To Make Love With Your Eyes Closed Page 13

I’m not really sure if I want to move to London or not, I mean, I’m considering it because I really have nothing going for me here… but it’s such a drastic step to take for such little reasons.

  “Do you have any other questions for me?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Honestly, if you return home, you’ll find that’s exactly what you need, what you need right now is to not be here, this has never felt like home for you, you need to heal and the best way for you to do that is to be around family. You’ll find your feet again, don’t be afraid.”

  I give the lady a solid handshake and then return to the cash register to hand over my precious Euros. I thank her again for her guidance and leave the market stall.

  I don’t know how I feel. I’m not happy, I’m not sad. I’m just, a rock. This lady could be a complete cook but she has confirmed for me all of my own beliefs about everything that’s been going on. I don’t know what more signs I would need to believe in this path. I start to walk back to the bus shelter. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be back in Dublin, I want to be back in my comfort zone. But I don’t want to see you… that’s what I’m afraid of. I know you’re not going to say anything to me but I still don’t trust myself enough to stay away from you.

  I make it most of the way back to the bus shelter, but I end up stuck on a park bench. I feel time slow down. I feel drained. I’m almost motionless on this bench. I whip out a cigarette. My eyes don’t blink as I light it up.

  How can everything possibly be so shit? And all so suddenly too? I understand that all of this crap has had to happen to teach me whatever the hell it is that I need to be taught about myself and life, and in time that’s all going to become really clear but why does it have to be so god damn painful? Maybe the pain is there to push me in the right direction. To show me that I don’t belong here and I have a chance to rebuild myself and my life overseas. I slide open Facebook and quickly skim over the feed. Most of the people I associated with in London are moving up in the world, and then there’s me, sitting around, moping about someone who’s heart is already owned by someone else. I can’t believe I ate all of that bullshit. How desperate must I be for love that I will take anything that comes my way?

  I’m being pretty immature right now. I think I should take this to just accept what’s happened and then let it go. Sometimes life closes doors because it’s time to move forward, and that’s a good thing because we will often find that we won’t move unless circumstances force us to.

  I believe that a lot of soulmates come into our lives to teach us something or to give us an experience and then continue on our way. Not everyone is meant to be in our lives forever…

  It sounds so easy when I say it to myself, but in reality it’s not so easy to accept. I get up as the sun fades behind the clouds again and the colours of the sky change. I wait at the bus shelter and climb on, waving goodbye to the west coast and all it has given me these last few days.

  22

  It’s late when I get back to the bus shelter. It’s dark, it’s cold and it’s raining.

  I can’t say that I am entirely happy to be back in this shit pit but it’s my home, and I what I I really need is to be back in my comfort zone right now. I crave the feeling of safety. I still have a whole other day off work tomorrow. I haven’t decided what to do with it yet. I’ll just have to hang out at home by myself. Probably sleep all day, or sit on the couch while my emotions rollercoaster from happy to sad to angry every fifteen or twenty minutes. I really feel lost. Most of all now. I’m walking home, and I realise just how shit I feel.

  How did the sea get so rough?

  My apartment isn’t anything exciting, and if you saw it yourself you would probably raise an eyebrow and turn the other way, but, for me, walking through my front door and jumping on my own couch is the best feeling ever. I flick on the radio and hum along to Snow Patrol. I feel like I’m in a good mood now. I suddenly remember the things that the psychic lady told me, and I think about my mum in London. I’m not ready to make any rash decisions about moving, I do want to be totally comfortable with my decision before I run away, but I also know that I do at least deserve a holiday. I hop onto Expedia and book a flight departing just under a couple of weeks from now. Aaron will approve it, I don’t have to ask him first, he loves me, I give him a lot of shit behind his back but deep down he’s pretty cool.

  Tonight I don’t actually go to bed. I think that I am just so emotionally exhausted that I collapse on my couch and don’t really come to until day break.

