”...I think it’s because I’m clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Maybe it’s because I’m crazy
I try not to act too proud
They only hit until you cry
After that you don’t ask why
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore
You just don’t argue anymore...”
—Suzanne Vega; lyrics from song “Luka”
He says that I said other things after.... Sometimes it has happened when I forget things ....after ....when something happens that—well—I don’t know exactly.... something triggers an episode.... Sometimes. And those sometimes .... it seems like a curtain gets drawn over my mind
and with it the sense that ....
well.... I am not sure
I just know I never know what I have lost when it happens. It has only happened a few times .... well, that I know about. And it feels after like a vacancy .... replaces an episode of time and has erased the memory and leaving a residue of a kind of euphoria and a strange foggy lightheadedness and along with it a heavy fatigue
....like an exhaustion of emotions spent like a rubber band snapped across the room, then leaving a feeling like being somewhat drunk yet as if something .... has been released or purged
only.... to be honest, as we document time for this very reason....
you see
....I suppose it is the something that always later I find that I .... deeply fear,
suspecting I must have betrayed .... the Celf
But at first I don’t think about it because the euphoria is so strong it overcomes everything else
in retrospect I know it is the release that brings on the giddiness
****
It seems only like a moment is passed when I feel I blacked out
“Oh the heat,” I say as rub my eyes from behind my glasses and then look up at him
We are in the car now
but I don’t remember getting there. This occurs to me slowly as he seems to be staring at me so strangely.
I have never seen the look on his face before like that .... he is leaned over me in the front seat and only now moves over slightly closer to his side behind the wheel but his right hand is still gripping my upper arm while he lets go of my other arm with his left
His look is so strange! His eyes are so wild! The way he stares at me almost concerns me something is wrong
“I’m ok,” I tell him and try to laugh but I’m still dizzy, “it’s the heat,” I say
“Drink the water,” he says oddly, like a command, and pushes it in front of me with serious urgency and that spooky look still in his eyes as he watches me
“What happened?” he whispers this carefully as he studies me
“I guess I blacked out,” I say and feel abashed at all the attention he’s making of it
He shakes his head,
“....so you don’t remember what you just said?”
“The Beethoven thing, yes—I can play it for you when we get back!” I suddenly become excited with the thought
Still he stares at me as if I now have two heads
I decide to take his advice and drink the water
He starts the car but still stares at me before reaching to reverse he wipes his face with the back of his arm and it occurs to me by this motion he does that it was damp. But it does not seem like with sweat. In fact.... it is this which is the strangeness of his expression because I realize .... I have never seen him cry
“Jörn....?” I look at him
But he turns his face away now from me as if to look out the side rear view mirror as he reverses the car and clears his throat
“Are you ok?” I ask him
“Ja.... you said you’re hungry? I don’t think you’re feeling up to cooking—“
“Yes, I’d love to cook!” I say as the euphoria starts to hit and the surge of energy with it —and I suddenly feel quite creative as I begin to suggest ingredients that I recall are lying around, back at the house
but he’s only paying half attention to this as he continues to give me side long glances as he takes the road back to the barn house
only after we pull up the drive I lose my balance getting out and he runs over to me which makes me laugh,
“I just got dizzy, I’m not about to faint or anything! It’s not like I’m glass!” I laugh at him
only he still looks strangely at me and he says seriously,
“I don’t want you falling down on the driveway and cracking your head open and then having to take you to ER, I’d rather we skip that—put you arm around my neck,” he says this also like a command and I only do this because I start to feel he may be right as the horizon begins to swerve a little
When he kicks open the door and brings me in I say,
“can we play the Beethoven piece? Let’s sit at your piano! I’m in the mood to play,” I suggest; thrilled with the idea
“No— we’re not playing right now, duva—I don’t think you’re feeling well,” he says, “I have a better idea let’s go upstairs....” and he kicks the door closed and on the way he suggests, “I’ll draw you a bath and maybe I should make you dinner,” he says
No, it isn’t like it is out of character for him to say this but I find it unexpected because of the stress behind his tone which is why I move my arms closer around his neck and adjust myself and wrap my legs around his waist,
“I like the bath idea,” I say into his ear, “but only if you join me.”
He adjusts his grip on me as he reaches the top step and walks into the bedroom
“You sit here while I get the bath ready,” and he goes to set me down on the white, plush fake-fur, chair by the table, where I keep my things but I don’t let go,
and I say,
“stay here with me,” into his ear and press and mold myself against him firmly below his waist intentionally to change his mind and kiss his neck and ear
instead he sits in the chair with me on his lap to catch his breath and —giving up ....with just the slightest resistance
and because he looks worried and also because of what it seemed I saw before; the dampness on his face in the car that looked like tears I feel more worried for him than about myself
“I’m sorry,” I say to him and study his face now
I run my fingers over the angles of his face beginning from his brows to smooth the tension away and ending down to his jaw to kiss his mouth, letting loose, his hair to feel it with my fingers
“What are you sorry about?” he asks me looking at me
“Because we were having such a nice day and now I’ve ruined it.”
He smiles,
“you didn’t ruin it.... I asked you too many questions. It’s my fault. I should apologize. Let me make you dinner,” he says anxiously as if he feels guilty and moves as if to get up but I hold him down by gripping the back of the chair
“We can do it together,” I say but make no move to remove myself from his hips. Instead I press harder into him and feel that wild euphoria soar again and the wildness causes me to impulsively reach for something on the table from my makeup bag; I select a silver-color, crayon eye-pencil and decide it would be fun to outline his eyes in it
“What are you doing?” he asks as I start drawing on him
“I knew this would go well with your eyes!” and laugh because he can’t move and is forced to endure my whim as I do a good job of it beginning with the mysterious upward slant of his eyes and ending at the razor sharp edges by the bridge of his nose exaggerating the angle. Then find myself mesmerized by the effect
“When did you remember the notes of your composition?” he asks as if in surrender letting out a sigh and finally relaxing under me
I study my artistry but say,
“as we were talking. Weird, right? But I think it’s been coming to me in my dreams recently —I don’t know why it just suddenly popped out like that while we were talking!”
Only I see the way his kryptonite eyes narrow as he looks at me. I take a brush to smear the silver line into a smudge
Again he looks guilty I notice which oddly disturbs me
but then decide to consider lipstick shades
maybe just lip pencil; mauve or burgundy? but change my mind when I reach his lips and kiss him instead
“So have you made my eyes less evil looking now?” he breathes the question lasciviously into my ear and as I sense he has succumbed to my persuasion
“Why would you say they are evil?”
“Vampire?”
So I laugh,
“that’s not how I mean it about you—but.... I guess you never read ‘the Vampire Lastat’,” and laugh again, “so you have been reading ‘the dictionary’? A spy’s work is never done.... I mean it as ‘immortal’ and almost supernatural.... and beautiful,” and kiss his mouth some more, moving my hands to pull off his shirt
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