LunaNiña.com

I.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t make the words come out. Standing in front of these people unable to speak was something he’d envisioned many times over. It was surprising to him that it wasn’t more frightening. But it was hard. How was he to pull from his heart the feelings that this man had inspired in him? How was he to wrap his tongue around the words that would properly express the love he felt? His hands were cold and his fingertips tingled, as if he’d been sitting on them for hours. He looked down and realized that he was holding onto the podium so hard that his nails were digging into the wood.

Mere seconds had passed since he’d stood up from the pew, walked the few steps toward the front of the church and turned to look at his lover’s friends and family. His friends and family. He had something different to say to each person present. Most of it good. A couple of people, he knew, still disapproved of their love, but he could no longer be angry. Behind him the casket was a presence he could feel. He knew that he needed only to take a few steps back and he would be bumping into the wood, but it may as well have been in another state because it simply wasn’t real to him. He stared down at his notes, the notes that they’d both written months ago and he began to speak. As he found the words, his fingers let go of the wood and he experienced the painful throbbing of the blood rushing back to his fingertips. As his tears fell unto his clasped hands resting on the podium, he tried to make eye contact with as many people as possible; trying desperately to pass along some of the love that had been generously shared with him for so long.

II.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. His mind reeled. He couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to him. How after years of devoting himself to this company he was being fired. Day after day, week upon week, month after month, he’d given these people almost everything he’d had. As others grumbled and complained, he’d stoically continued with his work, sitting very still so as not to rock the boat. He’d taken a look around and he’d realized many years ago that he had it pretty good. Sure sometimes it was all he could do to get out of bed in the morning. Some Fridays were no better than most Mondays, but after 15 years of working at the same place things were bound to take a downturn. Phases, he thought. They were just phases. All you had to do was focus, occupy yourself and keep on moving the paper. Eventually things got better.

He watched as others came and went. Some left and did really well and he thought, “Good for them. Just goes to show that there’s a place for everybody.” And when people called to ask him if he wanted to jump ship he always laughed nervously and politely thanked the person. “No, no,” he said. “Things are good here for me. I’m glad things are working out for you, but this is just good enough for me.”

When he heard of people who’d had a bad turn of fate he tsk-tsked and thanked his lucky stars that he’d never been foolish enough to leave. He would close the door to his office and walk around the room, letting his right hand trail along the wall. Taking comfort in the feeling of the coolness against his fingertips. His boss had caught him doing that once and had given him a puzzled look. “I’m thinking of redecorating,” he’d said. Ah. Good, good, his boss had replied. But they both knew it was a lie.

And now. Now he sat across from that same boss and listened as the man told him that the economy and the market and the organizational structure all pointed to one conclusion. He would have to go. With a nice settlement package of course. Of course. Settling, he should be content with that. He’d settled all his life and now here he was, in the middle of a heaving ocean and all he could do was wish he’d learned how to rock so many years ago.

III.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. “Well?” she asked. “Isn’t there anything you’d like to say? You’ve never had any problems talking before. It’s just like you to not say anything at a time like this. It’s perverse, is what it is. Perverse. You expect me to solve this don’t you? You always do. I should have listened to Tina when she told me never to get involved with you. But no. I let the look in your eyes lure me into something that I was never ready for and look at us now. Well? I don’t need this you know. I don’t. I’m better than this. Better than you just sitting there staring at me like you’ve never seen me before. I believe it. I believe you’ve never seen me before. All this time I thought it was sexy how you always had that faraway look in your eye and I believed you when you told me you were envisioning all the places we were gonna go, but all those trips you were taking in your head? They never included me did they? Don’t lie. I can see it clearly now. That you can’t even deny it is proof enough.”

She watched as his fingers raked up and down his pants leg. The scratching sound of his nails against the jeans once used to comfort her. It was almost as good as hearing his heart beat as they lay together after making love. She’d learned early on to read his moods by the scratching sound.

She sighed. “I’m boring you, am I? Don’t shake your head at me. I see what’s happening. Ok. You know what? Don’t worry about it. Don’t give it another thought. If you ever gave it one to begin with. I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of. But hear this. Me and you? We’re through. I don’t have the heart for this, for someone who can’t be bothered to even say he’s sorry. Oh. That got your attention did it? No, I’m not playing games. I’m too tired for games. I’ll fix this mess and then I don’t want to hear from you again. No. Don’t. It’s too late now to be trying to talk. Like I said, you ain’t have no trouble before talking so clearly you got nothing to say. Well, now I don’t either.”