Saturday, 15 January 2011

Papercut. Chapter 24

That’s… interesting.

“Who the fuck are you?” I want to yell, but my voice is gone and it’s more of a groan. I blink, thoughts of his still crowding my head, all jumping up and down, so excited, as if they are tied up or rather he is with Lola or some other girl, only here's a blindfold to pretend or maybe just his scarf, a party as the confetti falls and a big sign holds letters, which seem too bright and begin slowly, as I watch the clouds go by and that old lady gasp at my curse. I sit, cracking my neck a little, realizing that falling down caused a light pain in my neck. Oh, screw it.

“Jesus, you have a nice cig, gran? Marlboro?” I give out a toothy grin, searching my pockets. Of course Mr. Goody two shoes kid threw out my pack and my lighter. I go deeper into my jacket pocket. A lighter, thank you, kid. I laugh lightly, my laugh turning out hysterical as I watch the flame burn the oxygen, maybe if I’ll burn enough a hole outside, burning a hole in reality and there I'd dance, I’ll make the city suffocate as I dance in the smoke, gasp for their last breath, light leaving their greedy eyes.

Oh, is that my bus. I keep flicking my lighter as I sit on the bus, twirling the black plastic. I look around the massive bus making a guess who might be a Marlboro smoker. I go up and down the bus and even check the upper floor. I loosen up my scarf even feel a need to throw it and put something more classy around my neck like a tie?

I like ties.

I like Docs.

I’m neutral to dyed blonde hair, Converse and scarves, unlike kid here. I walk on, chewing on my bottom lip feeling a rough need to inhale and feel the bitter taste, a kiss from smoke itself, the eyes light blue. I'd inhale cancer.

The taste I lick, eyes closed and holding the dot inside, it felt like holding a paperknife above my head as I aim for the paper, cut it, feel it tear, cut the table in half, bite it, touch it, earn a papercut, as the bones of the paper slide upon the arm. It's still the same flesh, as the fluids flow, but it just shows the insides, what's stashed inside.

She's there.


Eyelashes upon the cheeks, hair dark a few remains of highlights upon the blonde hair, bright lipstick, over twenty.

“Do you have a cig, love?” I kiss her, briefly, capturing her lips, I think I feel her thread her fingers in my dyed hair. I open my mouth, tongue in, tongue out. That's it, as I lean back and her light eyes fixed on the olive I'm given, as she takes out one long white cigarette, not saying anything, maybe she's back for a brief second.

“Thanks, darling.” And I lean back, tasting the bitter taste, now exploring my own mouth instead of someone else's. Nicotine. I feel it mixed with blackberry, as usual. I stand up, pat her head and yank a side of my scarf feeling an urge to give it back to her. I stop her, as she realizes who I’m I. Then Macy looks at me in shock, but then she knew, as my hair roots are seen, so is the scar upon the sleeve.

“No, he doesn’t know. Pity, ain’t it? Nice seeing you. G’bye.” I wave at her and put the cig between my teeth. Panic. She stares at me, her eyes wide, mostly her eyes looking at my blonde hair. Of course it was kid’s idea, does anybody even ask me? I see her mouth wide trying to cope with what she was seeing. Then her eyes stop on the dreadful scarf.

“Yes, he wears it every fucking day. Sad, ain’t it, love?” I lean again, to find surprise plastered on her face, I want to lick it off. Tension. She tries to pull back, but doesn’t hair falling on her eyes. I brush it out of her eyes, wanting to feel more of her bitter blackberry taste. I look down, drowning, the water above overwhelming me and then I look up, placing a finger on her lips. I adored her. I loved the light blue, the light brown hair with different highlights depended on fashion, was it dyed as I see the black roots? “Wearing, but not knowing from who is it. Sad, so fucking sad, so fucking tragic."

"Lola, he actually said that Lola gave it to him."

Who said it, but we both nod.

I smirk at the past, brushing my lips against her cheek. I feel her shiver, as I return my cig to its previous location, my lips.

“Get out.” Her voice crooks, a shadow crosses over her face, as she tilts her head back, her arms spread on the top of her seat. She crosses her legs, a grin spreading on her face, some memory and then it fades. Macy's just like I remember her. With a quick reaction and my own slow one she grabs the cigarette from my lips, stands up, flicks her lighter, near the tip, never burning, she inhales nothing.

