The man who owned her picked up a fallen scrap of paper, which had made the ground its resting place. At first he didn’t know what this scrap of paper was, but by the first three words, scrawled in an other man’s handwriting, he knew the man with the other name, a name not his, had come back into her life.
I went down and met the devil and he showed me hell. He introduced me to all the demons and all the tortures. He led me into rooms full of darknesses; my own worst nightmares come to fruition. I saw the worst but I met the darkness head on. He showed me images that I would never forget; he made me think thinks that drove me to want to tear my brain out of my own head through my hair follicles. Continue reading Depression
Please click here if you haven’t read the first leg of this journey. But to recap, Angie received a letter with airline instructions from an estranged suitor.
Against her own best interests, there she stood, at the American Airlines counter, more frustrated with herself than the malfunctioning machine, but taking it out on the touchscreen none-the-less. Angie didn’t know where the flight was going, why Leon had left her these “coordinates” in a letter, and most of all, why she had decided to go.
I meet the love of my life outside Yad Vashem, the holocaust museum in Jerusalem. And you might think that a strange spot for love, but I’ll never forget that first moment; we shared a flirtatious glance and a blushed smile. She was cute and, though I struggled to make words sound intelligible, we got to talking. Our great-grandparents were from the same town, we found out. Mine left and her’s hadn’t. And together, we wove our way through the museum. The way she moved, how her hair flipped as she strode, the crooked nature of her smile; I knew, a match made.
We laughed a little when it was appropriate and a little more when it wasn’t. She showed me old footage of life in the old towns of our old families; they’d told her, she’d heard first-hand because the old ones love to tell tales of the old times. And as signs and posters filled the walls to show a nation’s rising admiration for fascism and anti-semitism, our hearts filled with love. She squeezed my hand as we leafed through horrid words of hate and propaganda. Our minds met when she whispered, “How could man do such a thing to his fellow man.” and I uttered back, “never again.”
Be still my heart. I hear you pounding from within the chambers of my chest, as if you were a prisoner attempting to escape your confines. Mayhaps you are. But beat not your cage any longer, rest the rattling of your chains; I hear you, I promise. Nay, not only hear; I feel you throb and pulse. You beat so, my lungs lack room to catch the air. The beauty that lies a’fore me has taken my breath away, and you, in all your infernal beating, has left little room for it to return. Continue reading Be Still My Heart
and now they were a whole new type of naked together. Maybe it was the fluorescent lights streaming through the poka-dotted shower curtain that made her feel more bare than she had minutes before, engulfed in his arms. Maybe it was his eyes on her pale skin for the first time in a light that wasn’t from the moon. They’d giggled as they stepped onto the porcelain and pulled the curtain closed. They’d been man and woman and now they were children playing grown-ups. She felt his eyes follow her as she crouched down to feel the water from the tap. She kept herself quiet even though a thousand thoughts flooded her mind. Her silence matched his. Continue reading A loofah for sharing
Angie woke up like it was a normal day and it wasn’t until the shower was directly in her face did something change the monotony. She was halfway through thinking about, as we all do in our shower moments, a little bit of this and then a whole lot about one thing. And that one thing for Angie today, as it had been for weeks, was Leon. Every once in awhile her thoughts landed on him the way his lips landed on her but usually, when Leon entered her mind, it was the same way he had exited her apartment almost a month ago; silently and unexpectedly, cutting her deeply. Continue reading Mornings and Airlines