[Jared]
I decided to leave to go get pizza, so I could give her a chance to put herself back together. Shower, maybe. Call Mike, probably. And maybe to try to figure out exactly what happened between us. And maybe so she could figure out what she wanted to do about Mike.
I remember getting in her car, and just sitting in there. Surrounded by her. I wanted to replay everything in my mind, to examine it, to relive it. I wanted to just live in what we had, even if that's all that would ever be--past tense.
For one brief moment she was mine. I just kept seeing those eyes, the trust in them, that fierce tenderness, her hunger, that need.
She wasn't mine, though. She wasn't mine, no matter how much I wanted her to be.
Resolutely, I put those images away, and started the car.
----
When I got back, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only a towel, one hand touching the side of her mouth, eyes intent on the movie she was watching. One of her favorites, although she was more of a Reservoir Dogs kind of girl. Never Been Kissed. She'd even made me watch it a time or two.
When she heard me come in, I saw her eyes find her lap, then she looked back to the tv screen.
----
Over pizza, she told me what happened.
I expected it to get ugly.
"When I woke up this morning, he was in the shower," she began. I breathed a deep sigh, if I was listening, then I wasn't thinking about the taste of her mouth.
"I decided to check my email on his laptop, to take my mind off of how badly I needed to pee, and so I could send you a message. My phone was completely dead."
"I read his messenger messages. Maybe that was my intention in the first place," she laughed ruefully, her eyes looking up at me, "maybe I wanted to find something. Anyway, I did find something. His ex-wife. In this hotel, no less."
"She sent him a cutesie fucking message about last night. And blah, blah, blah, her room number. So, I went. I had to see for myself," she said, her voice breaking, "I just had to fucking see for myself. Because that couldn't be happening, Jared. He couldn't want to fuck his ex-wife, especially after everything that she's done. He couldn't want to do that, especially after making me wait a whole year."
"I found her room. Part of me just wanted to walk away, because I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like what was on the other side of that door."
"I ended up standing outside for like, ten minutes. Finally, I knocked. I covered the peephole first, though."
"Want to know what she said?" "She said, 'Back for more?," Jena's tear choked voice managed to make out the rest of the sentence, "MORE! Can you fucking believe that? So, I left."
"I couldn't think of what to do next. I walked around to the Blackbird, and I sat inside and just cried. I cried until I couldn't breathe. I cried until it hurt. When I was able to stop crying, I came here. I just-- I just needed you."
And, incredibly, she laughed. Even as she wiped the last tears out from under her eyes, she laughed. I jerked my eyes back to her face, expecting more tears, maybe lingering sadness, but she was laughing. It wasn't bitter, and it wasn't caustic, it was her real, honest laugh.
She leaned over into me, still holding her slice of pizza. "When I saw his ex-wife, I thought how ugly she made me feel. How small. How...ordinary. She's this beautiful, blonde, perfect Barbie of a woman. Even at eight in the morning. I bet she doesn't even shit. That it's somehow...beneath her," Jenna mused. "That hurt. This whole big shitty mess--hurts. I'm going to cry a lot, Jared. I'm going to drink my feelings, and I'm going to be angry, and I'm going to probably eat my weight in chocolate. But as long as you're here," her eyes went to her hands, "as long as you're here," she looked up at me, tears in those beautiful dark eyes, the kind of eyes that will always be the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, as dark as midnight, and as beautiful as forever, "I think I'll figure out how to be okay."
----
When she looked into my eyes again, she looked calm. Radiant. Not happy, but the worst had passed. She would still let out a shaky I-just-cried-really-hard breath, and her eyes were puffy, but she had this quiet acceptance. Grace. She was gathering up the broken pieces. She wasn't ready to try to piece them together, but she wasn't trying to cut anyone else with them, either. She was dealing with this in a way no one I knew, man or woman, would've been able to.
----
When we finally went to sleep later that night, she leaned into me, her fingers finding mine in the dark, and whispered, "When I watched the ending of Never Been Kissed earlier today, it made me sad. I wanted to cry."
"When Josie's standing on that plate, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, I felt like that. Only my happy ending didn't show up. I was left waiting on that mound, with no time left on the clock," she paused, the silence growing louder, until she finally spoke again, "that's the worst feeling. Being left."
"But then, when I was trying to figure out what to do next, I knew that there was one person I could count on. But since Jesus is in heaven," she laughed, "and busy... I knew I could let myself come to you, and that you'd be there.
"Thank you," she said, her voice breaking a little. "If I didn't have you, I don't know what I'd do right now. And just like the song says, I could not ask for more. Nite, Jared."
----
next
Showing posts with label Song of the Blackbird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Song of the Blackbird. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Blackbird Song (2)
[Jared]
She used to say that she spent most of her time driving around, because it was easier to hear the Blackbird's song that way. She firmly believed in it, as if it was a real thing, something tangible, like wringing water from a wet cloth.
