"Breaking the looking glass"

Halloween; all-hallows day, I look at all the kids running around in their costumes holding jack-o-lantern themed baskets. It’s funny…all hallows day was the most evil day of the year 2000 years ago, the 21rst century has a way of re-defining traditions and views. My sneakers are a little damp from running through the grass, ”faster”, I whisper to myself. I can see the café in the distance but don’t slow down. This is a quest, an adventure teeming with promise of rejection and abandonment, but I don’t care…almost as much as I do .I stop running and catch my breath, the night air rushes into my chest cavity. I stare at the diner contemplating my next move….then I see her. ”Bee”, I mutter with a raspy voice. I can see her taking orders, her waitress outfit…her hair braided into a ponytail; I take it all in and smile…. she’s wearing devil horns. You would probably find her name interesting, I mean who in their right mind would name their daughter after an insect? .... Her name is really Brenda, I looked it up, it means torch or sword in Norse…but it’s also my older sisters name and, quite frankly I don’t care to have my sister’s name dripping off my tongue in the midst of our sinful-righteousness…so I call her Bee, and yes…I know that it shines photons upon my lack of creativity but I don’t care…she’s my Bee.

I walk into the diner and take a seat in the furthermost corner, so cleverly created for lovesick rebels like myself. I pick up the menu…everything is over 50 shillings save for a glass of water. ”who sells water?”, I ask myself, ”it frigging falls from the sky”. A waitress walks up to my table, my shoulders rise to give me a more confident aura…. but the truth is I spent my last 200 shillings on a bus halfway here. She smiles, ”You must me Marcus”. I’m not sure how to answer, ”Why yes…and you must be Sabrina”. She smiles…”I’m Angie, Brenda’s friend”. I grin to be polite as she stares at me like she’s expecting a standing innovation. I notice the more perceivable push of her breasts as she inhales, I feel my hands clenching into fists, the familiar sensation of my fingers cracking in unison like their whispering ,”hi friend”. She gives me a final pout, much to the amusement of my throbbing fingers and walks away to get Bee. I watch her walk up to her and whisper into her ear, she looks back and her face breaks into a smile. As she walks over I notice the fatigue in her eyes, a surge of protectiveness pulses through me, a relief from the rage that was fumigating my judgement. ”Hey!” , ”Hi”. She laughs, ”Give me like 10 min. I’ll be done soon”. I stand up, ”I’ll wait outside”

She walks outside half an hour later and hugs me. I can smell the scent of Bacon and shampoo in her hair. She pulls back and her eyes hold mine in a demanding embrace…I smile, she frowns, I laugh, she smiles, I frown, and she laughs. There’s a light dancing in her eyes, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. She hands me a brown paper bag…”chapati’s, just like always”. She asks me about Home but I know that’s not what she wants to know. ”II had lunch with them last week”. She stops walking and grabs my hand,” and?’ I shrug,” and they said I need change”. She throws her head back and groans, I laugh. She stays silent, lost in thought and then sighs, ”screw them”. I nod, but don’t say it back like we I usually do.

We get to her apartment an hour late, she unlocks the door. As I step in ,warmth pours over me in torrents like its giving me a warning laced with a kiss. She flings her purse over the sofa but doesn’t sit down. ”I’ve missed you”, she whisper’s. I look at the bare skin above her knees. ”purple?”. She giggles and lifts the corner of her skirt ,her underwear has lacing around the hems. ”white”. I laugh to fool her I’m intrigued and walk into the kitchen, I pull out a chapatti…moonlight is dripping into the kitchen sink. I take a bite of the chapati, she watches. I can almost hear her heartbeat…it’s sad and hopeful. Guilt washes over me trickling down my spine numbing my legs…. I can’t move. She unbraids her hair. I watch. She un-buttons her shirt. I watch. She watches me watch her. “Marcus….”. I know what’s coming. ”Do you love me?”. I can see the tears her eyelids she’s trying so desperately to hold back; sometimes a lie is the only way to heal a breaking heart, for the truth will only shatter the chains that hold it together. ”Halloween... all-hallows day… Samhain… All souls day. They believed that demons walked the mortal plane and ghouls rose into our realm as night fell”. Confusion replaced the longing on her face, I smiled. Sometimes it’s almost too easy to pull her out of the rabbit hole. I can’t tell her that love is nothing without unreason, and everything about her is a reason to me. My Parents forbade me to abandon the catholic faith and marry a protestant girl. It was more than just religion to me…it was silence. I couldn’t live under the lie that I believed the words the priest spoke…couldn’t tell them that I was terrified of being like them, coded by the traditions of our ancestors. I needed Bee…needed a place to crash from time to time until my feet healed, just as much as she needed someone to love from time to time until her heart healed..... Love is a parasite. She raises her chin, I kiss her….. I swear she tastes like the tears of a ghost....swear she tastes like the tears of a ghost.