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6th May 2006
: From The Sidelines. (3)
So I heard the phone ringing. I was wearing his baseball shirt. It didn't even smell like him over the months. I picked up the phone and in a groggy tone moaned.
"Hello?"
I sat up on the couch, I couldn't sleep ion the bed, it never felt so cold.
"Hello?"
I repeated nothing.
And then the sound of silence being pierced by a beep.
I held the phone from my head.
"Hello?" A broken voice called out. It was him; it was Conor he was coming home. It had been months, it was now September. And he was coming home.
"Hey Angel." I smiled, wiping the sleep dust out of my eyes. "Are you coming home?"
"I'll be there in a week. I have to go now, I love you."
And the silence was pierced again, with the sound of a dead line droning.
I hung up and started to move around.
A week, I had seven days to fix up the house, and burn all his drug shit. The truth was I was still using it here and there but it wasn't a huge deal, it was just a little bit of coke. I even used to pep me up from the long day of cleaning.
Once I was done the house shined, literally, I had swept and folded and poked and prodded every imperfection in the home and I was finished. Thinking about when we just started being together. The way we used to scream lyrics. His were always so much better. Or the way he used to brush the hair out of my eyes.
I cherished those things and now I was going to get them back. The summer nights, the idiotic fights on my pants being to ugly. Everything and as bed as it might of seemed I think I fell in love with Conor. Or maybe the idea of love. Being so perfect. It made the coldest day bright.
It was love, like they talked about in movie or books. Epic love and I couldn't wait to taste him again. It would be a day that would live in infamy.
_
On that Sunday evening I was waiting on the corner of forth. Something I used to do a lot when Conor hustled. It was my typical Sunday night, as pathetic as that sounded. But it was the day. The day I saw my lover. The day I would of been happy to be run over by a speeding car only if I saw him first.
The rain even started to clear and every car that passed I thought it was him, my hopes always jarring up and down. I looked down at my feet and pretended that he was there, busy with his friends as I shrugged it off and the talking became a dull roar in the background. But it wasn't like that this time. All the talking of my head was interrupted by the sound of a door shutting. I looked up and it was him.
My eyes lit up, even I could see it in myself without a mirror. The man I loved waved me over but I shook my head. I was too frozen to move. He cowered his head and came over.
Looking at me. What was I going to say 'Hello Beautiful Stranger?' Sounded too rehearsed.
"Hello Angel." I said, internally swearing myself in circles.
"Hey Frankie." He nodded. We were friends on the streets. That's how it always was.
"How was...you know?" I started. Idiot! IDIOT.
"It was great, they put me in a psyche ward for a while.”
A psyche ward? Sure he was a cokehead, but he wasn't ready for the Looney bin.
"Oh; listen I'm sorry but I thought that..." Conor stopped me and cupped my face in his hands, brushing his lips against mine before kissing me. I felt my arms betray me and brace his back. I was holding him, he was prying my mouth open with his tongue and we, oh we were on the corner of the street.
I heard shuffling behind me. Around me and saw Johnny, one of Conor's 'contacts' tap Conor on the shoulder he jerked away and faced the man. Conor pushed me away lightly and turned around to confront him.
"Frankie. Stay here. I have to talk to my friend over there." I nodded like a puppy. Waiting for him there; guilty. I knew what I was doing to myself.
They were gone three minutes tops and Johnny walked okay from alleyway they were talking in. I waited for Conor. And waited. And waited. Know I knew why he loved clocks so much. I walked across the street and called his name and he came. Out of the darkness. Normal in appearance.
"What was that all about?"
He shrugged. "He had a problem and I had to pay him."
I smiled and leaned my head onto his side as we walked to our home. Up the stairs and into the front door.
"It looks so..." Conor said. "Clean."
And it was, and I didn't hire a maid but I didn't say all of that. "Yeah." I said looking around.
"I think I want to take a shower. " He stated, walking shiftily towards it. It struck me as odd but he hadn't had the best year ever. I followed. Like a puppy. If he would asked me to sit I would of.
But he didn't, he let me walk into the bathroom with him and watched as he drew a bubble bath. He never took them. As the water filled the tub I kissed him again, over and over and pulled the hem of his shirt up and he pushed it back down. Denied. "Conor please..." He shook my head with his hands, as if it was too much to shake his own. He started on my clothes and sent me into the other room to get his pajama bottoms. I got them and when I returned he was sitting the bubble bath, fully clothed. Laughing.
I laughed too. It was so funny. He motioned for me to enter the tub and I did, stepping into carefully not to hurt him and sat on his lap. Leaning back. Still laughing. "I love you Conor." I kissed his cheek. He smiled. "I love you too. " He started stroking my hair lovingly, it was started to bother me as it turned from lovingly to longingly. I knew the difference he wanted something.
