You know those moments when it's dark and you're sleepy, but you have to sit through a car journey to get home and all these memories come to your mind because you have experienced that moment too many times so it's a sort of "déjà vu" every time you live through it again. No? Just me? Alright. (Here I am, talking to myself again.)
As I stood outside in the pitch-dark silence of the alley way perpendicular to Dasha's house, I started humming 1925. My voice seemed unusually loud, just like my own heartbeat that was as if destroying and bothering the overwhelming silence. A lonely heart is what I'm slowly aming for. It's good that I don't fall in love, I thought.
On my way home I took off my glasses and glared at the unfocused blurry world with my tired eyes. I thought that if I didn't know my town as well as I know the five fingers of my hand, I could have possibly got lost on that simple route. Street lights, arranged neatly in parallel lines, one after the other, along the road, looked like glowing snow globes or floating spheres. As I would try to focus my eyes on one "snow globe" or the other, it would start shaking, getting bigger or smaller.
Now this is the time when deep-thinking-mode comes on.
I suddenly remembered an incident that has been buried in my memory for at least seven or eight years. It was a night like any other Saturday night when my family and I drove to the dacha all together. Since my mum and my dad had two separate cars I had the choice of who to travel with. I remember I would prefer to travel with my dad because I always looked up to him and he was always some sort of supreme hero to me. On that night I, as usual, sat at the back of my dad's car. I still can't figure out why on that particular day we travelled to the dacha when it was dark or why I do not remember my mum being there, stuck in traffic, in the car next to us. All I can remember is that time was moving slowly, as slowly as the cars around us, and that I felt very lonely. I think it was during the time my parents were getting divorced and even though we still lived together as a family I knew something was very wrong. (I guess you are expecting me to say something like "I was too young to understand what was going on", but from what I can remember I understood the cause of their break up quite clearly.) As I was half awake, I heard the car window open. A stranger, who was, by the sound of it, a young woman, was asking my dad for directions and he, naturally, told her which route to take next. He also gave her his business/visit card. At the back of the car, I sat there, trying to hold back my tears as I wished for that woman to leave and disappear. I wished I could get outside, close the window of the woman's car and make her go away. I hated her with all my soul.
What was that rush of jealousy and hatred? Was it because I thought that my dad loved that stranger more that my mum? Was it a way to protect myself? If so, how?
Was I always like this? Hating quietly on strangers I don't even know? Why do I hate?
This was really touching! Especially from the girl with "no feelings" :p
ReplyDelete