The Art of Falling

January 26, 2012
By , Boise, ID
She can’t remember a time when her mother didn’t make her want to tear her hair out. She can’t remember how to say “your welcome” in French. She can’t remember her first kiss in a cold movie theater in the middle of summer, with a stranger she had been to quick to trust. She can’t remember a single friend you hasn’t abandoned or betrayed her. She has always been a trusting person, even though almost everyone she has known hurt her. She can’t remember the sound of her dad’s voice whispering her to sleep when she was a baby. She can’t remember her last moment with him or the funeral; she was only six months old. She knows she has disappointed him. She can’t remember how many drinks she had that night. When she is drunk, she can’t remember their faces, especially his. She can’t remember why she had called him that night and begged him to come and save her from her own nightmares. She can’t remember the lie she told her mom so she could stay out all night. From the damp Albertson’s parking lot, he pulled into the parking spot next to her; she can’t remember why she was so happy to see him. She can’t remember following him closely behind when they got to the apartment door, practically hugging his back .She can’t remember the way vodka stings her throat and eyes until she takes another drink, only to forget again. She can’t remember the smell of the dingy apartment, practically empty with the exception of an air mattress covered in moth eaten blankets. She can’t remember her left from her right. She thinks she remembers falling onto the mattress giggling at the rain drops. She thinks she remembers singing and dancing, the spill on her mom’s lace shirt that put the whole plan into motion. When she took it off she didn’t remember to keep the rest of her clothes on. She can’t remember the way it fell to the ground, like an innocent soul falling from grace. She can’t remember the way he looked at her when she did this. She can’t remember how many times they listened to ‘Crazy Beautiful Life’, but she knows she can’t listen to it now without feeling sick to her stomach. She doesn’t remember when his friend walked in and how she laughed, giggling his name because it felt funny against her lips. She can’t remember how she lost the pants, but she knows it was by her doing. She knows he didn’t lay a finger on her until she fell to the air mattress in the middle of the living room. She can’t remember how he made his way from the couch to the bed where she laid, half naked. “Do you know how hard it is for me not to kiss you right now?” she remembers him saying. She remembers giggling like a little girl, hands clasped over her mouth. “You can’t kiss me, we are too good of friends”, she can’t remember how badly she slurred her words, so instead it sounded like “You can kiss me, we are good friends”. She can’t remember him leaning over and kissing her, how the kisses turned into more, making their way onto her neck. She can’t remember pushing him away. She can’t remember him on top of her, she can’t remember if she screamed. She doesn’t remember saying yes, but she remembers saying no and him kissing her more. She can’t remember the tears pouring down her cheeks when he wouldn’t get off. She can’t remember if it really was raining or not. She remembers him saying ‘I think I love you.” She remembers whispering sorry to herself, the sober child inside her sobbing. He head was too foggy to realize what was happening before it was too late. The severity of the situation didn’t full sink it. She remembers waking up the next morning underneath the moth eaten blankets on the mattress, half naked with puffy eyes, his arm around her waist. She picked up her clothes and walked out the door. She can’t remember if she said good bye.

The next week everyone knew, and no one believed her side of the story. Everyone laughed about it like it was some joke, so she laughed along as well. She cried to her friend afterwards, who only laughed. “It honestly couldn’t have been that bad. Get over it.” So she kept laughing with everyone, hoping it would ease the pain. When the boy she was meant to save herself for came down for spring break he learned about what happened between his friend and her. She was crying in her room two weeks later when she found out about him and another girl, she felt the pain of a thousand knives tearing away at her. She remembers forgiving him as he forgave her. She knows she will forever carry the pain from that night.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback