The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights.
There are places so deep in me, that I fear to tread them, to reveal the terrain that exists inside my head. I think to myself, they won't understand. The truth is, *I* don't understand. I don't know why it hurts so much sometimes. I don't know why it feels good sometimes. When it hurts, I just want it to go away. Quickly. I don't understand why it won't...then again, sometimes, like a miracle, the pain disappears, or something inside me works it out. Go figure.
I wish the good feelings would stay longer, dwell with me, in me. There are so many philosophies that tell you how. It's getting them to work that's the challenge. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. The skill is in the risking.
When I share my story, it is so much easier to gloss over the events of my life, letting them take me step by step to resolution, sparing you (and myself) the pain. It's so much easier to keep it light. Sex is really easy to look at when it feels good, even when it's tingly embarrassing, like when I went to see Pony, but when it's ultra heavenly, all light, or down in the lowest depth and pure drive, you have to cover your eyes and wonder.
I'm afraid of the dark. I don't mean night time. Night is easy. There are stars, and the cool wind, and the lingering smell of the sun. But I'm afraid of those places in the soul that people retreat to; that *I* retreat to. I'm afraid I'll never come back or that the ones I love will never return. I'm afraid of the darker dreams that take over. New Agers call it the negative. But I wonder, is it really? Or is it just another realm of wisdom that I haven't learned to understand yet?
I don't like describing the darker side of me. I don't know how to approach it, except from outside of myself. And once I step out...where is there to go?
If I had a lover's arms to run to, I think I would feel better. I don't mean someone that I was just having sex with, but I mean my heart...my lovers..the ones...I miss so much.
They are so far away from me. I mourn that everyday. Whether they are real or not. I'm not soothed anymore by the wishes in my head. I haven't let myself be. They are not here whatever the case.
Except the one, who is so close, yet unreachable. It hurts, but its a wound that I recognize. Unavailability. I know that sensation. I'm deeply familiar with it, and tired of it...bored ...of it. I want...I want..
I need. Her.
Them.
The hurt I really fear is rejection, but I fear the love, the bliss as much. I'm just as afraid of that. I'm afraid of common tenderness. Of surrendering this desire I have for the unreachable. I'm afraid of mortal love, the kind that gouges out paths in us whether we will it or no. I'm just as afraid of plunging into my own heart as I am of teetering on the edge it. If I open my heart, and dive in, what will I find? And who will rescue me from drowning if I don't know how to swim?
There are consequences to a fear unexamined. There are points of no return. The definition of courage, is to feel the fear and do it anyway. Sometimes I'm very courageous.
Sometimes I'm not.
I can never tell what is going to push me over, but it seems that it always ends up being my self who did the pushing. Could I learn to surrender too? Maybe.. I just needed to learn to spread my arms a little. I wonder who would accept the invitation?
I went to Mel's office, just like Pony said to.
I went to Mel's office, and entered through the first doorway in the hall.
I went to Mel's office, and thought, "What am I doing here?"
I had the oddest sensation trickle over me. Goosebumps chilling down my arm and lower back. It was dark. Not the familiar comfort of night, but the kind gotten through switching off the lights, and drawing the curtains. It was a rich dark, deep and pungent. The only light that illuminated the hallway was the one emanating from the elevator and the exit lamps. The elevator's pale cold fluorescent glow brushed past me from behind, and spread out. I could see my silhouette thrown blurrily against the wall. Fluorescent doesn't do much for shadows.
I stepped, with a clack, onto the tiled floor. It was so quiet I could hear my own breath, smell it. I could feel the nervous starts and stops of it. I could hear the way my clothes rustled, the way the paper on my clipboard creaked, the way I cleared my throat nervously. I could hear wretched sobs coming from my left and felt them cut right through me. I forgot, in an instant, my adventures in the sauna, and was suddenly here, now. Melinda was crying.
Left. That was the direction that led to the interior of Mel's office. The lights were off, but someone was home.
