Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Je le hais beaucoup! C'est incroyable! Je voulais couper son [...]

mais ce n'est pas necessaire: je le deteste plus que les mots peuvent dire.

Clutching my heart in exasperation, I felt it drilling into the walls of my chest. I was getting light-headed as the next intersection approached, my rapid breathing unable to fulfill my excessive demand for air.

I quickly recounted the images that made up the last five minutes. I remember wanting to send J.Lass's mother some flowers for her loss, heading towards a local florist for white carnations.

I remember turning the corner at the intersection where the metro station stood, a bustling corner of commuters on their midday coffee break.

I remember walking behind a stranger only to lose sight of him suddenly when somebody else lodged himself directly between us in the crowd. A tall man of 6-foot-2, it took a second to realize my nose was already skimming the sleeve of his jacket: so close I was that the beige material spanned both my eyes. Out of habit, I looked up to apologize even though it was technically his fault to have spontaneously (and carelessly) got in my way.

It was M. Biologique. The first time in over a month since I've seen him. "Oh my God," I gasped. He kissed his new girlfriend: "I'll see you at 7:30, baby."

I remember hurrying around them, my presence unacknowledged. My heels click-clacked on the slippery pavement, large red sunglasses shielding my eyes from the sun. No, there was no sun. Though they were mercifully preventing passer-bys from judging what laid behind them anyway.

He did it on purpose. On purpose. The words resonated like a tremor through my body. He felt the need to hurt me even as he aggressively sought to push himself away. On purpose. Malicious. What would Oprah do?

In retrospect, I am glad to have witnessed the pettiness he demonstrated oh-so-clearly today. He needed to prove that he's moved on. And my surface display of indifference proved to him the same.

Besides, "cruelty is fed, not weakened, by tears."


After that initial shock, I went therapy shopping with NorIda. I bought accessories here and there, a coin purse (on sale!) at DKNY, a few Body Shop moisturizers, and basically pampered myself, grateful for my friend's companionship on such short notice.

Books were being unpacked on the mezzanine at school, so I picked up Skipping Towards Gomorrah by Dan Savage. And The Tiananmen Papers: I was there when it happened, I deserve to know why.

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