Sleepwalking Past Hope

I dreamt about running away. I saw myself packing my bags, hailing a taxi and arriving at the airport but then I saw Ville’s face. That heartbroken expression, lusterless eyes and quivering chin. I would turn my back before the impatient tears fell down his cheeks. Even though I was scared I knew I couldn’t leave. Some part of me needed him.

Orange, red and yellow leaves drifted from the trees, a sure sign that fall was here. The falling leaves were hard to spot in the darkness. I smiled to myself, here I am; reading by porch light all because I met a vampire and he can‘t be in daylight. I shook my head at the ludicrous situation I’m in.

I quietly closed the book I held in my lap. Petrey felt it necessary that I fully understand Baudelaire, so here I am; reading it again. It may as well have been a foreign language, because it didn’t strike me at all. I was like wet flint, impossible to light.

The swing rocked back and forth as Ville sat next to me. He held his coffee cup away from him, trying his best to avoid spilling the coffee.

I read a sentence, I envy the lot of the lowest animals who are able to sink into a stupid sleep, so slowly does the skein of time unwind, then closed my eyes, laid my head back as the sense of this poem jumped around my mind in bits and phrases. I groaned and slammed the book against my forehead. Ville chuckled, his lips pressed slightly to the rim of his coffee cup.

“It’s not funny.” I said, removing the book from my forehead.

Ville took a sip of his coffee then smiled, “What poem is it?”

“Out of the depths I have cried.” I said in a regretful tone. I did regret that I had to read this damn poem.

He nodded knowingly, “I am very familiar with that poem. You want me to help you?”

My pride begged to step in and divert his attention away from my ignorance but I sighed and admitted defeat.

“If you can.” I smiled.

Ville scooted closer to me, his breath tickled my ear as he leaned over my shoulder. He held his coffee cup in one hand and steadied himself on the back of the swing with the other.

“Okay, so when he says, ‘I beg pity of thee, the only one I love, from the depths of the dark pit where my heart has fallen, it’s a gloomy world with a leaden horizon, where through the nights swim horror and blasphemy’. He’s trying to ask her to take pity on him because without her his heart is useless.” He said in a sad remorseful tone. I felt my heartbeat catch in the back of my throat.

“Okay, I get it.” My pride had been trampled.

Ville finished explaining that poem. The cold night air made us, well, it made me retreat inside clutching my arms. Once I was inside the warmth of the house I sat on the couch and Ville sat next to me.

“Can I ask a question?” I asked, my eyebrows were furrowed from the stress of my worries. My mouth twisted to the side as it always does when I’m in the midst of a contemplation.

I watched as his gaze became wary, “When you ask if you can ask a question that means two things, you’re asking something that you’re not sure how I’ll respond and that there is no option but for me to say yes. So, ask away, love.”

My heart immediately began kicking my brain in the ass for asking in the first place. I knew there was no turning back now, I had to know.

“Can I ever be like you?” I asked then bit my lip in fear of his response. What’s the worst that could happen? I was pretty sure he would live forever, so if I couldn’t ever be like him I’d be left alone to wither away while he stayed his same perfect self. Or there is the bright side, I become like him and we live forever…I shouldn’t assume things.

“Yes.” He replied quickly, like he didn’t want to tell me the truth but he couldn‘t lie.

I’ve got a bad desire, oh I’m on fire.

I became quiet and still as I thought.

He grabbed my hand, his cold touch made me jump. I smiled as I watched him touch my skin as if it were being seen through alien eyes. He scooted closer to me.

“Can I ask, what made you want to know?” Ville asked as he placed his arm around my waist. He pulled me closer to him and I felt the answer to his question tugging at my vocal cords.

“For some reason…” I wanted to stop there. The answer was soul exposing. Those faultless lips pressed against my neck coaxed the answer from my lungs, “I don’t think that I can live without you.”

Much to my surprise a quiet smile rose to his face, “Me either, “ He sighed, “Emma, you’re more important than you know.”

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby, edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my soul. At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head, only you can cool my desire. I'm on fire.