Could We

She laid in wait as she sat in the silence of the afternoon, the sheets tangled around her ankles – her bed still unmade as she was patient. It was not that she was intrigued by remaining rampageous; Brandon would have slashed what she had to expect as his attempt of ruthless words of what he justified as “merciless brutality.” These were his squabbling that was to instill proper conduct into her ears that she would hardly remain the same. Her entire presence was about making a grand and eloquent poise as a young lady, a functioning and beautiful adult in the hark raving world; and if Jolie seemed as anything less, she was disbanded from Brandon’s embrace and tossed out into the world where anybody could truly give her words of condolence and immediately snap their necks to crane their thirst for her blood – her innocence of mistake exposed. And often, she was left in the cold shackles outside the door, screaming in tears to be allowed back into the good graces of their hearts, of their tedious gossip and minds. Jolie wanted to be remembered as a delightful person, and never forgotten as less than a pleasing and organized individual.

It had never scathed her skin until that moment as she lay in the bed how much she had fought to be in Brandon’s heart, constantly prattling in honest intentions to have his heart in any way possible. It had taken her months to earn the position in his heart as his trusted companion, his only partner, and that pedestal with his heart that her elegant frame and graceful manners was not going anywhere anytime soon – or she had gallantly hoped to be true. She hated to know how she scorned herself in the secrecy of the night with her engorged belly to put on a sweet and charming smile, to seduce the awe-gaping crowds that were dying to see her child, the product of two wholesome beatniks from a prosperous and fucked up choice of heart. They had meant good, but Jolie believed the world saw fit otherwise. And it had broken her heart to think she had made a shitty miracle come true for Brandon at the wrong moment in a pace they could not escape.

She sighed as she lay in the room, her legs wrapped in the sheets of the plastic space, each sheet curling itself violently around her limbs to keep her from moving any further than the tray that lay on top of table near the empty chair on her bedside. Everything was in slow motion as the room glided before her glassy eyes, her stare catching onto the inertia keeping her at bay from the restless thoughts which had haunted her for the past seventy two hours after her delivery. As she lay beside her conscience in her elongated and mussed bed, her mind floated elsewhere than the inhabited and crowded space of her mind at that moment, away from the white bedspread she had laid against.

In the past few moments of her life, she had been thrown upside down to dangle in the messed disarray of her emotions toward the world, into the life she led, to where the highest ranking in her heart had rightfully belonged to – anywhere it could belong. And it pained her to stumble and cry out to her mind that it was not this moment she had waited nine months for. This moment had been for Brandon, for her committed and loyal boyfriend to finally meet his daughters who had been on his itinerary the moment Jolie slipped and fucked up their nomadic world. Now it crashed into shards, away from Brandon’s outstretched arms and it had been her moment. Jolie felt selfish, and she wallowed in guilt for her greedy behavior.

“I am sorry,” Jolie blurted into the emptiness of the hospital room as she glanced toward the doorway, hoping to find anybody to accept her confession. But she was alone, and felt even more alone than before when she kept her hopeful gaze towards the door and felt the tear slide down her face. “I wish I could have told you the truth when we had the chance. I am so very sorry.”

The fragile girl laid in her overflowed mind, swimming in the pool of her crystalline thoughts that did not seem to make sense – no matter how many ways she shifted them to connect. They were harmoniously destructive; and despite how obscure it was, she found the trepidation completely exciting. Her emptiness of loneliness had finally granted her a conscience, and she loved the way the world seemed brighter in hue when she was left in peace, even when it left her heart crumbling into itself. Because, for Jolie, there was always something so comforting about retaining herself in her thoughts, each a melody on its own as it pressed further into her heart and lifted it to greater heights. Now she relapsed back into her thoughts and it was the only comfort she could have to signify that maybe she was growing back her insecurities that had felt so conventional.

These were reminders that she knew she was human, that she was relatively average, traditional, and peculiar in her way – just as the next human was. But she knew she was further from the plane of normality as she edged obscurity, burning into blankness of her past and now her future into her bruised chest and aching thighs. She lounged in complete silence, the buzzing ringing in familiarity within her ears as she let out another soft sigh. She fumbled with the material of her thin material that clung to her body, comfortable in the strange confinement. It was not her favorite, but this was her first step to trying to figure out where exactly her memories wanted to go. Maybe she could run away and she would not have to stay suffocating in her own mess.

Maybe she could look the other way with a smile and he would forgive her. If he loved her, he would let her go. And maybe, someday, she would understand just as much as she knew he would.

