Quiet

A personal narrative, vignette-like. My best friend and I go for a walk, it was a very emotional night for me, we scream at trains and comfort each other.

Quiet

We walk slower than you would expect from a night this cold. We’re not in a rush. We’re not dying to get back inside. Or we wouldn’t be out here. So we walk.

He walks next to me. He walks with me. He matches my pace. I do the same.

It’s quiet. Not uncomfortable, just… quiet. Our steps are eager to fill the silence. We let them.

We had left an ongoing cast party. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. So when he asked me what was wrong, I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to be. Except I was lying and I knew it.

I know what I should say, but I don’t want to.

I know what I should do, but I really don’t want to.

I knew what I should be, but I really, really don’t want to.

I should either tell the truth or say goodbye.

I stay silent.

I should tell the truth or let him go.

I should be selfless; it’s better for him.

I should be selfish; it’s better for me.

I should tell the truth; it’s better for both of us.

So I tell him. I tell him I’m scared. I tell him I’m jealous. I tell him I’m conflicted. I tell him I’m afraid of losing him. Of losing her. That since they’ve been together all I am is afraid. Alone, and afraid.

Words spill out of my mouth like they have a mind of their own. I don’t decide. I don’t think. I just say.

I say I miss him.

I say I’m sorry.

I say Thank you.

I don’t recognize which path I chose. I don’t stand at a crossroads anymore. I am the crossroads, being torn apart in many very different directions, with only the hope that one of those will comfort me.

He apologizes. I am relieved.

He apologized. I am guilty.

Now he talks. I listen.

He begs me to believe him. I try with all my heart. I do, for the most part.

Feeling more reassured than I have in months, I smile.

I’m not happy, I am not actively joyous. I am content.

Doubt sits on my heart like a heavy rock.

He helps me lift it.

Just because we love each other, that is never ever going to mean we’ve stopped loving you. I don’t put up with you. I don’t “deal” with you. I enjoy your company. I enjoy being your friend. I love you. That’s not going to change. She loves you too. Please believe me. Because it’s true.

We walk now, no faster than we did before, but towards somewhere. Toward something. He doesn’t tell me what.

We walk to the train tracks.

Wait for it.

Wait for what?

Just wait for it! Trust me.

I do.

Then shhhhhh. Here it comes!

The train?

When it comes by, scream.

WHAT?!

SCREAM! NOW!

The roar of the train covered our screams. We shook and rattled the fence as hard as we could.

We screamed at the world because no one was listening.

Our voices took us far away. We screamed about our lives. School. Our lives. Our friends. Our enemies. We screamed about the people who hurt us. And the people we loved.

We told our stories. With the world as our audience. The plants, the moon, and the train tracks our most intent listeners.

We walk back together, quicker this time. We stand outside her house. We look around us. The houses dark, the colors cold, he edges harsh. We look in through the window at the scene of a movie. Warm amber light welcomes outsiders to the comfort of community. The edges of everything blurred and safe. Everything and everyone vibrant and vivacious, as if unable to contain how alive they are. People laughing, smiling, rejoicing in the collective atmosphere and residual energy of the performances.

We let the warm light from inside hug us and invite us back in.