  The sunlight wakes up quite violently. With a groan I tear open my eyes and I’m filled with a feeling that somehow resembles a combination between a hangover and depression. You’re on my mind again. I guess this is my body trying to get rid of you but still knowing there’s no point because I’m more than likely going to cross paths with you again in the near future. Your poison in my veins and I feel like it’s not going to be long until you have killed me.

  I don’t really know where the time goes today. It’s probably somewhere between nine and ten by the time I get out of bed and before I know it it’s three O’Clock in the afternoon. Great, and then soon, it will be the next day again and I’ll be back at work. This is how it goes. The great cycle of life.

  There’s a knock on my door at about half past. I’m still in yesterday’s clothes and haven’t eaten much more than a banana. I haven’t looked in the mirror but I’m willing to put money on the fact that I look like absolute shite.

  “Just a minute!” I call out. I hurry to the cracked bathroom mirror and sort of adjust my face with water or whatever.

  Nelly Furtado is playing on the radio.

  I open the door. It’s Rory.

  “Hey man,” he says, echoing the song that’s playing.

  “Ummm, hey,” I say, “whats up?”

  “Not a lot,” he says sounding quite down, “can I come in?”

  I look around behind me at the empty yet messy apartment.

  “Uhhhhh, yeah, sure, come in.” I wave him inside and tell him to take a seat on the couch. “Fancy tea? coffee?”

  “Coffee would be great thanks.”

  “Coming up.”

  There’s a bit of silence and then he perks up again.

  “Gerry,” he says, “what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tripp and I have been talking, we know something’s up, and friends are always there for each other, you talk about how much you hate telling lies, so don’t, right now, here on this couch, do not lie to me, I want you to explain to me what’s going on.”

  As the kettle boils I sit down next to Rory.

  “Rory, I’m not going to lie to you, I can’t lie to you, but I also can’t tell you the truth.”

  “We are your friends Gerry, no matter what, we always come to you and you’re always really good with advice, you know we are here for you but something is really not right and I can’t just sit here and let it destroy you slowly.”

  “Rory I can’t tell you… this isn’t one of those times.”

  “Opening up may hurt but it will definitely help.”

  “It’s not that, it’s not one of those times. I just physically cannot tell you what’s going on, if you knew what it was you would understand.”

  “So tell me so that I can understand!”

  “Stop pressuring me!” We both immediately recognise that this is starting to hit a point. “Sorry, I don’t mean to yell, I know you’re just trying to help but please, it would help me more if we could just drop it.”

  Rory stares at me with a slanted mouth, his pupils are scanning my face, he looks quite angry.

  “Alright,” he says slapping his knees, “if it would make you happy for us to drop it then we will.”

  “Thanks…” I say softly, feeling kind of bad now.

  “You know where I am when the time is right though.”

  The kettle pops and I give Rory a man-hug and get his coffee. W
e get into discussion about his life and his issues for a little bit. I giggle on and off. I feel comforted and forget all about you. But the minute Rory leaves, reality comes crashing through my windows again and I can feel my soul being squeezed and crushed. I try and clean a little bit of the apartment, monotonously and without purpose. I expect it to keep my mind busy but it doesn’t. I just end up crying again. I lost. I told myself I wouldn’t cry anymore over you but I just keep losing the battle. I hate giving up, I really do, it makes me feel so shit about myself. I know giving up isn’t always a bad thing but in scenarios like this, it definitely is.

  Night falls and I return to my prison cell of a bedroom. It’s silent in here. Silent in the house. Perhaps not the best cure for loneliness. I could call a friend, I could call mum. But I don’t want to explain what’s happened. I don’t want to be embarrassed. I don’t want people to shake their head at me and say “Oh, Gerry, Gerry, Gerry, what have you done?” I know I’ve made a mess of my life. I can see that now. I just don’t want to show anyone else that. I want everyone I care about to see the best image of me there is. I want everyone to believe I’m strong and have it all together at all times. No one does, but that’s not the point.

