Kuunari

This is part of a series of short stories inspired by songs called Audiographs.

Wasted Too Much Time

“I saw a website had a vote for favorite end of the world scenario.”  I half-mumbled, handing Kell a can of diet coke and opening my own and then laying down on her couch.  On the screen cable news reporters were attempted to frighten and explain away in the same breath the events unfolding down in a southern state hit by a hurricane.  “you could choose a bunch of different movie scenarios, like mad max or planet of the apes.  I guess for me, I figure when the day comes, I know I won’t be around to see it.  I wasn’t built to last.”  I looked at her, hoping for a laugh.  It was apparent I was trying to change the subject from my leaving.  Each look from her made it clear that I was breaking her heart.

On her chest read the name of a band we both kind of liked, a shirt that I had once said I liked and she had since started wearing every time I saw her.  Her wavy dirty blond hair hung down, obscuring her teared green eyes.    It would have been better, maybe, if there was someone else.  And I’m sure, she secretly suspected there was.  Instead, I was headed west, to a small town in the foothills of a mountain range, to teach third through fifth grade in a small community school.

I stood back up and walked to the window to check on my rental truck,  parked down below her apartment window.  Her roommates were at work, leaving the single parking spot available for a slow goodbye, the train a distant rumbling every couple of minutes through the open window, the late august breeze a respite from the heat.

I had been her first new friend in a city that can be cold to newcomers.  And the first person she had ever admitted to loving.  It was her that i was leaving.  There is nothing I can say that would make me any less of an asshole.

I thought about myself poetically, comparing myself to this city, a great grey stone slab slowly spreading across the plains, slowly taking from each person it came in contact with what it wanted until all that was left was broken.   No matter the look she was giving my back as I stared out that window at the alley, I was happy to be leaving.

She would be great one day, and I wouldn’t be here to see it.   I wouldn’t be invited to be at her first big gallery opening.  I would be half a continent away, struggling to decide what it was about me that sent me away.

I turn around, and confirm the look she is giving me, her drink sitting on the coffee table beside her, unopened.  Knowing that I have no hope of salvaging what little she still thinks of me I open my mouth and speak.

“Listen, ” an opening that guarantees that what I will say will hurt.  “No matter how much I might try to make you happy, I’ll never be happy enough doing that.  And No matter how hard you might try to make me happy, you won’t.  And that’s just how it is.”

I stop, unsure what her cold eyes will do.

“Well,” I say, drawling my words, “i guess I’ll be going.  Take care.”

Her eyes follow me as I walk down the hallway from the living room to the back door.  When i reach the truck in the alley below, I feel her looking down at me, her hand frozen in a wave.  I reach up with my hand, give a jerk of farewell, and climb into the cab, hoping I never have to feel the way I do ever again.