"Promise me something?" He asked, kissing my scorpion tattoo.
"Anything Angel."
"Learn from my mistakes..." I nodded, simple enough request.
We sat in a silence before he started kissing me again, making his hands roam every where, digging his nails through the clothing and I couldn't help but feel happy again. I had my best friend, my fuck buddy, my lover. The kisses grew more intense until I tasted copper. I thought it was my own imagination but it wasn't. I wasn't crazy. I tasted blood.
I pulled away and yelped. "CONOR!"
He smiled and blood poured out of the corner of his mouth.
"What's a matter with you?" I shouted, my heart racing. I could feel tears well up in fear.
"Nothing , you must of bit me you kinky fuck." He laughed and there was a cough, blood now poured all over his chin.
"C-conor.." I started to tear, to wretch already. I pushed aside the bubbles and saw the crimson water under the innocence of ignorance that covered us both.
"Oh my god. I'm going to call the-" He held my arm.
"It's late. Too late. It's been too late for years Frankie." That was crazy talk.
"But if you die I won't ever get to wake up in the morning with you and I won't be able to drink coffee with you in the morning and every night when I sleep you won't kiss my eyelids and..." I was rambling and crying, holding onto him like he was already dead.
"And..." I shuddered, I couldn't talk; the tears were coming too hard.
"And we share a name on some picturesque grave." Conor said and I could feel his life leave his body. He was gone. Dead. Forever. There was not "Play Again" It was over.
I remember sitting in that water, on his chest, praying for a heart beat. Praying this was a bad trip and we were still entwined on the couch together. Watching Mad About You but sometimes I don't get my wishes.
The water was getting cold. I was too.
So.. What did yah think? =D
So I heard the phone ringing. I was wearing his baseball shirt. It didn't even smell like him over the months. I picked up the phone and in a groggy tone moaned.
"Hello?"
I sat up on the couch, I couldn't sleep ion the bed, it never felt so cold.
"Hello?"
I repeated nothing.
And then the sound of silence being pierced by a beep.
I held the phone from my head.
"Hello?" A broken voice called out. It was him; it was Conor he was coming home. It had been months, it was now September. And he was coming home.
"Hey Angel." I smiled, wiping the sleep dust out of my eyes. "Are you coming home?"
"I'll be there in a week. I have to go now, I love you."
And the silence was pierced again, with the sound of a dead line droning.
I hung up and started to move around.
A week, I had seven days to fix up the house, and burn all his drug shit. The truth was I was still using it here and there but it wasn't a huge deal, it was just a little bit of coke. I even used to pep me up from the long day of cleaning.
Once I was done the house shined, literally, I had swept and folded and poked and prodded every imperfection in the home and I was finished. Thinking about when we just started being together. The way we used to scream lyrics. His were always so much better. Or the way he used to brush the hair out of my eyes.
I cherished those things and now I was going to get them back. The summer nights, the idiotic fights on my pants being to ugly. Everything and as bed as it might of seemed I think I fell in love with Conor. Or maybe the idea of love. Being so perfect. It made the coldest day bright.
It was love, like they talked about in movie or books. Epic love and I couldn't wait to taste him again. It would be a day that would live in infamy.
_
On that Sunday evening I was waiting on the corner of forth. Something I used to do a lot when Conor hustled. It was my typical Sunday night, as pathetic as that sounded. But it was the day. The day I saw my lover. The day I would of been happy to be run over by a speeding car only if I saw him first.
The rain even started to clear and every car that passed I thought it was him, my hopes always jarring up and down. I looked down at my feet and pretended that he was there, busy with his friends as I shrugged it off and the talking became a dull roar in the background. But it wasn't like that this time. All the talking of my head was interrupted by the sound of a door shutting. I looked up and it was him.
My eyes lit up, even I could see it in myself without a mirror. The man I loved waved me over but I shook my head. I was too frozen to move. He cowered his head and came over.
Looking at me. What was I going to say 'Hello Beautiful Stranger?' Sounded too rehearsed.
"Hello Angel." I said, internally swearing myself in circles.
"Hey Frankie." He nodded. We were friends on the streets. That's how it always was.
"How was...you know?" I started. Idiot! IDIOT.
"It was great, they put me in a psyche ward for a while.”
A psyche ward? Sure he was a cokehead, but he wasn't ready for the Looney bin.
"Oh; listen I'm sorry but I thought that..." Conor stopped me and cupped my face in his hands, brushing his lips against mine before kissing me. I felt my arms betray me and brace his back. I was holding him, he was prying my mouth open with his tongue and we, oh we were on the corner of the street.
I heard shuffling behind me. Around me and saw Johnny, one of Conor's 'contacts' tap Conor on the shoulder he jerked away and faced the man. Conor pushed me away lightly and turned around to confront him.
