Apres Moi, Le Deluge (a short play in the absurdist style)

Après Moi, Le Deluge
By Katie Switalski

Characters:

KAT – 20 years old. Bookish, classically beautiful but she doesn’t flaunt it. She’s very understated and poetic. Delusional, slightly geeky. Wears fishnets under a plaid uniform-type skirt, with a cut-up t-shirt that hangs off her shoulders. She is barefoot.

MAX – 22 years old. Handsome in a rather geeky kind of way. A video game enthusiast, bookish like Kat. Wears faded jeans and a button down shirt.

VIOLA & BEATRICE – Of an ambiguous age, though somewhere between 18 and 23. They are Kat’s imaginary friends. Max cannot see either of them. They are dressed like hippies ready for a workout, in leggings, billowy peasant blouses, and head scarves.

Setting: Scene opens on a dark, deserted library. It is midnight. There is one desk stage center, with a spotlight on it. Kat sits at this desk, reading a book. Her shoes sit, abandoned, under the desk. There are three extra chairs around the table and a bookshelf located stage left. There is a row of short potted plants in front of the table. An open box of Chinese takeout sits on the table in front of Kat. A copy machine is located stage right. Next to the copy machine are Viola and Beatrice, on a yoga mat doing various yoga poses. Throughout the scene, they change poses randomly. The library is dead silent except for the occasional sound of Kat’s page turning.




As the scene opens, Kat turns a few more pages, gets frustrated, and stands up. She goes to stand behind the row of potted plants, clears her throat, and recites to the audience.

KAT
“After a hundred years
Nobody knows the place,--
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.

Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.”[1]

[Max enters, carrying a battleaxe. Kat doesn’t look up from her reading.]

“Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way,--
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.”[2]

MAX
That’s beautiful, Kat.

KAT
Emily Dickinson.

MAX
She’s your favorite. Why are you reciting poetry in the library anyways?

KAT
Well, you can’t put Superman in a realistic play.
[She walks over to the table and sits back down.

MAX
True. What are you going to put in your play, then?
[He leans his battleaxe against the bookshelf and sits in the chair to the right of Kat.]

KAT
I was thinking some extremely Stepford wife-type people. You know…perfect neighborhood people who trim their lawns twice a day and cook seven course meals for lunch on a Thursday, all while murdering their husbands and strangling their babies in the uncomfortable silence that exists inside their well-kept homes.

MAX
That’s all been done before. Besides, it’s creepy.

KAT
No, that’s hilarious. Small children in horror movies are creepy.

MAX
I rented 1408 on DVD. That has a creepy child in it. Let’s watch it.

KAT
I’m busy. I’ve got to write this play AND build a model of a ribcage by tomorrow. I don’t have the time.

MAX
You make it so easy for me to hate you, you know. But I don’t. I never understood that.

KAT
I don’t speak French, Max. I don’t like Dungeons and Dragons and I hate Dante. It’s become increasingly obvious how much you should hate me.

MAX
Do you need help building that model?

KAT
Viola and Beatrice promised to help me out.

MAX
Who?

KAT:
My friends. I don’t think you’ve ever met them. They don’t speak French, either.

MAX
Kat...

KAT
They’re busy right now, though. Downward dog.
[She points towards stage right.]

Max looks over towards stage right. On first glance, he sees nothing. Does a double take. Still, nothing. He looks frantically around. Still, no one there.

MAX
By the copy machine?

KAT
Yeah.

MAX [Utterly confused]
Kat. There’s no one there. Don’t be ridiculous.

KAT
[Sings]
“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better.”[3]

VIOLA & BEATRICE
[Singing along]
“Remember, to let her into your heart…then you can start to make it better.”[4]

MAX
[Confused]
Kat? What in God’s name are you doing?

KAT
Singing. Don’t act like you can’t hear us.

MAX
I hear you. Why are you referring to yourself in the plural?

VIOLA
[Gets up from her yoga pose and walks over to the table.]
Well, that’s just plain rude. We’re lovely singers.

[She waves her hand in front of Max’s face. He stares blankly right through her.]

BEATRICE
[From her yoga pose]
I don’t think he can see us, Viola. He is a boy, after all. Boys never see what’s right in front of their noses.

VIOLA
It’s true.

KAT
Very true. He’s so into those geeky sci-fi novels and virtual reality games, he barely notices anything else.

