Intervention
in the car, he swore like a man really scared of something, because he was. the future was not a lifetime away but began the next morning, and we all knew it, and we couldn’t really talk. it’s hard to convince someone you don’t want them to die. sounds like it should be easy, but it’s not. i couldn’t think about this for too long without evaluating myself, taking inventory of my own faults, booking appointments for rectifying various conflicts with various people. this is what life is about: self-awareness, or sweets, or blue sky, or something as close to love as you can get.
the way i dealt with it was through thai food. i made D. take me out to sweet chili, or brown sugar, or sweet sugar, no: to sugar & spice. fourteen minutes spent stuffing fried spring rolls into my mouth while jealously eyeing D.’s shrimp-and-papaya salad, which would have been a much better choice — cleaner, pinker, light. i had one bite and the shrimp tore so perfectly in my mouth next to the pickled, julianned fruit, it was one of those culinary moments that make you want to cry, probably because you want to cry anyway.
at home, the walls of my room are pervaded by a single song lyric: “pink magnolia in winter, she doesn’t care.” if, tomorrow, she doesn’t, i will lock myself later in the office bathroom and pray.