Unraveling Seams

somehow, somewhere, i'll survive.

---

i'm sitting and watching the two of them on the bench, both of them talking to me about lives and realities i can only understand because i know him.

i know her too, if only because she is so like him. so similar.

i look at him with his head in her lap and they are both talking to me. but he really doesn't know what he is saying to me because he is drunk and staring into her eyes looking at me. he denies feelings because of the lack of control he has on the future.

their future is already in the past tense. always a "remember when".

always a "could have been".

---

earlier i remember saying nothing because there were no words to say.

no, i do know what i should have said but whatever unraveling i need to do would tear me apart at the seams, and knowing this i say nothing.

---

we are sitting, saying all this stupid shit to one another and everything just flows. one event to the next, we are chatting about futures and pasts.

that time at the downtown disney amc, or earlier. eighth grade. seventh.

six, fifth, forth.

it's been so long, and i know him more than anyone.

but now reminiscencing, i feel i know him on another plain of his reality.

---

hours later, "what happened?"

"nothing," is all i say and walk away. "you two a great for each other, you know that right?"

"yes." he says, but doesn't see.

and she looks at him, at me, and asks, "why do you think that?"

and i look at her, and say, "once he told me that he was happy with [her]. i believed him, but didn't understand. now? it's a lie. he is happy now."

he had put his head on her lap moments before, and now, with his eyes closed, he says drunkenly, "yeah."

and i say, "see."

---

the lights in front of my third grade classroom mean nothing to me, and the memories have faded.

like old pictures in magazines, the pages have yellowed and the colors are fading to a shade of grey.

undefined.

---

in all the silence, there is no place for whispered hopes.

---

she is dropping me off at my house, he is asleep or passed out. and she asks me, "what really happened?"

and i look down at him, smile sadly, and say, "he didn't tell you?"

"well, you said 'nothing' " she says. her car is idling and the radio is playing a song i don't hear. i look back into her eyes.

"yeah, nothing. but nothing is what will happen to the two of you. i don't mean that in a bad way," she is looking at me trying to decipher whatever words are passing for this conversation. "he knows that something happened because he knows nothing happened. he knows that nothing is what he will have when you leave." again i smile sadly, "you know what i think he loves about you?"

and she smiles back, "no."

"you understand him," i say, "but you will leave. and he will be with christie. like he is now."

"yeah," she looks away slightly. "i'll leave, and then things will go back..."

i cut her off and grab her hand, "you know, you have time with him. i really think that time is what he needs. even if it is only the next two weeks, only the next few hours. you're making him more. more than i think he cares to admit."

she looks back at me, and says. "he was worried about you tonight."

"did he tell you why?" i ask.

"he says you're never happy. he says that when you learn something you become sad. like there is no mystery in that subject anymore" she is looking down at him, and i drop her hand unto his.

"tonight," i say, thinking, "tonight was what it was. i'll move ahead, past the fact i drink again. but i am not sad. what andrew is worried about i think is that. the fact that i may not have been sad."

she looks at me for the last time that night, "that's what i told him."

---

the last thing i say is, "don't question the next two weeks, don't hold back because of her. questioning it would be making it into less than it obviously is."

and she smiles once more, "okay."

and i smile, say goodnight and step out into the light of the night.

---

somehow, somewhere, they'll survive.