MAX
Hey! That isn’t true! Who are you talking to?

[Viola sinks into the chair on the left side of Kat]
VIOLA
Bee, I do believe he’s blatantly ignoring us.

BEATRICE
[Changes yoga pose]
Tell him to release his negative energy. His aura is very yellow.

VIOLA
That’s a bad sign.

BEATRICE
My thoughts exactly.

VIOLA
He should take up yoga.

BEATRICE
Much better for your body than those horrible video games he plays.

VIOLA
I know! All that violence!

BEATRICE
We need a video game where you take care of all the people you hunt down in those other games. We’ll call it…Mission: Hospital, or something.

VIOLA
Make love, not war.
[She gets up from the yoga mat and sits on top of the copy machine.]

KAT
His aura is yellow. But that’s library property, V. You can’t sit on it.

MAX
[Utterly confused]
Wait, my WHAT is yellow?

KAT
Your aura. But I wasn’t talking to you.

MAX
Of course not.

KAT
I was talking to Viola. V, you can’t sit there!

MAX
Kat, stop avoiding me.

KAT
I’m not avoiding you. I am allowed to talk to other people, you know.

MAX
What other people, Kat?

VIOLA
Wow.

BEATRICE
This game is getting old.

VIOLA
[Calls out to Kat]
“Just say we were lovers, and we’ll call it even.”[5]

KAT
“Just say we were lovers, and we’ll call it even.” [6]

MAX
Kat…don’t you miss it?

BEATRICE
Oh, do we ever! Like the dinosaurs miss extinction!

VIOLA
That makes no sense, Bee.

BEATRICE
Neither does Scrabble. Smile, and the whole world will smile with you…

KAT
[To Beatrice]
Or stab you in back the minute you turn.

Viola and Beatrice burst out laughing. Max has been getting more and more upset and has reached his boiling point.

MAX
Kat! You’ve been avoiding talking about this for too long. I can’t wait around forever.

KAT
You never could.

MAX
I loved you, don’t you understand that?

VIOLA
What, past tense, Maxie boy?

BEATRICE
[Whispered aside to Viola]
It was always past tense, Viola. They never fit together. He’s the one warped puzzle piece. You know, the one you spill coffee on and then try desperately to still fit into the picture, but its edges are frayed and it’s soggy.

KAT
WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP!

VIOLA
[Getting up from the copy machine and crossing over to the table, where she sits next to Beatrice]
My, what a temper she’s got on her.

BEATRICE
She’s always been that way. Remember that time we read about how pigeons explode if you feed them rice?

VIOLA
And we mixed up a big batch of rice and glitter and started doling it out in Central Park?

BEATRICE
She got so mad. That was brilliant.

VIOLA
Nowhere near as brilliant as that time when Kat and Max went to –

KAT
[Cutting off Viola]
Not now. We’re not bringing that up right now.

MAX
[So quiet it’s almost a whisper]
I still love you.

KAT
[Looking down, sadly]
I’m afraid to love you back.

MAX
I know you are, Kat. But you can try. We’re destined to be together.

KAT
Samuel Beckett once said, “What do I know about destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.”

MAX
I don’t know much about radishes.

KAT
They’re red.

MAX
So are your cheeks.

KAT
I can’t help that.

MAX
You’re beautiful.

KAT
I can’t help that, either. Look, Max…It feels like the sky is falling down on me.

[He reaches across the table for his hand but is intercepted by Viola. He looks around, bewildered.]

VIOLA
We’re still here, you know.

BEATRICE
Yes. In fact, we came up with that line, missy.

VIOLA
You can’t just steal our material like that.

BEATRICE
It’s plagiarism.

KAT
[Turns to Beatrice and Viola]
It’s not plagiarism. It’s…borrowing someone else’s words.

VIOLA
[Laughs]
If you put your hand in the fire, you’re sure to get burned.

BEATRICE
Take the bull by the horns.

VIOLA
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

BEATRICE
[Laughing giddily now, yelling at the top of her lungs]
MERRILY! MERRILY! LIFE IS BUT A –

[Max hears Beatrice at this point and is scared]
MAX
What was that?

BEATRICE
[Leans across Kat to yell in Max’s face]
LIFE IS BUT A DREAM, MAXIE! Life is but a dream!

MAX
I’m hearing voices, Kat. What the fuck is going on here?

