My Dream, Your Escape
I can’t stop breathing. In and out. Forever. Until you discover me buried in my own soul, finally feel how much I love you, how nobody else will ever matter, how you’ll send the vultures away. My nightmares shift and mutate—coughing trees, blonde girls, graceful horses.
When I open my eyes the powder sits scattered beside you. Your breasts glow blue in the moonlight, a sight I haven’t seen in forever. I watch for hours, the careful rise and fall of your body, the rhythm of your being.
The one-sided helplessness from the great tremor is gone. My head’s clear again, full of the murky thoughts that’ve been running through it. How much everything could change—you, me, both of us. Next to your reddish-blonde hair Hugo sleeps and smiles, a thread of drool at his mouth.
A hunger I can’t shake tears through me. Cheeseburgers, greasy pizza, bratwurst loaded with eggs and noodles. I almost puke from wanting. I get up without kissing your forehead and walk naked through the apartment.
The fridge is full of beer, Red Bull, champagne. Nothing edible anywhere. The room starts to spin, the cold light boring into my stomach, my lungs, my legs. I collapse on the floor and start to cry, starving.
When Sina finds me the next morning curled like a fetus in front of the open fridge, she starts kissing me everywhere, doesn’t stop until I open my eyes and take her head in both hands and look deep into those ocean-blue eyes. Infinite stars shine in them, the end of the world, the meaning of everything is close enough to touch. My parents begin singing something joyful, dolphins leap around. Before I can finally speak the secret of our entire existence, the doorbell rings.
Sina smiles, gets up, opens it without bothering to cover herself. The postman doesn’t flinch. He hands her a package and says goodbye the way he always does—polite and completely indifferent to both of us. I feel ashamed. Are you hungry?
she asks. I’ll order us a pizza if you want.
It takes almost an hour before I have something edible between my teeth. We sit on the couch and watch The O.C. on DVD. The sun blazes through the huge windows of the old apartment. The TV tower looms on the horizon.
When Ryan holds Marissa while she’s dying I run to the bathroom and vomit into the tub. It seems more fitting for what I’m doing. Sina follows me and we sleep on the cold tile floor. When I’m done she asks me: Promise me it’ll stay like this forever?
I nod without speaking. She gets off me.
The package holds the expensive camera I’d ordered online. It’s beautiful and the first thing I photograph is Sina cleaning the bathroom. Every time I look at these photos now I get a sharp pain in my chest, that overwhelming terrible feeling of why I didn’t take better care of her. Why I wasn’t there when it happened.