Ben C. O. Grimm

Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I've been crossing my fingers all these years. Sometimes I looked up. I have become one with the furniture. Days have gone by, and I have done nothing but live. Oh, I moved. I breathed. I did a lot of thinking. I watched my shoes and fingers. I moved my wrist to keep my kinetic watch from stopping. I whispered your name once or twice. I took utmost care not to disturb you. I fed the cat and I read the paper. I wanted to read the headlines to you, but something prevented me from doing so. I smoked. I almost coughed. I quenched my desires with alcohol. I went outside one day to pick flowers from the garden. I didn't give them to you. As a matter of fact, I threw them away. The phone rang several times, but I didn't pick it up. How can I speak in front of you? I wanted to point out a funny dog to you, but I chuckled in silence. I touched the window to feel the cold. I haven't touched the calendar though. It still says 'November, 1987'. The picture has faded. I look at you all of the time. You never look back. I'm convinced that you know every single thing I do. I know that you use mirrors and glasses and rings to observe me. I wonder if I can still speak. I wonder if I would recognize my own voice. My body has withered. I don't know about yours. I dare not approach you, let alone touch you. When's the last time I ate? No one comes to pay us a visit. I have almost forgotten the guilt. I know it stands between us. I know it neatly divides our lives. I have grown used to sleeping alone. I know where the pots and pans are, and that the plants need water every week. I go about my duties, and keep my distance. Sometimes I look out. I can see a man coming home. I look at him and his wife, hugging in the driveway. We used to do that. We used to be just like them. We used to have friends over for a barbecue. I wonder if our friends care. Do they blame me, or have they forgotten all about us? You haven't touched your dinner. The cat never sits in your lap. It doesn't purr. It sits there, watching us, without a thought crossing its mind. The postman smiled at me this morning. He didn't say anything, though, and neither did I. Do you think he knows? Does he think I'm a pathetic idiot who needs to be placated? I think I'll just watch television for a while. I've grown used to pictures without the sound. It's all the same to me nowadays. Only the faces change. And the colors. It's all bright and shiny. You never watch. The light reaches your end of the room, but you don't move. What would you do if I would suddenly turn up the volume? No, I won't do that. I don't want to provoke you. I'll just sit here and wait. I'll just be quiet until you say 'I forgive you'. Then we'll catch up.

© Ben C. O. Grimm