You look depressed.
I want to sweep my hand across the table when people say things like this. My spine straightens as I imagine the sound the glasses will make when they smash, how everyone will jump back with wine in their laps.
I can’t sleep.
He smiles like we’re old friends.
You want a Valium?
I shake my head and clasp my hands so he can’t see how much they’re shaking. He notices anyway.
Wanna go inside?
We’re sitting outside and it’s too cold but it’s what we do. We smoke too much and drink wine we can’t afford and the pauses in the conversation get longer. I’m sitting so straight, looking him in the eye because if I look at the one beside me I’ll fall.
Your eyes are peculiar.
He stares into them and I put my hands under my thighs. I look over his shoulder and wish I could become the vine, creeping over the fence, hiding spider webs inside.
What’s wrong with you today?
I shrug and carefully wrap my hands around the stem of the wineglass. It tastes like rust and I take far more than a sip. I think about the Valium in his pocket. I think about sleeping pills. About the time I took a handful when another one wouldn’t stop screaming at me. My head won’t stop hurting and I can’t fake it anymore.
I push back from the table and walk to the toilets on imposter legs. I look down at them and their sure steps. I shudder at the current that runs through them and sit down in the cubicle for awhile without peeing. I hold my head in my hands and think about getting up and walking out. Leaving through the front door and not coming back. I practise in the mirror then go back outside with a smile stretched on.
It’s okay. It’s okay. I sing to myself as they talk. It will pass it always passes.
I wrap my scarf tighter because the cold’s inside too.
Please don’t talk to me.
I want to go to the bathroom again but instead I turn and answer the question. It feels disgusting, like a cockroach slid inside my mouth. But it works. We buy another round and the pauses get shorter and the gulps get bigger. Pretty soon I’m doing so well, even I don’t notice my hands are still trembling.
Michael Alesich
Extremely well written.
Jess Andrews
Unbelievable writing…left me hungry for more.
Solar Zorra
Where have you been? I’ve missed your writing with all it’s amazing imagery. This is excellent, I felt every emotion. :) SZ
anya
Yase. Oh Yase. Rust is everywhere.
BiographyofRed8
wow.. it felt like i was in the room with you with this one.. very visually written, especially the moment of wondering whether to leave, and walking on “imposter’s legs”, your writing is unique as precious jade on a beach.. just reading it, even though sometimes it is hard to read emotionally as you are able to draw the reader into the exchange.. is mood changing
Genevieve Robey
This is brilliant … So visual I could picture the pub, the table and more so vividly… Beautifully written. Walking with “imposter legs” – so good.
Sticky Flower
Sometimes the power of your words just leaves me speechless as to what to say.I just want to keep reading..and put on my favourite scarf xo
s.g sansom
“You’re” the shit for sureness.
xstephens
this like hit me in the gut…I can feel the cold…it’s beautifully written.
Rebekah Anderson
I push back from the table and walk to the toilets on imposter legs
Really powerful writing, Yase. This is incredibly evocative.
gretchen .
early this morning i saw your new post and couldn’t read it then because i didn’t want to rush (tee hee). the second paragraph gives me goosebumps every time i read it (and i’ve had a few goes…) x x
Paula Birch
i’m watching you too. lovely captured.
natapee
chilling. i was on edge. you do what you do so very well.
PJ Ryan
Let’s go and hide in the tangled vine x
tracyxkeema
very visual, keeps you wanting more x
Peter Searle (...
Magnificent imagery which could only be conjured by one who has lived that reality, and written so well it touches and comforts us who share the same curse.