Amplitude
Amplitude
Anger is described in many different ways. Seeing red, flames in their eyes, white searing heat. When I get angry it’s different. I have an out-of-body experience. It’s like a different part of me just takes over and I have no control over it. It’s like my mind goes blank, filled with static and all I can do is watch myself do whatever my mind wants and I can’t stop until it’s over.
Right now I’m watching my fist collide with one of my best friends face. It’s slow, everything’s slowed down. I’m seeing it happen first, the force of the blow knocking his head back, the way the skin of his cheek stretches, the blood from his now busted open lip smearing across my knuckles. Then I feel, I can feel the crunch of his teeth against my fist, the sharp pain that disappears quickly when the adrenaline takes over. And finally, I hear. I hear his groan of pain and my growl of pure rage.
He falls to the grass and I fall right on top of him, pulling back to hit him again and again. It’s all a blur. Sound and sight and touch and just a full sensory overload. He manages to get a few hits in and flips us over, his fists attacking my stomach and face. I feel a weight lifted off of me, wondering for a second why he’s getting off of me before I feel two large hands lift me up and toss me over his shoulder. Mike.
I struggle. I don’t want to be picked up like a child, I want to fucking murder the bastard that just slept with my wife. I shout my thoughts, adding in a few curses and I see the look in Jason’s eyes as he yells right back at me.
Anger also brings out the worst in people. Sometimes it’s just words that mean nothing and sometimes it’s forgotten truths that are dug up after being buried for years, decades. I’m learning a few things about my friend that I never knew. That he’s got a mean right hook. That his eyes get wider and lighter when he’s pissed and that he’s been in love with my wife for the last 15 years.
Mike is seemingly ignoring all of this, even when Jason calls him a cocksucker and tells him to fuck off with his boyfriend. I’m still struggling over his shoulder but Mike has a steel grip when he wants and I can’t do anything else but shout and flail. He sits me in his car, buckling me in and getting in on the other side. I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t really care. I can feel bile rising in my throat and my stomach is churning worse than ever. The rage is still there, simmering ominously like the start of a volcano about to go off. I clench my fists and stare out of the window, it’s all a blur as I’m lost in my own thoughts until we get to Mike’s house.
He gets out, grabbing my arm this time instead of manhandling me inside but he’s just as rigid, pulling me inside and sitting me down on the bed in his spare room. He sits down beside me and looks me in the eye. Piercing green meeting cool, calming blue and he holds my face in his hands.
“Talk.”
I shake my head and get his hands off of me. I’m still pissed. I still feel that rage inside but it’s quieted some. I feel like I’m getting back inside my own head again, which is good. I make a few frustrated noises and pull at my hair. Mike does nothing, doesn’t even move, he just watches and I can’t begin to thank him enough.
“Talk about what? How I just walked in on who I thought was my best friend fucking my wife? Not even being able to fucking give him what he deserves for doing it because you brought me here? I’m fucking…” I make another noise, this one different. It wasn’t an angry grumble but a choking sound. I’ll do plenty of things right now but one of those is not crying, damnit. “He said she went up to him. She started it. Do you know what that feels like? I mean, I try my hardest to be as good as I can. I try to be a good dad and a good husband and a good bandmate and a good boyfriend but I always fuck one of those up. I just… I thought that I was at least decent at being a husband.”
It’s quiet after that. I still hear the static, crackling white noise in my ears, I’m more in control of myself, most of the anger being swapped with misery.
“You’re a great bandmate…” his voice trails off at the end after he finally speaks. I look up at him but he’s starting at a fixed point on the light blue carpet.
“…And you’re an amazing boyfriend,” he smiles a little after a moment, looking at me and brushes his lips against my knuckles. “And you’re a great husband. You’ve made it fifteen years together.”
It’s the last comment that burns in my brain. I’ve made it fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years and this had to happen. Are we over? Have we been over and I just didn’t notice? Was it a momentary lapse in judgment? Was this just her own attempt at revenge for me having the relationship I do with Mike even though she said it was okay?
