August 25, 2009


"Why don't you hear me?"
"I hear you," he reproached. "I'm listening."
She had imagined him as a boy in a glass bubble, impervious to sounds from the outside. She hated feeling that she was ignored. It seemed that, isolating himself, he had isolated her. They were both alone.
But not quite. This was worse than complete isolation. He did answer her questions, and sound waves were entering his hears and his voice was responding to her, but their minds were missing each other. Their hearts couldn't have been more distant.

"I just asked why you said 'Bri's truth doesn't matter.' I want to know."
"I don't want you to be sorry! Well, I do..."
Is this him? she wondered. I don't want repentance to be only a facade. Are you really and truly, in your heart of hearts, that guy who cuts me off and tells me that truth doesn't matter?

"Who are you, Chris?" A dumb question. It wouldn't be dumb if she already knew the answer. But with her attempts to reach out into that divine realm of knowing, every seemingly random question pushed him further away.

Chris was reading a sports magazine during this entire time. Still, he answered her question fairly promptly. All this debate occuring in Bri's mind happened swiftly. Her thoughts were less articulate desires than they were vague feelings of frustration and helplessness.

"Who am I? Christopher Driston. The name kind of rhymes, if you haven't noticed. But why are you turning all philosopher on me? I said I was sorry. Isn't that enough?"
"Alright, Chris. I, I forgive you."

She turned away. Those words felt so contrived, so mechanical. Of course, when someone apologizes, you forgive them. Better to forgive now than later. And she'd read it all before, that you don't have to feel loving to be loving, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

She felt sick, as if she hadn't been talking to a human being.

As, this indeed is how it was: he had no desire to be known or understood. By her, at least. Little sisters were ultimately unneeded.

He apparently thought she didn't matter. He treated her as if she wasn't a real person. And in doing so, he alienated himself to her. In more than one sense of the word.


Hayley said...

"It seemed that, isolating himself, he had isolated her." Isolation is selfish. Okay, that connected some major dots with me!

This reminds me way too much of me and Maggie. :sigh: Thanks for some laden conviction. :)