drunk on the nostalgia (i blame liz)
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and some torn pages:So, I waited. Grabbed my crate of records and carried them to my bed. Dumped them all out. Disarray. Opened the window and lit a cigarette. Not that it mattered tonight. Mom and that man she married were out. The little brother sent off to Grandma’s. Again. I wish I’d gone with him. Wish I was still that little girl who could get lost in those long hallways. The stack of books and old board games. Bible hymns and Christmas lights up everywhere. The smell of cookies baking. All the time. He gets to soak that all up now. Not me. I’m supposed to be outgrown of all that. I look at all the faces staring up at me. Inhale. Exhale. The sweet lightheaded swirl hits me. A slight blur. I shift my position so I’m not leaning on my wrist. The only pain I can still feel. Everything else swells in that honey thick numb. All these faces. All these voices. It would be so much easier to live within their skin. Their souls. I could switch places with Michael Steele. Talk the girls into changing their name back to the Bangs. I feel like “Going down to Liverpool to do nothing.” Or maybe I could disguise myself as one of the guys. Slip into Roger Taylor’s skin. Or Tony Hadley’s. I look at ‘Colour By Numbers’. Remembering that night, in Robert’s room. How we tried to re-create the cover. Troy’s sister Elise was in from college. She was along for the night. Did Troy’s make-up and tied multi-shades of yarn into his hair, to be Boy George. Robert was Jon Moss. Andie and I the other two. I wonder if Elise ever sent those pictures to Troy. She said they were for a project. For something. Her plans to work for a music magazine. In London. Or New York. Andie worshipped her. All of us did. Troy wanted to leave with her. Escape. I wonder if I could look her up. If she’d remember me. If she’d tell Troy where I was. If I came.I was keeping the room silent in order to hear the door. Waiting. I didn’t want to see Troy. Not now. Not this reality of Troy and I. Though I missed the days when we traded our quiet words over the phone. And stories. Secrets. But, that wasn’t who we were now. I couldn’t shake the way he said it. With that tone of disgust. The lies snapping the cord between any connections we’d forged together. I knew he’d come, though. Use me as an excuse to pass the razor and straw back to himself. Any reason worked for him. I needed that more than I needed my pride right now. Maybe they are all right about me. Maybe they see what’s inside. The ugly, dirty bits of me that I try not to see. The things the shadow man sees. Taking the blood off my skin that I give to him. Sewing it into his plaid flesh. Leaving with me. Maybe the lies are all truth.The door. I can hear Troy at the door. Finally. I can’t do this anymore tonight. This weaving in and out of gory emotional crap. I need to light myself up. Send myself off. Listen to music and write nonsense. Rewrite all the lies until they shine pretty and new. Maybe I’ll write a goodbye to them all. Finally go and see Elise. Or some other place. I can’t do this anymore. I walk to the door. My legs are heavy and tingling. From sitting to long on my feet. Knees bent. I feel like the floor is pulling me under. The door is closer now. I hear him outside. I can almost taste the drip down the back of my throat. The surge of no more fear pulse through my veins. Pound through my chest. The burn. I open the door. Blink three times and wipe my eyes to take in what I see.“Robert? Is Troy with you?” I was confused. Did I call Robert on accident? Wasn’t it Troy I spoke to? Who said, in his mouse voice, that he’d be right over?Robert reached for my hand. Let himself in. Walked right by me. To my room. “Do you have a suitcase, Lucy?”“Why do I need a suitcase? Why are you here? What’s going on? Robert?” I had trailed behind him. My head was starting to throb. Right by my eyes. I stood at the doorway with impatience.“You’re coming with me. This ends now.” He was determined. His eyes were soft, but everything else about him was strong and firm. I knew not to argue. To question any more. I swung my closet door open and pulled out the tapestry bag my Grandmother gave me for my thirteenth birthday. The one I’d never used. Andie and I laughed and said “It’s a Mary Poppins bag!” I gave it to Robert and slid to the floor. Pulled my knees to me. My face buried. Just my eyes peaking through. Watching. As he emptied my drawers out on the floor. Picked through them and filled the bag. Watched him grab my sweatshirt and purple case with all my mixed tapes. Then he held his hand out to me. Led me out the door to his waiting car. I could see Andie and Troy in the backseat. I hesitated. Pulled back. But he pulled me closer. A little tighter. “Come on, Lucy. Trust me.” Robert looked into my eyes. A very slight smile lifting the corners of his lips. I couldn’t possibly fight him. He knew I trusted him. Always.lucy.
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