  I think I’ve hit rock bottom now. I don’t think I can feel any colder, any more alone than I do right now. I don’t think about killing myself or harming myself, that takes too much effort. But I see your smiling face in my mind and think about you touching me, or holding me and the tears flood the bedroom. It’s so painful. Your face is so fucking beautiful and I can’t handle all of these painful memories. I can’t emotionally handle the pain of the past or the present. I want out. I need out of this! I need a cure. I need a pill. I need a time machine that takes me back to a time before I knew you. A time when I was innocent and naive. God I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I know I’ve done this to myself again! I begged for you to take my pain away for me and in return I just jumped back down the rabbit hole! Oh God I am not worthy of your forgiveness.

  I crawl into the foetal position and wrap the covers over me like a cocoon, I would be happy to never have to leave my room ever again. I can’t do this, I just can’t. I can’t see you ever again, but I don’t know how and I don’t know why. I just, can’t. I’m starting to enter what feels like a borderline anxiety attack. I quickly slap myself across the face and calm down. If I don’t get my shit together, if I don’t save my own ass, then who the hell is going to? I’ve pushed everyone else away. I have purposefully isolated myself out of fear of ridicule. The acceptance of responsibility seems to help me to feel a little better.

  I was so convinced that I was in love with you. I was so convinced that it was meant to be. I was so prepared to make sacrifices for you because I felt sorry for you. I wanted to help you. I wrote it in pencil, in black and white and in blood. I told you I could wait, I explained to you that I understand but you took me for granted. You shrugged me off. You spat on me. You have no idea the hell I’ve put myself through for you. You don’t care about me. You don’t care about me… That’s it. You really do not care about what I’m going through. What I’ve BEEN going through for these last few months, never mind last few days.

  Fuck you, I hate you!

  I love you, I need you…

  You lied to me, you had me believe it was just you and I and the wind beneath our wings. But now it’s me, here, alone, shivering in the cold, trying to find enough oxygen to survive while you’re standing at the sunset holding hands with someone else. What did I do to deserve this? Did I care about you too much? Did I give you it all too fast? You’re a monster. I pray that karma takes this pain from my chest and drops it over your head like a twenty tonne weight.

  I need to get some sleep. I have to wake up in less than seven hours. I need sleep. I can’t go to work like this. I have to find a way to fake it until I’m out of here. I have to make sure the word doesn’t spread to you that I’m feeling this way. I can’t have you thinking that you’ve won. I can’t supersize your ego anymore. You can’t know you have this control over me. You can’t know that your hands are around my throat and with one squeeze could snap my neck. I have to prove to you that you’re no one, that you’re nothing. That you are no more to me than I have ever been to you.

  I’m shivering. I have the covers wrapped around me to keep me warm but somehow I’m still freezing to death. I cry and I cry, harder and harder. It’s starting to really sink in now. It’s like I’ve gone from watching a really traumatic movie, to being dumped with a lethal reality check. This is actually happening to me… this is part of my life… this is going to be part of my history forever… there’s never going to be any forgetting about the time you almost killed me, even if I do survive this. This is all so fucked up. Jesus, how could I let this happen. I roar through tears like a lion. I swear to myself, I cross my heart, never again will I ever allow myself to be this vulnerable with another human being. Never again will I ever love, never again will I ever be honest, never again will I humour the idea that another man can ever treat me right. It’s never happened before and it’s never going to happen in the future. Suddenly there is silence and I have a vision of a huge rock tomb solidifying around my heart. I see a safe vault slam shut and rotate, locking into place. I stop crying and I feel secure.

  This is the last time anyone hurts me ever again.

  23

  I’m working by myself today. It’s probably for the best. I say a mellow hello to Aaron before he disappears into the office but that’s about as social as I get. It’s a bit happier looking today outside than it has been lately. The sun is out and the streets are buzzing. I manage to keep myself occupied behind the bar. It’s good to have something to focus on. Keeps me out of my own head. Byron comes in around lunch time. Surprisingly we begin to become quite quiet around then too, unusual but good. I give him his regular and lean over the bar for a good chin wag.

