Life Being What It Is
Deux
She brushed her fingertips over the set of plane tickets lightly, breath raggedly pushing past her lips. Sarah turned towards me sharply, the frigid air screamed, and my eyes assessed her shaking figure. “Montreal?”
“Montreal,” I said, my tone full and clear with pride.
“It's practically snowed in,” her voice cracked as her thoughts swam in thick paranoia.
“Oh, darling, if they're going to let us fly, then it's perfectly all right.”
“There have been blizzards all week. Sweetie, I don't think I can go.”
I snapped into an upright position, pushing away from the wall. My twitching eyes settled directly on hers, pressing. “Then I'll go by myself.”
“No, nonsense, I don't want you going and getting trapped there all by yourself.”
“I'm going,” I spat, my words so heavy with meaning, I could nearly see them.
“I don't want you going without me in this condition.”
“Jesus, Sarah, make up your mind!” I pushed down on her with all of the guilt I could manage, watched as she crumbled under the pressure of my gaze. And when I was satisfied, I left her, knowing she was packing. She would make herself sick to please me, she would fall into pits of near mental illness to make me happy.
The news channels that she so loved were stuffed with stories of the horrific blizzards in Montreal. The snow was falling in flurries so sharp they could cut you like a knife. The homeless were frozen to the streets, snow blanketing their bodies. Those that were so consumed with starvation didn't stand a chance, not even their liquor could keep them warm. Frost bite ravaged bodies, the air so dry it was difficult to breathe. The very oxygen they so relied on made them choke.
If you were lucky you could catch a face frozen with fear in an alley way or on the pavement, before they were scraped from the frost and hauled off to the morgue.
Montreal was especially beautiful at this time of year.
“Montreal,” I said, my tone full and clear with pride.
“It's practically snowed in,” her voice cracked as her thoughts swam in thick paranoia.
“Oh, darling, if they're going to let us fly, then it's perfectly all right.”
“There have been blizzards all week. Sweetie, I don't think I can go.”
I snapped into an upright position, pushing away from the wall. My twitching eyes settled directly on hers, pressing. “Then I'll go by myself.”
“No, nonsense, I don't want you going and getting trapped there all by yourself.”
“I'm going,” I spat, my words so heavy with meaning, I could nearly see them.
“I don't want you going without me in this condition.”
“Jesus, Sarah, make up your mind!” I pushed down on her with all of the guilt I could manage, watched as she crumbled under the pressure of my gaze. And when I was satisfied, I left her, knowing she was packing. She would make herself sick to please me, she would fall into pits of near mental illness to make me happy.
The news channels that she so loved were stuffed with stories of the horrific blizzards in Montreal. The snow was falling in flurries so sharp they could cut you like a knife. The homeless were frozen to the streets, snow blanketing their bodies. Those that were so consumed with starvation didn't stand a chance, not even their liquor could keep them warm. Frost bite ravaged bodies, the air so dry it was difficult to breathe. The very oxygen they so relied on made them choke.
If you were lucky you could catch a face frozen with fear in an alley way or on the pavement, before they were scraped from the frost and hauled off to the morgue.
Montreal was especially beautiful at this time of year.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is sort of out of my comfort zone. I feel as though I butchered the tone I was going for, but I think I've edited this far too much. So, voila.