“What happened?” he asked, “Tell me.”
There were so many things that I could never tell him, things that I recall in guilt, shame, and anger, things that I can’t find the strength to talk about. The love between us, for instance, was about to end. His conditions and necessities had destroyed our hearts. He had strangled all of those blossoming love creatures of mine, those baby faced ghosts that had inherited my grandmother’s hands, father’s eyelashes, and mom’s cries. He had slit the throats of some of them over a joyful dinner table with a sharp word, starved a handful by his complete silence, some were beaten with the angry tones in his laugh; others were pulled to pieces with the sword of his needs. Those unfortunate souls bled in my hands, I breathed in their stiff scents. Who would have known that much blood could come from such a helpless love?
“Nothing,” I said, and made my way to the bathroom, rinsed the stains from my hands, put on my sweet orange perfume before going back to his side.
“Shall we watch a movie?” he asked with an innocent smile.
“Shall we watch,” I thought, “… during the farewell-demons, the great-dejection-monster or simply as the loneliness captures us?”
Maybe he had no idea about the ghosts circling around me, or the pain he caused. My heavy heart begged me to give him a chance to undo the ruins. My soul eased me to speak up without shame or fear. It wasn’t about the relationship anymore, but to save my past, to ease my sadness. One of my last remaining love creatures asked me, with tears in its eyes, to utter my feelings. Could I do that?
“Yes,” I said, “let’s watch a movie.”