The Bulletproof Man

Eyes peering into the distance, the sky bled its blueness to reveal its red flesh.

“Will you be here with me, forever, till our sleeps last more than the length of our lives?”

She whispered into my ear, rustling the hair as a sliver of wind might.

“I will be here, by your side, forever, as you wish me be.”

I answered, the words slipping out, dropping down like pebbles, splashing into the blood-red water.

It was years since she left my side, and yet she was still here beside me, tangible, alive, and tinged with a scarlet blush.

I was in love, but with an entity that was long gone from this world.

My heart beat on, pumping fresh blood to my body. Yet was my heart truly alive? able to feel and empathize? I have lost count on how many times I have stood over this river, sometimes alone, but mostly holding hands. Never twice were they the same hands. These were the hands I stroked, hands that touched my cheeks, hands which pulled my face closer and wet my lips. Lips that formed names, lips that would caress souls, and would later, stream away the tears that didn’t come.

I leaned forward, being immersed in her soft hair. She giggled and nibbled on my left earlobe. It tickled.

She scrunched her shoulders together and spooned herself into my chest. The red flesh of the sun was now gone, leaving what seemed like a badly bruised corpse over the wide expanse. I covered her up in my jacket, her head right under my chin. It was getting chilly after all.

“…Your heart is beating”

I smiled, not saying anything, ruffled her head. The aroma of her lavender shampoo wafted up through the river scent.

“This is mine, you know, this heart of yours”

“Be it so, and everything of me that you should desire.”

I replied, her breast pressing into my shirt.

‘It wasn’t technically a lie’, I thought. I can’t give what I don’t have, but who is to blame one who desires something that is nonexistent?

Love. It was something that came from environment. One falls in love because of the book she read a week before, from a story her friend told her a day before, from the food she ate hours ago, and the music she was listening to as she let her eyes focus onto my face. Love at first sight. To me, that was what it was.

This I knew, and so I forgave. This little head that rested against my chest poured worries into the void in my mind, decorating it with dreams of the house we’ll have, the children we’ll get, the kitchen where I will feed her pieces of Ghiradelli while she made breakfast. All this she will soon abandon, as she realize it was the book she read a week ago, the story a day before, the food hours ago, and the music right now that she was in love with, and not me. She will get confused, still play with my fingers out of loyalty to what she felt weeks ago, but will slowly start to drift away. All this I forgave, making only the tiniest ripples to aid her in her journey away from me. When her raft is gone below the horizon, I would look back at the white sand beach, and be amused of how little time it takes for the tide to sweep away the two sets of footprints that lined its shore.

Some say it is wise, born from practice of pushing rafts out into the sea, but I have seen people with lot more experience than me still becoming drunk on sorrow. The difference between them and me was that, unlike them I knew the answer to the question of “if”s. “IF I have not met her there”, “IF I have given her this at that time”, “IF I have said this instead”, IF this, IF that. The answer was that it would’ve made all the differences that would accumulate to none. She might’ve met another person, she might’ve stayed a week longer, but the result would be the same. The tide of time will irresistibly come and go, leaving you with only what you head before. The more you received, the more you will weep away into the nights afterwards, until you’re back to square one.

She moved against my chest.

“It’s getting cold” she meowed.

“It is.”

I kissed the soft round forehead, and slowly led her back inside. Back, back inside to what she called “love”, words dropping out from the mouth like empty cartridges from a shotgun. I cradled her body, feeling the rounds lodged inside her heart clinking with each other. I pressed her closer, wrapping myself around her as the wind picked up, feeling it all the more acutely through the hole in my chest. Behind us, the bruised corpse faded away into nothingness.

The city sky was too bright for stars.

#antoniostark #fiction