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the Picnic
As I sat on the chair next to the wooden patio table, tentatively waiting for the phone to ring, I hummed quietly the tune to a song I had heard on the radio that morning. I watched the clouds part, exposing the sun, its rays bathing me in a warm glow, light hitting the tabletop mosaic, illuminating the window with shimmering cells of radiant colour. It was summer, that was for sure, yet something felt wrong. Maybe today would set things right. Deep in thought, I slowly got up from the chair and walked towards the kitcen door, but stopped in my tracks upon feeling the muffled vibration and hearing that all-too-familiar ringtone from the phone buried deep within my trouser pocket. Fumbling aimlessly for the cellular, I felt my hand sink into a slimy mattress of used tissues, then against a hard, cold metallic surface. Scattering tissues everywhere, I pulled the mobile out of my pocket and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Yeah. You left a message." Her voice sounded strange over the phone; distant.
"So do you want to go?"
"It isn't as if I have a choice."
For weeks, the desire to reassemble the pieces of our broken relationship had blazen violently from deep within me. The grief of losing Winter to a few ill-considered words had hurt more than that of watching someone slowly succumb to the grip of death. My thoughts had gone from being self-deprecating to being scornful of the one I once - and still - loved, and I hated myself for it. Someone once told me that anger is a cowardly extension of fear, yet my endevours to extinguish any feelings of bitterness and resentment only caused the hurt to smart more intensely. Not all was lost - I knew that - but I felt the last remaining rays of hope slowly become stifled by the storm clouds of time. Something had to be done, and this was it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Standing on the archaeic stone footbridge, looking out over lush forest and scenic green fields, dew-covered grass spakling like diamonds in the morning sun, thoughts and emotions rushed though my mind. Words - some kind, some not quite so - stretched and tore my perceptions of her like an emotional tug of war. Thirsty yet quenched, empty yet fulfilled, oblivious yet knowing, good yet ungood...good yet ungood...the words played over and over again in my mind. I heard a ringing in my ears, slowly increasing in intensity until it became a deafening roar. I clasped my hands over my ears in an attempt to smother the incessant noise. Nausea took over and I gasped for air. Breathing heavily, convulsing as if in a fit, I began to weep silently.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I jolted suddenly as a hand touched my shoulder. Looking up, I saw Winter staring at me obscurely, partly concerned, overtly bemused. Realising that I was curled up like some tramp in a lay-by, I jumped to my feet and cleared my throat.
"Are you...alright?" She sounded concerned, yet the look of bemusement remained.
"Yeah."
"Are you sure? Your..." She pointed to my sleeve and I looked down at it. A slimy film of blood and mucus stained the arm of my jacket, and a patch of dirty white adorned my hand. I groaned nauseously, and she stifled a laugh.
"No, it's okay. I'm fine." I took off my jacket and lay it on the ground, then began to walk towards her. As I did so, I felt something which I hadn't experienced for what seemed like forever. It was beyond description, yet it took hold of my entire body.
"It's been too long." I whispered. I felt her breath against my cheek, and the hairs on my neck stood on end.
"Is this what you've come here for? To squeeze the last drop out of me?" She shoved me angrily and turned to walk away, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"No. I want us to work things out."
"I have. It's over." My heart sank.
"It doesn't have to be."
"Yes it does. You said stuff, it hurt, and I'm finding it very hard to forgive you."
"C'mon. We have a whole day here. I didn't travel three hours for nothing." She sighed, then murmured, "I'm starting to think I did." I began to grow exasperated by her attitude.
"Look, we can go for a walk, maybe try to set things right."
"And you think that'll help?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As we walked silently through the woods, a few words occasionally disrupting the tranquility of our surroundings, a thought struck me. It wasn't a feeling of love or happiness, but one of anger. Despite the countless apologies I made, depsite the many times I vowed to change, she remained indifferent. At times it seemed as if she was enjoying the attention I was giving her, wallowing in the fun of watching me grovel, whilst her arrogant, obnoxious comments made my skin crawl. The longing to be with her remained, yet my attempts at reconciliation seemed so futile, forcing me to question whether my effort was worth it. Maybe all was lost.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The sun ceased to shine as clouds loomed ominously overhead. Feeling a droplet of rain hit against the side of my face, I pulled the hood of my coat over my head. Yet just as the weather had deteriorated, so had my mood. Winter's arrogance had escalated as the day progressed, and in anger I had lashed out, then left to seek solace elsewhere. I watched as the rain cascaded down in sheets, turning the quaint dirt track into torrents of thick, glutenous mud. Puddles formed in a bed of withered, decaying roses. Once fresh and blooming, they had become victims of time. Looking at them, I felt something from deep within me wilt and die, just like they had once done. There was no hope, I saw that now. Slowly, I trudged through the mud, trainers sinking slowly below the surface, trousers speckled with dirt. And for once, I did not care.
I returned some time later to the place where we had been before the argument began. Winter was sitting on the grass beside the picnic rug. Clearly, she had decided to start eating after the fight. Drenched with rain, partly submerged in pools of muddy water, the rug lay crowded with plates of sandwiches, crisps and sweets. She looked up at me, hair saturated, clothes clinging to her skin, and smiling weakly, whispered gently "Eat up."
As we ate, I noticed something different about Winter's demenour. She had lost much of the arrogance exhibited earlier in the day, and in its place lay a quietly pleasant air, yet beneath the surface I sensed an insidious bitterness and a festering animosity. I wanted to feign kindness, but my inner self would not allow it.
"Pour the wine my dear..." I sang quietly. Winter stared at me indignantly.
"Is that Tori Amos?"
"Mm. China." As I spoke, she set her sandwich down onto a plate and bunched her fists up in exasperation.
"China decorates our table, funny how the cracks don't seem to show. Pour the wine my dear, you say we'll take a holiday, but we never can agree on where to go..." I felt her eyes burn right through me, yet I felt indifferent. Nothing could save us now.
"Is that what you think of our relationship?" I saw a tear trickle down her cheek as her words escaped between choked sobs.
"This is our relationship."
"What?" she spluttered, seemingly confused.
"I thought you would at least try to make this work," I took a bite out of my sandwich, the continued. "You have been constantly making me feel ackward and guilty. Quite frankly, I don't know why I even came here." Winter's jaw hit the ground in shock. Slowly, it returned to its normal position and, clenching her teeth, fighting back the tears, she bagan to speak.
"You bastard." The words resonated in my head, and I felt shockwaves run through me.
"Did you honestly expect me to pour my emotions out to you? Did you think that I would let you, the creep who hurt me in the first place, see me at my most weak and vunerable? Have you ever listened to Alanis Morissette?"
"Oh my God. I...I'm so sorry...I never thought..." I knew it was hopeless, but a small part of me wanted to do all I could.
"You know, maybe if you had actually tried to empathise with me in some way instead of assuming that the few arrogant comments that I made constituted me not feeling hurt, I wouldn't be yelling at you right now. Maybe if," she wiped her nose with her sleeve, then continued."...if you had pulled your head out of your ass and realised that other people have emotions too, maybe then you wouldn't be in this position. And maybe if you hadn't accused me of being the perpetrator of all this, I would have forgiven you instead of feeling so forced to walk away.” As she spoke, I felt a tear trickle slowly down my cheek and rest on the corner of my mouth. She stood up, lifted her coat and as she walked slowly away, I felt a lump form in my throat and a knot in my stomach. Then I began to cry.
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