Enemy of the People
One day, someone came along. She was normal, and ordinary in all senses of the word. I said, : "Fine, I have some time to kill." So I dated, I made love and I flipped omelets filled with mushroom, bell pepper, and onions. I knew that it was a convenient choice. She was a girlfriend in transit. She knew it, yet she chose to stay in it.
Then one day, she came over after work. She looked tired and stressed from battles waged in the office. And she looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. So I sat her down. I poured some hot water into a pan, mixed in some tropical oil, and washed those tired feet of hers. As I was massaging her feet, I felt her fingers run through my short blond hair and I looked up from the water, right at her. There were tears in her eyes. In those eyes, I saw happy children running in circles amidst tall grass. In those eyes, I saw the promise of tomorrow.
At that moment, I wondered how could this woman care so much. And then suddenly I realized exactly what I was doing. Sleeves rolled up to my biceps, siting on a low stool, attending to the woman's feet. I started to panic, and I stopped breathing. This is all wrong, my mind told me. Yet, surprisingly, it felt familiar. It felt comfortable, like a feeling of an old friend who had come to visit.
I dried her feet and got up muttering something unintelligible. I walked over to the balcony stopping briefly to turn on the stereo. Standing on the balcony and said to myself : "What have I done?" All of a sudden, Al Hirt came on the stereo, playing some tune about lovers in
Paris, making that old horn of his weep. I felt her coming up behind me and she wrapped her arms around me asking: "Are you okay?"
Abruptly, she was no longer ordinary. She's the one who loved me, even with my flaws. I wanted to love her back, out of kindness, or something along that line. I tried. And yet, there was something intrinsically unfair to her about it, as if I was doing it because the TelePrompTer said so. I realized that this time I too, had to be brave
and truthful.
So I took a deep breath and said: "We have to talk."
--
There's no easy way to break somebody's heart, is there? I wondered how many more checks like this my soul can cash when she looked at me silently, with tears of sadness in her eyes. I feel like I am still paying for that Faustian contract signed but long forgotten.
--
The sun is rising again. It is yet another day. I'll remember to breathe. I'll hope that things will be better. She will find someone worthy of her.
And may God have mercy on my soul
Then one day, she came over after work. She looked tired and stressed from battles waged in the office. And she looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. So I sat her down. I poured some hot water into a pan, mixed in some tropical oil, and washed those tired feet of hers. As I was massaging her feet, I felt her fingers run through my short blond hair and I looked up from the water, right at her. There were tears in her eyes. In those eyes, I saw happy children running in circles amidst tall grass. In those eyes, I saw the promise of tomorrow.
At that moment, I wondered how could this woman care so much. And then suddenly I realized exactly what I was doing. Sleeves rolled up to my biceps, siting on a low stool, attending to the woman's feet. I started to panic, and I stopped breathing. This is all wrong, my mind told me. Yet, surprisingly, it felt familiar. It felt comfortable, like a feeling of an old friend who had come to visit.
I dried her feet and got up muttering something unintelligible. I walked over to the balcony stopping briefly to turn on the stereo. Standing on the balcony and said to myself : "What have I done?" All of a sudden, Al Hirt came on the stereo, playing some tune about lovers in
Paris, making that old horn of his weep. I felt her coming up behind me and she wrapped her arms around me asking: "Are you okay?"
Abruptly, she was no longer ordinary. She's the one who loved me, even with my flaws. I wanted to love her back, out of kindness, or something along that line. I tried. And yet, there was something intrinsically unfair to her about it, as if I was doing it because the TelePrompTer said so. I realized that this time I too, had to be brave
and truthful.
So I took a deep breath and said: "We have to talk."
--
There's no easy way to break somebody's heart, is there? I wondered how many more checks like this my soul can cash when she looked at me silently, with tears of sadness in her eyes. I feel like I am still paying for that Faustian contract signed but long forgotten.
--
The sun is rising again. It is yet another day. I'll remember to breathe. I'll hope that things will be better. She will find someone worthy of her.
And may God have mercy on my soul
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