The sky is crystal blue, pristine and clear as I collapse on the bench outside my school. My mom is late… As the sun moves across the sky the shadows from the gnarled old tree in the campus lawn makes its way across my body. I’d never noticed how curled and weathered the tree was… Somehow I’d never really looked up at it while walking from class to class, my eyes just skimming high enough during the spring to occasionally see a green leaf, low enough during the fall to see crimson leaves cascade around the flow of students. The sound of a car accelerator announces my mother and the minivan, and I drag myself up, gather my books, and get in the car for the long ride.
As the highway flashes by and my iPod fills my ears with music, your face flashes in front of me, same as always. I’m imagining all the ways things could be right, that you could see me that way. Just wishful thinking, I always trap myself in hopeless loves such as this. Your perfect, open face closes in my mind… keeping me out.
So perhaps I’m not a fan of my chronic emetophobia, but I have to admit…in some ways I’ve never felt more alive, lying awake in this hotel room in the middle of the night. Every nerve is tingling; every sense is attuned to resolutely ignoring what my brother is doing in the bathroom. I shiver with excitement, my insides twist, and my very marrow seems to burn with a sort of morbid excitement. Maybe this is why I’ve clung to my childhood phobia for all this time, kept myself distracted from my real problems… Easier to dwell on fear, fear so paralyzing and encompassing that I can’t escape it; I might as well just give in and ride the wave of terror to the shore. I flinch, dive deeper under the covers, and plug my ear as another retch comes from the bathroom- damn expired Subway milk. The minutes tick by, each as exhilarating and sleepless as the next…
My hand shakes as I push the dial on my iPod to play the next song. It’s been hours, the morning light has melted away last night’s chill, and my brother has ceased… well… you know… The pulsing frantic energy of the night has left most of my body, manifesting itself only in my rapidly tapping foot, my tense hands. That morning light streams in through the tiny window in the corner of my aunt’s home office. Sitting on the floor, I turn the page of Confucius, tapping my feet to Ani Difranco’s rhythmic song.
We’re in a room without a door, and I am sure without a doubt… They’re gonna wanna know how we got in here, and they’re gonna wanna know how we plan to get out…
I sniff, petting CC despite my cat allergies, and delve deeper into ancient Chinese philosophy rather than puzzle over the door-less rooms of my life.
Back in the navy blue minivan, racing through picturesque farmland iced with a hint of snow. Funny, even as we skid across ice and even see the occasionally nativity scene, this place still feels warm, like July. Sometimes when the afternoon sun hits the evergreen trees, it almost looks like summer, rich and alive. But as clouds block the light, the trees fade back to their true grey-blue colors. Just an illusion, wishful thinking again.
You still believe in love. I’ve never been sure. But as my family gathers in a sweet smelling room, as my aunt coos over her new baby, and gives her husband a glowing look, and as my cousins hug and laugh, a little grain of hope forms inside of me. Maybe, if you could give me a chance… I could find out for sure.
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