Something in her voice cracked just a bit, made a sound like a sob, when she went for the low notes. No matter how intent on progress the guitar player’s pace was, that break in her timbre made it clear: she had not yet moved forward. She was still back there, entangled by the music, the songs from that day still stuck in her head.
Closed in
June 18, 2008“I didn’t notice,” she said.
Her palms held her eyelids shut longer than he deemed necessary. Once, she was a music box ballerina, spinning delicately. That was before everything closed in around them.
Washed away
June 14, 2008Sometime in the night, it started with a trickle of muddy water, but by morning, all the memories she had left in the basement were inundated. When they told her she had to leave it all behind, she did, taking one glance back through the window of her friend’s truck, noticing, then, how the tree in the front yard reflected on the small waves that lapped the base of the front door.
Star fell
June 12, 2008A star fell in my glass of wine tonight. It did not stay long, just twinkled there a moment, then winked out.
That’s the thing about stars. They burn bright, but they’re always gone by morning.
Dish washer
June 10, 2008Just after he told her what he had done, she washed the dishes. Shining up the plates seemed best, so she plunged her hands into soapy water and hummed—she hadn’t thought of that particular ballad in forever, but now couldn’t shake it from her head.
She had let the egg noodles sit too long, and six were so firmly stuck to the bottom of the pan that even her fingernails couldn’t lift them. She used a spatula to pick at them, one by one, because she couldn’t bear to just let the pan soak.
A man of his word
June 8, 2008Everything he said, he did. But this was the hardest to bear, the way he let words fall, clodlike against the pavement, and how mute she became, her voice swallowed by her own head like she was a dog who had finally caught her own tail, only to find it choked her.
If she could have spoken, she would have strung together words he could not help but accept into his heart—she felt sure she had mastered that technique. Instead, barely sure it was how to proceed, she listened, nodded, let him know he had been heard.
Misunderstanding
June 6, 2008His eyes, their irises spun silver, caught her attention first.
“Look at me,” she murmured under her breath, her heart already swallowed as if she had dangled it before him on a hook.
His palm turned up, he approached her, his wet shoes squeaking a bit. There was a moment when she thought he might ask her to dance. There was a moment when she thought he wanted her to slip her palm on top of his so he could wrap his fingers around her hand.
100 Proof 