“I am so sorry I lied to you, that I hid this secret inside for so long,” Jolie continued as she dropped her hands on her stomach and glanced up from her body and forward to the decorated walls. She could feel her nerves breaking down, but she smiled softly and felt it drop when she realized more tears had already sprouted and work their way down her face. “And I know you should not forgive me for lying for so long. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to be honest, and I wanted to let you in. I wanted to be honest, but I couldn’t do it. I could not let you in; I could not give you what you wanted. I am so very sorry for that.”

She wasn’t sure why she was speaking to nobody, what her unheard apology would solve, but it held some unknown force behind the woven cotton that dripped in her words. There was some hope that she was sure would make itself discern when the opportunity presented itself. Jolie was hopeful, but she was unaware what that something had been. It could have been the lack of pride she had in herself, the distinct factor that she had always been insecure and humble about herself that she was worried about what others would say of her distinct appearance transition. She had gone from a ravenous and quenchless vixen of youth to, suddenly, a motherly icon she had never imagined for herself. Jolie was young and now, being the mother of twin girls, it left her weak. That made her selfish and utterly screwed in her mind, but she knew it was right. Jolie had abandoned her morals, her values, for one night of paradise that had turned her life into diapers and routine housewife duties. And the idea of being cooped in a solitary cell with rowdy and tumbling toddlers scared the hell out of her.

Now being a young mother in the public eye of the world came with many disadvantages to her, and she had more than the ordinary few which were bundled into the calamity of her youth. She had never wanted this life, despite her smiling and loving warmth as she rubbed her belly every single day with soft words. When she sat in the bed and glanced down to her flat and gurgling stomach, she missed the disguise that now revealed her hideous mask, which unveiled the truth that she had hid behind for so long. Her conscience had clearly come first now that she had given birth, and that was the one that had given her the incentive to become acquainted with the beast outside of herself; it listened to her and waited beside her when everyone else placed her on mute. Her monster stood beside her and was the only constant reminder in her life before she discovered the intentions it had for her.

Because now that monster was going to grow and reveal her endeavors for the future and force her to second guess herself, to second guess her children, and to question whether she could spend the rest of her life with Brandon. And when her conscience alarmed her at that moment, she stepped back inside to find that monster that had waited patiently beside her to lash against her had only been she, who was vying to attack her veils of harmony with her relationship and unborn children.

Brandon had been the only other thing in her fucked up reality that meant anything when she looked into her heart. She had friends that she hardly understood and meant absolutely nothing to her. For someone like herself, Jolie had family but she stood alone and felt content knowing that she had herself; no one was as important as her conscience and her growing monster. Maybe she was a bit selfish and proud, but people never got her. They never understood and never would. If she retained her solidarity, she would turn her back and travel the world to see the greater heights she had promised herself. There were things she’d learn if she kept her pact of silence, and that was something she prided herself on. It was best to retain the void that engulfed her in the ball of her eccentric writings and ivory letters, rather than have to explain her aesthetic creations to the world. And Jolie was tired of standing on the edge, peering over the cliff of nothing but conformed life, waiting for permission to leap.

And she was ready to run in the opposite direction and abandon her life for absolutely nothing.

“I want you to forgive me for not telling you how ill I was, how I had two babies in my belly and not one, and that I could never let you inside.” Jolie blurted into the silence as she glanced over at the empty chair that sat beside the hospital bed and she smiled to herself. It once more faded as she shook her head, as if she had expected a response before she completed her continued and halted apology. “And I want you to know that I do love you, that I do love our children, and that I do love the life we have and will share in the future. And I am sorry if I make you think otherwise, or that I want to break free. I could never break free from you, because I love you. I love you more than these words could ever tell you.”

Jolie had Brandon, her ambitious and faithful boyfriend who kept her in a fit of laughter with her shaking and bursting belly and continued to engage her in serious conversation. He was her best friend when she was on board of lonely waters, afraid to submerge herself to the truth and the outside world. There was her sister and brothers, but if she was to be completely honest, that meant absolutely nothing when it came to Brandon. He was her best friend and he was her partner; but she also knew that, despite being her closest confidant, he found it increasingly difficult to read her almost as easy as reading the back of his dried and calloused palm. Whatever Jolie hid from her family or herself, she confessed to Brandon; but, when Jolie thought about it, only seventy percent of her secrets were disclosed to him as she intended to retain the privacy – she was not sure if it was their friendship or her own dignity.

