personal blog: simon
Kevin’s room hasn’t changed much, yet again, I haven’t spent much time in it, maybe once or twice over the two years of our courtship; but, the lamps in the shape of trees, definitely stand out. he gently lays me down, as if not to do any more harm to my feeble soul. then quickly disappears from the room to appear with water and ibuprofen. “in case,” he says, not a disquiet warning but a cautionary offering. “let’s see you.” examining my face, “another nose bleed,” and shakes his head as if shaking his thoughts. “why now, getting help?”
“I have demons,” I proclaimed. the words were mere swords to keep Bryan at a distance. “people have skeletons. I have demons.”
my nonsense, but Bryan seemed to understand nudging me to say more, “because of what was done to you?” lowering his voice to equal mine.
“and because of what I have done.”
“I want to get better… I don’t think I can do that with you… I don’t think we were right. we argued all the time.”
“you argued. you were angry,” Kevin corrects me.
“get off me! get off me!” the second shout louder and prominent than the first; for me to shove Kevin as if he has weaponized to hurt me, but the fear was blatant. an aversion… repugnant… and Kevin stood arrested in perplexity, saying nothing. all because my thoughts got a little heated, violent that day.
“I am angry,” I do not argue.
“yeah.” the measure of Kevin’s gentle agreement, like my state is always obvious to deduce.
I return a smile, “yeah… you can’t be rescuing me.”
“I’m not.” the defeat in his voice rings true, then a timid grin, “what am I to do with you on my doorstep, collapsing?” adding gravely, “doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”
“I know it’s over,” he admits. “I knew it was for a while… I didn’t want you being alone…” and then his eyes spark as he recollects, “you looked so alone and sad when I first saw you… in need of a friend… I was such an idiot… for sleeping with you that day. I regretted it.”
I listen to him with clarity and guilt.
“but I was so nervous,” he adds.
“you didn’t seem nervous.”
he turns to meet my gaze. “you were my second boyfriend and I wanted to make everything perfect… but you were always so…”
“unhappy,” I finish his thought. “it’s not your fault.”
“I know now… I learned… we can’t change people, make them fall in love with you, make them happy… rescue them,” and the gentle touch of my forehead, a brush through my hair, a shrug. Kevin crawls into the bed next to me, curling up. his hand on my shoulder. “I know… and I’m glad you’re seeking help.” he lets the moment prolong.
“I know… get your rest,” and he pulls the covers up to my neck, tucking a pillow under his head.
with the heaviness of the day, the night weighs me to slumber.
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© simon whittle — second act