The Good In Goodbye
I am shattered. Just as surely as porcelain dropped to the sidewalk is shattered, I am broken. The pieces of me are everywhere, too many to even begin to consider putting them back the way they were. The only way is to start fresh, strip it all down, go back to the beginning and pretend it never happened.
Always wanting what I can't have, never happy with what I've got. There is no text message from her, no phone call, no sign of life, nothing to remind me. I walk into a place I found months and months ago, when I was the King of New York and I had everything I wanted for a couple weeks. Life was good for a little while, yeah life was good and now it's turned to shit and I can't drag myself out of the ditch into which I have driven because I'm out of gas.
The place is the same as it was when I found it on Thanksgiving, but the lady who greets me is new. She's a Chinese woman with nice tan skin and a strong jaw. Her eyes are impenetrable and she's solidly built and looks good for someone in her late thirties or early forties. I pay for an hour and I get undressed and lay down.
Tina is her name and she's got good strong hands. I begin to relax and my my mind wanders. I see her, I see Lola, draped over that chair, that famous red chair. She laughs at me and beckons to me and I walk to her slowly, slowly, slowly and when I reach her she touches me. The clouds part. I do not smile but I am happy. I'm happy but I don't smile.
In my ear I hear a whisper, a quiet, polite question. Tina asks me if the massage is ok. "Yes" I say. "Too strong?" she asks. Too strong...please hurt me, I think, please reduce me to rubble and walk all over the remains. "No," I say. "It's perfect."
She works me over with professionalism and physical grace and I keep my head down and my eyes open. The past is calling, but I will resist its bedroom eyes and pillow talk. I will be strong and smart.
Hands make me weak, they defeat my resistance and break my resolve and as Tina's hands move over my body I let myself slip and again Lola beckons and again I go forth. She touches me softly and her eyes sing to me. What I feel for her is an illness, an addiction, a need I can't control. In my mind we are there on that couch and she is leaning against me and smoking and talking, her words fill the air and surround me and they are all I want but I hear a little bell ringing and ringing.
My eyes open and there is Tina and the timer is beeping. "Turn over" she says, and I hesitate for less than a second before I do. Tina rubs me lightly on the chest and I look at her face. I can almost see Lola in her, Lola 15 years from now. So many things to let go, so many thoughts to banish, so many habits to break. All the times I would have called her, the moments when I would have stopped and thought of her. I need to learn to live again, need to learn new ways to do all the things I do.
Tina strokes my cock with the blank look of a woman who'd rather be anywhere else. There are no gasps of anticipation or pleasure. Like a mailman sorting mail, she pulls on my cock while I grope her big tits. When did everything stop meaning anything? When did it stop feeling good? When will it be over?
Faster she strokes and now I need it, I need to come, I need to let it go, I need to forget, to cast aside, to just fucking dismiss everything. Hands, hands, hands and there I go. My mind goes blank and my eyes close and for a moment I finally have a blank slate.
I dress quietly, tip politely, and pad down the stairs as silent as a lamb and twice as gentle. I emerge onto the sidewalk and I pull out my phone and I look. No texts. No signs of life. I dial her number and then I stop.
The city's symphony surrounds me. I breathe it in and break it into its pieces. Cars, trucks, voices, sirens...there it is, there is the sound.
I pause and I hear it again. Laughter, high and bright. The laughter of children, clear and crisp in my ears. The tightness in my chest begins to ease. I breathe easily. In that sound there is life, there is promise, there is love.
I have lived and I have lost, and I am living in a world of regret. Life only ends when you stop living, and I am choosing not to live. In that sound I hear the future, and I am reminded of what I have and I can forget what I have not.
I look at my phone and I look at the cars in the street and the windows all around and the people who are everywhere in this city where there is no solitude but you're always alone. No more waiting. It is time to live and that is exactly what I intend to do.
I put that phone in my pocket and I look all around me and I take one step. And another. And another. And before long I will be there.