"Frankie. Stay here. I have to talk to my friend over there." I nodded like a puppy. Waiting for him there; guilty. I knew what I was doing to myself.
They were gone three minutes tops and Johnny walked okay from alleyway they were talking in. I waited for Conor. And waited. And waited. Know I knew why he loved clocks so much. I walked across the street and called his name and he came. Out of the darkness. Normal in appearance.
"What was that all about?"
He shrugged. "He had a problem and I had to pay him."
I smiled and leaned my head onto his side as we walked to our home. Up the stairs and into the front door.
"It looks so..." Conor said. "Clean."
And it was, and I didn't hire a maid but I didn't say all of that. "Yeah." I said looking around.
"I think I want to take a shower. " He stated, walking shiftily towards it. It struck me as odd but he hadn't had the best year ever. I followed. Like a puppy. If he would asked me to sit I would of.
But he didn't, he let me walk into the bathroom with him and watched as he drew a bubble bath. He never took them. As the water filled the tub I kissed him again, over and over and pulled the hem of his shirt up and he pushed it back down. Denied. "Conor please..." He shook my head with his hands, as if it was too much to shake his own. He started on my clothes and sent me into the other room to get his pajama bottoms. I got them and when I returned he was sitting the bubble bath, fully clothed. Laughing.
I laughed too. It was so funny. He motioned for me to enter the tub and I did, stepping into carefully not to hurt him and sat on his lap. Leaning back. Still laughing. "I love you Conor." I kissed his cheek. He smiled. "I love you too. " He started stroking my hair lovingly, it was started to bother me as it turned from lovingly to longingly. I knew the difference he wanted something.
"Promise me something?" He asked, kissing my scorpion tattoo.
"Anything Angel."
"Learn from my mistakes..." I nodded, simple enough request.
We sat in a silence before he started kissing me again, making his hands roam every where, digging his nails through the clothing and I couldn't help but feel happy again. I had my best friend, my fuck buddy, my lover. The kisses grew more intense until I tasted copper. I thought it was my own imagination but it wasn't. I wasn't crazy. I tasted blood.
I pulled away and yelped. "CONOR!"
He smiled and blood poured out of the corner of his mouth.
"What's a matter with you?" I shouted, my heart racing. I could feel tears well up in fear.
"Nothing , you must of bit me you kinky fuck." He laughed and there was a cough, blood now poured all over his chin.
"C-conor.." I started to tear, to wretch already. I pushed aside the bubbles and saw the crimson water under the innocence of ignorance that covered us both.
"Oh my god. I'm going to call the-" He held my arm.
"It's late. Too late. It's been too late for years Frankie." That was crazy talk.
"But if you die I won't ever get to wake up in the morning with you and I won't be able to drink coffee with you in the morning and every night when I sleep you won't kiss my eyelids and..." I was rambling and crying, holding onto him like he was already dead.
"And..." I shuddered, I couldn't talk; the tears were coming too hard.
"And we share a name on some picturesque grave." Conor said and I could feel his life leave his body. He was gone. Dead. Forever. There was not "Play Again" It was over.
I remember sitting in that water, on his chest, praying for a heart beat. Praying this was a bad trip and we were still entwined on the couch together. Watching Mad About You but sometimes I don't get my wishes.
The water was getting cold. I was too.
So.. What did yah think? =D
5th May 2006
: From The Sidelines. (2)
So I loved him. Right?
I said those three little words anyone could take and cherish. What was I going to do? Leave him hanging in the air? That wasn't right.
How do you love you love someone and turn around and say "Opps. Sorry. I don't really love you. I just kind of pity you." ?
There was one day that presented itself awkwardly in my memory, Conor and I were laying entwined together on the couch watching a re-run of Mad About You. I watched the screen color his face different shades in the dark. I was trying to find the words to tell him that it needed to stop. All the drugs. All the pointless sex. All the lying.
"Angel..." I said, it was my little nickname for him now.
"Yes, Frankie."
"I think you need to get help."
The statement laid like death in the air. I watched his face twist and saw him as he gathered all the right words.
"I don't need help, I'm in control of my life."
I pulled myself away from him and he moved closer, kissing me again. I hated how he used physical attention to deflect all his little problems. I let him do whatever he wanted. Which was much since I knew he needed a fix anytime soon. I felt his body tense and I knew he had to decide between me and the drugs. I he picked the latter.
He left that night and didn't come back for three. Three cold, angry nights I spent all by myself. Seemingly tied to the TV, passing the time just so I could chew him out and tell him he was a worthless druggie who deserved love from the bottom of a plastic baggie or the inside of a body bag. As a commercial for an online dating service flicked on the TV the phone rang and I answered. I knew my voice was cracked from everything I had done in the last weeks.
