It’s Hard to Say Goodbye

There I was, again. I was saying goodbye, hiding behind my packed bags to shelter my red eyes. However, I could clearly see the tears surfacing in Jaygé’s eyes. It was wrong to say goodbye, I could feel the consequential pain within me, but it had to be done. I sat on my bed, back in the room I so longed to be rid of, staring at the navy blue suitcase I had failed to unpack. I had seemed to find it difficult to rid myself of the last thing that somehow reminded me of him. So, instead of wallowing in the gloomy presence I had synthesized, I headed towards the house hoping to sooth aching thoughts with a cup of black and bitter coffee.
I had wanted to escape the possible endless questions that would be presented by my grandparents, so in great haste I had my coffee and headed back to my cottage. Allowing my thoughts to drift away with the coffee, how it always seemed to remind me of happier days.
Huh? I stopped halfway between my cottage and the house. I was lost, searching for something, a place that I wanted to go but could not find. Jaygé, I heard my mind respond to my moment of delusion.
Darn it, oh thank you overactive imagination… you’ve dragged me back to tears. I scolded myself in the silence of my psyche.
The sound of a car door being shut pierced my psychotic moment, tearing me back to reality, – and the sound of my name being called?
Okay, now I’m just hallucinating – mental sigh – the pain of saying goodbye and a hint of insanity, lovely! I talked to myself, making me feel even loonier.
“Edward, there’s someone in the drive way for you…” my grandma said in a nonchalant voice said from the open doorway.
Who wants what now? I thought rolling my eyes. Honestly expecting my ex-ex…girlfriend to be there. However, what I saw shocked me to my core. Now that I think about it I might have stood there with an open mouth.

Moments later I stood on our driveway staring at him, my fiancé. He was wearing a white jersey and black jean with his purple jacket in one hand and his baby brother in the other – his mother in the Volkswagen kombi behind him. I could not help but smile, seeing the morbid spirit had fled at first sight.
“I know that this is sort of weird,” he started, “but Zach never got a chance to say goodbye.” He gestured towards the baby that clung to his one finger ending a guilty yet sweet smile…an obvious white lie.
I looked down at the tan colored paving, trying to hide the smile and red burning cheeks whilst slowly striding towards him.
“Zach said that?” I couldn’t help but ask with a chuckle.
“Well no, because he can’t speak…but I… I missed you and wanted to give you this,” he said stretching out the hand with the purple jacket, “I know its school and all, and I’ll only see you during the weekends so I brought you this to remind you of me… it has that perfume on that you like so much.” He said in a soft with a gentle smile that made my heart skip a few beats.
“I love you, you know?” I asked with a smile that is similar to that of the cat in Alice in Wonderland.
“Diddow” he said with a soft titter.
When I reached out towards the jacket he grabbed my hand, pulling me close to him, softly placing his lips on mine. The kiss electrified the air around us, making the hair on my neck stand up, leaving me with obvious goose bumps. Inside my soul started to jump around like it did every time he kissed me. It reminded me that even if we had to be apart for a week, there was no reason to be morbid for he would always be with me in some way.
When the kiss ended he gave me the jacket that still wore his scent, saying his final goodbyes for now. Even if our time together head ended abruptly I classified it as the sweetest gesture of his love.
After watching him leave I headed back to my room, this time without a mourning presence, without the coffee and without getting lost.

The Perfect Backdrop To A Disaster

The air ran dry of all hope, cold of the words that circulated. Words I expected yet not hoped for. I was seated on the dark wood steps in front of my cottage, facing the person that I had hoped to be the only one that would understand, my mother. My whole family knew before she did, that I am a homosexual and engaged. The only problem was that they are a cluster of homophobes, people that put the views of the church into overdrive.
When I saw her earlier that day I had started to build up the hope and courage to tell her, longing for one to love and understand my situation, longing for one family member to love and support me.
However, as I sat there facing her I came to realize that it was a dream synthesized by a mind that did not understand its own family dynamics. I was sitting there listening to another preaching of the views of church against gays. How God's rage would descend upon me and how I would be another classic gay victim to suffer the wrath of aids. During the seemingly endless conversation it was also mentioned that no one would attend my marriage or any other celebration held in honor of my fiancé and I.
Even though I had somehow known this before, I could feel the tears damming in my eyes. The pain of complete loneliness was too overwhelming. Not even the chirpy flowers, blue skies and apparent transparent moon could cheer up my aching heart.
A while after she left I was left crying in my room, even though I had been depended on my own happiness for the past eighteen years, it still hurt every time I had to face the hideous truth.

These memories flashed through my mind as I sat in the semi-lit bathroom, the bathroom I had fled to after the argument with my fiancé. To the presence of my fiancé was where I always fled to get away from the heartache, disappointment and loneliness that were presented in my family. However, now the curse had seemed to find its way to the arms of my lover.

I could see all my ambitions and hopes for a flawless relationship crumble through my tear filled eyes. The air was dry, like before, empty and lonely, like before …a dreary presence that suffocated me.
I decided not to let it get me down; I would walk into that room and face whatever waited for me. However, when I stood up and straightened myself out I wondered …could my life be worse than death?
 

