| "All Fall Down" by Natasha Kolar |
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| Posted by TL Hines |
06:25 PM Friday, 26 October 2007 |
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Here we were driving in the dark down this no name road with pines like the ocean around us. Cory and me finally alone. It was incredible. I could feel my breathing get deeper and some part of me take on an out of body experience. It was crazy. I’ll admit it. That driving in the silent dark of his car was romance. That was romance. I don’t think he even knew it, though. And that’s the tragedy. My Cory has this need to create romance, so bad that he misses out on the spontaneous crazy sexy moments.Like our first Valentine’s Day together. He surprised me by taking me to this fabulous Japanese restaurant. And there we were, sitting under these warming lamps with the dusk breezing my hair all about my shoulders. But he was talking all about how beautiful I am, and my beauty, and the pretty things about me, and how I’m more beautiful than any other yeah yeah yeah. I could tell he was nervous, and how telling me these things was making him that way. I could tell he felt like, “Wow, I am such a romantic guy. I brought my girl here to this fabulous restaurant, that has a special meaning since we’re both crazy for raw fish, and here I am poeticizing her beauty beneath a night sky-- god, she’s got to be melting. God, I am good.” But I am of the opinion that that kind of “romance” isn’t real. It’s not real if you made it on purpose. It has to just happen. Then it’s like, Wow. And it makes you feel alive—like everything’s buzzing around you. Not like you just achieved something. That is so wrong. But, I mean, I don’t have the heart to tell him this. Like, what would you say, “Cory, hon’, I’m so sorry to break it to you, but every time you’ve tried to romance me it’s made me want to roll my eyes. You go about it all wrong. Well, anyway, I just thought I’d let you know.” Right. That’d go over well. Corey’s kinda sensitive for a guy. Don’t get me wrong, I am crazy for him. I want to spend the rest of my life with the guy. It’s just, nobody’s perfect, and I’m just saying this is what’s wrong with him. It’s better than being a pathological liar or something. Anyway, the thing I wanted to tell about was that night, driving in the woods. It was crazy sexy. If we weren’t on our way to Kyla’s I would have had him pull over the car and kiss me like the world was on fire. It almost felt like the world was on fire. I get these out of body experiences sometimes, where it feels like a bunch of invisible forces are all lined up and they’re all aimed right at my chest. It makes my heart race, and it makes me furiously excited. But we were on our way to Kyla’s, and I’d been wanting to meet her for months. Well, ever since Corey’d been telling me about her. And Corey, the poor guy, probably would’ve done it-- pulled over the car. He would have thought he was romancing me. But it wouldn’t have been him at all, poor guy. It was just a bunch of beautiful, random factors that all of a sudden made me feel like my blood was boiling. So I just sat in my seat, holding Corey’s hand, letting go when he’d shift gears, then taking it again. Every couple minutes I’d look over at his face. Corey went to high school with my girlfriend Shelby. So last spring, when he transferred to UCSB, he started coming out with us. There’s like six or seven of us that hang out together. I met him one night when Shelby brought him to Java Grind. I guess it was February. We did the small talk and stuff a couple weeks around campus, and I didn’t think twice about him. Then one night around eleven or so, I was sitting in the lobby of Manzanita Hall, and Cory came over to chill. I was sketching from this photograph of my cousin. He said he liked it. Always wished he had artistic talent. He asked if he could sit with me. Oh, here, I’ll just tell you what happened. It was amazing, really. “So who are you drawing? Is that your boyfriend?” he asked. I couldn’t help but laugh. My cousin’s like fifteen. “Lord, no. It’s my little cousin. He is a cutie though, huh? God, he’s got a new girlfriend every time I come home for vacation.” I had to stop myself from talking about him then. Not because I could go on and on about my cousin Jeff, by any means. Just because I am such the rambler. I am in the process of learning to shut the hell up and listen. Or not listen, but still shut up. I swear, sometimes I hear this voice saying, “Angela! Shut up!” I know I am a terrible bore sometimes, and really-- who wants to know a bunch of nonsense about someone’s dumb little cousin anyway? “Oh.” He just sat there watching me draw, and then he came out with this line: “So... Who are you, Angela?” All right, I know what you’re thinking. What