Writing practice, may 18 2015
Leaves caught in the wind hit their faces and bodies. They stood in an electric field, the kind that bisecs suburbs. It was hot out, and dark, and the wind came out of nowhere. Harris and Georgette were exhausted, but she wouldn’t budge. She was going home, and it was only a mile away, but she couldn’t walk and argue.
He didn’t understand. She said, again, for the third time and in a third tone, “I don’t care. I just need five minutes. I just need to be in a room alone for five minutes.”
This fight was a rerun. Georgette had drawers of this argument in her memory. She’d had it with everyone who’d ever found out. The wind picked up, grew violent. Trees bent and somewhere close, buckled enough to make a thunder.
He responded with a fist sentence. “Why can’t I know everything about you?”
Georgette held one arm with another. She hadn’t brought a jacket and was freezing. Harris offered her his, and she took it. She wrapped the thick boy thing around her like a fire blanket.
“Can’t it be enough that I tell you everything but this thing?”
“It’s just strange,” he said, trying to quantify it in the realm of normal behavior. The sky darkened around them. In a few minutes, a newsworthy rain would find them. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, or want you to have privacy. It would just be better if I knew what the hell it was you did on your own every day in that room.”
Georgette walked and said nothing. Harris balked, but she blew by him. She had an alarming stride. He caught up to her, and grabbed her arm. She roared her reply. “I ask you for one thing. One thing! But I can’t have that. I give you and let you and abide you. Abide me! Abide me this tiny alice of time, and don’t think about it, and don’t worry about it, and don’t ask me. Other people, normal people, do that all the time. They let their partner have just a little bit.”
The relationship was over by the beginning of the storm.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just too weird. I’d never be totally comfortable.” Georgette heard the words before he said it. She’d heard them half a dozen times before. He didn’t even have to say them. He just had to walk back through the electrical field, back to his side of the suburb.Posted on 18/5/2015 #writing #morningpages