I sit by the glass, silently watching the city below. The rain trickles down the window’s cold flesh and shimmers the twilight hour. My cheek presses against the chilly transparency, soothing my body but not my mind. How harsh a cold, how harsh the autumn cold on my skin. The glass blurs from my breath and denies me sight of the world below. I don’t move away. I can’t. I am as frosty inside as the chilly panes of glass I lean against. Chilled, bitten, dead.
I saw my brother today. I’d gone to visit him in that wonderfully small country cottage, with his brilliant wife and his glorious children, and we’d sat in his cosy little living-room lounge and we’d spoken of life, of work, of business. It’s all we ever do discuss. That and Darell; the only thing in my empty existence; my job and my friend.
He never comments on my dismal state of life. I know he wants to, I can see it in his eyes each time they connect with mine, but he never does. How could he confront me with such pity, I wonder, when he knows better than anyone how that would only hurt me more.
I’d watched his children play on the floor today: ‘broom, broom’ and ‘bang, bang’, and I had been struck then by a distinct sadness. I had remembered a time we used to play like that; children’s bodies, children’s minds. The innocence and joy and such utter simplicity. I had seen us there on the floor as boys and I had wept silently for all that I had lost. My internal tears though, were of no consequence to my brother. Because for as much as he loved me, he had his own life now, his own precious children.
I could’ve had that. I could have had a family: a wonderfully small country cottage, a brilliant wife, glorious children. I had tried once, to marry, to live with my commitment and love her. It hadn’t lasted long. Three months. Three months I’d lived with her, slept with her, woken to her. Three long months I had suffered the lies and betrayal. And then it had dawned on me how utterly selfish I was. If she had fallen pregnant, what would have happened? What would have come next? What would I have done? I would have suffered a family and that woman would have suffered with me. Because eventually I would stop pretending. Nobody could live out their life like that and I would have doomed her like I had doomed myself.
Would that have been better though? Would it have been better to live miserable than to live lonely?
I’m supposed to be an Darell’s right now. It’s Friday and we always meet at his place for drinks on a Friday. My best friend. My only friend. The sole love in my life. I wonder sometimes if he is as lonely as me. He smiles, he always smiles, but are his smiles real? Or are they as false as the marriage I once tried to make? How could he be happy? Living a life like mine? Living in loneliness? Or does he not feel it?
Perhaps, I think, it is because I know I have no future. He may find some brilliant woman, a wonderfully small country cottage and have glorious little children. I never would. I’d never love a woman. Never. I had tried. I had tried so hard and failed. I would never love a woman. I would die alone. The only person I had ever loved – would ever love – was waiting for me this moment, waiting and wondering if something wrong had happened.
Nothing had happened; I was sitting on my windowsill looking down at the world below and seeing nothing.
I didn’t know if I wanted to go tonight. I wanted to see him, I always wanted to see him. But after today, after seeing life the way a man should live it and knowing I never, ever could. After that I faltered. Cursed, I swore. I was cursed. Cursed to live my life alone, never to love a woman and forbidden the love of my friend.
But even though the desire may have been missing, I would still go. I would go to see his smile, his precious smile, when he opened the door and saw me there, when he poured the glorious drinks and prepared the wonderful food, when he sat down on his brilliant couch beside me and when he looked into my eyes. When he laughed at our empty, boring lives and called us silly. He would smile at me and sometimes, in the moment, I would smile too. I would smile at him and let myself believe that he loved me even a portion of the amount I loved him.
But that was only on Fridays. That was only tonight. And that was not reality.
- Leila
Emm…this is new, but I haven’t gone over it very much so it may not be all that good. But here it is! I hope it’s clear what’s going on, and let me know if there’s anything wrong or that…
Xx..xX