KAT
[She begins to hyperventilate and rock back and forth in her chair]
I don’t know, Max. I don’t know anything about radishes, or existentialism, or Superman, or writing plays. I can’t do this. I never could.

MAX
[He takes Kat by the shoulders and shakes her]
KAT! Stop it! You’re scaring me!

KAT
[She is speaking in a very high pitch and crying, her rocking becoming more and more hectic]
You’re scared? They’re supposed to be my friends, Max! But they’re turning on me! It doesn’t make any sense! They’re pacifists! PETA activists! Get your axe, please. Please.

MAX
Kat, breathe. Please.

VIOLA
What do you need an axe for, fair maiden? We be friends of thee!
[She cackles evilly, jumps up from her chair and begins dancing wildly about center stage]

BEATRICE
Thou speakst the truth, fair Viola!
[She jumps out of her chair as well and joins Viola in dancing. They grab hands and wheel around dangerously fast]

KAT
They’re speaking in Shakespearean English, Max.

MAX
I know. I’ll get the axe.
[Max gets up from his seat and moves towards the axe leaning against the bookshelf]

Note: the next part must be said very fast, with the lines overlapping, so that the time between when Max reaches for his axe and Beatrice intercepts him is not too long.

VIOLA
Not the axe!

BEATRICE
No, Max…not the axe!

VIOLAWhat a rhyme!

BEATRICE
What a prince!

VIOLA
Come to save the fair maiden, Max?

BEATRICE
Don’t you know you can’t save her?

VIOLA
We’re not going to let her go!

BEATRICE
We’ll never let go!
[They cackle evilly. Beatrice whirls over to the bookshelf and grabs the axe before Max can.]

KAT
[She stands up suddenly]
Max! Look out!

[Beatrice swings the axe. Max barely manages to dodge it, falling against the bookshelf in doing so, causing books to scatter everywhere.]

VIOLA
So close, Bee!

BEATRICE
I’ll get him yet!

KAT
NO! Beatrice, drop it!
[Beatrice’s hand drops the axe of its own accord.]

BEATRICE
You have no power over me! What is this?

KAT
“Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way,--
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.”[7]

I can’t shirk away from memories anymore. I don’t want to. I LOVE YOU, MAX!

Viola and Beatrice scream and fall to the floor in convulsions. They both "disappear", that is, one drags herself behind the copy machine, and the other drags herself behind some of the potted plants. Kat falls into a faint. Max runs over to her and catches her before she can hit the ground.

MAX
It never mattered to me that you can’t speak French.


[1] ‘After a Hundred Years’ by Emily Dickinson
[2] ‘After a Hundred Years’ by Emily Dickinson
[3] The Beatles, Hey Jude
[4] The Beatles, Hey Jude
[5] The Dresden Dolls, Slide
[6] The Dresden Dolls, Slide
[7] ‘After a Hundred Years’ by Emily Dickinson

Pretend - a short story

Pretend -

In the dark, it was easy to imagine we were lovers. You’d sigh and roll over on your back, one foot poking out from under the covers, sometimes brushing up against me in your sleep. You were trying so desperately not to touch any part of my body, and I was longing for you to do just the opposite. You would spurn my every advance, but it never stopped me from trying. We were happy together. Why couldn’t we be more than this?
I’d eventually get fed up and go for a glass of water, only to come back and find you sprawled out over the entire bed. You had work so early in the morning. I never wanted to wake you. I would stand there watching you sleep; your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath you drew deep into your lungs. You snore, you know. Loudly.
Sometimes, I’d wake up wrapped in the warm, comfortable safety of your arms. These were entirely blissful moments, small, wonderful shreds of affection between us. Then you’d interrupt my peace of mind by startling awake and sitting bolt upright, clearing your throat loudly and apologizing.
Fantasy me would reply “Don’t apologize. You’re everything I want and need. Touch me. Please,” and in my dreams, I’d attack you and we’d make mad, passionate love until the wee hours of the morning.
In reality, all I ever said was “That’s okay. No harm done” and I’d roll over and go back to sleep on my cold, dismal side of the bed. It never went any farther than that.


