, all sound, music, murmuring voices, all silences into nothingness. Except for my heart which pounds a deafening beat only I hear. Closing my eyes for a second, only for a second, I remember how to breathe. Taking, downing my Manhattan, savoring the slight slow burn of whiskey down my throat, I slide my now empty glass across the bar and I turn away.
         Our bartender asks, Another? I nod. Jonathan asks, Sure you’re alright? I nod. Marcus asks, Sure you want to stay? I nod. Fortified, I turn back again, back toward you. Standing, I move toward you until Jonathan says, Charlie? and I hesitate, but only for a second. I close my eyes, but only for a second. I smile to him but still, I walk toward you.
         Then, watching you cup his cheek in your palm, then, watching you caress your thumb down his throat, I stop. Ducking your head, you search his eyes and the space widens immeasurably between us, becomes infinite, impassable. Paralyzed with abrupt understanding, with mind-fucking understanding that swallows me whole, I stop.
         All lies. You said nothing really matters to you but me. All lies. That your love is given only to me. All lies. That the others mean nothing to you. Lies. Lies. Lies. Truth is, when I see you smile at him. Truth is, when I see you kiss him. We are nothing but lies. Fear smelling hot with rage washes over me, pulses through me, pounds into me. Fuck you. Fuck you and all your fucking lies.
         Leaning into you, your arms accepting surrounding defining him as a part of you, he finds a place where I am supposed to be, where I am meant to be. His head on your shoulder, you move with him slow and easy to some far away rhythm when his eyes find mine. And from across the room his slight smile slaps me nearly blind. Closing my eyes for a second, only for a second, I can't quite remember how to breathe.
         Claiming you as his, moving even further into you, melting even more into you, he shields you from me, shields you from even knowing that I’m there as a hundred a thousand a million eyes, all golden candle-lit, are on us. So many eyes all bathed in a golden candlelight on us. Watching me. Watching you. Watching, just waiting so patiently to see what we'll do. Even as, with each new kiss he dusts over your face, along your throat, the pain grows, demanding of me, why? Why do I deal with this shit? Why do I put up with this shit? Why? Because I no longer know how to live without you. Half my life, so many years I've lived at your side that I no longer know how to be without you.
         Coming up behind me, Marcus says, Charlie, let’s go, but I shake my head. Why? Why do I make myself stay? as pain needed? as punishment deserved? as anguish required? Don’t know. I don’t know.
         Seeing me, when you finally see me, you hesitate. Your eyes flick to Marcus beside me, to Jonathan beside me, then back to me, your eyes now reflecting confusion at the pain you see in mine, the anger in theirs. Before coming to me, you hesitate, taking, squeezing his hand. His hand. Fuck you. Fuck. You. Stepping back, stepping away from you, from him, putting distance, even more distance, even more fucking distance between me and you, between me and him. And I wait, confused at the confusion I see in your eyes.
         You say, Thought I left you home.
         I say, Jonathan and Marcus called, wanted to go out. Wouldn't have come, Jason, if I’d know you were here? Closing my eyes for a second, only for a second, I remember how to breathe. I say, You never come here.
         You say, Well, apparently you do. How long...?
         I glance to him, then back to you, I say, Yeah, been here awhile. I watch as you close your eyes, take a deep breath. Knowing, you open your eyes understanding. So, I say, Listen, not a problem, ya know? No big deal. But you’re looking at him. At him. Have to go. Have to. Have to get thefuck away. I say, We’ll just be going, No big deal anyway, right? Plenty of other bars in this town. I never would have--
         Stop. You say, Charlie, stop. Just. Stop.
         So I do. Even if my shaking doesn’t. Even if the room still shimmers gray. Even if I can only just remember how to breathe. Even as I know, even as I have always known, I will only ever love you. So, I stop. What else?
         Talking to you, holding on to you, he tries to wipe away the veil of darkness he sees in your eyes so, I turn away, retreat to the place where I know you aren't. With Jonathan. With Marcus. We back away. Walk with me. They walk with me to the door. They walk with me away. Away from you. We just walk the thefuck away from you.
         Then, you call out to me, Baby? Scared, you almost, maybe do, sound scared.
         And again I stop. I glance back at you. Their hundred their thousand their million of candle-]lit eyes are on us. I say, See you tomorrow, Jason. Yeah? I say inside me, See, see? I won’t let you down. I ask, You’ll be home tomorrow?
         You say, I’ll be home tonight.
         I say, Hey, like I said, no biggie, right? Tomorrow's--`
         Tonight. You step towards me, towards me, and you say, Tonight.
         And I want to touch you. I want to breathe in your breath, your scent. I want to tell you that you are mine. I want to feel the sweat of your skin on me, your hands touching, calming me. I want to know the grip of your fingers in my hair holding, claiming me. I need the sweet taste of your mouth on mine reminding me, don’t ever let me forget, why I’m alive. But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t step towards you. Now you          Stepping back, away, I say, Later. And I walk through the door away from you. I walk out to the street, Jonathan beside me, Marcus beside me, andfacing the darkness of my night, I leave you behind. Facing my darkness, I remember now how to really breathe. Tonight. You said, Tonight. Taking Marcus's hand, taking Jonathan's hand, we walk into the night. Leaving you behind.

to personal short stories


Apr. 3rd, 2009 02:55 pm (UTC)
My essay
The theme we had to write about was "If I won two million euros, I would...".