Thinking hurts. I wish I could stop it all together but I can’t. My mind never stops running. It’s like different radios playing different stations in my head constantly and I can only pick out a few words from each. Right now the radios in my brain are talking about Adrienne and how much I love waking up to the sight of messy brown and blonde dreads and placing tender kisses to her neck before she wakes up. Another station is toying with the idea of vengeance and wanting to drive a fucking sledgehammer through my friend, ex-friends head. There’s one that’s playing through every significant moment of our marriage and another station playing every funny thing that’s ever happened between me and Jason. But there’s one station that’s a little louder than all the rest. The one that’s playing Mike and just how safe I feel when his arms are around me and how every kiss we’ve ever shared has felt incredible, no matter how cheesy that sounds. And for once, I ignore the other stations, I lean forward and kiss him.
I feel him tense a little and I know he wasn’t expecting that. He was probably expecting me to yell at him or get up and try and run back out. Not to kiss him deep and slow, push him down onto the mattress and straddle his waist.
He responds after a moment, his fingers threaded tight into my hair. I need this, I need to let go of all the stuff I’m feeling and the rage that’s still in the pit of my stomach and the only way that’ll happen is to do this. It quiets the rumbling in my stomach and turns all the other radio stations in my head lower. I can still hear them but it’s just an annoying buzz in the back of my head.
I’m drifting in and out of control of my body again. Our clothes are on and I open my eyes again and they’re off, our positions are swapped now, it’s him pushing me down into the mattress, his hardness pressing into my belly as his lips brush against my neck.
It’s frantic and hard and fast. I can feel him all around me, consuming everything else in the room. I don’t think about Adrienne’s tiny hands clenching the bed sheets and Jason on top of her. I don’t think about the way the blood from his lip looked splattered across my fist. I don’t think about what I’m going to do once I leave this bed, this house, what I’ll say to her, to him. And when I come I can’t hear anything at all.
For once the radio stations in my head are shut off and I realize that’s the only thing I’ve wanted to hear all night.
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please comment and tell me what you think.
Right now I’m watching my fist collide with one of my best friends face. It’s slow, everything’s slowed down. I’m seeing it happen first, the force of the blow knocking his head back, the way the skin of his cheek stretches, the blood from his now busted open lip smearing across my knuckles. Then I feel, I can feel the crunch of his teeth against my fist, the sharp pain that disappears quickly when the adrenaline takes over. And finally, I hear. I hear his groan of pain and my growl of pure rage.
He falls to the grass and I fall right on top of him, pulling back to hit him again and again. It’s all a blur. Sound and sight and touch and just a full sensory overload. He manages to get a few hits in and flips us over, his fists attacking my stomach and face. I feel a weight lifted off of me, wondering for a second why he’s getting off of me before I feel two large hands lift me up and toss me over his shoulder. Mike.
I struggle. I don’t want to be picked up like a child, I want to fucking murder the bastard that just slept with my wife. I shout my thoughts, adding in a few curses and I see the look in Jason’s eyes as he yells right back at me.
Anger also brings out the worst in people. Sometimes it’s just words that mean nothing and sometimes it’s forgotten truths that are dug up after being buried for years, decades. I’m learning a few things about my friend that I never knew. That he’s got a mean right hook. That his eyes get wider and lighter when he’s pissed and that he’s been in love with my wife for the last 15 years.
Mike is seemingly ignoring all of this, even when Jason calls him a cocksucker and tells him to fuck off with his boyfriend. I’m still struggling over his shoulder but Mike has a steel grip when he wants and I can’t do anything else but shout and flail. He sits me in his car, buckling me in and getting in on the other side. I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t really care. I can feel bile rising in my throat and my stomach is churning worse than ever. The rage is still there, simmering ominously like the start of a volcano about to go off. I clench my fists and stare out of the window, it’s all a blur as I’m lost in my own thoughts until we get to Mike’s house.