"Hello."
I heard someone breathe into the receiver.
"Frankie?" It was a weak version of Conor's voice.
"Yes Angel?" All that anger was gone. Momentarily.
"Don't be so scared, it's harder for me.”
My heart dropped.
"Where are you Conor?"
The phone was breaking up now. I was wishing for a fix now.
"I'm at the corner of forth."
I sprung up from the couch and found my footing to get my jacket.
"I'm getting you."
The rain was pouring down again, it seemed more like still. It never stopped raining out here. At least Jersey you could get mugged and have it be a shiny and bright day. I saw the top of his head in the clearing and felt immediately better. He was like a lost puppy to me. He turned to me and had a empathetic smile.
"Where were you?" I asked, not a harsh note in my voice.
"Around." He answered causally.
How dare he.
"Do you want to come home now?"
"No I owe some friends a favor."
What the fuck did this have to do with me.
"And you called me here because?"
I started looking around for these 'friends'.
"I love you." He started to pull a knife from under his jacket. The only reason I was scared is because it was already doused in blood.
"CONOR!" I shouted, stepping three feet back and hitting against something.
His frown was unnerving.
"Did you kill them?" I whispered, knowing enough to not shout it on the rooftops.
He shook his head. "I just needed what they had." I knew what it was so I didn't even bother to ask.
"You need help."
He shook his head and I nodded. "I need you to get help Conor, I can't love a fucking cokehead."
He shook his head even harder.
"Please. I just need you to-"
He screamed no.
And I stopped.
The walk home was silent. He didn't speak.
I didn't.
Once we walked into the apartment I turned to him and hit him. Hard.
He was out like a light and it was time for him to get that help.
So I loved him. Right?
I said those three little words anyone could take and cherish. What was I going to do? Leave him hanging in the air? That wasn't right.
How do you love you love someone and turn around and say "Opps. Sorry. I don't really love you. I just kind of pity you." ?
There was one day that presented itself awkwardly in my memory, Conor and I were laying entwined together on the couch watching a re-run of Mad About You. I watched the screen color his face different shades in the dark. I was trying to find the words to tell him that it needed to stop. All the drugs. All the pointless sex. All the lying.
"Angel..." I said, it was my little nickname for him now.
"Yes, Frankie."
"I think you need to get help."
The statement laid like death in the air. I watched his face twist and saw him as he gathered all the right words.
"I don't need help, I'm in control of my life."
I pulled myself away from him and he moved closer, kissing me again. I hated how he used physical attention to deflect all his little problems. I let him do whatever he wanted. Which was much since I knew he needed a fix anytime soon. I felt his body tense and I knew he had to decide between me and the drugs. I he picked the latter.
He left that night and didn't come back for three. Three cold, angry nights I spent all by myself. Seemingly tied to the TV, passing the time just so I could chew him out and tell him he was a worthless druggie who deserved love from the bottom of a plastic baggie or the inside of a body bag. As a commercial for an online dating service flicked on the TV the phone rang and I answered. I knew my voice was cracked from everything I had done in the last weeks.
"Hello."
I heard someone breathe into the receiver.
"Frankie?" It was a weak version of Conor's voice.
"Yes Angel?" All that anger was gone. Momentarily.
"Don't be so scared, it's harder for me.”
My heart dropped.
"Where are you Conor?"
The phone was breaking up now. I was wishing for a fix now.
"I'm at the corner of forth."
I sprung up from the couch and found my footing to get my jacket.
"I'm getting you."
The rain was pouring down again, it seemed more like still. It never stopped raining out here. At least Jersey you could get mugged and have it be a shiny and bright day. I saw the top of his head in the clearing and felt immediately better. He was like a lost puppy to me. He turned to me and had a empathetic smile.
"Where were you?" I asked, not a harsh note in my voice.
"Around." He answered causally.
How dare he.
"Do you want to come home now?"
"No I owe some friends a favor."
What the fuck did this have to do with me.
"And you called me here because?"
I started looking around for these 'friends'.
"I love you." He started to pull a knife from under his jacket. The only reason I was scared is because it was already doused in blood.
"CONOR!" I shouted, stepping three feet back and hitting against something.
His frown was unnerving.
"Did you kill them?" I whispered, knowing enough to not shout it on the rooftops.
He shook his head. "I just needed what they had." I knew what it was so I didn't even bother to ask.
"You need help."
He shook his head and I nodded. "I need you to get help Conor, I can't love a fucking cokehead."
He shook his head even harder.
"Please. I just need you to-"
He screamed no.
And I stopped.
The walk home was silent. He didn't speak.
I didn't.
Once we walked into the apartment I turned to him and hit him. Hard.
He was out like a light and it was time for him to get that help.