The Trees, The Lake, They Lead Me to This

November 24, 2009
All she sees are trees, all she feels is life. The world moves around her, while she stands still. Tires cruch on gravel, brakes squeal, an engine gurgles, then is silenced. Artificial lights pale the scene. But that is one more thing to be angry about. Footsteps, hard and demanding of attention beat a rythum on the old wood. They are confident steps, powered by long legs. They are careless, and arrogant. Another thing to be angry about. “Your late.” she states, turning to him. His candy floss, blond hair is attratively messy, and long. The moon makes it shine, like a halo granted by the gods. Another thing to be angry about. “Hey, babe. Yeah, sorry about that, my car-” he starts, shrugging his wide shoulders. “Broke down. That piece of always breaks down.” she interrupted. Turning back to the lake. Anger simmering lowly. “Whatever Jenna. And I wouldn't talk about pieces of. Seeing as your car isn't much better.” he snarls, anger blooming in his voice. “My car? Are you insulting my car!?” she snapped turning back to him. He still looked like a fallen angel... another thing to be angry about. “What do you think?” he said, crossing strong arms over and equally strong chest.

Jade green met icy blue, and where there used to be sparkes and tingles, there was violent lightling and anger. “Kiss my ass. My car is vintage. But can we not get into this right now?” she said lowering her voice. “Sure Jenna, whatever you like.” he said in mock consideration. She rolled her eyes and cocked her hips to one side. “Stop acting like a child Jake.” she said back, feeling simple pleasure when his eyes clouded with anger. Tension blended into a body that had the potenial for great violence, and great tenderness. “I'm not being childish, you are Jenna.” his voice barely contained the anger she saw in his eyes, and read in his body.

“Oh that's right. You're to mature for everything, you're to mature to simply laugh. No you need grown-up jokes and stories.” she said dancing on the nerve between anger and rage. His eyes flashed, and his fists clenched. “Stop pushing me Jenna. It won't end well.” He snapped the words off. “Don't snap at me Jake, it's immature.” she smiled, in weak horrible pleasure when icy blue darkened. “Stop it!” he yelled, taking a step towards her. “Stop what? Being honest?!” She yelled back.

She ran her hands through her curly, red hair, pusing it off her forehead. His eyes cleared after she did that. It was her tell, the one thing she did when she was overbound with emotion. “Jenna, what did you want?” he said, and she sighed.

She had wanted to keep him angry, because then his eye's were alive, and he didn't seem so cold. “I wanted to make you angry. I wanted to see if I could reach the boy I've knew since diapers.” She turned away, back to the lake, her voice sounded meak, and submissive, but at least he would know. “Jen... what's up? Talk to me babe.” He came over and stood next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She twisted, and stood two feet away, facing him. “Don't please. I can't think if you touch me.” she pushed her hair back again, took a deep breath, and met his gaze. “I can't pretend anymore.” she mumbled. “Pretend about what?” he said, no more anger in his voice, just cold, calm, unfeeling words. “I can't pretend to be in love with you anymore.” she crossed her arms, and hugged herself, no longer meeting his gaze. “Jenna, what-” he started but she cut him off. “No let me finish Jake. When we were growing up you were so... feeling, so alive. And then you changed in ninth grade. After your mom died. I tried to help you. I tried to bring you back, but you wouldn't let me. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of your chill, I'm getting frost bite over here, and you never notice!” she tucked her hands into her pockets and met his eyes. “So that's it? You're done with me?” he asked in cold disbelief. She nodded. “I'm sorry Jake. You're one of my best friends, and I will always love you, but I'm not in love with you anymore.” She shook her head, walked towards him, pressed a kiss to his cheek, turned away and walked away up the dock. “Do I get any say in this?” he called after her.

She turned on her heel, and watched him walk towards her. “No, you don't, because you can't change my mind. I'm sorry Jake.” she turned back around and walked to her car. She reached through the open window, popped the lock and folded into the low bucket seats of her steely grey, with black racing stripes, 1968 Mustang. As she drove away, she looked into her rearview mirror and saw him standing in the middle of the dock, his hands jammed in his pockets, his strong, straight shoulders hunched. “I break up with him, and he feels.” The tears finally fill her eyes. “I'm truly sorry Jake...” She says to her self as she leaves the lake, the mountains, and the dock behind.

As she drives up the path, through the trees and away from Jake, she lets herself cry.

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