Author Topic: Perhaps...  (Read 1043 times)

Offline Loopy

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Perhaps...
« on: April 16, 2009, 12:09:24 PM »
                                                              Perhaps

(Immediately after Dora asks Steve to go... she is in Copper’s empty stall, he is in his loft room)

I must stop crying. 
But I can’t.

I feel so drained.

I can’t get his face out of my mind!  His expression.  His words.

“Go! go where?” 

He looked... he looked so lost.  Like a little boy.

Oh what have I done? 

I must stop these tears!

I was so abrupt and clinical.  He thinks I despise him.
But I don’t. 

I’m the despicable one!  I turned my back on him even though I know he hates it.

But I had to.  I couldn’t let him see my face.  He reads me.  If he looks into my eyes... he’ll know.

I had to turn away! 

Please, please help me to stop crying!

I’ve been so selfish.  I’ve let my head rule my heart. 

If I’ve made the right decision then why does it feel so wrong?

I feel so tired, I want to close my eyes but all I can see is the hurt on his face. 
The hurt that I put there.

Why do I hurt him?  If I love him, why do I hurt him?

I’m going to lose him! 

I don’t want him to leave me - not again.

I don’t think I can bear it.

I should go to him - tell him I want him to stay.
But I can’t.  Something gets in the way.

Perhaps he’ll come to find me... I’m so tired now, I’ll close my eyes ... perhaps I’ll hear his footsteps... perhaps he will come...   perhaps....



*  *  *  *  *



I feel exhausted, shattered. I’m here on my bed, hoping to hear her footsteps, hoping she’ll follow me up.   
She hasn’t. 

God knows why but I want a glimpse of her.  I’ll look out of the window,  she may be walking back to the house or standing by the lightening tree.
She isn’t. 

She’s probably still down below with the horses?  I’m not going back down.

I didn’t see it coming - not this.  It’s like crashing into a brick wall.  First the slow motion, delayed realisation of what’s happening, then the heavy thud on impact, then the sharp pain, then the shock and disbelief, and then the numbness, the point when the body shuts down to try and preserve itself.   

Only no preservation for me.  Oh no! I did what I always do when I’m confused or hurt, I confronted her.  Lost my rag and hit back.  Why, oh why do I do it?  Why can’t I control my anger?

She wasn’t angry.  She was as cool as a cucumber.  “I want you to go.”  “Just go.”  She said it as if she was dismissing a bad employee.   
Perhaps she was.

“I want you to go.”  I can’t get the bloody words out of my head.

And her voice... her voice was toneless, void of any emotion.  Yes, there were tears, there always is with her... but her voice... it wasn’t her speaking. 

She hasn’t been the same since that day when it wouldn’t stop raining.  I told her then to tell me to my face if she wanted me to go.  I’ve only myself to blame.  She just did what I asked her to do.
 
But it was when she turned her back again.  That’s when it hurt.  Why did she do it?  She knows I hate it!  Why didn’t she let me see her face, look into her eyes? 

“I want you to go.”  “Just go.”   Oh God, please get these damn words out of my head! 

She doesn’t mean it.  She can’t mean it.  She’s tired, worn out, irritable.  She’s not thinking straight.

How can I leave Dora? 

I need her more than she’ll ever know.

And how can I leave Follyfoot?  It’s my haven.  My home.  Where will I go? 

I can’t just go.

I need to see her, speak with her.  I need her to face me and let me see her eyes.  Then I’ll know.  Then I’ll know if she means it.

I should go and find her.
But I can’t.  Something gets in the way.

I’m so tired now, I’ll close my eyes ... perhaps I’ll hear her footsteps... perhaps she will come...   perhaps....



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