luz

hello, friends!

well, you guys asked to see some of the stuff i've written. here is the first segment of a long piece of non-fiction i've been writing over the last year as a side-project.


You and the Others Before You

part one: "make-up"



These are the secrets I dont tell.


When I see her at a bar, I act cool. Cool on one level in that I am friendly. I ask about her boyfriend, who is a friend of mine. I ask things like, Hows your night going? These are common social pleasantries handed out like a spare cigarette to a stranger.

I act cool on another level in that I always look much better than her. I straighten my hair and wear sparkly frosted pink on my lips. Hot pink eye shadow. A jean jacket with a sexy rock n roll tee underneath. I look around a lot and appear interested in a friend-shaped hole across the bar. There is no one there but I wave.

This shows her how much I dont care.

I kiss you so she knows we are in love. It is one of the few times I feel fake with you.

Periodically I go to the bathroom. When there is no one behind me in line, I have a little extra time to waste in there. I look in the mirror.

I point at my reflection and pretend that it is her. I say, Bitch!

Whore!

Boyfriend-fucker!

I ask, Do you know what youve done to my life, bitch?

I answer, I cant even go out in this town anymore!

Shes everywhere.

My lip twitches and I make an Elvis face.

Reapply lipstick.

Walking back to the bar, I see you guys are chumming it up. Laughing over a shared joke is what it looks like to me. I sit down beside you and say, You just fucked up.

I sleep with pajamas on that night. I want your body to touch mine just like you do but I will not allow you the pleasure. You tell me its been six months since it happened. You tell me that she means nothing and I mean everything. You tell me youve tried to make it up to me. I know its true, my love, I do.

But I cant stop imagining you, leaning against a sink, and her, with her leg hiked up, and you fucking her, and making that face, and grabbing her tits and loving it. I know it was brief, brief as the moment Ive seen in a photograph when water drops into water and a tiny sphere of liquid bounces into the air. The photograph, however, is permanent.

When I lie and say its over you cry. I look around a lot and appear bored. No make-up this time, no pink glossjust carefully applied false dignity and cruelty. I stare at a show-shaped hole on the television and appear interested.

This shows you how much I care.