She believed in it the same way she believed that flipping her t-shirt inside out gave it a 'b-side'. As in "I like the a-side of this shirt, but the b-side is much better."
----
The first time she said that particular phrase to me, about the song of the blackbird, I didn't understand what she meant. I just looked at her, gauging her expression, wondering if she was joking. I didn't know then what she could possibly mean by the blackbird's song. Understanding would come later.
----
The blackbird was her baby. It was this shiny, black vintage thunderbird. It was never 'the thunderbird' or 'my car', it was simply the blackbird, or the 'bird. As in "Hey, you wanna go get a few beers? We can take the 'bird."
We spent our weekends driving around in that car, the engine a warm rumbling purr, ready to take us anywhere.
Blackbird time was different than regular time. The time we spent in that car, listening to the wind come in over the windows, listening to classic rock, sometimes singing along, sometimes content to just enjoy the quiet rhythym, why, that time we spent listening to the blackbird. Listening to her song. Jenna said her song wasn't the same for everyone, but if you listened, if you really listened, you'd hear it. Singing just for you.
Sometimes it was looking out the window and falling into your thoughts. Sometimes it was seeing something that made your chest fill up with warm happiness, sometimes being in the warmth of that car was like finding the good things in your life that you'd forgotten you had. The memories that were so long ago, that remembering them was like living them all over again.
Jenna would always say that 'was the power of the Blackbird'. She really believed it. What she didn't realize, what I would've told her, if I could find the words that would make it as beautiful as she deserved was this: it wasn't the blackbird's song she was hearing. It wasn't the blackbird that made that sweetness, like honey and roses and sunshine. No, it was something much more than that. What I wanted to tell her so many times was that there was no Blackbird Song.
That sense of peace that came along on our drives was Jenna. It was always Jenna. That sunshine, that sweetness, was her. She was the warmth of forever. She made you ache in that good way, the way that after the hell you've just been through is over, crying your heart out, only to find it within yourself to laugh, to be filled up, to be made whole.
She was the welcome waiting for you on the other side of the door. She was the embrace that holds you everywhere you needed to be held. She was the feeling of coming home, of loving, of being lost and finding your way. She was like breathing light, she was finding what was lost, she was every good thing you'd never expected to find. She was hope, and truth and everything good and beautiful and pure.
No, that song wasn't the Blackbird's. It was Jenna.
next
Blackbird Song: Master Post (1)
The other day, it was snowing. I've always loved the snow, it has a way of blanketing everything, and making it beautiful.
I ended up pulling a chair up to the big window in the living room, and watching those flakes fall.
As I was sitting there, it was almost like I heard a voice. It was small, quiet, but compelling. It (or rather, he) said, "Sal! Hey, Sal. Do you want to hear a story?"
And I did.
----
[Narrator]
The first thing I need you to do is to close your eyes. Sometimes it's easier to see to the heart of things that way, and I don't want you to be distracted. Just close your eyes, and open your heart. Because I want you to listen. There are things you need to hear, and feel.
Listen.
----
[Jared]
I never thought I'd be sitting here, outside of Jenna's house. Just sitting here, trying to find it in me to get out of the truck, to walk up to the door and see her. To look her in the eyes. Trying to find the courage just to look at her.
I won't even try to offer a 'sorry', because that one word never makes things better. Saying it hurts, but having it said to you is much worse. It cuts, and it's never enough.
There are so many things I want to say, but I'll settle for just looking at her. If I look at her, then I'll know if she's happy. I can't say that it won't hurt, and maybe I'll spend the rest of my life looking back and wishing I'd done things differently, but if I know she's happy, I can live with it. I can live with anything if I know that.
----
I remember reading the paper, listenin to my buddy Jack rattling on about his weekend, drinking my coffee, and then paging past the anniversaries, the birth announcements, and seeing her face looking back at me. In the engagement section.
It was like someone had sucker punched me. I was that stunned. All I could hear was my heartbeat, drowning out Jack's words, pounding, as if the silence in my head had been turned up so loud that it was deafening.
Seeing her name, together with another man's name, that was never how this was supposed to work out. I couldn't put the paper down, I read it over three or four times, hoping that somehow I'd misread, misunderstood.
In all the ways I'd pictured it, that had never factored into things. That she might move on, that she might salvage the pieces of her life, that she might make something new, better, something without me, that was something I never even imagined. The fact that it was staring me in the face, coldly, spelled out in black and white made it worse. It made the horror of what can happen real.
I did the only thing I could think to do. I got up, ignoring Jack's questions. I got up, I walked out, and drove until I found myself here. In front of her house.
----
I turned the radio on, hoping for some courage, some song that would set me on my way, maybe something that would calm my madly beating heart.