the heck kind of question is that? But, seriously, that was the minute he got me. It wasn’t what he said, I guess, but how he said it. He looked me right in the eyes, with this soft, concerned face. And, bang, I knew he really wanted to know. That’s what got me. He wasn’t messing around. There’s no more than a few people I’ve ever met who really give a stink when it comes right down to it, and I could tell by how he looked at my eyes that he wanted to know me. Not just so he could get his kicks, but-- like he’d say now, because he wanted to love me in a conscious, active, unselfish way. The same way he wants to love every person he gets the chance to. But me a little more so, since I’m the love of his life and all. He says he had already fallen in love with me by then. Just through the small talk crap. And watching me. It makes me feel a little guilty every once in a while, how I didn’t even notice one thing about him, except that he had a sweet tattoo of an eye on the inside of his wrist. I am so plumb oblivious. He’d already told his parents my name before that night in the lobby, for god’s sake. Oh, don’t worry, though. It’s not creepy. It’s just the way Corey is. Like I said, he is just on this desperate mission to be romantic. Falling in love with a perfect stranger, then knocking her off her feet—that is so something he would do. But, really, he came up to me in the lobby that night because he cared about me as a person, not just so he could get hooked up. I know you don’t believe it, but I actually do. He treats everyone else the same way he treated me. He sits and listens like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Like he would take a bullet for you. And, poor guy, they all fall in love with him the same way I did. Male and female alike. Not that I’m saying he turns people homosexual or anything. You know what I mean. Only everyone else can’t have him. All they can do is fall asleep in awe every night, thinking about what an amazing person my Corey is. Or something to that effect. After the night in the lobby, we’d talk for hours every day. It was weeks before he actually kissed me. But I swear on all that is holy, no other man on earth stood a chance after I watched him look into my eyes and listen to me pour my heart out. Lord, I told him everything that night! It’s really kinda sick. Just shows you how bad you really want a soul mate when someone finally listens and you hurl your entire life story into their lap. This girl Kyla feels the same way, probably. He’s been loving her like it was his job ever since they met in high school. And, no, I am not jealous. I’ve never been the jealous type. If a guy doesn’t deserve my total trust, then he’s not worth my time. And I never get a bad feeling about Corey. He decided to love Kyla because he knew no one else did. And she needed it. They both grew up in this po-dunk part of Washington. Her parent grew pot in the backyard and they worshipped Satan. No joke. They were always getting high, and having séances, and crap. Plus they were like as poor as the people in Ethiopia. I guess Kyla was even raped a few times as a kid, too. Now she was having seizures or something. Corey says it might be because of some demonic powers that got ahold of her. Plus she’s had this monster of a boyfriend, who’s been beating her senseless for years. Bottom line: this kid’s had it bad. And Corey’s been there for her five years and counting. He seriously lights up when he talks about her. He thinks she is so beautiful. She’s half black and half caucasion, so she’s got this creamy olive skin and long, curly black hair. And she’s really petite. That’s all he’d told me-- I’d never seen her. So here we were on our way to see her, right? And the romance was in the air, right? Right. We pulled into Kyla’s driveway around eight. It was January-in-Washington cold. Brrrrr. “You okay?” he looked over with these intense eyes. We’d been quiet the whole drive out. “Yeah,” I smiled. I was nervously excited to meet this girl. “OK, she lives over there in the guest house.” “OK.” We got out and met in front of the car. He hugged me a minute and kissed my head. Then he took my hand and we walked over to her door. He didn’t knock, just let himself in. God, it smelled like an incense oven in there. It was a small room about the size of a freshman dorm with the walls covered in magazine pictures and snapshots. There were books stacked all over. No, seriously, like hundreds of them. And of course, Kyla was there. She was just as cute as he’d described her. Gothic—but not in the mainstream Hot Topic sense. She was sitting cross-legged on her frumpy couch and bounced up with a squeal to hug Corey as we walked in. She looked surprised to see me. And shyly shook my hand. “Kyla, this is my girlfriend, Angela.” I saw the way he looked at me. It was precious. Like he was showing his mother the most beautiful painting he ever made. I could’ve jumped him right then. “It’s so good to meet you, Kyla. