Walking out

A small description of a troubled man making a decision about his next step.

          Here I was again, standing outside with the warm embrace of winter rain, contemplating my next move.  The light was buzzing to my right while the pattering of rain scattered small pools on the ground.  That stupid dull grey door was behind me laughing at me for coming here again.  I could even feel the stare of that stupid black and white flag water-marked behind the glass whispering “Good job for coming back.”  The only thing that was good about coming back is the fact that I had walked out on the situation.  I have always been a reasonable man, calm, smart and willing to compromise about anything through talking.  Sometimes, you cannot do that, and the best thing to do is to leave. Sure, I could have left in a much nicer fashion or with a better tone, but by this point I had finally had it. I was tired of everything and finally said “no more.” It was always the same motions of I love you, I need you, I am not sure, I hate you, I want you out of my life, I need you, and I love you.

            Then why was I still waiting outside without taking one step? My hand moved into the black woolen pocket of my jacket, groping around for a cigarette.  The keys jingled inside the damp pocket as my hand grazed it, and I soon discovered the cigarette I had rolled earlier underneath them.  I began to roll the filter of the cigarette back and forth between my thumb and other fingers.  My next step was simply to light the cigarette and walk away.  This was the plan, and the whole reason why I had stormed out in the first place. To gain control of it all and remember who I was.  I was tired of the constant fighting.  It was always the same repetitive motions that led to nothing.  There was no conclusion, no resolution, not even a happy ending.  Instead I was stuck in a giant Ferris wheel going around and around until I came to the entrance and bought her another ticket. Now I was debating in my own head if I had done the right thing.  I should have stayed and reasoned with her, maybe I should knock on the door and she’ll want me again, maybe she’ll slam the door in my face, or maybe she won’t open the door.  The thought of her not being around seeped into the back of my throat and mad me gag.  These moments we think are quick, fast motions are actually an eternity.

            I was standing out here for maybe twenty or thirty seconds, but I had not moved. I merely contemplated and predicted every move that I should make like master chess player.  The board we played on was more obscure with every level, yet the end was always her queen taking my king.  It was all up to me now.  The infamous first step had been taken in releasing me from the clutches of a siren.  I raised the cigarette to my cracked lips, gently resting the filter upon them.  The small blue lighter was ready to strike the other end red when I heard the motions of a door handle turning.  The blaze of light from inside the room showed my shadow quivering while the figure of beautiful rage began to engulf my spirit.  I had spent just too long debating whether I should knock on the door and make amends.  Now I was trapped between the rain and a never ending dream.  The question now was should I keep dreaming, or face the reality of darkness in my own thoughts? My head slowly rose to stare straight, so I could light my cigarette. I heard the gentle caress of her voice stab my back so sweetly, calling out my name and saying “Don’t leave like that!”

            Now a smart, reasonable man would know at this point to not turn around, but just take one step and brave the cold terrors in his head.  I lose the ability to be reasonable or smart the moment I see her face, so I should not turn around.  Warm, trembling fingers gripped my shoulder to swing me around, and there she was.  She stood there with the light glistening through her golden hair, the hair of my siren, the body of my life, the girl who could make me feel life and smother it right after.  Her gray eyes screamed with anger, her face cried sadness, her lips hid forgiveness.  Gazing into what I coveted, I stood there thinking and shocked as to my next move.  Her voice bled “WELL!?” with the end note sharp but carrying tears with it.  Dumbfounded, I reached for the cigarette in between my lips and began to drag it down into my pocket waiting for this eternity we call a moment to end.  Grasping for any good idea in my mind was like trying to grab olive oil out of water.  You just watch it slip through your fingers until frustration takes hold of you and you give in.

            Imagining a world where she is not there by my side is death to me.  The moment I hear her voice, feel her hair upon my face, the grasp of her hand behind my neck, or the taste of her addictive lips, I throw my pride as a man away and become a boy again.  She stood there now breathing a bit heavy with malice as I stepped out from the rain into the cave of my eternal dream. She gently grabbed my arm and said “Sit down.”  I was being commanded now, and I liked it.  The door creaked slowly to a rough close.  Check mate.