I turn the gas stove on and listen to its sleepy, defiant click as I lower my head towards the blue flame, a cigarette in my mouth. Instinctively, I reach to quickly pull my hair back – it’s getting much too long, she always told me – and tuck it behind my ears, safe from the flame’s entrancing dance. As I stand upright an inhale I am greeted with clarity for the first time in weeks. That clarity, however, is fleeting and turns to emptiness as I turn and lock eyes with her.
It’s late and her pale skin is near-translucent in our dimly lit apartment. She is stunning, almost ethereal in the evening. She stands before me, silent, but her eyes tell a sad story.
I take a drag of my cigarette and want nothing more than to tell her that everything’s going to be alright. This dingy apartment, our life together, it’s all up from here. I want to make her feel safe when I myself feel nothing but fear and uncertainty. I will have to lie to her, but she will see through it. My eyes will betray me.
My brain tells my body to move closer to her; that the words I stumble over in my head will come flowing out as I reach for her delicate arm. The moment I step, however, she is no longer there, rushing past me and fading into the other room as my cigarette’s smoke rises into nothingness.
I follow her and am greeted by a home torn apart. Brown boxes have taken over the apartment, tokens of our life together packed away. There is nothing left but the barren wasteland of shattered hopes and broken promises.
Feeling helpless, I reach for the keys in my pocket and fumble with them, hoping more than anything that these small pieces of metal will inspire something courageous from me. The words never come.
She stands stock still, her small frame engulfed by the surrounding boxes and I swear, despite her tear-stained eyes, that she has never looked lovelier.
“It doesn’t have to be the end of us,” I cough out as I exhale again, hoping my words will inspire some emotion from her. “I love you.”
Gracefully, she steps towards me, quickly, assuredly. I watch, feeling like a bystander as her hand opens up and she whips it across my face. It stings in a way that I sometimes still feel, even four years later.
“You’re the one who is leaving,” she reminds me before turning and entering our bedroom.
I taste blood in my mouth and drag deeply on my cigarette.
Silence permeates my world as I sit amid the boxes. Alone now, I retreat inside my mind and examine the facts. I look out the window and am greeted by stars and I cannot help but be lost in their feeble light.
She was right; I am the one who is leaving, the one whose belongings are packed. The car out front is mine and the keys that I will use to start its engine in the early hours of the morning are mine as well.
Dwelling on this, with my eyes fixed firmly on the stars visible through my window I take in the silence. In the morning I am leaving this life behind. The city, my friends, and my relationship will be left in the dust. As much as this pains me, much like the blood in my mouth, there is nothing left to be done about it. My mind has been made up and tomorrow everything changes.
She still wants a reason, something logical and clandestine to explain my decision. In truth, I have none other than a sense of necessity. For as much good as my life has in it, it is still marred by failure. At twenty, I have no job, no education to speak of. My peers are moving on, destined for success in the vague reality that we refer to as the real world and they will all inevitably leave me behind. I know this to be true and I take one last drag of my cigarette.
She will do the same too, whether she knows it or not. Rather than be left to deal with the fate I am being dealt – one of despair and inevitable loneliness, I decided to make a change. Something in my bones urged me to return to my home, to start anew before it is too late. It is scary and terrible, but it is the only option that makes sense after the thought enters my mind.
With a resigned sigh, I lay about the floor, lost amid the boxes and wish that it will all make sense somehow. I close my eyes and pray that in the morning I will become a new man. In the darkness, I wonder if I am making the right decision.
Each day my eyes open now and I remember the anxiety and pain I felt that last night. Four years have passed and each day feels better than the last.
I brush the sleep out of my eyes and take in the day. The birds squawk and chirp loud enough to make their point clear – there will be no sleeping in this morning.
I dress myself and move down the stairs, unsure of my footing and lost in my thoughts. The coffee pot is my goal, my mission, my savior. I prepare my cup and move cautiously onto the deck, balancing the cup as I reach for a cigarette.
I light it. I inhale. I feel alive; slowly, yet quite surely. Four years have passed and so much has changed. I smile to myself as I drink.
Each day feels better than the last. The turmoil and anguish of the past is gone and the only taste left in my mouth is the bitter, hot coffee.
Some beautiful prose here. But the class already told you that, right? Still...nice work. Where are your telling sections? Where is this story headed?
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Patrick Reilly
6/18/2014 01:46:32 am
Everything that is in this essay is of the highest quality; your words grasp a level of elegance that I wish I could emulate. I have tried, but still cannot "get on your level", so to speak. That said, there is still much room for improvement. It's not about what needs to be tweaked currently; I would barely change a thing. It's about what needs to be added. Since I got your express permission to speak in franker (if that's a word) terms, I will go over what needs to be added in order to meet the requirements of the assignment pdf on Prof. Mangini's Website.
First off, this essay is almost completely "show". While most people have a difficult time adding "show" parts, there still needs to be a balance between the two.
second, I would like to see more "I wonder..." parts, reflection. Did you think you made the right choice? I am also interested in how other people (ie: parents, friends) reacted to this decision.
In short, I would much prefer an essay that is missing a few elements, but the elements that they do cover are on the quality level of a professional, than an essay that covers everything, but only at a mediocre quality at best. It's a lot easier to remedy the first type of essay than the second. I'm sure you are already aware of some of these things, and are working on it as I currently type.
If you add the things missing to your essay at a quality level consistent with what is currently written, I will have no doubts in saying that this will be the best essay among the whole class.
R\
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Jenny Nguyen
6/18/2014 02:20:13 am
I'm really at a lost of words. I love this, it creates a mood for your audience and it makes me emotional reading this. I wonder how it would affect your story if you created a setting letting your readers know when did this occurred? Where is your "This I Wonder" moment? You have a lot of showing, you should blend some in with some telling. Give a bit of background information, so that your readers have an idea of where and when did you make your decision. You have a great style of writing, and I would love to become as great as a writer as you are. :)
Jenny,
Apologize for not being able to respond in proper, it seems the ability to respond directly to comments isn't working properly on my page.
Thank you so much for your kind words and input, they are truly appreciated. Your ideas for improvement are great as well, and are all things that I have been incorporating into my essay after hearing from you and other classmates. I plan to change the format of my essay in order to alternate showing scenes and telling ones as well as adding a more distinct time frame to the narrative.
Sorry to you as well for not being able to directly respond to you comment.
Thank you very much for your input and general praise, I appreciate it. I also am thankful to hear your input on how to improve the essay. All of your notes are welcome and I cannot help but agree with you because one of the main things I have been working on as I continue to polish the essay is changing the general flow of the paper in order to add telling sections. Thank you once more.
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