This Must Be The Place

The last time Ned saw Olive she was running past him with her headphones in, ponytail swaying. She was in blue running shorts and Ned’s Talking Heads t-shirt that she had borrowed the first night they had spent together. He had known then as he knew now that he was never getting that shirt. Ned watched her run away from him until her form disappeared from view but instead of continuing on his way to class, he just stood there; thumbs hooked onto the strap of his backpack, watching the sun fade behind the mountains in the distance. When it got cold, he turned and walked back to his dorm. He pushed open the door of his first floor room and threw his backpack down on the floor. Goddamn it. She was the last person he had wanted to see today. They had only broken up about three weeks ago, but it still felt like it was yesterday. The lingering ache in the back of his throat had yet to fade and his friends had stopped inviting him to their parties because all he did was get drunk and start fights with the upperclassmen. He put his hand on his chin and felt the now fading bruise that had once blared loud and purple just under the left side of his jaw.  Olive hated it when he got into fights, but when they were together he was able to avoid most, if not all, kinds of confrontation. He’d been able to avoid them up until the end of their relationship, but by that point it hadn’t mattered. 

Getting ready for bed that night he decided to go through a few of his desk drawers to see if there were any novels he had shoved away. He found Norwegian Wood, a novel by Haruki Murakami that Olive had given him for Christmas a few years back, tucked at the bottom of the drawer. As he pulled it out he noticed the corner of a photograph peeking out from between the pages.  He walked over to his bed, flipping the books paged to shake the photograph loose. A moan got caught in his throat when he saw it. The photograph had been taken on a beautiful early fall evening, when he had taken Olive out for her birthday. They had gone with two of their closest friends and it was Abigail who had taken the photograph.  She had taken it with one hand so the image was slightly lopsided. Ned remembered this because her other hand was around Gabe’s shoulder and it was right before they had toyed with the idea of dating. Olive was smiling wide in the photograph and he had an expression on that looked like happiness. It had been about a year, but it felt like lifetimes had passed since he had smiled like that for a photograph. He lay back on his bed and clutched the photo in his hand. Within minutes, he was asleep, the clock on his bedside table ticking away. 

Ned was standing in the doorway of his dorm room. He was drunk and it was about two in the morning. Chris’s party had been OK, nothing out of the ordinary and yet for some reason standing there, on that specific night, something felt different. He felt … guilty. Guilty because he smelled like beer and Chanel #5.  Guilty because Olive was curled up in his bed, holding on to his pillow, sleeping soundly.  He had asked her to go with him, but she had said no. He should have known better than to ask her but he had asked anyway. She had been leaving the library for frequently and he had taken that as a sign that maybe she would start to go out with him again. He had missed dancing with her at parties and missed how they had made slow stupid still drunk love after they stumbled home just before dawn.  But he didn’t even really care about that stuff; he just missed her.

Ned moved away from the doorway and took his pants off.   He walked as quietly as he could over to the bed where Olive was and tried to get into it without waking her up.  She shifted in her sleep as he sunk into the sheets and closed his eyes. Why couldn’t things just go back to how they used to be he thought shifting in position so that he was facing away from her. She’d had shorter hair and he hadn’t been so skinny. They had met randomly one night after a party. She had been drunk and was trying to sober up to finish a paper by taking a run around the campus. He had literally crashed right into her and they ended up talking all night and just as the sun was starting to rise they walked back to his dorm room and fell asleep tangled up together.

But that was then and this was now and nothing would ever be the same again. It couldn’t. They had spent so much time together that the glue that had once held them tightly close together was now dry and flaking off. He found it easier to be without her and felt a somber nostalgia for the time when it had been easier to be with her; not without her.