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I was trying to make it clear how excited I was to meet her. Girls get insecure sometimes. “Yeah, cool. So how are you, Core? Four months, man! Go ahead and sit down, guys. Here, I’ll throw this junk on the floor. Sorry about that. Geez, what is up with you?” She was tossing magazines off the couch onto the crusty rug floor. We three sat down on the couch. Me, Corey, Kyla. “So? How is it being back here in Hell, Core?” she giggled. I know, it was weird. She was like this hard core chick that could also get away with giggling. Weird. “Well, it’s good to see you, Kye.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ve been wanting you to meet Angela for a while. Isn’t she beautiful.” Lord, what was she supposed to say to that? I kicked him. She just faux-giggled, but I swear she was anything but thrilled over my presence. Not that I cared. If I was in love with a guy I’d be peeved over his girlfriend’s presence too. “How are things with Josh, Kye?” he asked in his serious and low voice. She pulled up her corduroy pant leg to show a yellowy green bruise. She just raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Same old same here in Hell, I guess.” Then she leaned over him to look at me with this high-strung look in her eyes. “Don’t ever forget how lucky you are to have a guy that treats you like a human, eh Angela?” she said. She leaned back and giggled a little, facing Corey again. “I mean, the bruise isn’t a big deal,” she said. “You know. I’m just tired of the routine, Core. Twelve Step, Rehab, Al-Anon. Give me a break. It just never ends with this stuff. You know what I mean.” “Yeah, Kyla. I know.” I could just feel how sad Corey was. It must hurt to love people the way he does. To where he feels the same stomachache over Kyla’s screwy life as she does. “You deserve better, you know.” He was looking at the ground. I think he was scared he might sound like a broken record, from what he’d told me about Kyla. This sounded like something he’d probably been telling her since he met her. The sad thing is, Corey’s like on this mission to prove to girls that they deserve better than the jerks they date; then once they realize it’s true, all they want is him. And they can’t have him. So then instead of looking for someone like him, they just get bitter about the relationships they are in. “Dang, my boyfriend isn’t half the man Corey is.” (I know it sounds like I am just an obsessive girlfriend-- “Oh look at me, I have the most phenomenal boyfriend on the whole planet,” but no. I am just telling it like it is. Ask anyone that knows the guy. I swear.) I felt a little like I was intruding, but the way Corey squeezed my hand every few minutes convinced me he was glad I was there. I contented myself sitting back and surveying Kyla’s walls. I guess she’s a killer writer. Corey said she journals like twenty pages a day. And there were journals stacked all over, so I believed it. He said she got some pretty trippy poems published in some hard core literary journal or something. Started with a “Z”. I don’t remember. Now that I looked around, I noticed some poems painted right onto the walls. It was a pretty artsy font. Dying to bleed the chains out of my veins so I can inject you like gravity. Coming down. I’m coming down. Come into me so I can get down. Floating nailed to the air of this town. Gravity. Free me down. Cool. There were also some naked pictures on the walls. Men and women. Kinda creepy poses, I think. They wore this super dark eye make-up and scary-long nails, with no clothes on. I’m not a fan of pornography, personally. Even if it’s for art’s sake. No, I am not the average art major, I admit. I just think nakedness is something personal, not something to dance around magazines in. Just look at where you might end up-- on some psycho’s wall! Not that Kyla’s a psycho. But if she’s gonna tack up these people, no doubt there are perverts and sociopaths with the poor nudists pasted all over their walls. Am I right? “Angela, tell Kyla about the project you’re working on,” Corey said. “Oh, well, I’m doing these acrylic portraits of people from different ethnic backgrounds,” I leaned forward and said. “You, know, like an Indian woman, an African boy, a Vietnamese girl. I’m trying to create about twenty of them for a display in the library. It’s for multicultural awareness month and all. It’s pretty exciting.” “She’s an amazing artist, Kye. The faces of these people she paints are just haunting,” Corey said, looking at me but talking to Kyla. I could have kissed him. Kyla just nodded. “Hey, Angela, would you mind if Corey and I had a minute