I remember Jenna, who refused to own an iPod, telling me that she only listened to the radio. "Have you ever noticed," she said, "you can own a cd, but hearing it on the radio makes it sound so much better? It makes you appreciate it. It's a gift."
I smiled to myself, and this is what found me:
When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
When I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out (when I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you
With the Proclaimers still playing in my ears, I got out of the truck.
----
Her house hadn't changed at all. I saw some kind of big SUV, but there was no sign of the vintage thunderbird she'd driven when I knew her, about a year and a half ago.
It made me wonder, uneasily, what else had changed.
I walked up to the house, knocked, and waited.
And waited.
Finally, I knocked again.
I walked down the steps, feeling heavy, feeling the weight of the decisions I'd made, and just couldn't bring myself to leave. I walked around to the back of the house, hoping. Hoping that maybe she was out here, reading, lounging, and that I might get a glimpse of her.
----
Walking around to the back of the house, I was sure that she didn't live there any longer. For one, there was a swing set. The Jenna I knew didn't want children. Second, there was a woman with long brown hair chasing around a beautiful little red-haired child. Jenna's hair had always been short.
I felt like I didn't belong in this happy backyard suburban scene. I turned to walk away, when I heard her laugh.
Jenna.
I turned back around, and all I had were questions. When did her hair get that long? Was that her child? Was she babysitting?
I was frozen to the spot I was standing. Frozen, watching Jenna, my Jenna.
She ran after the little girl, grabbed her, and the little girl's laughter joined Jenna's. I stood there and watched them, laughing, happy, whole.
She was happy. Someone was making her that happy, and it wasn't me. Sometime in the time that I had left, she had moved on, she'd healed, and seeing her, seeing what I had lost, it all came flooding back.
When someone like that comes into your life, someone that extraordinary, after awhile, you can't remember what your life was like before. I'd find myself wondering how I ever functioned without her.
Jenna coming into my life was like the scene in the Wizard of Oz, when the tornado whisks Dorothy out of the black and white of Kansas, to the glorious technicolor of Oz. That was what Jenna was to me. She was color, she was life, she was hope, happiness, and joy. I was a man of many colors, but Jenna was the motherfucking rainbow.
I didn't so much feel my heart break, as I felt it rip open. I hadn't really been living since I'd left her. Everything in my life had reverted back to Kansas. Black and white.
I was just a stranger, trespassing on her happy moment, feeling the technicolor of Jenna spilling over onto me.
I felt tears, hot, and scalding on my cheeks. They hurt. I felt every single one, felt them burn, and I didn't care. I lost her. I lost my heart, but more importantly, I lost Jenna.
Nothing had been the same since her. Every good thing stemmed from the love she had created in me. I had myself convinced that I'd moved on, but I'd only been lying to myself. I hadn't moved on, I had only taught myself to forget her, I'd closed off that part of myself.
At that exact moment, Jenna looked up and saw me.
She froze. Tension shaded the lines of her body. She didn't smile.
I don't know how long we stood there, our eyes locked, frozen in that backyard. I only know that one minute I was standing there, and the next I was walking away. Then, jogging, and finally, sprinting for my truck.
I managed to make it inside and slam the door, telling myself "She'll run after you. She'll follow you. Any minute, you'll see her."
After twenty minutes had passed, and no Jenna, I somehow made my trembling hands start the truck.
I drove away, constantly looking in the rearview mirror. Still, no Jenna.
----
[A year and a half before]
Baby you're the only one that's ever known how
To make me wanna laugh like I wanna laugh now
next
***Special thanks to my good friend, Jerrod, who encouraged me, read my drafts, and gave me the courage to write this
I ended up pulling a chair up to the big window in the living room, and watching those flakes fall.
As I was sitting there, it was almost like I heard a voice. It was small, quiet, but compelling. It (or rather, he) said, "Sal! Hey, Sal. Do you want to hear a story?"
And I did.
----
[Narrator]
The first thing I need you to do is to close your eyes. Sometimes it's easier to see to the heart of things that way, and I don't want you to be distracted. Just close your eyes, and open your heart. Because I want you to listen. There are things you need to hear, and feel.
Listen.
----
[Jared]
I never thought I'd be sitting here, outside of Jenna's house. Just sitting here, trying to find it in me to get out of the truck, to walk up to the door and see her. To look her in the eyes. Trying to find the courage just to look at her.
I won't even try to offer a 'sorry', because that one word never makes things better. Saying it hurts, but having it said to you is much worse. It cuts, and it's never enough.
There are so many things I want to say, but I'll settle for just looking at her. If I look at her, then I'll know if she's happy. I can't say that it won't hurt, and maybe I'll spend the rest of my life looking back and wishing I'd done things differently, but if I know she's happy, I can live with it. I can live with anything if I know that.