At 8:00 on the dot his alarm went off and he stretched and looked over to her side where she was curled up with her thumb in her mouth. He kissed her shoulder blade and whispered in her ear a soft good morning.  She opened her eyes and stretched her arms out above her and rolled over to tuck herself under his outstretched arm.  But the second she pressed her nose against his skin she recoiled. Ned she asked, looking up at him, what is that smell? He tried to think of something to say but couldn’t and just looked at her. Finally he said it didn’t mean anything OK? She pushed herself away from him and kicked the sheets off and got out of bed. Olive he said, sitting up and turning to face her. Olive really it was nothing.  She winced at that and looked at Ned with unbearable hurt in her eyes.  He just sat there and didn’t know what else to say so he said nothing and let the door slam shut behind her. He knew what he wanted to say but he knew she would not want to hear it. He blinked his eyes and tried not to cry but couldn’t help it and put his face between his hands and sobbed. His hands wet and his mouth salty he sat on his bed and thought. Had it been worth it? Sure being in the backseat of his car with the girl tucked under his arm had felt good. And sure he had felt fuller then he had in months. But by the next week he would be hungry again. And knowing that made the ache in his stomach all the more painful. All the pleasure he had found in that girl was nothing compared to all the pain that he was feeling now.

She returned a few hours later. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her glasses on.  In her arms she carried a box that held all the things he’d given her.  She put it down in front of him said she was sorry but that it was over. He nodded. She told him she was sorry. He nodded again.  She told him it was over, for good. He nodded. He wondered if he would have a stiff neck from all the nodding he was doing. He wondered how much longer she was going to stand there and look at him like that. She finally left, closing the door behind her, careful not to slam it. She was always careful. She had never slammed doors before this and probably would not slam doors after this. That afternoon was just an exception. Ned was the exception.

The last time Ned saw Olive she was running past him with her headphones in, ponytail swaying. She was in blue running shorts and Ned’s Talking Heads t-shirt that she had borrowed the first night they had slept together. He had loved that shirt but had given it to her the morning after, because she looked cute in it. She had been late for class and on her way out the door kissed him on the cheek and told him to call her. He had. That one phone call had reverberated into hours of talking to her on the phone, then hours of talking to her in his room on his bed, then days in her room under the covers listening to her talk about the history behind the scars on her knees.  He had fallen for her as easily as if he had been doing it his entire life. He could cry in front of her. He still didn’t think she ever really understood how important it was that he had shared that vulnerable action with her. As Ned watched her run until her form disappeared from view, he just stood there; thumbs hooked onto the strap of his backpack, watching the sun fade behind the mountains. Then he turned and walked back up the hill.

 

the graduate

It was May. It was hot. You were 22 years old and you were a graduating senior. You stood on the stage and the air smelled like lilacs and the people behind you probably wished they had gotten to know you better the same way you wished you had gotten to know them better. Your parents were in the audience and you saw your sister wave to you and your chest felt warm. You walked off the stage and back to your seat on the other side. The dress you were wearing was a dark red and your hair had grown out down your back. The speeches take a long time and the heat gets to you but you kept yourself cool by fanning your face with the program. After the ceremony you walked out to where the graduates were milling around talking to their parents and professors. Your parents were talking to your writing professor and so you stood and watched them talk. He came up to you and whispered in your ear. You jumped and turned and faced him and hugged him. Gone was his long hair and gone was his skinniness. He felt fuller in your arms. You talked to him until you had to leave. Your eyes burned and your throat hurt as you held him for the last time. Visions of California danced behind your eyelids and you told yourself not to cry. You didn’t. You got into your car and made sure you had everything with you. Your parents pulled out ahead of you and you waited a few minutes before you followed them. You just sat there hands on the wheel and took one last look. He was standing on the other side of the parking lot just watching you. You hoped he was far enough away that he would not be able to see the tears that raced down your cheeks and into your mouth. You put the car into drive. He stayed that way until you pulled away and drove off and then walked back up the hill. 

the runner

The Runner

 

It had become a tradition; your nightly laps around the soccer field.  Insomnia had always plagued you but for the past couple of weeks it had gotten worse.  You were 22 you were a senior and you were stressed out. You had not been eating enough and you had lost about ten or so pounds in the past two months.

