Windows and lost love
I dreamt of M last night. I was pregnant (!!! yikes eh? I was pretty happy about it though…) and I was looking for some new baby stuff since I’d not kept anything after having Colt. I didn’t think I would need it again. I was driving by the old neighbourhood, since that’s the only route I know to get to the shopping centre, and drove past the old house I used to live in. Every time I pass that place I get curious to see if it still looks the same inside, so I pulled over and walked quietly up to the front door. There are rows of frosted glass blocks on either side of the entrance and I cupped my hands and tried to peer inside but there was something dark blocking my view. I stepped back and watched the shadow inside move with me. I stepped onto the lawn and moved to the bay window out front where I was surprised to find M, standing across from me, looking out as I was looking in.
His eyes were so sad. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t emotional, wasn’t angry…just pure, deep sadness unfiltered, straight from his soul. There was a weight about him, heavy and dark; the sarcastic, clever spark inside long since burn out leaving nothing but black ashes in its wake. He wasn’t asking me for anything, didn’t want to talk or touch or connect, he just stood there, humanity washed from him, life taking on a different form.
I put my hand to the window and he did the same from the other side. The moment that connection was made I knew he was sick…not mentally ill, that was always clear, but there was a dark sickness inside him, rotting somewhere unattended. His face had that pallor and I could almost smell the sickness in him. It wasn’t his unhappiness, his discomfort, his anxiety or fear…it was his body dying somehow, as if it had run its course and was quietly shutting down and going home.
The woman he always left me for wasn’t with him anymore, I could see that too. He was unshowered, filthy with visible plaque coating his yellow teeth. He had white clown make up on that had been fading and rubbing off for days…it only added to his pallor of sickness.
“You have to take care of yourself!” I tried to tell him but he turned away when I spoke.
“I still love you…” I said. His eyes nearly filled with tears but the effort seemed to great and the emotion dropped off his face again.
“I don’t understand why you chose this over a life with me.” It was my eyes that filled with tears that time and I let them spill over and drip to the grass beneath my feet.
He shrugged with so little enthusiasm I wasn’t sure if actually moved and then shuffled away. I watched him do a zombie gaited pace through the house…same route I used to take; through the front room, up the stairs, through the bedrooms, down the stairs, into the kitchen, around the dining room, through the front room and back up the stairs.
I cried for him then, hard, but couldn’t bring myself to go inside. I knew that if I did, I’d likely never come out again. I made my way back to my car and called his father, told him how much he was drifting away.
“It’s better than him causing shit dressed in drag and fucking his mother.” was his dad’s reply. I supposed it was true and also, none of my business.
I put my hand on my pregnant belly as the baby stretched and flipped positions and smiled, a little sadly to myself. New beginnings were easy when you didn’t create your own roadblocks, I mused, started up my car, and drove away without looking back.