He gets out, grabbing my arm this time instead of manhandling me inside but he’s just as rigid, pulling me inside and sitting me down on the bed in his spare room. He sits down beside me and looks me in the eye. Piercing green meeting cool, calming blue and he holds my face in his hands.
“Talk.”
I shake my head and get his hands off of me. I’m still pissed. I still feel that rage inside but it’s quieted some. I feel like I’m getting back inside my own head again, which is good. I make a few frustrated noises and pull at my hair. Mike does nothing, doesn’t even move, he just watches and I can’t begin to thank him enough.
“Talk about what? How I just walked in on who I thought was my best friend fucking my wife? Not even being able to fucking give him what he deserves for doing it because you brought me here? I’m fucking…” I make another noise, this one different. It wasn’t an angry grumble but a choking sound. I’ll do plenty of things right now but one of those is not crying, damnit. “He said she went up to him. She started it. Do you know what that feels like? I mean, I try my hardest to be as good as I can. I try to be a good dad and a good husband and a good bandmate and a good boyfriend but I always fuck one of those up. I just… I thought that I was at least decent at being a husband.”
It’s quiet after that. I still hear the static, crackling white noise in my ears, I’m more in control of myself, most of the anger being swapped with misery.
“You’re a great bandmate…” his voice trails off at the end after he finally speaks. I look up at him but he’s starting at a fixed point on the light blue carpet.
“…And you’re an amazing boyfriend,” he smiles a little after a moment, looking at me and brushes his lips against my knuckles. “And you’re a great husband. You’ve made it fifteen years together.”
It’s the last comment that burns in my brain. I’ve made it fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years and this had to happen. Are we over? Have we been over and I just didn’t notice? Was it a momentary lapse in judgment? Was this just her own attempt at revenge for me having the relationship I do with Mike even though she said it was okay?
Thinking hurts. I wish I could stop it all together but I can’t. My mind never stops running. It’s like different radios playing different stations in my head constantly and I can only pick out a few words from each. Right now the radios in my brain are talking about Adrienne and how much I love waking up to the sight of messy brown and blonde dreads and placing tender kisses to her neck before she wakes up. Another station is toying with the idea of vengeance and wanting to drive a fucking sledgehammer through my friend, ex-friends head. There’s one that’s playing through every significant moment of our marriage and another station playing every funny thing that’s ever happened between me and Jason. But there’s one station that’s a little louder than all the rest. The one that’s playing Mike and just how safe I feel when his arms are around me and how every kiss we’ve ever shared has felt incredible, no matter how cheesy that sounds. And for once, I ignore the other stations, I lean forward and kiss him.
I feel him tense a little and I know he wasn’t expecting that. He was probably expecting me to yell at him or get up and try and run back out. Not to kiss him deep and slow, push him down onto the mattress and straddle his waist.
He responds after a moment, his fingers threaded tight into my hair. I need this, I need to let go of all the stuff I’m feeling and the rage that’s still in the pit of my stomach and the only way that’ll happen is to do this. It quiets the rumbling in my stomach and turns all the other radio stations in my head lower. I can still hear them but it’s just an annoying buzz in the back of my head.
I’m drifting in and out of control of my body again. Our clothes are on and I open my eyes again and they’re off, our positions are swapped now, it’s him pushing me down into the mattress, his hardness pressing into my belly as his lips brush against my neck.
It’s frantic and hard and fast. I can feel him all around me, consuming everything else in the room. I don’t think about Adrienne’s tiny hands clenching the bed sheets and Jason on top of her. I don’t think about the way the blood from his lip looked splattered across my fist. I don’t think about what I’m going to do once I leave this bed, this house, what I’ll say to her, to him. And when I come I can’t hear anything at all.
For once the radio stations in my head are shut off and I realize that’s the only thing I’ve wanted to hear all night.
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please comment and tell me what you think.