Find me in the place where the noise from the world comes to a hush, or a whisper, where it feels like the only truth you’d find is the one that is.
“What if I don’t want to find you?” I ask and he smiles.
“I knew you would ask that, you question everything Dee, and it is great if only you would stop to listen to answers you receive. Find me Dee.”
I shake my head and continue writing the dialogue I was working on. It’s the next book I hope to publish and everything about the lead character evades me. He knows I’m in my world and so he walks away.
pexels.com
I know how many steps he takes to the door before he stops because I count when he’s not listening. How odd it is that he asks of me what he knows I would not provide.
Apples.
I suddenly want to eat three apples- something red and crunchy and healthy…and what’s in my house is an endless supply of tea bags, sugar, water and two oranges.
He calls me, “Dee…” and I look up at him and he says “stay safe!” I nod and smile and tell him “you too.” What hurts is knowing he will drown himself in another bottle of whisky thinking he can have and destroy what he has at will.
He says my love is like thunder, so loud it cannot be ignored.
Sometimes when I am not looking, he would make notes, scribble thoughts that came to him about me,
So, when I call, he knows that there is something…he does not need to ask,
“Do you know what bothers me about you Dee…it’s just that you are too good and too slippery for anyone. You run before anyone can think of catching you, like the wind, no, like the unknown…when will you hold still for love?”
“Did you read the book I sent you?” I ask.
He laughs. He knows me and yet I refuse to accept this truth.
“What are friends for?”
“So, what do you think?” I ask in between sips of my third cup of coffee. It’s too hot inside this house but I’d rather sweat and pace up and down than let the mosquitoes in.
“Love…it’s like giving someone white flowers when you know you want to present them with a rose, a single red rose and the truth between those two gestures is in the actions that prompted you to present them with flowers in the first place.”
“An apology…”
“No, when you know you cannot catch the wind and you’ve tried all your life, what comes next is more painful than an apology Dee…it’s surrender.”
I come to you in words, a whisper in the evening when the clouds hover to usher in the dusk.
The sun has not beheld your countenance for two days, and she knows even that is a century…so she shines upon me, summons me out of my hiding to reach out to you.
You once said, “I hate flowers, they’re beautiful one second and dry up the next. If I could find whoever invented vases I would slap some sense into him…they never keep the flowers fresh!”
“How sure are you that it’s a man?” I asked.
“Most of the stupid things we see are invented by men…trust me.”
pexels.com
So, I pretended to do just that and watched you cloud your pain with anger. Your friends thought you were being a jerk and they called you out on it, until you simply shook your head and said “The old man is dying, prostrate cancer, stage four or something…he wants to see me.”
It was then that they knew.
I am a choice you made Stardust, but the men around you- Mark, Matto, Jim, George and Stano…are your family, the ones who know how much is too much for you, the ones who looked at you and told you to secure the bag when they met me. Yes, I know they pushed you to apologize…Stano can’t keep a secret where chapatis are involved!
It’s been two days Stardust and you are doing what you do best. You are walking into the dark void that’s your pain and no one’s invited, not even me.
There are some trips I can never make for you…and had I something akin to Ariadne’s thread I’d give it to you so you could find your way back to me…and even that would take a while.
You’ve got to want to come back.
You’ve got to want it all…the pain and the pleasure…until then Stardust, I hope my words reach you.
nilichoandika 