Winter comes too early this year. The sudden blasts of icy wind rip through the long, thin arms of the leafless trees, swirling any remaining leaves around the toes of your boots and sending shivers straight up your spine. Nighttime is an endless blanket of eternity where I live. Nothing stirs. There’s no noise, no movement. Just the endless sea of trees staring back at me from outside my window, occasionally bending in the wind or scratching against the frosted glass panes, startling me awake. When I can’t sleep, I watch those great trees stretching up towards the sky. Sometimes I find them more interesting than people. Developers came through the other day and spray painted glowing, neon green X’s on most of the trees. Everyone’s got to make a living, I suppose.
There are no birds in these trees of mine, no raccoons or squirrels. In fact, it seems like all the wildlife have deserted this part of the woods. They must know that destruction is coming. They can feel it. Their instincts tell them to clear out, find safer ground. Or maybe it’s just one of those natural phenomena. You know, like how the earth goes through cold and hot cycles, in order to wipe out the existing creatures and make room for some new ones. Ice ages and meteorites, you know the deal. One millennium, you’ve got dinosaurs, the next you’ve got apes and human beings and Chihuahuas dressed up in miniature sweat suits.
Life is so bizarre. It never stops changing, so you’ve got to find a way to adapt. You need to evolve. You need to download, to upload, to hide behind your computer screen and lose the need to make any actual human contact. It gets so that it’s too hard to keep track of who you are anymore. It gets so one looks in the mirror and thinks “Who the fuck is that?” And the sad part is, you can’t even answer your own damn question. Someone else’s face is staring back at you. Someone who has had exactly seven hours of sleep in the past two days, who has been running around trying desperately to finish term papers at five in the morning and ingesting more caffeine than any normal human being drinks in a lifetime in the course of one night.
That’s exactly what it felt like when he left. Like I didn’t know whose face was in the mirror anymore. It felt like I was no longer whole, somehow. I was a jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces missing, pieces that had slid between the couch cushions and never reappeared. And that was the absolute last thing I wanted to feel, because our relationship was never like that. We were never that couple. The couple you refer to with their names constantly linked, like DavidandLinda or JennyandPaul. We weren’t inseparable. We didn’t cling to each other for dear life. We had our own lives, believe it or not. We were…and are still…two separate entities, maybe too separate. Maybe that was our problem.
I’d love to say I built this house with my own two hands, but that would be a lie. I did, however, watch the construction workers put it together. Does that count for something nowadays? Cultural credit, maybe? Anyways, it took them a month to figure out the dimensions. I didn’t want to cut down any trees to make room for it. I wanted the house to be built around and between the trees. I have this majestic oak growing through my living room floor. It’s marvelous, and it doubles as a sort of staircase. It leads right up through my bedroom. It’s not a very big house at all because, you see, I just wanted to commune with nature for once. I’d had my fill of concrete, skyscrapers and taxis. Goodbye city life, hello little secluded cabin in the woods, with no hustle and bustle and endless noise to intrude upon my private thoughts. Just me, the trees, and the little, furry woodland creatures for company. Well, until the housing developers scared them off. I should have known the whole situation was too good to be true.
He came into my life like a hurricane. No, that’s not right. Let’s say…a tornado. Isolated destruction in my stratosphere. Destination: me. I met him outside a Starbucks. I’m allergic to coffee. That should have been the first sign. He was coming out the door as I was walking by, his hands full with a coffee and Danish, not looking where he was going. He slammed the door right into me, and knocked me, quite literally, off my feet. I felt my head hit pavement, and everything went black for a split-second, just long enough that when I re-opened my eyes, he was staring intently down at me. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. I think so. Give me a minute,” I managed to stammer. I laid my head back down on the concrete and stared up at the clouds. He must have thought I was crazy, or had a concussion or something, the way I just continued laying there.
“Want a hand?”
“Yeah, that’d be good.” He set his breakfast down on a table near us and stooped down to help me up.
“Upsy daisy.” Upsy daisy? Who uses phrases like that in a completely serious tone? Anyone? No? Bueller? Bueller?
He got to my feet and turned to pick up his coffee again. The second he let me go, however, I lost my footing, still woozy from the initial fall. He turned around just in time to catch a hold of me under my arms. Brushing my hair out of my face, he tipped my head upward and smiled at me. “Come on, you can lean on me. We’ll get you to a seat, okay?”
