It's okay that I'm crying because the rain mixes with my tears. And I can hide.
I left for the store looking half heroin addict half marathon runner. I never thought it was possible to pull this look off, either, but it is. My makeup is blurry and my skin is yellow. My hair is back in a pony-tail but most of it has fallen out around my face in a curly-frantic style that makes it seem I was just out running through the rain. I'm wearing my new favoritest comfy running pants, a sports bra, and a fleece zip-up hooded jacket.
And a perpetual frown.
I walked into WalGreens with wet hair but a much wetter face, and streams of black down my cheeks. I looked tired, I know. People stared at me as if I carried a disease. I wanted to tell them that yes, I do in fact have a disease and the only person with the cure is locked up somewhere within the deepest chasms of my own soul and gee, doesn't that just take all?
Doesn't that just take the blasted cake?!
I couldn't pass the card section without peeking. Christmas. Love. Birthday. Anniversary. Congratulations. Thank You. Get Well. Sympathy. I'm Sorry. I Miss You.
Yeah, me too.
I found the sweetest love card I have ever seen. I cried. More. I held it with childish fascination and read it only once. I barely needed to finish it. I slipped it into the envelope. And I took it as I went towards the other aisles.
My Reeboks squeaked on the dirty tiled floor.
I found the Diet Pepsi, and after a long, hard thought over how much I could possibly drink in one night, decided on a 2 liter bottle. I wanted more.
But then I've always wanted more.
The chocolates are out for the holidays, red and green coated candies, stocking stuffers, rows upon rows of boxes upon boxes of edible love. So I bought some. My favorite, which I had previously been boycotting. My favorite chocolates in the whole entire world. I bought them for myself and I wondered,
Does anyone else even know what my favorite is?
And as I was about to turn and leave, I heard the freezer section calling my name. It whispered promises of salvation. So I went there, too. And the Godiva chocolate ice cream nearly pushed open the cold glass door and jumped into my arms. Dark Belgian Chocolate. Yes, I bought it, too.
Finally, my purpose was complete, and I moved for the counter. I waited in line. In front of me an elderly man held a cell phone and chanted into it, "Hello? Hello. Hello-Hello? Hello?" and my tears slid from my cheeks onto my jacket.
Yes, hello. I still remember you.
The woman behind the register asked me if that was all. I asked for two packs of cigarettes. A pack of Marlboro light 100's and a pack of Camel Turkish Golds. She only had the Marlboro's in softpack, was that okay? I said yes, of course, silly little thing, that is fine (translation: I don't care as long as I can suck them down nice and quick like).
And into the plastic bag my items went.
And back into the rain I went, where at last my tears were once again hidden. That's what is nice about the rain. It covers everything. The clouds cover the sky, the rain covers my tears, my tears cover my face.
Sadly, my face does not lie.
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