When they first began to date over a year ago, it seemed perfect. When Jolie was secretly pregnant, it was completely surreal and still perfect. When Jolie admittedly opened the truth of her pregnancy, it was more immaculate than before. And now that she was emptied of her children, their children, it still should have been perfect. Brandon Boyd had been the quintessential embodiment of the ideal candidate who Jolie had vied would win her heart. And he had completely stolen it, and so had her two babies – Camille and Lynette were what they had dreamt of. Brandon’s smile was charming, just as much as his talent and words had always been. They had spent glorious moments together, and they had taken sharp turns on dangerous cliffs that came exceedingly close to their end. But Jolie loved him increasingly with each moment, growing and multiplying with each day, and she was certain he had always felt the same.

But that infinite love had felt postponed when the babies swam in her belly and halted all their plans of retaining what youth and free antics they still had, behaviors that seemed ironic to the world. She had been fearful that he had grown weary and exhausted of her half-truths, and his words were digging their grip into her flesh for what she had falsely interpreted as their new form of love. Jolie was blinded, but she loved Brandon so much that she was afraid of a life outside of him. And now that she knew she loved him so much that her heart had grown heavy, she was pleading for a way out. Brandon had discovered her illness, and she hoped this would be her miraculous escape from his love, from the painful lapse of his hands that furled around her heart that left her hollow and shallow.

“I love you, Brandon Charles Boyd; I love you more than this life could ever swallow and give to you.” Jolie replied softly as she glanced down at her empty hands and her broken grip from her stomach as she felt the tears well up even more as she finally released the cry that was swallowed in her throat. “I love you so much that I feel I have to let you go. And I don’t want to let you go, I could never let you go.”

Jolie could not handle the prospect of losing Brandon her life, but she also could not lose herself, either. They each created a difference in one another that she was desperate to cling to as she laid in the messy bed and listened to the faint bustling outside of her hospital door. Through every crack in the bedroom which she had been forced to remain within, she could hear the outside world closing in on her. She was repeating what she heard and what she imagined the noises that were being created outside. While she lay there, hardly intact, her mind was floating aimlessly once more in trying to hover and make sense on which she had to pick out of her heart and set aside for the other. But she refused to create tension, despite the fact that she had witnessed it the previous night when she found stolen sleep and her conscience was at ease.

Jolie replaced the rest with tears of what she did not want to remember as she curled her body and feet underneath a thick layer of remorse, quivering at the prospect of Brandon’s threatening love to leave her emptier than and just as void as she still remained in the hospital. They had a brief argument as Brandon held Camilla in his arms, while Lynette lay peacefully asleep in the carrier beside the bed, and he scolded her. Jolie listened to him scorn her secrecy and lies of the past, but he had forgiven her if he gave them all a chance to be whole. The glowing ring still remained on the table as she looked over, but she still could not find it in herself to put it on. He was more hopeful that they build a life while she was still healthy, but she could feel her life slowly escaping her, quicker than she had imagined when she looked into the gentle faces of her sleeping daughters and the tired eyes of who was to be her husband. He wanted their children to have the best, and he wanted her more than ever while her heart was still beating. But Jolie knew that it would not remain for much longer.

But with her health still in place, she knew that he held hope that maybe it would become different in time, that there was still a flicker of faint love and dedication for them both with her health gaining momentum soon enough. Even with the bruises upon her body and torn flesh from the prodding tubes that she swam in on the bedside, he still loved her and found her beautiful. And as much as she detested it, Jolie could not see a world where Brandon had not been with her. And maybe she had to cling to him, even if her warped perspective of showing him that she truly loved him was showering him in rejection and turning away from the creations they had made together.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Brandon.” Jolie finally confessed as a loud cry escaped, and she felt herself shake violently against the bed, though she knew she was too weak to move very hard. As her glossy eyes stained her dress, she looked up and found salvation to see the warm face of a mirage man that was not standing there, truly listening to her confession. “I love you so much that I’m afraid I have to let you go, I have to let them go. And I don’t want to let you go, I don’t want to hurt you.
“But I’m afraid that I’m never going to get better, that I’m never going to stick around long enough to see us grow together,” Jolie continued as the tears poured down her pale cheeks and she shuddered when his face disappeared and the empty wall faced her. “I cannot live like this forever, Brandon. I cannot spend the rest of my life with you. I have to go; I have to abandon you to show you. I must do this to strengthen your heart and finally exhaust mine. I do love you; I do love you Brandon.”