Valentines Day is Over

…I am sitting in the back living room of Dana's new apartment. It is a big apartment and she only pays $180 a month. The view is beautiful. She can see all of Pittsburgh from Oakland to Downtown and practically to Ohio if you can strain your eyes. It is about 3:03 a.m. It is snowing outside. A candle is lit on the table and it is the only thing lighting the room. I am sitting on the couch nearest to the heater and it is nice and warm. It is comfortable. I am comfortable.

But...

...God I wish I was anywhere but here.

We haven't said a word to each other in about an hour. I haven't seen her for about half of that hour either because I think she got frustrated with the deft silence between us. I think she is cleaning her kitchen now, but I'm not going to get up to find out.

To be honest, I ran out of questions to ask her. I started the night with easy questions like: How is life? Do you like your new apartment? How is work? By the time it was 2:00 a.m. I had run out of questions to ask her. I was even out of intriguing questions like: Are you content with life? What makes you happy? Maybe one day we can get married?

When I ran out of questions we ran out of conversation. It amazes me how much she has told me about herself tonight. She told me all about who she has a crush on and what her hopes and dreams are and what her favorite drink is. But, if I asked her a simple question like, “What am I doing at school?” she wouldn’t even know where to begin. I could probably tell her all about what I'm doing in school, but I am implying the “parental” rule of, “Only speak when spoken to.” I don’t want to seem self-centered. I don't think she would really care anyway...

She says she wants read me a story by Shell Silverstein: “The Giving Tree.” And for a moment after she closes the book it feels like February 2001 again. Everything feels calm. Everything is peaceful. But, then I ask her if her she thinks her life is like the moral of the story. And in return she gives me the least personal, “book report” type answer she can possibly conjure up about society and class structure. She can't even simply answer my “intimate” question. She has to pretend like she is socially consious robot instead of a living, breathing, human being.

When she was done answering, I get up from her bed and go back to the comfortable couch by the heater without saying a word. Because at that moment I 100% know; I 100% know better than to pretend like the past year we had apart didn’t happen.

She calls me in again a few minutes later so she can read me another story. It is a children’s book about fur coats. It is a clever story about a koala and a panda stealing fur coats from rich people and then giving them back to their skinned friends in the forest. And it is cute, and when she is done she puts in “Genealogies” by the Secret Stars, and Geoff Farina sings. I don’t say much, or anything at all as she turns off lamp and blows out the candle on her dresser.

She just lays still, turned away from me. Coughing from time to time; taking a sip of water from the glass on her dresser from time to time to alleviate her scratchy throat. And after while she stops coughing. I think she was asleep. I think it is safe to finally leave her room; safe to finally make my escape.

I put my shoes and jacket and scarf on. I quietly open the door and quietly close the door behind me. I quietly tip-toe down the stairs and out the front door and catch the 5:50 a.m., 54C bus back to South Side. I walk the mile back to school from Carson St. in the driving snow. And it is more like the apocalypse than a Sunday morning.

…When I get back to my school by the highway I am tempted to walk my body out into the oncoming traffic. For some reason, walking the last 15 steps up to the foot bridge seems like more than my legs can handle. Still being awake at 6:45 a.m. is more than my mind can stand. My body is so numb from the cold and from her that I probably wouldn’t even feel the grill plate of an SUV smash and rip and tear into my upper body, ending my short 19 and ¾ year life…

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