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Dissolution

Pain is for the fortunate. The torture of hurting so much that you cease to feel overwhelms a persons soul. You become the walking dead. Carrying on without joy, you put on the mask that everyone expects but is so foreign that it causes hives. Something inside you becomes cold and disjointed and vile, internal damnation.

My pride seeps out and I long for a slice of my ego but it has abandoned me as well. Why is it written that men can not be weak? How do I remain strong when all I want is to give in. I am so very tired. What would it hurt to reach out to her, reassure her that I need her, her breath and her warmth, to live. I crave her. Im drawn to her without conscious awareness. After leaving the party, I wander for what seems like hours, down hidden paths, streets without fear of recognition, searching for my whole, her sweetness. She is the missing piece, Ive always known it and I no longer care about anything but feeling her. And as If I am a moth to the flame, I find myself upon her step, waiting........

When do I reach my breaking point. I can't continue pretending much longer. Why are women supposed to be weaker? I try so hard to be strong but I am so very tired. When the tears dried, and my heartbeat slowed, I returned to my building. Im alone again, like every other day of my existence. Like Anne told me would happen. The sorrow consumes me. Hope is a dream for others. Im empty, numb. I fight the bitterness but my resolve is crumbling. I am so very tired. One step, two step, three steps up and ..........

"Demet?" I reach out to her and she is there, not purposely but as if she is unaware, a ghost. I wrap my arms around her to hold us both up but I sink to the ground thankful to Allah. My arms still wrapped around her waist I bury my face in her stomach inhaling her essence. Prayerful and thankful that I can feel her hands on my head, and I take hold of her left and press it to my mouth not recognizing the tremor. I can't let go, my body is our strength and she will collapse onto me if I shift so we remain like this and I regain my strength from her presence. I stand and lift her into my arms, turning toward the door and carry her home.

Im floating, dreaming that he is here. His arms around me and I notice I was holding my breath Holding my breath for three months, four days and 16 hours. He was returning my soul back to me and as good as it felt, I felt the need to grab it and run, to gain all my defenses and gather the walls up around me. The battle to protect the last fragments.

"Can?"

"Shhhh. Let me hold you." I sit down with her in my lap. My hands rubbing her arms, shoulders, gently forcing her head on my shoulder. "Please?" Nothing more than to breath her in, feel her in my marrow. Like a drowning man, holding onto the last vestige of air. She leans into me, pulling her legs up into a fetal ball, into herself. The more that I try to give her rest, the more she retreats. "Please?"

"We shouldn't."

"We should." I run my hands down her arm, across her hip and to her bare thigh. Her skirt has ridden up and I yearn for her. Little tiny kisses to her temple, lovingly, reassuring. Caressing her smooth skin and run my hand higher and......

"No."

"Alright. I will stop."  I remove my hand and I reach down to lower her skirt and...... Blue, purple and green bruising along her beautiful skin. "Oh Demet, not again. Not again." I feel those bruises as if they are laid upon my body. I try to sooth them but she won't allow me. She jumps away, embarrassed that I saw.

"It's okay this time. I'm okay this time." She straightens to remove herself and Im not fast enough. She slips away from me. The moment is lost. Standing, putting distance between us is like ripping my flesh from bone.

I try to get control of the situation before she does, "Demet, we really need to talk." She counter attacks by turning away from me, "Can, us being alone isn't healthy." We are at a standoff, she doesn't want me here and if anything is unhealthy it's what being alone is doing to us.

"I know that you stopped by to assure yourself, but really, Can, I am not mad at you. If anything, Im mad at myself." Her chin is tilted higher, in that way she does when she is protecting herself. Arms crossed, stoically, like every hated martyr in every damn book. "I let myself believe in a fantasy, a story and I knew better." The distant look in her eyes revealed that she was convincing herself more than trying to convince me. "You see? Anne told me that I always do this. I just let myself believe this time was different but Im aware that our time has passed, Can. The show is over and all will be alright when I start my new............

"STOP!" the revulsion rises like bile in my throat. "We are not over! I won't allow us to be over! We just need to talk! Please?" My futile attempt at correcting her ambivalence, is like a cold shower. I suddenly wake up to what is really happening here. She is warring within herself and if I don't control myself then I can never get control of this situation. "Okay, okay." I try to sooth. I sit back down to appear less threatening. My hands rub over my eyes, down my face, resting on my mouth. I will let her have her say, then I will argue my point.

She is retreating further into the corner, moving away from me at a snails pace but it feels like a fervor. I didn't know if she was going to speak, so lost in her thought that she had forgotten or, no she is considering her next words. Carefully, she begins. "Love, well, is the like the Devil. It never appears with horns and a tail, but like everything you have ever desired." clearing her throat. "But that makes it all the more dangerous." The mournful smile creeps in. "Because we welcome it and nurture it and then when it's over, we are left in hell." and the smile resolves into yielding. " You have done nothing wrong. It was me this time." The single tear rolling down her cheek to her chin does me in.

"Demet, please listen to me when I say that I am not sorry. Not sorry for us in the least. You are my one joy, the one I do it all for. I work like this so that you won't have to. I dreamed of you and Ive made it happen. I refuse to give up on our life. You give me reason and strength and I want only you, our life, babies.........."

Her breath catches. I see her falter in that moment, but I don't want to push to hard. "Do you dream of babies too?"  I slowly approach her, running my fingers lightly over her upper arm. "Remember that after my service, we decided on one more project before we marry? Then the babies and you could take time off from work. Remember how we talked about this?" My fingers caress her elbow and slightly turn her towards me and I feel her weakening resolve as her head lowers and her eyes follow my hand.  I lower my face to her level, making her look me in the eye. "Remember? Lets think of those things for a moment." At first she tries to look away, but the gentle massage of my hands on her upper arms and my deliberate attempts finally win and she looks me in the eye.

" Tamam.  We will talk."

And for the first time in three months, four days and 17 hours I take a deep breath and we begin again.