My head starts to spin and the lights blur together and the voices drown amongst themselves. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Evaline.
I point.
My words are slurred.
‘Hey! There’s Evaline now!’
Franklin looks at me.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Evaline! She’s right there in the bar!’
My finger points. My eyes are lit. I am lit.
Franklin laughs.
‘You’re drunk.’
We both laugh.
‘How was your night out with Franklin?’
‘Good. I didn’t expect to see you at the bar.’
‘Well…’
‘You should let me know next time!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Did you have a good evening at home?’
‘It was ok. A bit uneventful. I went to bed early.’
‘I know. You were sound asleep when I got home.’
‘I was tired.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘I don’t blame me either!’
We laugh.
‘You looked so peaceful. You looked beautiful.’
‘I probably looked like a mess! I was probably drooling and snoring!’
‘Not at all.’
‘You flatter me.’
‘You deserve it.’
We kiss. Small. Simple. Nice.
We spend the day watching the clouds.
We spend the evening drinking wine.
We go to bed early. I wake up to a phone call.
It’s Alicia.
She saw the man with curly hair.
‘You fucked her?’
This is how my morning starts. Because I never bothered to talk to Evaline about the things that should matter. Because I never bothered to tell her about Alicia. It was a mistake on my part.
‘Yes.’
‘Why would you do that? Don’t you have any consideration for other people? Do you ever even think about anyone besides yourself?’
I’m feeling beaten. I don’t want to talk.
‘You were gone. I…’
She doesn’t let me finish. She keeps yelling. Her words bounce around in my skull. I wear her anger in my stomach. I feel like I’m about to lose it.
She stops for a moment.
I reflect on the phone call. I don’t know how to process it. I can’t talk about it to Evaline. I don’t even know if I can talk about it with Franklin.
She starts yelling.
Tells me I’m a horrible human being.
Tells me I’m a monster.
I stand up and look her in the eyes.
I’m unsure of what to say. And my hands rattle as if they were dancing to a nervous beat in my pockets.
I wonder if I should say nothing at all.
Maybe I should just walk away.
And Evaline stands up.
Storms out of the room and I watch her go but don’t bother following.
Instead I leave the house.
I need to talk to someone.
I’m on the bus.
I’m alone.
The gears grind and the people talk and the germs multiply.
Sitting next to me is the man who always rides the bus.
‘I need some advice.’
‘What kind?’ Jim’s voice is deep and rich and happy. He makes me feel comfortable. He makes me feel ok.
‘It’s kind of odd actually.’
‘I’m all ears.’
And so I start my story. I tell him about yesterday and today and how they all seem the same. I tell him about Evaline and the drugs. I tell him about my memory and her memory and my reality and everyone else’s reality.
Then I tell him about Alicia. About the phone call I just received.
The curly haired man. The one that was with the real Evaline. He contacted Alicia. He wants me to get in contact him. He wants me to meet him on this bus in a week.
I don’t know what he wants.
I tell all of this to my friend on the bus.
He listens. He tilts his head and scrunches his face in consternation.
I’m not sure what I want him to say. I’m not sure if there is anything for him to say. Maybe I just want an ear that is real for once.
Maybe I just want someone who isn’t drunk or a product of my hallucinations.
I would have gone to my parent’s, but they’re too busy living their lives to listen. So this seemed like my next best option.
‘Well, are you going to meet him?’
I can’t eat.
I’m nervous.
I can’t think.
I want to call Alicia.
I don’t want to get in trouble from Evaline.
She came back, but she hasn’t spoken to me since the fight. She looks at me with angry glances. She scowls at me with hurtful eyes.
Her body tells me what she would never verbalize. I feel as if we’re falling apart. I feel as if I’m falling apart. I want to hold her hand. I want to be close to her. I want her to understand that the intentions of my heart and the intentions of my body are not always one and the same.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that love is a verb.