All I could do was nod. I heard choirs of angels instead of a voice; I saw cloudless summer skies instead of irises. He put an arm around me and every inch of my skin was alive. I was electric. “My name is Adelaide,” was all I could stutter out.
He smiled warmly at me. Cue: sunshine, lightning bolts, fireworks, warm piles of happy, full, contented puppies after a long day at play. “I’m Jay.”
He helped me to a chair and set his coffee and Danish down opposite me. “I guess I could spare a few minutes to sit and eat, if you don’t mind the company.” He checked his watch as he spoke.
“I was actually just passing by. I don’t eat at Starbucks. I’m allergic to coffee.”
“Are you seriously allergic to coffee?”
“Yep. I break out in hives, can’t breathe, the whole nine yards.”
“Wow. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can claim that.” He laughed, a musical sound, like an orchestra tuning up. I joined in on his laughter.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
He paused, took a bite of his Danish, and chewed it thoughtfully. “Criminal law.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It pays the bills. And what, may I ask, do you do?”
“Life researcher.” Cue: blank stare. “Professional artiste?”
“Artiste?”
“Basically, I’m unemployed. I used to work in my father’s office, but I couldn’t stand the fluorescent light existence I was living. So, I’m doing research from home for a bit.”
“What kind of research?”
“Well, for example…did you know that turkeys drown in the rain?”
“Drown? They drown in the rain. No way.”
“Yep. They’re so confused by what it is, they stand there with their mouths hanging open and their heads thrown back, and they drown.”
“Interesting. You didn’t strike me as the type who would know random facts like that.” He leaned forward, smiling.
“What did I strike you as?”
“Artistic. Definitely artistic. So, you frequent this part of town often?”
“Not really. I’m not one for civilization. It’s so…crowded. I prefer the forest. It’s so quiet.”
“The forest?”
“Yeah. I live out there. It’s beautiful. Really peaceful, you know?”
“Well, so are you…” Just then, his cell phone let out an obnoxious and extremely loud ‘BRRRRING!’, as if it knew we were flirting. He looked down at the screen and grimaced. “I have to go. I’m sorry to leave so suddenly. I must have lost track of time.”
“Okay…well, it was nice meeting you.”
“You too. Say, I’ll tell you what, let’s exchange phone numbers, and we’ll meet up some other time and continue our conversation,” he said as he produced a pad of paper and a pen and proceeded to scribble down his number. He tore the sheet off and handed it to me, then handed over the pad and pen as well. I jotted down my digits and handed his things back to him. He looked down at his watch, grimaced again, and raised a hand in hasty farewell.
“See you.”
The sun was setting behind him, reflecting his shadow across the cold concrete as he walked away. I shook my head, smiling to myself. You never know when you’ll meet some handsome stranger on the street, someone who just might be your soul mate. But, you know how that goes, even when you exchange numbers, he never calls. When I got home, I put the paper with his number on it in the dish next to the phone, sighed, and climbed the oak so I could crawl into bed.
One dreams differently in the forest. It’s an endless stream of consciousness, unbroken by any kind of interruptions. There’s so much air, so much freedom, and it infiltrates even into your unconsciousness, so that everything is smooth and free, and very, very clear. But I’ve found that in the forest, instead of dreaming about people you know or places you want to be, you dream in colors and emotions. And that night after I met Jay, all I could see in my dreams were the most brilliant shades of red and blue, all spinning around behind my eyelids until there was nothing but the most royal shade of purple. I haven’t dreamed in that color since. So last night, when every turn in my dreams led to another room covered in deep, purple velvet, I was worried. I awoke to the sound of birds chirping. There were three blue jays perched on the tree limb nearest to my window. I was out of bed and climbing hurriedly down the tree in about four seconds flat, groping mindlessly for the telephone.
“Hello?”
I didn’t expect an answer. Doesn’t he have caller ID? “Ebola Zaire has the highest mortality rate of all the Ebola viruses. It kills nine out of ten victims.”
“Who is this?”
Well, guess he must have deleted me. “The virus liquefies your internal organs, until you crash and bleed out from every orifice in your body. Nasty way to go, isn’t it?”
“Is this some kind of a joke? I’m not laughing. I’m a very busy man, and it is five AM. Who is this?”
“They study it at the Center for Disease Control. They’ve got vials of it on file. Enough of the virus that, if it were stolen, could be released in the most heavily populated areas in the United States. We’d all be dead within a month.”
“Adelaide? Is that you?”
I couldn’t say anything else. I just breathed quietly into the phone, willing him to hear everything I couldn’t say.
