seekerofvisions
12-27-2006, 03:48 PM
“I want you to marry me.” The voice came quietly, breaking the fifteen minutes of silence. It hung in the air unattended to, not fully absorbed by the girl to whom it was spoken.
Sammie lay, unmoving, with her arm resting on the pillow just above her head. Her eyes followed a crack in the ceiling that she hadn’t noticed in her previous visits to this room; a room nearly untouched by her despite her frequent visits through out the past two years. The crack splintered off into two separate directions across the middle of the eggshell white ceiling, each on its own journey of becoming one and then two. The song, Soup by Blind Melon played in her head as it had been through out most of the day; her own mini-soundtrack to keep her company. The fingers on her right hand tapped out the drumbeats that repeated themselves seemingly incessantly in her mind. “…make you all go away.. make it all go away..” she sang quietly.
The bedsprings squeaked back at her, sighing, as she shifted her weight and rolled onto her left side. She wanted to let a sigh escape her lips, but neglected to do so for fear that he would misinterpret it as a sign of her having tired of him completely.
“Sammie,” his voice broke through the otherwise silent room, the only other sound, besides their breathing, had been the sound of the refrigerator humming through the dividing wall of the bedroom and kitchen.
She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest, the cold of the chipped paint on the wall behind her startling her slightly, but otherwise her face showed no signs of having heard the spoken words that still resonated from the walls around her.
“Sammie,” he repeated, as her wandering eyes finally settled on his expectant face.
She gave him a small smile that was born partially of obligation, partially of pity, and partially, despite herself, bemusement. He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to hold him to her breast and pat his head.
She pulled herself up a bit more. He finally gave up searching her face for any clues of her thoughts and rested his head in the crook of his arm. When she still failed to respond he finally sat up, grunting slightly and pulling himself into his jeans.
“You know, I’ve tried everything. Everything, Sammie. Every trick I know, I’ve tried.” Bennie said then sank back down onto the bed. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and held his head that seemed heavy with worry and disappointment, in his hands. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
Sammie looked at him, her expression not changing, “Look,” she began, her voice soft. “don’t try to save me. Some things aren’t meant to be saved.”
Sammie lay, unmoving, with her arm resting on the pillow just above her head. Her eyes followed a crack in the ceiling that she hadn’t noticed in her previous visits to this room; a room nearly untouched by her despite her frequent visits through out the past two years. The crack splintered off into two separate directions across the middle of the eggshell white ceiling, each on its own journey of becoming one and then two. The song, Soup by Blind Melon played in her head as it had been through out most of the day; her own mini-soundtrack to keep her company. The fingers on her right hand tapped out the drumbeats that repeated themselves seemingly incessantly in her mind. “…make you all go away.. make it all go away..” she sang quietly.
The bedsprings squeaked back at her, sighing, as she shifted her weight and rolled onto her left side. She wanted to let a sigh escape her lips, but neglected to do so for fear that he would misinterpret it as a sign of her having tired of him completely.
“Sammie,” his voice broke through the otherwise silent room, the only other sound, besides their breathing, had been the sound of the refrigerator humming through the dividing wall of the bedroom and kitchen.
She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest, the cold of the chipped paint on the wall behind her startling her slightly, but otherwise her face showed no signs of having heard the spoken words that still resonated from the walls around her.
“Sammie,” he repeated, as her wandering eyes finally settled on his expectant face.
She gave him a small smile that was born partially of obligation, partially of pity, and partially, despite herself, bemusement. He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to hold him to her breast and pat his head.
She pulled herself up a bit more. He finally gave up searching her face for any clues of her thoughts and rested his head in the crook of his arm. When she still failed to respond he finally sat up, grunting slightly and pulling himself into his jeans.
“You know, I’ve tried everything. Everything, Sammie. Every trick I know, I’ve tried.” Bennie said then sank back down onto the bed. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and held his head that seemed heavy with worry and disappointment, in his hands. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
Sammie looked at him, her expression not changing, “Look,” she began, her voice soft. “don’t try to save me. Some things aren’t meant to be saved.”