Tuesday, January 11, 2005

"Tomorrow Never Comes"

[More old, somewhat reworked]

The light had been wrong all day: somehow too bright for comfort and too dim for use. At once too much and not enough. I took longer than I should have leaving. As I put my coat on, someone asked if I needed my time card but seeing John waiting outside for me, I said no, I don’t have time. I’ll do it tomorrow. Like the light, I had been out of sorts, wrong, all day. Too present to be numb but too distant to do something about it: irritated and distracted by pettiness and frustration. Our buddy, Fred, was there and the three of us spilled onto the street, giddy from stress and exhaustion; eager to be done with that place. When we reached the car, Fred & I sat inside rubbing our hands and exhaling clouds of warm breath into the chilled air, as he scraped the thin film of ice from the windows. We had both wondered at the strange backsteps that I always seemed to take in our intimacy. Difficult he said of me, unreasonable he told me, impossible he called me. Why do you hate me so? he asked mockingly. Why won’t you let me love you? he asked later, seriously. I marveled silently at his careful attention to each window, laughing to myself that I wouldn’t need to see anything but him. He climbed into the car and began to drift us out of the parking space. The three of us chatted randomly about the night. Unable to answer, I’d changed the subject, refusing him that path. Denying entrance. Later, as the day took away more than I had to give, I looked up and, seeing him, felt the pettiness and the frustration slip away, replaced by a sudden, fierce and determined love. As we pulled out of the lot and onto the street, I was calculating the length of time before we dropped Fred off and were alone. My defenses down and the distractions gone, I couldn’t deny how much I loved him and I felt the furious ache to let him know. I laughed again, as the weight of the day fell away, I knew it was time to make a change. Time to undo all of my fearful doings and defensive postures. Raze my protective constructs. feeling free, Rounding the tired-of-fighting-myself corner of my soul, filled with the happy knowledge that Fred’s car was less than a hundred yards away. I knew an irrepressible urgency to show him. As soon as we were alone, I’d make him understand, I promised myself. I’d leave no room for doubt. I laughed still as I glanced out the windshield and saw not the street, but huge wheels sail past the nose of the car. God, I loved him so much. The laugh checked itself in my throat: they seemed so close. Too close. John Time watch slowed out! impossibly....

There was a crystal silence in that moment, distantly broken by the defrost fan. Slow motion sound engulfed by immense silence in that instant before large body connected with larger body and finally only the unnatural, sickening sound filling my bones as metal began to tear and assume unintended shape.

It was out my window I looked then, as my body was pressed against the door. Through the thin sheet of returning ice, I watched the black description of tire tread curl the glass into a white spiderweb and felt the metal wrap itself around me, leaving no room for doubt.


  1. This is great! I want to know what happens next? Did you miss your chance to open up? Did life teach you some awful lesson, in most horrific fashion, about not wasting time? Super potential in your writing. You're a good story teller.

  2. The truth pales in comparision, I'm afraid.

  3. the truth may pale, but your writing style doesn't. keep it up!