  “Byron, I need some advice, I’m a bit stuck on what to do?”

  “Of course, Gerry. What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m unhappy, in fact, I know I’m unhappy, very unhappy, and I think I’m going to leave, I know I want to leave! I think it’s best for me… my heart isn’t here anymore.”

  “Hmmm,” he says looking quite blank, “you’re unhappy here?”

  “Yeah…”

  “So you want a new job?”

  “I think I want to leave the country… as bold as that sounds, Dublin just doesn’t feel like home anymore, not in the way that it used to, I think I’ve outgrown it.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “To London, I can stay with my parents until I work out what I’m going to do next with my life.”

  “Well, it sounds like, you already know what you want to do, what is the question?”

  “I just don’t want to feel like I’m running away… you know? I really want to leave, but I don’t want it to feel like it’s because I’ve given up on something that could have gotten better.”

  “That is a hard one… but only you will know what’s best for you, you’ve been here a long time Gerry.”

  “That’s true… I guess I’ve been here long enough to try things out… but things haven’t always been this bad. It’s just recently, I don’t know if this is the end or if this is just a tough patch…”

  “I understand. What, what ever happened to the person you were seeing?”

  “We shouldn’t talk about that,” I say before coughing and looking down at the floor.

  “You’re not moving because of that are you?”

  “I look him dead in the eye.”

  “No. I don’t think so. It’s definitely a factor, but my dating life doesn’t rule my entire life, as far as I know.”

  But then I start to think about how, in a lot of ways, it actually does. I don’t really have a career set out for me, I don’t have any ambitions to travel, to study, or to do anything charitable with my life. All I really want is to be surrounded by people that I love that make me happy.
But that in itself doesn’t actually make any sense if my happiness is always controlled by someone else… If I’m still searching for one person to change my life, maybe all I need to do is look in the mirror… that’s it, change my life. I’m unhappy, so I’m going to consciously make the choice to fix it.

  “It’s not always running away leaving something behind Gerry, sometimes, and I don’t know the circumstances or whatever, but sometimes letting things go isn’t giving up, it’s having courage. To let go of your safety and take a leap of faith into the unknown is bravery. Not everyone has the courage to do that. Most people know how to fix their lives but are too scared to.”

  “Thank you Byron, you’ve helped me in so many ways. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  “Okay, Gerry, you take care of yourself now.”

  I give him a bit of a hug and watch him leave. I watch the front door swing open and the sunlight creep through for a second. That could be me. That could be me walking out of that door. That could be me breaking free. I have visions of walking out that door and never coming back and suddenly I feel a huge weight come off of my shoulders. I still feel like it’s running away but I’m past the point where I feel that I need to constantly be making sacrifices in terms of my happiness. I need to take control. I need to do exactly what I want to do. It’s my time. I feel a little bit chirpier now, knowing that what’s happening right now isn’t forever.

  Even if I leave, even if I end up lost, and alone in London realising I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, at least I’ll know that I tried and I will know what it feels like to have done that. I can’t sit here and wonder what if. Sit here unhappy wondering if maybe there’s greener grass on the other side. I tackle the last wave of customers and lean back on the bar.

  I am suddenly hit by an epiphany. I hate this place. I really do. I hate my life. And I have actively participated in designing it. Look what I’ve done. I’ve sent myself off the rails. In fact I have completely derailed myself! I am a nobody in this world. As a kid I thought maybe I would be more successful by now, but I’m just in a ditch of shit. Tears start to fall again. I swear I never cry this much! It’s just all of the emotional exhaustion. It’s killing me. It’s really killing me. I’m breaking down. Hard. Heavy. I have to dismiss myself and sit in the back. I just do not want to be here. I don’t know what’s keeping me in this room. I should just run out of the door. Throw my apron on the floor and never come back, but instead I’m crying. I can sense there’s customers out the front but I can’t do it. I emotionally cannot handle it anymore. It doesn’t take long for Aaron to come out. He serves the customers and walks in on me. I almost expect some kind of sympathy. Silly me right.