A Lament of Innocence

Julianne, my love...

...When we met, I was one and twenty. You were eighteen. Your lovely lockes of golden hair fell over your shoulder like a waterfall. I could get lost in your orbs of sumptuous green. You would look to the earth, your eyelashes brushing your skin as you smiled so sweetly and looked up into my eyes. How I fought myself not to take you then, into my arms and even further into my heart. 

We would walk hand-in-hand, your silky palm causing mine to sweat, so. I had hoped that you would never feel my fear. The nerves that caused my voice to tremble and my eyes to dart from yours. Oh, Julianne...

You talked of summertime. You spoke of tomorrow. I could hardly wait to pull onto your father's land and see your silhouette in the doorway. My dear, sweet Julianne. The way the sunlight kissed your cheeks, and the peachy glistening of your lips... If only I could taste them again. 

Was he angry? Infuriated because I did not come bearing a ring? I would have liked to, Julianne. How I wish I could have dropped to a knee and pledged my soul to your own. But I waited for your deepest sleep, and I took the rings that were rightfully yours. I scooped up the gold, and the silver, and the pieces I knew you were not likely to instantly see missing. I left the onyx. Oh, you love to wear that one, don't you? Black as night, black as night...

We call this shack our home, and though you come from better, you come willingly. You kiss my cheek, and you tell me that you love me. It will be a home, yet. I hold you close, and I breathe you in. And I show you too soon the crystal in my shirt pocket. You should shirk from my touch, but you are curious. You are naive. 

It doesn't take long, does it? To go from a happy, beautiful human being and wind up a shell of a person and a ghost in the corner? You cry, and you beg me to let it all go. We have a future. A family we would like to have. An anchor that won't let you swim away from my craft. I tell you that I would hate to be teased, and we must have more money, right?

The pawn shops get to know us. Your father sends us gifts. We are down on our luck, you say. I haven't been able to find employment, you say. I have found many a job. I quit within one week.

Dear Julianne...

Your beauty incomparable, you possess the patience of a saint. You grow thin, and at times, you find it a struggle to stand. Perhaps if you ate something...come on, now...Just one bite.

You lay back, and together we contemplate the universe. Your shirt covers your midrift, but you forget to slip on your underwear. I wonder if you even notice how you look tonight? Your eyes are wild, and you watch me as if you have never before seen my face. I scare you. It's ME, dear Julianne...

Had I a dime, I would take you away from all of this. Had I a will, I would slip myself out the door and into the world. You would awaken, in wonder, in amazement. You would have so many questions, and perhaps the ones you love would be there to answer them. Instead, you have me. You ask for more. I found your credit card. There is always more.

My dearest girl, don't cry. Don't throw your fist. I love you. I promise. 

We gather ourselves into the car. It's 4 AM, but the sky is dark. We will have a chance to start over again tomorrow. We will beat this, and we will begin our life. Perhaps we will sell this shack, or even fix it up? You'll patch up your credit, and I will get that job. We'll have a couple of kids, and I swear - I SWEAR - there will be a ring. And lovely Julianne... you will wear my last name like a jewel. And I'll have you on my arm for years to come.

We drive home, careful to not draw attention. It isn't a quick trip. But once we are home, our pain is gone. Our lives are once again in the void, and we can sit for hours - for days, even - and contemplate this hellhole that we call our home. 

You were happy, once. I met you when you were happy. I was one and twenty, my love. You were just eighteen. You tell me that you need to pee. You wander out of the room. 

We could tune up just one more time, and then really sit down and focus on how to be better. My girl, give me your arm. Don't be afraid. If a doctor could do it, why can't I?

No...NO. BREATHE. You are supposed to BREATHE.

-

Julianne, my love...

I look down, reading your tombstone. You were only nineteen. They ruled it as a suicide. The authorities don't generally look deeply into the death of someone like us. But my dear girl, this wasn't your fault. 

The shack is gone. I burned it to the ground. Somehow, I could not bear to continue living in the place we were when you took your last breath. I have a job, now. It isn't much, but it makes the bills. I'm clean now. I miss you.

I could trudge back to the car. I could sweep the edges of my coat into the vehicle so the fabric would not become closed into the door. I could drive in the rain, back...back to the place I lay my head. I might stir some noodles on the stove, and even choke them down. But dear Julianne...I could not lie back on the pillow, or close my eyes and not see your face. For even in these rooms, between these walls, you stay a shell of a person and ghost in the corner.