I Want To Be Real

"Do you want to be real?"

"What?"

a long pause.

"Are you real?"

a longer pause.

"I dont know."

"Do you want to be real?"

"Yes."

* * * * *

It's midnight, a lone clock tower chimes the hour into the stillness of the night. Above the darkened town the moon and stars shine down with flickering light, shimmering in the velvet black of night. Small sounds, natural sounds, the soft padding of a cat across the lawn, occasional chirping of a cricket... it will be the shortest night of the year and tomorrow will be the longest day.

One door opens, a silent figure eases out of its dark aperture... easy... easy...

Slowly the door closes.

Shivering... standing....

hesitating.

Then running, down the street, down the sidewalk...

Black hair streams behind as the moon catches a glimpse of green embers in a desperate face, almost hidden by heavy lashes. Her breath is quiet in the street but loud in her ears, almost as loud as the thudding of her heart as she races.... Nothing pursues her, no one follows her from the door... but she runs as if the town chased her with torches and pitch forks. Out of the streets she runs, into the hills, muscles pumping and burning as she welcomes the necessary pain, her legs aching with the effort.

Run, run, run... into the wilderness, away from the haunts of man.

In the field she finally collapses, onto her knees and hands, taking great gasping breaths as tears flow down her cheeks, stinging her jade eyes. Fingers dig into the dirt as the sobbing catches her, she stifles a scream as her body coils and she springs forward again, now running as salty drops of wet are shaken from her frustrated visage.

She doesn't get very far before she falls again, overcome by the emotions inside her that she cannot escape... curling into a ball she bites down on her fist and shakes, muffling the sounds of her sobs even though there is no one to hear. For awhile she lays there, allowing her emotions to finally roil around her in a complicated confused dance, playing through her body without any new reactions... her heart feels as though it might burst, although her tears are slowing. Turning onto her back she takes a few deep breaths, the sobs have stopped although tears trickle down the sides of her face. She ignores them. The moon looks somberly back at her, lying in the dirt, hair splayed around her, pale body lying in the dark. Taking a deep breath, she sighs it out to the world at large.

"Do you want to be real?"

Turning her head, she studies her arm... watches her fingers flex, the way the muscles tighten under her skin. Pursing her lips she closes her eyes and sighs again.

"I don't know."

Fingers toy with a lock of hair that has fallen close by, black strands, soft and silky and curling at the end.

"What hurts the most?"

Her chest contracts and a tear falls from her closed eye as she tightens her fingers around the lock of hair.

"That I didn't love him the way I always thought I would."

"But you love someone else."

"I know."

She turns onto her side, another tear falling to water the earth as she contemplates the seperate strands of her hair.

"Do you still love him?"

Twisting the hair around her finger, cheek pressed into the dirt.

"I'll always love him. But we won't be together."

"Why not?"

Pausing in her contemplation, she blinks back another tear.

"Because I love someone else too. I love someone else now."

"He could come back."

"I'm not sure it will matter. It might"

She sits up, bending her legs at the knees and leaning forward onto them, still holding the lock of hair in her fingers. She looks up at the moon, concentrating on the brightness of its glow.

"What if he comes back?"

Looking back at the earth. A shrug. Nonchalance that she doesn't feel.

Then a long sigh.

"I already chose. I'm here. I'm happy."

A pause.

"I am, I'm happy."

"If you're happy, why are you out here? Why are you running?"

Another tear begins its journey down her cheek as she resumes playing with her hair.

"Because it still hurts. To know that I was wrong. To feel like maybe I wasted.... something. To wonder if I'm wrong now. To feel like I'm permanently trapped between choices."

She glares.

"You didn't tell me it would be this complicated. You didn't tell me it would hurt this much."

Eventually, in the long silence, her glare subsides. Sadness flows back into her eyes and she returns to the simplicity of her hair.

She asks, "Is this what it means to be real?"

No answer.

More contemplation of her hair.

"I could take it away. Make you forget him."

Forget him.... Forget the anger, the screaming pain when he left her... the unadulterated joy when they reunited... the slow realization of bitter anger and unforgiven sins... wounds that cut too deep to ever be healed by him... the horrifying realization of her own faults and sins that led to their demise.

"No." "No?" "No."

"Why not?"

Why not.... the laughter, the tears... the way he'd looked at her in that dress, pictures and pictures and pictures... that day in the field, in the sun... the holes he dug in the sand... the laughter when he'd first told her he loved her.

"It wasn't all bad."

"But it hurts now."

She curls her legs in tighter.

"That's what it means to be real."

Looking up.

"I found a quote."

"A quote?"

"Something someone else once said, that was insightful. 'Don't cry becuase it's over, smile because it happened.'"

"I don't understand."

"That's because you're not real."

"He might never come again."

"I don't know if I want him to come again."

A pause.

"Are you happy?"

A long pause.

"Yes. I have others. Friends. Family. Someone new." she smiles. "I'm happy."

"But sad too."

"Yes, sad too."

"So why are you here?"

She thinks. Her legs relax, slowly moving away from her curled position.

"I didn't know I was happy. Sometimes I'm not happy."

"Do you want to be real?"

Thinks again. Choosing. Choosing is real. Life is real. Pain is real. Love is real. Her new man... asleep in bed and turning towards where the sheets are empty, an imprint of her head left in the pillow. His arm reaches across as though she's still there, his body curling as though he searches for her in her sleep. If everything was always easy with him, would it be worth it? Without the pain, without the obstacles, how would she know where she belonged? If he weren't in her life, would she be happy? With him in her life, even with the pain, even if he left her... wasn't the time spent worth it? She wanted to reach out and smooth back his hair from his brow, from miles and miles away.

Her lips curve.

"Yes. I want to be real."

She turns and walks away. Each step is a choice. Back to the streets, back to the doorway, back to the bedroom. Sliding between sheets and under his arm, hugging him close to her and he hugs her closer without waking.

Sleep finally creeps up on her, making her limbs and eyelids heavy. Eyes spark in the darkness as she smiles her way into her dreams, knowing that the pain will probably come again, but for right now she is where she chose to be, she is home.