Boy's Dont Cry

Music, Pain, and the Cure.

Boys Don’t Cry

*****

I don’t even like Nirvana. I tune into the college alternative rock station for bits of The Cure.

*****

There was a definite break. It was not brittle, like a bone or a dried piece of wood, but broke rather like soft candy stretched too quickly; something malleable that had been bent too far, a wet snap. When my stomach finally stopped it’s awkward decent though the floor and past the earth’s crust, diving through underground lakes of oil and decomposing Jurassic matter, fire and nothingness, did I swallow and look back up at her.

“Make me understand.” My hands flailed slowly by my sides; dead wings with no use. “Please.” My voice trailed off and my eyes must have reached out and dug a similar well inside of her. A tepid spring of primordial loneliness trickled across her features. She was old.

     “What do you want me to say? That I’m not happy?” She fretted. “Will it make it easier if I blame you for something?” The molten soul of the earth started up through my initial crater. Now she stared through the rift and you could have forged steel on her features. “Look.” Her eyes rose and a gravid foot went down like a guillotine blade. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I’m so lonely, that’s ok- I shaved my head - And I’m not sad - And just maybe " I’m to blame for all I’ve heard " I’m not sure " I’m so excited " I can’t wait to meet you there " And I don’t care - I’m so horny " that’s ok " My will is good.”

Cobain is crowing “Lithium” through my cracked car window, and I can’t remember the last time we drove anywhere apart.

“You B***h.”

*****

I was by the lake. The slap from my mother seemed to drift in slow motion, so slowly up to the pier, motor idling; the lighted Ferris wheel at the traveling carnival on the hill casting now ominous colors onto the dark water - the clown faces and brassy repetitive music clawing at my brain.

*****

I was back in the Winn Dixie parking lot.

“Yea yea yea… Yea yea yea”

My father raged inside my gut and chest, gurgling up though nights of Scottish whisky and one dollar a pack cigarettes, cowering behind the shoddy china cabinet while my mother performed her duties as a heavy bag; I suddenly wanted her face to be my mother’s, a tearful bruised wreck, I felt like a real b*****d " kicking and very f*****g real.

“You stupid b***h.”

“I like it I’m not gonna crack!”

The lake was gone, just her hand on my face once more. Still stinging from the first slap it was an interestingly dull sensation.

“I miss you I’m not gonna crack!”

I did not flinch the second time. I thought I had evolved through movies, local pub food, drinks, the city art museum, karaoke, more wine, tipsy wrestling and animal sex anywhere we exhausted ourselves. I was never my father towards her.

As far as I had known, we had shared real love, sorrow, affirmation, appreciation, joy and music. I held no secrets from her, but now felt as if she was scaling me alive with this deceitful blade. There was no more dancing unhinged at concerts, running through the colorful water fountains at the park, writing poetry together, making love everywhere; It was a surprise party, with magic juice, matching white robes, waiting around dying for a damn comet to carry us away. Now we had evolved, we were standing in a desert, and the oasis had been a mirage.

“I love you I’m not gonna crack!”

She took a step back and I realized I was grinning devilishly. A tried and domesticated wolf had tasted blood. I licked it from my lips in a meaningful manner, taking the opportunity to glance at the sky. From first taste the wolf never stops longing for blood, you have to put him down because you cannot tame the wolf.

“I killed you I’m not gonna crack”

My head shook slowly, side to side, “you stupid f*****g b***h.”

This time my father snatched her hand out of the air as she swung. I stepped aside as he pulled her towards me and she was thrown to the ground. I did not want to kick her, but my father was a strong man. I held him at bay while she scrambled to right herself. Growling for strength it turned into a roar; I must have looked quite the beast, arms outstretched, mouth open, fangs bared, because my noise smothered her back down to the ground like a weighted net.

“You are going to f*****g love me!” A world full of sentient beings scrambled for writing utensils and an acceptable medium, but the words had already be written, set in stone, broken in half, and given to man below Mt. Sinai.

“I’m so happy - ‘cause today I found my friends " They’re in my head " I’m so ugly " but that’s ok " ‘Cause so are you " Broke our mirrors " Sunday morning is everyday " For all I care " And I’m not scared " Light my candles in a daze " ‘Cause I’ve found god.”

 “Jesus...”

I was still breathing heavily, but he was gone, for now.

“Jesus.” The redness in front of me was fading back to the gray life presented.

“I’m so sorry.”

She was a squirrel, in front of a cat, next to a tree, adjacent to a telephone wire.

“Yea yea yea… Yea yea yea…”

     She laid there and looked at me with still fearful eyes.

Several people who had just walked out of the Winn Dixie were looking on disapprovingly. One woman was on her cell phone and I thought momentarily about the police. I had been here before; it had been with a little more grit, a little more pastel.  The filthy house, the empty bottles, the cancerous clouds were missing, my mother was missing, but I had definitely been here before. Shame was ice climbing up my back like a fever. I could feel picks and crampons setting into my frozen skin. The stoplight, the mid-day moon, every vacant window was watching; it was April, I was reptilian, and still cold. 

“I am so sorry.” I reached out for her.

“Don’t,” She broke.

Her unwavering eyes spoke the warning as pushing herself upright.

“I swear I would never hurt you.”

     The wry attempt at a smile was more like a hairline crack in the carbon fiber body of an assault rifle; dangerous by chance. She pantomimed a gun to her head, then tapped her temple slowly as if telling me to think, too remember.

     Years passed before she pushed the words out. 

“You just killed me.”

 

 “I like it I’m not gonna crack " I miss you I’m not gonna crack " I love you I’m not gonna crack " I killed you I’m not gonna crack”

*****

“That was Nirvana, Kurt Cobain, Lithium, rest his weary soul, I still don’t understand it, but hey! We are commercial free for the next hour or two, here is some more great music, call in and tell me you love it!” The disk jockey was so cruel. “The Cure, Boys Don’t Cry!”

*****

“I would say I’m sorry " If I thought that it would change your mind " But I know that this time " I’ve said too much " been too unkind. I try to laugh about it " Cover it all up with lies " I try and " Laugh about it " Hiding the tears in my eyes " ‘cause boys don’t crycry