Blues

23. Brilliant Blues

"It's time, to live
Make me, take me
It's time, to give
So don't betray me, pay me"
Brilliant Blues by Pete Townshend

“Your audacity makes me speechless sometimes.” I speak in the calmest voice I've ever sported in my whole life, yet the discordant tone is perceptible. I don't face him, inspecting the halter, vintage dress. It's short, but on me, it would appear knee length.

His hands leave my waist, and I deprecate myself for wishing they didn't. He moves right back around so he's facing me, an inscrutable expression on his face. “And I don't want you to be speechless. I want you to voice everything you have on your mind.” He speaks in a fretful voice, and I notice how hyper-tense his demeanor looks.

I repeatedly nod, turning the dress in my hands, as if enthralled, while all I want to do is gash it into countless strips, or maybe see it deflagrating. Any method would suffice. It just needs to be annihilated. “How dare you? I told you something very important about my past, and now you're shoving it right back at my face?” I don't understand why I'm not yelling. It's so unlike the ireful person I am.

He sighs, crossing his arms, and he has the brashness to look at me with a piqued countenance. “That's not me shoving anything at you, Candice.” He says, before he steps closer and looks me deep in the eye, as if trying to compel me to believe the blarney he's saying. “What you told me at Emerald means absolutely nothing to me.”

“But it does to me! It's like you're rubbing my shame on my face to accentuate it. Why did you have to do this?” I ask, my voice raising. “I'm such a fucking idiot for sharing something from my past with you out of everyone I know. I'm never drinking again.” My chest feels tight, and what's worse is that I can feel tears straining to assault my eyes, and fighting it back depletes most of my vigor.

His hands clamp on my shoulders, and he squeezes them, looking at me with an affronted gaze. “Is this how you see it? You're fucking immersed in memories that will do nothing but drown you, and the faster you escape, the sooner it will catch up with you. We all do foolish things, and I'm sure we will never stop as long as we breathe. Unless you're a coward, stop escaping and trying to forget. Forgive yourself and move the fuck on.” His mouth spouts with words, his chest moving up and down with rattling breaths.

“And you're not escaping? With the one-night stands and the lifestyle you live?” I fire back. “Is this how I should act?” I'm yelling now.

“Well in case you haven't noticed, I'm doing none of that shit now!” He yells back, his eyes turbulent.

My heart skips a beat. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because there's a wayward, little demon who's monopolizing my whole time! I'm afraid I'll see her when I go to the restroom!” He states, as if it was the most palpable thing in the world.

Now my heart is bouncing. “If I'm a demon, then you're the devil himself.” I fulminate.

“Then you will be the straw who broke the camel's back.”

“Do I look like a straw to you?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Did you catch the “broke” part? Besides, do I look like a camel to you? It's an idiom for fuck’s sake!”

“A camel?” I ask with a mock concentrated expression, strolling back to fully inspect him. “I don't know, but you don't look human to me.”

He huffs, looking drained. “Fine. I repent.” He avows, snatching the blue dress from me. “I won't paint you. Now, do you need Google maps to find the front door?”