alone? Just a sec’?” Kyla said it really sweet, and I understood I was kinda uninteresting to her. “Oh sure,” I said. Corey looked hurt or something. Gosh, my Corey is such a sweetheart. “We’ll just go outside for a smoke for a second. Is that OK, hon’?” she asked me. I was kinda offended she asked again. And she was talking down to me this time. I’m two years older than her and all. It was pretty annoying. Corey kissed me and mouthed, “I love you.” The Kyla took his arm and walked him outside. I stretched out on the couch and let my eyes wander her walls. After a few minutes I sat up and flipped through her CD case. It was huge and double stuffed. I popped At The Drive In into her stereo and reclined to the wailing of the band. It sounded like they were being clawed to death or something! But, hey, they’re a great band. Fascinating lyrics. I must have listened to half the CD before the two of them came back in with red noses and blue lips. Corey made a point of looking at the digital clock on Kyla’s wall. “Oh, man. We’d better get going. We were going to watch a movie with my parents tonight. They’re waiting up for us,” he said to Kyla. I stood up and walked toward the door. “It was so nice to meet you, Kyla. Now I can put a face with a name, you know?” I smiled and leaned in for a hug. She was limp in my arms except for a little pat on my back. She was so tiny. Corey hugged her too. “I love you, kid. Keep it real, OK.” “Yah. Come over before you go back down south, OK? I’ll kick your butt if you don’t.” She forced a giggle. “Bye, Kye,” he said, and we walked out the door into the chill. We linked arms and hustled to the car. Once we dove in, Corey fired up the heater to full blast. When I looked over, I realized his face looked really stressed out. “Babe, what’s the matter?” I asked. He just shook his head, staring at his hands in his lap. I reached over and turned his face to mine. “Babe?” I said. His eyes started filling up. “She kissed me, Angela. I just don’t get it.” My stomach started hurting. “What happened, Core?” He was shaking his head again. “It was ridiculous. She was talking about how you and I have only known each other a little while. And she said she’s been in love with me for years. I just don’t know what to do, Angela.” He was crying now. He continued. “This is how it is. You try to love someone and either they push you away, or they take it the wrong way. They sexualize it. Man. It feels like it’s not even worth it. Am I even getting anywhere in this girl’s life? Or am I just making it harder for her?” He wiped furiously at his eyes. “Corey. Look at me.” He did after a second. “You have to do what you have to do. You decided you are going to spend your life showing people what love is. I mean, that’s huge. You decided that knowing the cost. To love is to be rejected, and to be manipulated, and to be used, and all that other junk. But, all that-- everything about how people are going to respond to you? That’s up to them. All you can do is—you know. Just love them. “Man, I love that about you, Core. You know what love is. If you give up on it… well, loving people who need loving is what you are best at. And we both know there aren’t many things you’re good at, so...” Finally he smiled. “What is it with you?” Corey said. “Aren’t you the least bit jealous?” “Well, I’m pretty pissed off the little brat soiled your lips, if you wanna know the truth.” I winked at him. “No really though. I know that I am the only one you want. I don’t know how, but you convince me of that.” I was serious. “And I want you to be able to care for the people in your life, even if that means I get accidentally cheated on or left alone sometimes. I can deal.” I swear I was being honest. This guy just does something to you. You trust him. You want to support him. He makes you want to be like him. You know he’s the real thing. But if I’m gonna tell the whole story... well, that was when corny Corey kicked in. He kissed me quick and then called his parents to tell them to go ahead and watch the movie without us. We were sorry. Yeah, Kyla’s doing well. Ok, goodnight. Then he drove me down to the lake and stepped me out into the cold night air. Get this—he cranked up Kenny G in his car stereo and we slow danced to “smooth jazz.” I watched my breath float over his shoulder. Then, after a couple songs, I’d had it. I mean, talk about trying too hard and murdering the romance. “Babe, could we get back in the car and kiss a little? I’m at popsicle status,” I fluttered my eyelids and puckered my lips. “I live to please you,” he said, twirling me around the car before opening my door for me. That’s all. Nothing more to see here, folks. Move along. The end. Happy ever after. Good night. -------- ©2007 by Natasha Kolar |
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