“Adelaide. Please, keep talking. About anything. Even about those horrible epidemic diseases you love so much. It’s so good to hear your voice again. You have no idea how much I’ve missed it.”
I hung up the phone. When it rang in my hand less than five minutes later, I wasn’t at all surprised to see ‘Jay’ flashing across the screen. I flipped it open and pressed the button to turn it on speaker. ‘Just Like Heaven’ blared out from my phone’s speakers. I almost dropped it. He was singing along, softly, in the background. The song was abruptly cut off and he began speaking again. “Adelaide?”
“You know, the birds are gone. They left the same day that you did. The scientists called it an odd, new migration pattern. But I know better.”
“Can’t we just have a normal conversation for once, Addy?”
“If you wanted a normal conversation, you could have called me anytime, Jay. Anytime in the last freaking year.”
“Is that really how long it’s been?”
“Almost.”
“Where did we go so wrong?”
“We were always wrong. The real question is when did we go right?”
Silence on his end. He was mulling my words over. “We were right, for awhile.”
“There’s no denying that.”
“Can I see you, Addy? Buy you dinner or something?”
“I don’t know if I’m okay with that.” This time when I hung up the phone, I turned it off as well. Enough painful memories for today, thank you very much. I couldn’t even muster enough strength to climb the oak. I curled up at its base, in between its huge, knotted roots, and buried my face in its familiar bark.
Why do things break? Even what we keep under the closest watch, under the strongest lock and key, can end up shattered in pieces on the floor. Clocks, figurines, hearts. I should have seen it coming from the beginning. I really should have. The signs were there, but instead of paying attention to them…I played pretend instead. Pretend, pretend, pretend. It’s all I seem to do anymore. Pretend you’re not heartbroken. Pretend you’re just fine. Pretend that the entire world has not just bottomed out from under you. Pretend you haven’t been sucked into some giant black hole and disappeared into the far reaches of the universe. My fantasy life is rich, I know. So yes, I knew we were destined for ruin, but I glossed the entire thing over in my mind. When I say where did we go right? I mean it. We went right, for a little while, and then it all went to shit.
So, where did we go wrong? Well, I don’t want to pawn the blame off on anyone, but it was mostly Jessica’s fault. That first fateful meeting, it was her call that ripped him away from me. It was Jessica who he held every night as he was falling asleep, and Jessica whom he kissed every morning before he left for work. They’d been dating for almost a year when I came into the story. At first, I was a minor player, and she didn’t pay me any mind. I was Adelaide, Jay’s new best friend. Adelaide, Jay’s poker buddy, or Adelaide, that girl Jay goes to see those cheesy horror flicks with. In time, I became Adelaide, the one Jay ran to every time he and Jess would get in a fight. I was the mender of broken hearts; I was the conduit for his electric charges. I was the beach to his tidal waves. I have never felt more in sync with any person. When his heart broke, mine broke along with him. And yet, there I was standing right in front of him, and all he could see was the façade I was forced to present. I was stuck doing the best friend song and dance, where everything between us was strictly platonic.
I could pretend he loved me as more, of course. That overactive imagination of mine had been neglected since meeting Jay. But dreams are merely fiction, and the reality we live is far less rich, less interesting, and entirely more disappointing. Add in to that the fact that I could no longer dream in scenes, and I found myself with slender options. I could bide my time, face the facts, move on, find someone else, just be happy with being his friend, or forget he existed. Well, those were shitty options. Mediocre, at best. I decided to bide my time. What were another few months or years without someone when it had already been so long? I had the stately trees outside my window. I had the oak inside my living room to climb and read poetry to from inside the safety of its thick boughs. I had research to do, novels to write, masterpieces to paint, songs to sing. I had a life. A life that mainly consisted of staring out my window at the lush, vast forest surrounding me, wishing I could be a tree too. Trees don’t have drama.
Jessica loved picking fights for absolutely no reason. She and Jay would have rows in the middle of grocery store aisles, or on the sidewalks outside busy cafes, sometimes even in public libraries. It didn’t seem to matter where, she would pick on anything she could find. Maybe his collar wasn’t straight, or his hair was parted unevenly. Whatever it was, she’d find it, and manage to pull an hour long argument out of it. One that mainly ended with the words “we’re through!” coming from one or both of them. I’d open my door to see him standing on my doorstep with a duffel bag thrown sheepishly over his shoulder. He’d spend the night on the other side of my bed, muttering in his sleep and snoring.
