Long Shadows

Three-day blizzard had left the streets with a brilliant white coat. Something about white of snow like yellow of a flame has always mesmerized me. I could feel them on my skin, not a faint feeling, but a strong and bold burning sensation. It is the charm of extremes, which leaves every other experience to pale in comparison, leaving no memorable impression.

Stepping away from the window, I whiffed around the room like a dog, trying to feel her scent under my nose, but it had dissipated after three days, in spite of keeping all the doors and windows shut.

I danced and tip toed in between shards of the glasses and rotten overflowed food spread out on the floor. Tiny flies moving about them territorially. The scene like a picture told story of a necessary rage. As if a mark left on a painting, the overturned furniture, and the broken plates and glasses surrounding the studio.

I like to say it was an isolated incident, which never something alike had happened before, but that would not be the truth. Sarah, when I first met her, she like an angel, took me to the sky, emerged in the light and clouds washed me off any darkness, any insecurity and bitterness, whole and complete. Nevertheless, comes a point that I feel nothing, that nothing interests or charms me anymore. I would be empty, cold, mere observant of the events unfolding around me. Sarah too caught on the change, never is a subtle transformation, and certainly I would not try to hide it, I mean surely I try but years back I learned it was futile to fight, only way was to accept and move on. There are things, horrible things that have to happen. If not in a position to control it, at least be the silent observer.

Sarah lasted the longest, maybe because she was the kindest. Ten whole months. She a genuine free spirit, with unmatched zeal for life, had almost convinced me that she was the one for me, if I believed in such thing, that she would be able to change things around, erase the faraway memories that still shed a long shadow on my life. That would be my savior. However, my darkness prevailed.

From the almost empty refrigerator I fixed something to eat, one egg, half a rotten tomato, with a stale toast. After three days, time had come to leave the apartment. There was nothing to gain from further poignant self-reflection.

I worried if she got home all right during the blizzard. She was so angry. At the time, I did not care if she even got home or anything. I wanted her out of my sight as quickly as possible. Sarah was not to blame, what she has done was a reaction for who I really was. The burden only weighted on my shoulders.

I was not going to deny that time was different. Even when I was yelling at her, when I was abusing her, she was staring at me wide eyed, tears welling, I was thinking, begging her silently to hug me, to kiss me. Somehow, magically do something that none ever done, to stop me, to help me retrieve the gone feelings. It was too late. It was not just the uncontrollable anger and outburst; she had felt the coldness, the hole in my chest. I saw her searching my eyes for something kind and familiar, but there was nothing but indifference.

Why and how it happened I never learned. However, it always happened at some point, not only with Sarah, but also with everyone else before her. It was like when light gone out at end of a day, everything, every color faded to black, losing the bright livelihood, and adopting a harsh realistic ugliness.

It took few hours for the emptiness to pass. I regained my balance, and I called Sarah many times. I must have called her at least fifteen times, and sent over a dozen texts, which yielded no response from her. Finally, she turned her phone off. Still I did not blame her. I had seen myself from outside, it was not possible to be trusted, switching between passionate to angry to apologetic. I hated myself. Second day I too turned off my phone and hid it in the drawer out of sight. The wait for a ring was intolerable. On the third day, the silence beckoned me; maybe she had made a reply to one of the long-winded emotional texts, filled with empty promises. In a way, I rooted for her strength to resist. According to my experiences never it would be better only would decline further and further until nothing remotely nice would be left. The coldness was pervasive and contagious it would have engulfed her as well eventually.

I knelt down on the ground and took out a small fragment of mirror out of my foot. It had cut through the skin, a small wound, leaving a red trail behind me. It was piece of the tall mirror in the bedroom. Sarah did not break it. It was my own doing. An hour after she left, I saw him, my father, his pathetic face smiling at me. I loathed him with every cell in my body. It happened so fast; a second later, the mirror exploded to thousands of pieces.

Mom got out when I was quite young, could not tolerate his mood swings. I remembered her crying eyes, watching me mutely, no words, and left the house one night. She never came back, never called after that night. Father used to get angry and become scary, I hid from him, his yells his heavy hands were my nightmares. Soon after each of his outbursts he would calm down, hug me, his alcoholic breath caressing my face, always apologizing. I hated his kindness more than his anger.

I turned on the mobile phone, my heart beating fast, waiting in the silence for a beep, a text, a miscall, but there was nothing. I debated calling her, but overcame my urge. It was the usual thing. In few days, a bit more maybe this time I would start getting used to her absence, she would be gone off my mind.

I went down the stairs, pushed open the front door, but it was stuck, the snow had blocked it. I climbed back up the stairs and made myself a cup of coffee, and sat behind the laptop. On Facebook, kind of a tradition thing, I browse all my exes.

There was no update on Sarah’s wall, nothing. She had been online yesterday. I guess she got home all right. Why have I thought otherwise? Why would one should think if a person does not reply hardly is because they had been in an accident, usually is because they are ignoring you. They are tired and frustrated with you.

Despite the obvious evidences, repeated situations, still I missed them. My heart raced watching them, remembering the good times and how all fell through. I browse Sarah’s photos, Valentine’s Day, in the garden restaurant, the time we went ski. We were supposed to go skiing this week too.

The phone vibrated. There was a text from Sarah. She wanted to meet in half an hour. Without thinking, my heart pumping, racing, I replied I would be there. In our favorite café. I had no idea what to say when meeting her. Maybe she forgave me, or maybe she wanted to apologize as well.

I sprang out of the chair, and shaved, and took a two-minute shower. There would be about ten minutes to the café, and the front door still was stuck. I put on some clothes.

The door still not budging, I looked from the small window by the door, there were about a meter of snow mounted behind it. For ten more minutes, I struggled without any success. All the while, my mind preoccupied with prospect of our meeting. I reviewed my pattern. What I need not to do was to be like my father, to apologize.

I was not a hardened and arrogant man, that was not why I was wary to apologize, only did not want to be him, be like him. A man must stand for whom he is; even that thing is horrid and dark. At least the integrity would be admirable.

Only five minutes remained to our meeting. Still the front door obstinately stood still like a stone. Finally, I gave in, and decided to jump from a window or something. On the ground floor, the only window was the one by the door, which was too narrow that I could not fit.

From the first floor, I had to make a jump about two to three meters. i hoped the snow would have taken some of the impact. That was what I did, and after landing harshly on my ass. I stood on the ground; the whole way was frozen, slippery as a frozen lake. I could not have made it on time, and I had left the phone back in the house. Anyhow I pushed forward, and awkwardly continued on the frozen surface, guessing who I would be when I meet Sarah, would this passion survive, would I be loving and tell her how I missed her, or would I offend her, and be happy watch her run away from me.