And so you ran. You finished writing at about midnight and you put on your running shoes and shorts and sweatshirt. It was late October but it was still warm enough that you could wear shorts. You put your headphones in. You walked out of your dorm. You loved that campus at night. It was so quiet and so peaceful. Everybody was either doing work or sleeping by this point; either alone or with somebody else. And you enjoyed the still softness that crept over the buildings.

The soccer field came into view. The cement under your sneakers was hard and then as you stepped onto the field a spring bounced into your step and you picked up speed and ran.

First you ran suicides, back and forth under the stars. Your breath circling high above you like a halo. All of your stress was slowly sweated out of you.  When your legs started to protest you slowed down and started a slow jog around the perimeter of the field. Time stopped when you are running. Everything goes right and everything just felt right.

You did this almost every night until it started to get too cold. On the nights you don’t run, you would write or you would call your sister. On the nights you didn’t run however, you were counting down the minutes until you could run again.

 

 

 

 

 

updates

1.new dance videos will be up and running very soon!

2. completed fiction works will be made into book form by may

3. graduation in 7 weeks!!!!!!!!!!1

you are my sunshine

you walk past the park where she held your hand for the first time and you think strawberry bubble gum and you think how funny it is that you think that and the cement under your sneakers feels harder then usual and the sunlight is much too bright so you squint into your bag and search for your sunglasses that should be there why arent they there and the sun is blinding you and strawberry bubble gum and her hand in yours and the zing of lightening that shot through your arms and the sun the sun the sun

good that comes out of bad

come back to bed you say

but saying it and meaning it 

are very

different

things

a bottle of water down your throat

keeps your restless

as you move yourself up and out of the covers

to go empty yourself once again 

in the pine scented tile floored bathroom

the test reads negative

and the rest is history 

sometimes when i cant sleep i think about all the things i still have to do and i will stay up making lists and drinking green tea and aching.

when you are 22 and looking for things, they all seem to be hiding and in camouflage; blending in with the half assed victories and unsung glories.  and time is nothing more but a clock urging you forward; pushing you out the door.

i remember my first day of college.

i remember the last time i was happy.

i remember the last time i was drunk.

i remember how things used to fit together in my mind to make something larger.

i remember when i used to be good.

i remember when that was a good thing.

LET ME TELL YOU

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE TIME

I DIDNT UNDERSTAND THE WORD STAY

OR UNDERSTAND THAT IT TOOK MORE THEN JUST A GOOD LOOK

TO KEEP SOMETHING WITH ME

AT ALL TIMES

YOUR EYES DONT TELL ME ENOUGH

AND MY MOUTH WONT SHUT UP

SO I WILL TALK IN MY SLEEP

AND WAIT UNTIL WE CAN UNDERSTAND

THE WORDS WE ARE SPEAKING

AND UNTIL THE THINGS WE WANT TO KEEP

ARE BOXED UP

AND PUT IN THE ATTIC

VAN GOGH WAS RIGHT

SOMETIMES THE LOVE YOU MAKE IS NOT EQUAL TO THE LOVE YOU TAKE OR THE LOVE YOU WISH YOU HAD BUT THREW AWAY AND I AM EATING MYSELF INTO A CORNER HERE AND I KNOW IT AND YOU ARE DRIVING HOME WITH THE TALKING HEADS ON AND YOU KNOW IT AND ALL OUR LOVE IS DOWN THE DRAIN AND WE KNOW IT AND THE WORLD WONT END IF WE DO AND WE KNOW IT BUT THE SADNESS WILL LAST FOREVER AND WE KNEW IT ALL ALONG

i would rather eat nothing then stare at your shoes for another twenty minutes

this is something i always think when i see the back of your head when i walk to class and you know they say people always come around but you never turn around so i turn left and make my way to math class

maybe if i was taller you would have found a new way to love me

instead of sticking me with the old way which was to keep walking ahead of me and never turn around

heartbeat

but instead of loving you i left myself alone for a long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long long time