“Nice meeting you.” I smile at her, pulling one leg to my chest. She gives out a snort, chewing her cig tip. She shakes her head, laughing lightly, not tearing her eyes off me, fascinated, seeing everything she saw.

“Why blonde?”


“Oh. Say hi to him.” Then she pulls on headphones which I failed to notice before and heads down the bus stairs not looking back. But after a quick minute of hesitation she heads back up, her cig now in her fingers. Macy stands there, she knows and the words won't come, but she says it anyway. "It happened."

“I know.” I exhale, watching her, as I rub one eye, my left one. She wants to say something, as I watch her higher, hair with a fringe covering one eye, black tights, black boots, designer skirt and everything looking straight from a catalogue. “I broke up with Lola, y’know.”

“Pity. But she was annoying. Oh, so annoying. How could you stand her? I'd honestly stab her." Then her voice breaks, she closes eyes for a brief second, she looks older only her skin never touched. "Oh, kid, too, right? I loved Ro-“

“I know.” I cut her off, not wanting to hear her verdict, how Roman changed her life gave her a brief fascinating replacement, even when the actor was all there ever was, how I was the one who took the gift, never telling the kid anything, what a bastard I was. I watch her, feeling a familiar feeling like the one I felt towards Lola. “Anything else? Give me a fucking cig, ok?”

“Fine. Choke on it.” She snaps, no nostalgia coming from me, pulling the one out of her mouth and nearly shoving it into my throat, eyes locked, mimicking a gaze I had above once. Then she turns around on her heel. Her eye glaring at me, showing everything opposite of what she ever felt towards Roman and something she always showed. “He’ll get rid of you. You know that, don’t you, Norman?”

Then I stand up and grab her by her designer’s shirt hem. I press her against the bus walls, it feels like a stage, as she once talked, it was dark, eyes closed about a certain dark haired actor who was devoted to his job, as he had died in her arms, how she looked around, a person taking his life away, all the words so mixed that mouthing came out, as she looked above. I wondered if Macy loved me then, as I kept counting the dividing years and I had kissed her once for the first time, no other first time ever given.

I want break her into the glass, the shards building up a new body, as it devours the blood, mouth open, as I'd close the eyes and then I'd kiss her, like she once kissed a dead Devyn. She blinks calmly, as she takes my hands and pulls them down, releasing herself from my grip, kisses my palms, both eyes now revealed.

I raise my hands, cupping her cheeks.

"I wanted to get rid of him, you know that. I thought that, that." I can't go on, as she nods, the actor, not even Roman in her head, as she looks transparent, the stars in her mind, but then I've seen her grab Roman and crushing his body agains hers, as he had cheated on Lola with Macy in his own thoughts or in my own, just given.

“It never occurred to you, did it?” She shakes her head, trying to avoid my gaze. “That I adored you? That you were the reason that I wanted to get rid of him so badly, you never thought of that, did you?”

But then she smirks, a hysterical laugh coming out of her lips, as she removes my hands, softening her gaze, but a smirk still printed on her face. She shakes her head, stroking my hair.

“It’s over, Norman.” But I cut her off.

“It is. You’re engaged, even if you look like a nine year old girl in her mother’s make-up. I have someone I love and will you please stop calling me, Norman?” My voice cracks at the end of the sentence. She stares at me surprised and with curiosity. But then she nods.

“I’m leaving anyway. Honeymoon. Wear you scarf with pride, Norman.” She says my name to irritate me some more, but not in a mocking way, she presses her forehead against my own, opens her eyes. "I thought you'd be Devyn."

Then she heads off, not turning as she stops.

“Maybe, I just never wanted to show it, Norman. Have a nice life. She’s lucky, screw kid if he doesn’t like her.” Macy doesn't say that, she just heads off, hands in pockets. She exhales as she walks slowly, into the future away from her past.

I return to my seat. I close my eyes not to watch my gaze devour her, as disappears into the crowd of my life, I never was in the crowd. I hug myself, digging my nose into the scarf fabric, ignoring her scent which would linger there for a while. I reopen my eyes to close them as I thought of a certain redhead which was a billion times better than my ex. The current is always better than the ex.

Chapter 25

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