The elevator door whisked behind me, closing off the light and leaving me to my fate. I could feel the red light of the Exit signs. They beckoned to me, begged me to turn back. Heck, *I* begged me to turn back.
I don't know what I was so afraid of.
The truth maybe. The possibility that I was reaching for something that wasn't there.
Maybe.
Whatever the case, I'd made a bargain. I would go in, get Melinda's signature, and get out. That was the plan.
I paced forward, tentative at first, then more bravely as my eyes adjusted to the available light. Now it seemed I was in a manmade dusky twilight, instead of the pit of darkness. Dusky I could do. In a way, one could say that I couldn't see where I was going until I started moving.
I paused often, testing directions. I knew I was getting close when I brushed against the hard edge of the secretary's desk. The stapler clattered and skidded away from me like a frightened animal. I was just as surprised as it was. My sight was just good enough to give me outlines, not solidity. I barely saved a plant from a soggy grounding. One of my hands got covered with wet soil. I hoped it was from water. I wiped the wet off onto my slacks. They could be washed.
This was the joy of being Bernice. Brigid could have seen everything; identified and understood it. I saw, it seemed, half what I perceived as Brigid. It was hard accepting that. But I guess, ultimately, whatever my criticism of myself, I felt the whole of everything I experienced. Just as much as Brigid. Just as much as I always had. And even if, as Bernice, I didn't get it. My head stored it away and remembered it as Brigid.
I had to trust that it was so.
Even if it was just pretend so I could walk in the dark.
I felt my way to Melinda's office, more than saw. My fingertips led the way, once I found the far wall. The skimmed the outline of a framed painting. I could smell the dust. When had the cleaners been here last? I found the light switch, but didn't throw it. The door was too my right, and cracked open. There was a light cast upon a foot that wasn't mine. I felt the warmth of *HER* presence before I even registered that fact.
"What are *you* doing here?" Her high angry whisper ran a course of fire through me. I could almost see the way her eyebrows arched, the sharp angles of her face turned in a frown. I could almost. I was definitely drowning in the brown light of her eyes, though they were shadowed from my gaze.
I caught my voice before it became too loud. She whispered, so I returned the favor. I was quiet as a flustered mouse and I immediately blamed Pony for my predicament, "I've orders to get her signature. I only need one." Yeah, that was why I was here. I had to keep reminding myself. It wasn't to try and stop those gut pulling sobs. Nope. I was not here to solve Dr. Pappas' problems...
I didn't dare touch Joni. If her voice thundered through me, I could only imagine what her touch would do. Instead, I reached out through the safety of plastic, letting her feel the truth of my statement through the lean noise of paper crinkling.
"Hmmph," Joni sniffed, "Weren't you told...." Her breath was hot against my face and distracting. I wanted to wipe it away, I wanted to cup her face in my hands and kiss her and never let go.
"Pony said to..." I could *sense* the look Joni gave me; threatening, overwhelming. I retreated, waving an invisible white flag, "She's my boss!!" I whispered hard in response.
Joni's tone roughened, "So is Melinda."
I felt inexplicably peeved and caught out; as if I'd done something wrong, though I hadn't. "Pon.." I started, then I changed tactics, and realized my fault. I took responsibility for my decision, "I need these signatures. The guys say we can test out the VR machine in a couple of weeks."
Joni blinked and inhaled. I knew she did. "We can?" There was a curious pitch to her voice. It almost wavered. I wished I could see her better so I could read her face.
I nodded, "Yeah. It'll be amazing..but..I.." There was another muffled sob. I heard a chair squeak on its wheels. I sighed and lowered the board, "I can wait," I exhaled. I couldn't see Joni's expression well enough to determine what she thought. But, I knew it was the right decision for me. Mel, even if she wasn't *the* one, was more important.
There was a startling wail, and the thick crash of glass shattering against a wall. I jumped and hissed as if I'd been struck. Joni swore and grabbed the clipboard from my hand. "Come on." Her voice was heavy with weary emotion, though her movements were quick, "let's get this over with."
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This page was last updated: July 20, 1998
ŠJuly 1998
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