Of course, the next morning, I’d wake up to him on the phone, cooing in that horrible baby voice at her. He’d pack up his bag and be gone before I was even dressed. This happened more times than I can even begin to describe to you. But it was always the same. They’d fight, she’d kick him out of the house, he’d end up in my bed, and they’d be back together by the next morning. An endless cycle. This was the second sign. But of course, I took no notice.
The inevitable happened on an otherwise peaceful day. Well, relatively peaceful. The sky had been getting darker all day. The birds were silent in the trees, so quiet in fact that I worried they were no longer there. Luckily, the robins who nested in the tree outside my bedroom window were still huddled there, their little bodies fluffed up against the cold. The weather seemed like a bad omen to me, so I decided not to step foot outside. I put the kettle on the stove to boil, and pulled the broom out of the cupboard. The floor hadn’t been swept since God knows when, and the oak was beginning to lose its leaves, since autumn was upon us. I was humming to myself and sweeping away, when I heard the knock at the door. I swung it open, to reveal Jay standing on my front step, his face cloudy. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over. Usually you call.”
“Yeah, well. This was kind of a split-second decision.”
“Okay. Come inside, then. It’s getting chilly out.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“We need to talk.”
“Okay. Why can’t we do that inside?”
“Addy, I can’t do this anymore. I feel…stifled.”
“Stifled? By what? Me?”
“By you, the trees, this house, this relationship! By everything!”
“Jay…come on. I’m good for you. I don’t pressure you into decision. I give you tons of space…” I trailed off as I looked up into his eyes.
“It’s not that.” My eyes widened as everything became suddenly very clear.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” He avoided my gaze. “Jay. Answer me.” A long pause. “Please.” Another long pause. He refused to make eye contact when he finally answered.
“I just have to get away. I know you like communing with nature. I mean, that’s your thing. You’re a researcher, you like learning about trees and infectious diseases. That’s you. I’m not like that. I need the big city. I need skyscrapers and airplanes and busy city streets. I can’t fucking think with all this quiet!”
I was silent for a moment, contemplating. The accusations rang through my head. I wanted so badly to say everything that was on my mind, and more, but I just couldn’t. “Jay. Don’t blame this on nature. If you want to be with her, than go. I love you; I always will…but please don’t come back here again.”
He sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Finally, he lifted his eyes to mine. I was shocked to see tears in them. He reached out and took my hands in his. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I want to be with you, honestly, I do. Nobody gets me quite like you do. I don’t think anyone else ever will.”
I didn’t want to listen to any more. I turned my head away from him, longing to drop his hands, run inside, and throw my arms around the oak. But I didn’t. And he didn’t stop speaking. “..But she doesn’t ask the things of me that you do. She doesn’t expect as much from me. It’s so much easier not having to be on my guard all the time, afraid I’ll say something wrong or I’ll go too far. The truth is, I’m scared of you half the time…and a relationship can’t work that way, Adelaide. I’m sorry.”
I pulled my hands out of his. “Please leave, Jay. You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Go.”
He gazed at me sadly. “I’ll always love you.”
“I doubt it.”
He shook his head. “Never doubt it. Because though I may not be able to handle my love for you, it will never, never die. It cannot be frozen, nor burnt, nor ripped into pieces. It is not something you or anyone else can destroy, no matter how hard they may try. It’s forever, Addy.” With that, he backed off the step and turned down the path leading towards where his car was parked.
I stood, frozen, on the front step, unable to move a muscle. When finally I heard his car door slam, I let my head fall back, my mouth gaping open, and uttered the loudest, most powerful scream of rage that has ever echoed through these woods. That was the moment when the birds took flight. Every single imaginable color and species, whirling around my arms and head and house like a huge, squirming rainbow, flying blindly into the night, knowing nothing but that they must seek shelter anywhere but here.
The woods have been silent since the day he left, and this house has been contaminated with memories of his touch. Every inch of floorboard reeks of him. Every wall holds a memory. Even the stately oak gazing down at me through my bedroom floor played its part. Just brushing against it brings back vivid recollections: my back pressed against its rough bark, his teeth grazing my neck. I wish I could seek shelter anywhere but here, like the birds. I wish I could bleed him out, like an Ebola victim bleeds the virus out. I wish the silence weren’t so complete.