He
stared out the window; his eyes as blank and lifeless as a copper coin. Outside
the sky was burning like a purple flame. The molten orange washed down the
mountain ranges and disappeared into the shadows of the deep valley. No wind
blew and it was as if everything was held still to watch the sun set, but below
him vines crept up his window to escape the coming of darkness and found there
a dimness greater than the waking evening.
One
by one the bottles scattered on the floor lost the reflection of the sun’s
dying rays, and as the glint of the last beam was extinguished, all of them
vanished amidst the carpet of crumpled papers slumbering on the wooden planks.
He
watched the last ember exhale and wrung his hand around the neck of another
bottle. He rocked it gently. When he heard no splash inside, he put it back
down. Seconds ticked away, minutes passed, but he looked at the mountain ranges
as if there was still something to see. All that was left there were humps of
shapeless giants against a blacker sky. Skyward, one by one the stars lit up
and the moon unveiled itself from the clouds. He looked up.
The
moon.
He
remembered the moon.
He
was lying there on the grass with his arms embracing his shoulders ever so
tightly because of the cold. The moon was staring down at him that night and it
was so bright that he could not see the stars. Everyone else seemed to be
asleep but the cold would not let him. It was seeping in his combat boots and
scouring every inch of his skin despite all the shirts and socks that he had on
– not to mention his camouflage jacket.
He
strained his ears and heard nothing but his beating heart and the whistling of
the wind. There had to be something else he could hear or else he’d go mad. He
rubbed his hands once again.
And
God, this damn cold. It was so hot just this morning.
He
turned to his left. Roger seemed to be sleeping so soundly. How could he? He
turned to his right and saw Rizza dozing off just the same. So much for the
best bivouac of his life. He sat up. There had to be salvation. All around all
that he could see were lumps scattered across the grassy mountaintop.
Unstirring. Oblivious. Could it be possible that he was just imagining all
these discomforts? Perhaps he was going mad.
Then
he heard a sigh.
He
turned to the sound and saw her sitting up as well. When she
saw him she smiled faintly. “It’s quite cold,” she said softly, her voice
shaking. “Can’t sleep too?”
He
returned the smile, took off his jacket and then handed it to her.
He
banged his head on the window. The memory faded. He found another bottle and
took a swig. He honestly believed that the warm beer tasted like paper. Did it,
or did he just can’t go beyond the scraps lying on the floor? Crumpled letters
with no addresses and no person to send it to.
With
broken sentences with-
…broken
phrases
…and
broken words
…and
broken thoughts.
He
took another swig and then decided to gulp it all down. The alcohol did not hit
him the way it used to. He couldn’t remember how long it has been since he
lavished moments of sobriety, or distinguish at least which were the moments
when he was in or out of drunkenness. He wanted to lose the feel of his limbs
and his fingers and for his eyelids to fall shut, but the traitorous alcohol
would not pin him down. He knelt down on the floor and looked at the bottles,
looking for the dark one. The clanking hurt his ears and the shuffling of the
countless balls of paper too.
His
fingers finally touched something smooth. Ah, there you are. He unscrewed the
cap and took a taste. So much better. He took a couple of gulps and closed his
eyes. He laid his head on the floor, grasping a piece of paper in his hand and
hoped for a dreamless rest.
Shafts
of light escaped from the moon and slid inside his window. The radiance filled
the room with a drop of blue luminance. It touched the paper gently, as if it
was able to decipher what it contained despite the splotches of beer, saltless
tears and deep etches from a heavy pen.
“Anon,
Do you know? I cannot feel anymore.
Or else I cannot feel anything else any longer. There is this endless hole at
the center of my chest. It consumes everything: the mornings, the afternoons,
the evenings. Because of it no sound can reach my ears. It sucks up the light
that fills my room. It has consumed all my tears and it would not give them
back. I am hollow because of it. I cannot speak, I cannot move away. It has
taken all of me and now it is all I have. Without it then there would be
nothing else and I would disappear.
It is all that I am now. It has
devoured all my other memories and left only those that conjured it in the
first place- memories of you. Memories that scathe my waking hours, making me
smile at their first seconds and writhe with despair piece by piece every
moment afterwards. Memories of you haunt me at every corner. In every place,
every object, my thoughts lead me nowhere else but to visions of you. I can’t help but see you
everywhere. Your memories are haunting me, killing me slowly. But now the
tortures that you cause are all that I have left. Without my grief I am
nothing.
Wallowing is my stake at cowardice,
but I cannot pull myself to the other end of the river any longer. The current
pulls me with such strength that to fight it would be futile. To fight thoughts
of you would be futile. They pain me and yet this pain is bittersweet, because
in that reverse haven I have you. You and nothing more, nothing else. And if I
stay in this limbo you would linger forever.
I feigned courage to make you believe
that I can survive life without you, knowing that you somehow felt something
for me. But when I poured my feelings out in the letter that I sent to you
before you went away, the truth is I poured everything and left nothing to
myself. I was so sure that you would return my love and patch up the hole in my
heart. But you did not. How could you not do so? Now I am nothing. Now I am no
one. I am a drowned person. Drowned in this bottomless well in my chest;
drowned with countless bottles of forgetfulness. Drowned too deep and only you
can find me. Only you can pull me out.
This means then that I’m drowned forever
in this hollow body. Drowned because this is the only way that I have to be
forever with you.”
