|
Title: J'ai Suivi Le Vol D'un Ange Summary: Maybe things took a nasty turn after The Truth...
Et j'ai suivi le vol d'un ange You open the door to your empty apartment and flip on the lights. The response to reach for the switch is automatic, so often have you returned to this place long after dark. You are a nocturnal creature, hiding in your office cubical until your colleagues are gone for the day. You have a desk lamp that you snap on when the janitor leaves. He always turns the main light off when he goes, thinking it wasteful to light the entire office for one person. You are a lonely little soul these days, retreating from the realities of your life by throwing yourself into the depths of your work. Things haven't been right for you for a while now.
"How did we get here?" The question resounded in the space between us, its weighted meaning drawing me from my reverie and bringing the sharp prick of tears to my eyes. We hadn't spoken for hours, not since the sun was high in the sky, and the road markers were still written in English. I was grateful for the darkness that hid my tears from the man beside me. "Where is here?" The words seemed facetious as soon as they left my mouth and I wished that I could take them back. He glanced away from the road for a second and I found myself unable to meet his eyes. I looked up in time to see his grimace in the dim blue light from the dashboard and suddenly wondered when things became so complicated. "So...are we being metaphorical now?" His tone brought fresh tears to my eyes. We were supposed to be escaping together, running to a new life. All of a sudden, the thrill was gone and I simply couldn't remember when language became figurative between us. Perhaps it was at the moment that I loaded my life into a suitcase, and the suitcase into his car. I couldn't fight the doubt that rose in my mind, bobbing to the surface and refusing to be pushed back down. What if I'd made a mistake? What if this was the wrong thing to do? By that point, it didn't matter anyway. It was much too late for regrets. I longed to be able to say the right thing to break the silence that hung between us after the radio died into static. I just couldn't find the words. He allowed me to be silent during those hours we spent on the road. He seemed to understand that I couldn't talk about what I didn't yet understand myself. Perhaps he was glad that I hadn't yet attempted to articulate my grief for the life that I left behind for him. He knew that I'd abandoned all that I'd built in the time he was gone; closed my door one last time and waved goodbye to my career, what was left of my family and any semblance of security I may have had. He cried with me as we drove away from the last of our friends and allies. My thoughts were with my family; the little boy I gave away; when I turned in my seat to look at him, wondering whether his face was the same as I remembered it. Now that it was just the two of us, I couldn't help but wonder if he was even the same person at all. I found myself so altered by the events of the past week that the person I glimpsed in the wing-mirror was a haggard stranger, wearied by travel, a face etched with emotions I couldn't contemplate. I was almost surprised to find that I recognised the man beside me, his features as familiar as the little blue teddy I clutched in my lap; a sad memoir of the child I'd left behind. I wonder now why I allowed this to reassure me. I even felt the tightness in my chest and the pain in my stomach lessen slightly. Foolishly, I wondered whether things might be alright after all.
It was careless of you, really, tempting fate, driving for too many hours, eager to reach your new life and begin again. You wanted to get as far away as possible from the memories of a life gone so wrong, the apartment where you still hear him cry in the night and still smell him on his little blanket. Your choice was made, you were determined to carry it through. To lie in the bed you had made, so to speak. You took your turn at the wheel as your lover slept, pressing on even though your own eyelids drooped and you longed for sleep. Your need for escape was all-consuming, so you drove on long after you should have admitted defeat and pulled over onto the hard shoulder of that lonely stretch of road. Each time you return to the empty rooms of your bland apartment and turn on the lights, memories fill your head. You ask yourself why it is suddenly emptied of the important facts and details that you occupy your days with. Each night is the same: you come home to loneliness and the sorrow weighs heavy on your heart, enough to drop you to your knees there on the doormat. From where you crouch, gasping for air against the pressure that builds upon your chest, you can see a flash of blue beneath the back of the sofa. Tonight, you reach for the little blue teddy you once clutched as a reminder of your baby boy and draw it to you. It is stained with a russet streak that will not be washed out and you rub at the mark with such ferocity that you tear the fabric. A little stuffing spills from the hole and it too is stained. Damaged, ravaged and spoiled. Just like you.
|