"Everyone and I...stopped breathing." Frank O'Hara
There are few moments that in their existence change a life. So many little moments can add up... make a change. The touch of a hand, the press of lips, the simple words said from one friend to another. Throwing paint, giggling afternoons... So many little things. The building blocks of a person. The little pieces that make them who they are, make their days what they are....
Erin had read a poem once. A simple thing about the death of Billie Holiday. How life went on as if nothing had happened, when something had. When everything was different. The normal humdrum of life dragging. The unsuspecting character. The dramatic irony. The reader knowing the whole time that Billie was dead. The reader shaking his or her head as the poor, stupid man bought magazines and alcohol. Didn't he know?! It was all different...
And that's what her life was like that morning. Everything was different. Her world was already shattered, the glass dropped on the pavement, but she didn't know quite yet. Not as she kissed her husband goodbye as the sun was rising. Not as she took her shower, almost falling asleep leaning against the tiled wall. Not as she put on her tights and dress and bundled from the cold. Or when she met Lydia at her door. Not as she walked down the small street that led to the main way, or even when she turned onto it, chatting happily about something or other with her sister.
Someone watching. Someone who knew would be yelling by this point. Wanting to shake the girl. Tell her to stop smiling, stop griping about the cold, the redness of her cheeks. Stop being a baby. But... no one could tell her. No one knew.
Eyes grazed the posters as they passed them. Stopping on one. More murders? Erin tended to skim these, at least. See if it were near her house, if it were anyone from the community she knew, just check... and as she skimmed this one--the world changed.
As if she were enacting the poem, she wasn't standing on the street anymore. She was in the bar, laughing, or having an intense conversation. She was in the store getting covered in paint. She was just getting to Rhydin and taking up the offer of a good friend, she was.... God. Perhaps Lydia was talking to her? Perhaps she was worried... it wasn't common to just stop in the middle of the street. To become stone. But that's what happened.
She didn't hear the other girl's reaction. She didn't see it, either. She was just reading the words. Over and over and over... something wasn't right. It was a mistake. Again. Couldn't be real... Again. What was missing? Again Something was missing... Again. It wasn't her. Again. Couldn't be her... Again. She had just seen her!
The knees bent inward without Erin knowing. Her arms went out to brace herself as she hit the ground, and she still wasn't quite aware. The tears came, her brain processing, understanding before she herself could really get a grasp of the situation. Sobbing. Curling into a little ball, on her knees on the cobblestones.
If Lydia were talking to her. She didn't hear. If she were touching her, helping her up, anything... Erin wasn't aware. She was in a battle with herself. Pulling the little pieces back into their fragile formation. Piece by piece. The jigsaw of her brain. She would not fall apart. Could not. Not right now.
Get up, Erin. A deep breath in, the choking sobs pushed back. Get up and stop crying. She stuttered in her noises, pushing herself so that she was crouching. Stop being like this. You need to be okay. A long slow breath and she was on her feet. You're okay. You're fine.
?Stop doing this and be okay!" That one escaping her lips. She stood up full, and brushed off her dress. Regaining her brain, for the moment at least. She was going to be okay... At least for now. The darkness beaten.
"You're still standing."
There are few moments that in their existence change a life. So many little moments can add up... make a change. The touch of a hand, the press of lips, the simple words said from one friend to another. Throwing paint, giggling afternoons... So many little things. The building blocks of a person. The little pieces that make them who they are, make their days what they are....
Erin had read a poem once. A simple thing about the death of Billie Holiday. How life went on as if nothing had happened, when something had. When everything was different. The normal humdrum of life dragging. The unsuspecting character. The dramatic irony. The reader knowing the whole time that Billie was dead. The reader shaking his or her head as the poor, stupid man bought magazines and alcohol. Didn't he know?! It was all different...
And that's what her life was like that morning. Everything was different. Her world was already shattered, the glass dropped on the pavement, but she didn't know quite yet. Not as she kissed her husband goodbye as the sun was rising. Not as she took her shower, almost falling asleep leaning against the tiled wall. Not as she put on her tights and dress and bundled from the cold. Or when she met Lydia at her door. Not as she walked down the small street that led to the main way, or even when she turned onto it, chatting happily about something or other with her sister.
Someone watching. Someone who knew would be yelling by this point. Wanting to shake the girl. Tell her to stop smiling, stop griping about the cold, the redness of her cheeks. Stop being a baby. But... no one could tell her. No one knew.
Eyes grazed the posters as they passed them. Stopping on one. More murders? Erin tended to skim these, at least. See if it were near her house, if it were anyone from the community she knew, just check... and as she skimmed this one--the world changed.
As if she were enacting the poem, she wasn't standing on the street anymore. She was in the bar, laughing, or having an intense conversation. She was in the store getting covered in paint. She was just getting to Rhydin and taking up the offer of a good friend, she was.... God. Perhaps Lydia was talking to her? Perhaps she was worried... it wasn't common to just stop in the middle of the street. To become stone. But that's what happened.
She didn't hear the other girl's reaction. She didn't see it, either. She was just reading the words. Over and over and over... something wasn't right. It was a mistake. Again. Couldn't be real... Again. What was missing? Again Something was missing... Again. It wasn't her. Again. Couldn't be her... Again. She had just seen her!
The knees bent inward without Erin knowing. Her arms went out to brace herself as she hit the ground, and she still wasn't quite aware. The tears came, her brain processing, understanding before she herself could really get a grasp of the situation. Sobbing. Curling into a little ball, on her knees on the cobblestones.
If Lydia were talking to her. She didn't hear. If she were touching her, helping her up, anything... Erin wasn't aware. She was in a battle with herself. Pulling the little pieces back into their fragile formation. Piece by piece. The jigsaw of her brain. She would not fall apart. Could not. Not right now.
Get up, Erin. A deep breath in, the choking sobs pushed back. Get up and stop crying. She stuttered in her noises, pushing herself so that she was crouching. Stop being like this. You need to be okay. A long slow breath and she was on her feet. You're okay. You're fine.
?Stop doing this and be okay!" That one escaping her lips. She stood up full, and brushed off her dress. Regaining her brain, for the moment at least. She was going to be okay... At least for now. The darkness beaten.
"You're still standing."