Deserve
Ryan threw the smooth stone into the black river. A breeze tousled his hair, and the faint sounds of a band playing across the river drifted between the falling leaves. Ryan suppressed a shiver to reject the ideas of him being cold or needing to go back to the apartment to ask Sandra to let him in to get his jacket. She would have let him in, of course, but the idea of asking her for anything made him sick.
Ryan slammed his fist into the soft, brown dirt which looked black in the dark of the night. The lamp posts lining the sidewalk caused his elongated shadow which reached towards the river to react more dramatically than the action had been. Shadows have a tendency to do that - make things look more intense, sometimes even more raw than they truly are. Pushing himself up onto his feet, Ryan hocked up some spit and sent it flying into the river. He didn't allow himself to watch the ripples reach their extent. He hadn't the time.
Pushing the library's revolving glass doors with his left hand, Ryan was distracted by the leather band of his golden watch. He wondered why so many people liked wearing leather when it looked so worn so fast. Why not wear something that didn't look worn so quickly? People were stupid. Rich people were even more stupid.
Ryan dropped his book bag onto the table and pulled out the textbook he was to study. As he sat down, the overwhelming feeling of empty loneliness hit him. It not only hit him, it infiltrated his inner being. The anger he felt earlier at needing to leave the serenity of the riverside surged back into him, coupled with a burning in his eyes. He gritted his teeth together and looked around for some relief from his pressure. Why would he look? How could he explain his feelings to others with mere words? Words were useless. You can't maintain the power of the emotion within you when you degrade it to shells like "anger," "sadness," or "loneliness."
Sandra touched his shoulder, and Ryan started. He turned quickly, a smile on his face and the expectation that the person who would understand him had appeared to empathize with him. At the point of recognition a half-second later, Ryan's smile disintegrated like a burnt shred of paper, breaking apart and heading out in different directions on the wind. Sandra bit her lip, her nostrils flaring in her attempt to not break down. Ryan knew that face. While it had, in the past, induced sympathy in him, tonight he was infuriated by it. How dare she come to him and add to his confusion and bewilderment with her tears?
He shoved the textbook back into the book bag, hoisted it back up onto his shoulder and didn't push the chair in as he left. Sandra didn't follow him with her legs - only her eyes.
Ryan made it outside and halfway down the twenty stairs to the road before he heard the screeching tires and soul-shuddering crunch of a life-evolving event. Ryan watched the crumpled body twist in unnatural ways as it rolled up onto the hood of the car; gravity then tugged it back off the car to the cold, dirty pavement.
Ryan turned at the sound of his name being yelled. Sandra burst out the double doors to the side of the revolving glass entryway. She looked at the accident then at Ryan before she took in a whimpering breath and crumpled to the ground, arms wrapped around herself, head down in her old, Stanford sweater, shaking with sobs.
Ryan went to her and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, drawing it close to her damp face. Ryan kissed the top of her head and breathed in through her perfumed hair. Once again, he remembered he didn't deserve her.
Ryan slammed his fist into the soft, brown dirt which looked black in the dark of the night. The lamp posts lining the sidewalk caused his elongated shadow which reached towards the river to react more dramatically than the action had been. Shadows have a tendency to do that - make things look more intense, sometimes even more raw than they truly are. Pushing himself up onto his feet, Ryan hocked up some spit and sent it flying into the river. He didn't allow himself to watch the ripples reach their extent. He hadn't the time.
Pushing the library's revolving glass doors with his left hand, Ryan was distracted by the leather band of his golden watch. He wondered why so many people liked wearing leather when it looked so worn so fast. Why not wear something that didn't look worn so quickly? People were stupid. Rich people were even more stupid.
Ryan dropped his book bag onto the table and pulled out the textbook he was to study. As he sat down, the overwhelming feeling of empty loneliness hit him. It not only hit him, it infiltrated his inner being. The anger he felt earlier at needing to leave the serenity of the riverside surged back into him, coupled with a burning in his eyes. He gritted his teeth together and looked around for some relief from his pressure. Why would he look? How could he explain his feelings to others with mere words? Words were useless. You can't maintain the power of the emotion within you when you degrade it to shells like "anger," "sadness," or "loneliness."
Sandra touched his shoulder, and Ryan started. He turned quickly, a smile on his face and the expectation that the person who would understand him had appeared to empathize with him. At the point of recognition a half-second later, Ryan's smile disintegrated like a burnt shred of paper, breaking apart and heading out in different directions on the wind. Sandra bit her lip, her nostrils flaring in her attempt to not break down. Ryan knew that face. While it had, in the past, induced sympathy in him, tonight he was infuriated by it. How dare she come to him and add to his confusion and bewilderment with her tears?
He shoved the textbook back into the book bag, hoisted it back up onto his shoulder and didn't push the chair in as he left. Sandra didn't follow him with her legs - only her eyes.
Ryan made it outside and halfway down the twenty stairs to the road before he heard the screeching tires and soul-shuddering crunch of a life-evolving event. Ryan watched the crumpled body twist in unnatural ways as it rolled up onto the hood of the car; gravity then tugged it back off the car to the cold, dirty pavement.
Ryan turned at the sound of his name being yelled. Sandra burst out the double doors to the side of the revolving glass entryway. She looked at the accident then at Ryan before she took in a whimpering breath and crumpled to the ground, arms wrapped around herself, head down in her old, Stanford sweater, shaking with sobs.
Ryan went to her and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, drawing it close to her damp face. Ryan kissed the top of her head and breathed in through her perfumed hair. Once again, he remembered he didn't deserve her.
Comments
Post a Comment