His comment: The idea of the essay is to make you use 'if' clauses - if I won I would . . . You have not done this.


If she won two million euros, what would she… buy, treat herself to? Would she travel around the world? Why not? She had always tried to see as many countries as she could, considering her relatively low finances, of course. However, she would visit only the European countries, Australia, the USA, and perhaps a few countries of South America. Yes, she would avoid too exotic places, for she loved comfort very much. Comfort does not necessarily mean fancy!

She would travel around the world, meet people, and try not to kill them – ha-ha – or, let herself be killed.

She adored black humour.

For the world trip, she would need to buy new clothes and other little things: leather jackets, leather bags, leather rucksacks, leather boots and shoes, leather whatever – and hide from the ‘green’ and animal rights activists.

She could buy a new Hi-Fi system as the old one broke down months ago.

She could leave her job and do things she’d always yearned to do. For example, she could finally learn the art of gardening; lose herself among plants, bushes and rocks, she - invisible to the outside world.

She could study, not caring too much about the school fees, or not having enough time.

If she were smart, she would buy a flat or two, even more, and rent them. She would then have a regular income.

Would she tell someone she won? No, she would not. It wouldn’t be wise. Many jackpot winners ended badly. They lost family and friends. In the end, they had to say good-bye to the prize, too.

Edited at 2009-04-03 03:03 pm (UTC)
Apr. 3rd, 2009 04:09 pm (UTC)
Re: My essay
it's almost as if you wrote fiction when I think he want nonfiction. Probably if you had begun certain sentences, not all of them, with

'If I'd won two million euros, I would travel the world...'
'If I'd won two million euros, I could study, not caring...'

Also, to me, it's formatted just a little too much like a listing.

If you want, I could show you what I mean without changing much.
Apr. 4th, 2009 04:48 pm (UTC)
Re: My essay

If you want, I could show you what I mean without changing much.

I would appreciate it very much. Thank you!

I'm going to write another essay, but this time with more "if" sentences than before.
Apr. 8th, 2009 07:30 pm (UTC)
Re: My essay
see what you think.

If I won two million euros, what would I buy or treat myself to?

Would I travel around the world? Why not. I have always tried to see as many countries as I can even considering my relatively inadequate finances, of course. Still, even with money, I would only visit European countries. And Australia and the USA. And perhaps a few countries of South America too. I would avoid exotic places as I love comfort very much which isn’t the same as fancy. Yes, I would travel the world, meeting people, not killing them...just a little black humor. Or letting them kill me...I adore black humor.

Naturally, for traveling, I will need new clothes. And things made of leather like jackets, bags, rucksacks, boots and shoes. Just don’t tell the ‘green’ and animal rights activists because I also adore leather, leather whatever and they might get angry.

Or I could buy a new Hi-Fi system as the old one broke down and I’ve been without music for months.

I could study, not caring too much about fees or time. I could leave my job and finally do all the things I’ve yearned to do. I could learn the art of gardening, losing myself among plants, bushes and rocks, invisible to the outside world. Still, if I were smart, I would buy a flat or two, maybe even more, and rent them and in so doing, have a regular income.

Would I tell anyone I won? No, I wouldn’t, it wouldn’t be wise. There have been too many stories of jackpost winners that end badly. They lose family and friends, and in the end, many had to say good-bye to their winnings too. I think it would be best to just keep quiet.
Apr. 9th, 2009 06:28 am (UTC)
Re: My essay
In your version the words flow so easily. Ahhh! Maybe, one day, my words will flow just the same.

I wrote another "if" essay and this time, my teacher was satisfied with it. He also gave me another theme to write about. "If I could choose to be someone else".

He is funny; it seems I have to guess what he wants. Wouldn't it be easier to say "Jelica, as you didn't do your writing properly, you need to rewrite the essay"? But no, he expects from me to have a supernatural power and read his mind.
Apr. 10th, 2009 05:17 pm (UTC)
Re: My essay
I think he wants to leave it as open, and thereby creative, as he can, but see how with the second one he was satisfied? I'm sure that one day your words will flow as smoothly as mine. I've been using this language for a very long time, and it still messes me up all the time.

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