Lovers Quarrels

You sat by the window, your hair disheveled. You wouldn’t look at me.

- Now you know how it feels.

The silence rippled and shook.

- I can’t leave.
- Yes. You can. Now take care. Take good care.

One step, and then another. Out the door and slam.

I’ll take care. I’ll take fucking care. I’ll take fucking great care. Take, good, care. What are you, my grandmother? Who are you, the receptionist at my doctor’s office? Take good care?

Bullshit.

I kicked the snow outside. It wasn’t enough, so I kicked the curb. My toe pulsed.

I went to find something to eat. There was nothing else to do.

Pizza. I could afford it. I sat down with a steaming plain slice, eyes searching for red pepper flakes. It started snowing like crazy outside. The sky turned orange; snow illuminated by streetlights. I wished I were still upstairs with you.

That song you’re as cold as ice comes on the radio. I smiled.
You’re willing to sacrifice our love. Yeah. I nodded my head back and forth. Tapped my foot. A black man sitting adjacent from me stared with wrinkled brown eyes. He was eating his second chicken parmesean slice. A dribble of sauce made a line down his chin onto his Yankees shirt. I stared back with defiance until he shifted his glance.

That’s right. Don’t look at me. My eyes pulsed with my toe.

The song finished. The announcer came on and said: that’s right folks, we’re in for a blizzard tonight, so snuggle up by the fireside with some hot cocoa and get ready because this hour we got some great classic hits for you…
I stood up. A blizzard.
. . .
At your front door I felt sad. No. I felt desperate.

- There’s a blizzard tonight. I got caught in the snow. I was going to walk all the way to the subway and then this lady told me the trains are canceled and so, I don’t know. I don’t know if she was telling the truth because subways are never really canceled, but she sounded like she was telling the truth, so I-

No.

- Take fucking care? That’s all you’re going to say? Really?

Ugh, no.

- Hey, so, I hoped you would still be home and I just wanted to say, I don’t know, that we shouldn’t leave it like this. I want to come inside. It’s a blizzard.

Pathetic.

I sat down with my back to your door and put my face in my hands.
Part of me wished you would open the door and see how sad I was. Part of me dreaded that.
. . .
Being sad is so self-indulgent.
. . .
Being sad is the human condition.
. . .
Happy people are sheltered or diluted.
. . .
Happy people are unenlightened.
. . .
When I look at my face too close in your mirror, I want to scream and cry. It’s the lights in your bathroom. I hope you don’t see what I see.