----
I remember reading the paper, listenin to my buddy Jack rattling on about his weekend, drinking my coffee, and then paging past the anniversaries, the birth announcements, and seeing her face looking back at me. In the engagement section.
It was like someone had sucker punched me. I was that stunned. All I could hear was my heartbeat, drowning out Jack's words, pounding, as if the silence in my head had been turned up so loud that it was deafening.
Seeing her name, together with another man's name, that was never how this was supposed to work out. I couldn't put the paper down, I read it over three or four times, hoping that somehow I'd misread, misunderstood.
In all the ways I'd pictured it, that had never factored into things. That she might move on, that she might salvage the pieces of her life, that she might make something new, better, something without me, that was something I never even imagined. The fact that it was staring me in the face, coldly, spelled out in black and white made it worse. It made the horror of what can happen real.
I did the only thing I could think to do. I got up, ignoring Jack's questions. I got up, I walked out, and drove until I found myself here. In front of her house.
----
I turned the radio on, hoping for some courage, some song that would set me on my way, maybe something that would calm my madly beating heart.
I remember Jenna, who refused to own an iPod, telling me that she only listened to the radio. "Have you ever noticed," she said, "you can own a cd, but hearing it on the radio makes it sound so much better? It makes you appreciate it. It's a gift."
I smiled to myself, and this is what found me:
When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
When I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you
When I go out (when I go out), well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you
And when I come home yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you
With the Proclaimers still playing in my ears, I got out of the truck.
----
Her house hadn't changed at all. I saw some kind of big SUV, but there was no sign of the vintage thunderbird she'd driven when I knew her, about a year and a half ago.
It made me wonder, uneasily, what else had changed.
I walked up to the house, knocked, and waited.
And waited.
Finally, I knocked again.
I walked down the steps, feeling heavy, feeling the weight of the decisions I'd made, and just couldn't bring myself to leave. I walked around to the back of the house, hoping. Hoping that maybe she was out here, reading, lounging, and that I might get a glimpse of her.
----
Walking around to the back of the house, I was sure that she didn't live there any longer. For one, there was a swing set. The Jenna I knew didn't want children. Second, there was a woman with long brown hair chasing around a beautiful little red-haired child. Jenna's hair had always been short.
I felt like I didn't belong in this happy backyard suburban scene. I turned to walk away, when I heard her laugh.
Jenna.
I turned back around, and all I had were questions. When did her hair get that long? Was that her child? Was she babysitting?
I was frozen to the spot I was standing. Frozen, watching Jenna, my Jenna.
She ran after the little girl, grabbed her, and the little girl's laughter joined Jenna's. I stood there and watched them, laughing, happy, whole.
She was happy. Someone was making her that happy, and it wasn't me. Sometime in the time that I had left, she had moved on, she'd healed, and seeing her, seeing what I had lost, it all came flooding back.
When someone like that comes into your life, someone that extraordinary, after awhile, you can't remember what your life was like before. I'd find myself wondering how I ever functioned without her.
Jenna coming into my life was like the scene in the Wizard of Oz, when the tornado whisks Dorothy out of the black and white of Kansas, to the glorious technicolor of Oz. That was what Jenna was to me. She was color, she was life, she was hope, happiness, and joy. I was a man of many colors, but Jenna was the motherfucking rainbow.
I didn't so much feel my heart break, as I felt it rip open. I hadn't really been living since I'd left her. Everything in my life had reverted back to Kansas. Black and white.
I was just a stranger, trespassing on her happy moment, feeling the technicolor of Jenna spilling over onto me.
I felt tears, hot, and scalding on my cheeks. They hurt. I felt every single one, felt them burn, and I didn't care. I lost her. I lost my heart, but more importantly, I lost Jenna.
Nothing had been the same since her. Every good thing stemmed from the love she had created in me. I had myself convinced that I'd moved on, but I'd only been lying to myself. I hadn't moved on, I had only taught myself to forget her, I'd closed off that part of myself.
At that exact moment, Jenna looked up and saw me.
She froze. Tension shaded the lines of her body. She didn't smile.
I don't know how long we stood there, our eyes locked, frozen in that backyard. I only know that one minute I was standing there, and the next I was walking away. Then, jogging, and finally, sprinting for my truck.
I managed to make it inside and slam the door, telling myself "She'll run after you. She'll follow you. Any minute, you'll see her."
After twenty minutes had passed, and no Jenna, I somehow made my trembling hands start the truck.
I drove away, constantly looking in the rearview mirror. Still, no Jenna.
----
[A year and a half before]
Baby you're the only one that's ever known how
To make me wanna laugh like I wanna laugh now
next
***Special thanks to my good friend, Jerrod, who encouraged me, read my drafts, and gave me the courage to write this
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