If These Walls Could Talk
Monster
The night we catapulted out of our adolescent restraint was wild and radiating pure, sweat-coated adrenaline. The dimly lit pub reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke so much that it rung out my lungs of any confidence I mustered up during the drive there as soon as the door opened. It was my twenty-first birthday and my heart was beating out of control as we stepped into the smoke, and I was like a small child leaning into my parents.
The glow of neon lights and beer brand signs surrounded us like a galaxy, spinning slowly yet very fast. It left me in a haze, the way all the shadowy strangers sat in the far, dark corners, the traffic outside, the incredibly enjoyable air in my lungs. The pub was so inviting and full of character, I couldn't stop myself.
"It's kind of slow tonight." A tapping sound echoed across the shiny bar top. I realized it was someone's fingers, beating a light melody I concentrated much to eagerly on. We met glances, and grinned unevenly.
As I sat beside my company softly chattering about nothing, there was a part of me that was detached from the world. I felt this shock of self pity and mutilation so brutally that it knocked me into a totally separate universe. Everything, the blots of light in the distance, the sting of chapped lips, the sensitivity to sudden movements, all seemed as far away as the white heat of burning stars.
It wasn't long until you walked out of the bathroom with a loose grip on your beer and narrow waist. You were worn, your grizzly brown hair seemed like the color of charcoal under the slanted, yellow lights. Your face was narrow, but still full of color--warm. I looked away to my drink, thinking nothing of you.
And then it came.
The choking gust of air from the open door and the incoherent manner in which you walked in my direction. The ice cold numbness in my hand disintegrated in the instant those lights and chapped lips and sensitivity all came back in one rushing, bone breaking wave.
You slid onto the vinyl bar stool, still clutching the neck of your tallboy with great anticipation. I was careful not to make eye contact. For a few minutes, we sat in silence. There was nothing, not a peek or a grunt. In the single second I swiveled my gaze back towards your drunken meander, you uttered those fateful words to me.
"You gonna drink that?"
I understood, then, that no one had to look you in the eyes to see that you were unhappy. I was a stranger to you, and I could see rings of fire in your coal-gray eyes. Later I found they were actually blue, but that night they were so frighteningly dark. I was caught in them, like spider webs.
I had no idea then what you would do to me, how you would make me feel. I never knew a life like this before, with you in it. I was such a child in that hour of your encounter that I didn't see it coming: the tear of my pale, salt dried skin under your teeth and hands... the fast-burning wood you would bring into my life. But I didn't know then.
I didn't know.
I didn't realize that I left my drink on the bar in the minutes we sat quietly. My hand was still wrapped around it, but it was frozen there, unwilling to submit to my desperation.
"Oh, uh--" My voice cracked. I didn't know what to say. I was so sluggish in my movements that I couldn't tell what I was saying. I was relieved to hear a tiresome but genuine chuckle from you.
"Yeah, it is a slow night."
We then exchanged names and nervous glances, both slouched over in a defeated manner. You sat two stools away from me, and I wasn't sure if you did it because you were nervous, but I still felt like I was okay with you.
The few words we spoke to each other gushed with comfort, and you bought me a drink to settle the acute unease running like electricity through our crooked vertebrates. I was afraid of you, and curious at the same time. Now, as I remember this part, I scream at myself for letting you scribble your unintelligible handwriting on the half wet napkin.
It's like watching a scary movie where the main character does something foolish in the midst of panic and ends up dead, and the whole time I'm thinking, No! Don't do it! You can't go there. That's where the monster lies!
I don't know how I could have completely destroyed my life in such a short instant without realizing it. I didn't think anyone could have the power to thrust me down with an iron arm into the resounding depths of lust and despair. I didn't think this could happen. I didn't think it would be you.
But there you were.
The glow of neon lights and beer brand signs surrounded us like a galaxy, spinning slowly yet very fast. It left me in a haze, the way all the shadowy strangers sat in the far, dark corners, the traffic outside, the incredibly enjoyable air in my lungs. The pub was so inviting and full of character, I couldn't stop myself.
"It's kind of slow tonight." A tapping sound echoed across the shiny bar top. I realized it was someone's fingers, beating a light melody I concentrated much to eagerly on. We met glances, and grinned unevenly.
As I sat beside my company softly chattering about nothing, there was a part of me that was detached from the world. I felt this shock of self pity and mutilation so brutally that it knocked me into a totally separate universe. Everything, the blots of light in the distance, the sting of chapped lips, the sensitivity to sudden movements, all seemed as far away as the white heat of burning stars.
It wasn't long until you walked out of the bathroom with a loose grip on your beer and narrow waist. You were worn, your grizzly brown hair seemed like the color of charcoal under the slanted, yellow lights. Your face was narrow, but still full of color--warm. I looked away to my drink, thinking nothing of you.
And then it came.
The choking gust of air from the open door and the incoherent manner in which you walked in my direction. The ice cold numbness in my hand disintegrated in the instant those lights and chapped lips and sensitivity all came back in one rushing, bone breaking wave.
You slid onto the vinyl bar stool, still clutching the neck of your tallboy with great anticipation. I was careful not to make eye contact. For a few minutes, we sat in silence. There was nothing, not a peek or a grunt. In the single second I swiveled my gaze back towards your drunken meander, you uttered those fateful words to me.
"You gonna drink that?"
I understood, then, that no one had to look you in the eyes to see that you were unhappy. I was a stranger to you, and I could see rings of fire in your coal-gray eyes. Later I found they were actually blue, but that night they were so frighteningly dark. I was caught in them, like spider webs.
I had no idea then what you would do to me, how you would make me feel. I never knew a life like this before, with you in it. I was such a child in that hour of your encounter that I didn't see it coming: the tear of my pale, salt dried skin under your teeth and hands... the fast-burning wood you would bring into my life. But I didn't know then.
I didn't know.
I didn't realize that I left my drink on the bar in the minutes we sat quietly. My hand was still wrapped around it, but it was frozen there, unwilling to submit to my desperation.
"Oh, uh--" My voice cracked. I didn't know what to say. I was so sluggish in my movements that I couldn't tell what I was saying. I was relieved to hear a tiresome but genuine chuckle from you.
"Yeah, it is a slow night."
We then exchanged names and nervous glances, both slouched over in a defeated manner. You sat two stools away from me, and I wasn't sure if you did it because you were nervous, but I still felt like I was okay with you.
The few words we spoke to each other gushed with comfort, and you bought me a drink to settle the acute unease running like electricity through our crooked vertebrates. I was afraid of you, and curious at the same time. Now, as I remember this part, I scream at myself for letting you scribble your unintelligible handwriting on the half wet napkin.
It's like watching a scary movie where the main character does something foolish in the midst of panic and ends up dead, and the whole time I'm thinking, No! Don't do it! You can't go there. That's where the monster lies!
I don't know how I could have completely destroyed my life in such a short instant without realizing it. I didn't think anyone could have the power to thrust me down with an iron arm into the resounding depths of lust and despair. I didn't think this could happen. I didn't think it would be you.
But there you were.