***

I was seated on the same spot that he had purposed to me about a month ago. The badly lit room had not changed much. The furniture was still dusty; the light from the bed lamps was still casted dancing shadows on the wall, vaguely lighting the room. Yet still, across the room on the hardwood desk stood my empty mug and the remnants of the apologetic cookies my fiancé gave to me when I entered the room. An apology and make up session that had lifted the gloomy presence that clung to the atmosphere. Now I was sitting there, looking at him trying to sing along with the opera that was playing on his laptop, all famous love songs that filled the room with a vibrant silver aura. An aura that lifted the tension once presented and painting frequent smiles on our faces. The famous opera song ‘That’s Amore’ took its turn to grace us with its words, and he sang along beautifully – staring deep into my eyes. Like a little gay tornado he twirled to my side and extended his hand, gesturing to me to dance with him.

Whilst caught in the arms of my lover, being led to a sixties dance maneuver, Eskom turned off the lights – and everything else for that matter. But, we did not stop, dancing to the rhythm of our own music.
Beyond the brick walls and glass barriers of the room, the stars shimmered on the black canvass of the night like crushed diamonds, with the lustrous moon at its side. A night that started out ostensibly horrific yet resolved into a more solid relationship, with a perfect evening as its backdrop.

What The Tears Of Pain Brought

It was a dark cold night outside even the heavenly lights that painted the skies in our darkest hours was obscured with obscure clouds, warning its children of a pending storm. I found myself inside a poorly lit room with the frosty breath of the night piercing my lungs. How I longed for the abilities of immortal creatures, I would not have to suffer the influx of the night then.

The faint light that came from the lamps on the bedside table provided no warmth as my childlike mind thought, yet it was the only thing that separated the night from me. At the other end of the room was the only heat source I so desperately longed for. My boyfriend. However, he was busy with work that could not be subsided.

After my mind found rest and silence enveloped me I could clearly hear the inconsistent words become clear. Jaygé was informing me of the book he had recently started to read. Blomme vir Leon. I never truly enjoyed Afrikaans novels; however the line that came through the barriers of my cocooned mind struck my core.

He killed himself after he found out that he has AIDS. The line bounced around, surfing through my thoughts, repelling of the walls of my mentality and striking my awareness once more.

Usually such a statement would have no effect on my, it was just a line in a fictional romance. Yet still, it brought forth the possible reality that my imagination had synthesized earlier during the week.

I could feel my heart breaking as the thought swept clear all other thoughts, I could feel my facial expression becoming neutral and I could hear his words clearly.

What’s wrong love?

The memory started to play off like a movie, and I started to tell him of this sickening possibility.

I was standing in front of a coffin. The room went dark as allowed myself to be sucked into the fictional world in my head, even the cold subsided and I could feel the sun on my skin.

As I walked to the coffin I saw your body in it. I swallowed hard, trying to blink back the tears. My heart was breaking apart, old scars that healed reopened and I could feel the pain ooze from the tattered seams.   

I looked down at your face, the face I had so loved. I came to realize that I would never be able to see you again, never feel you close to me, never hear you say ‘I love you’, never see your smile again. It became impossible to hold back the tears now; they were streaming down my face, striking the white bed linen with a sickening thud. The pain was so real, my whole world was falling apart. The only thing that saved me from caving in was his hand on my shoulder, his soft words trying to sooth away the emptiness.

He kneeled in front of me, pulling me out of the world that caused me so much hurt and turmoil. He wiped away the tears while his eyes reddened as well. His words were almost a whisper, still trying to ebb away the thoughts that now possessed my consciousness.

“I’ll never leave you, I promise you that and not even death will break that promise. I love you Edward, a love I have never felt. You’re my soulmate, how could you even think that death could separate us.” He said his voice cracking under the pressure of pending tears.

“But…” I started, but was interrupted by him.

“Even if I die before you, I will always be a part of you. This body is but a house for my soul, a soul that is pure energy. When I die and my soul is free, I will be a part of the air you breathe, a part of the water you drink, a part of the tree you rest under.”

It wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but it made the tears less. But they were still there, allowing the blood of a broken heart to fall to the floor and part from me. For now I was back in the cold room, the room that had bad lighting and a dreary atmosphere looming to the atmosphere. The only thing that was different now was the arms of my lover the embraced me, trying to stop the tears that persisted to present themselves.

“I know this is not very romantic and I wanted to do it in such a better manner…” he paused for a moment, gathering his breath, steadying himself. “Will you marry me Edward?”

The room went dark again, the furniture faded into a null void, the air fell away and the tears had stopped. I was standing on the thin lined that separated love from logic.

Looking up from his chest I tried to find some form of humor in his eyes. Was he joking? But no, his eyes were filled with love and compassion, warmth. He was serious.

I gathered my breath, feeling lightheaded and disorientated, and started off my answer, “Jaygé…”