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2001-12-25 || 1:05 a.m. || eve as in evelyn || (let me try again.) tonight kelly and i drove to grammy's house. i wrapped all of our presents in the car and we made brilliant time. tonight the frontyard christmas light bonanza felt wrong, too bright, gaudy. tonight grandma had a black eye from four days of crying. blood had pooled under her left eye and kept us in check when she was smiling, when she was asking if we wanted more rolls or wine or sparkling cider. tonight i noticed my cousins's hands. there are two pair of old hands attached to young ragged bodies (anorexia. self inflicted burns. car accident scars. unintentional shaking). veins are visible, knuckles. they pull at long strands of dyed hair, they flutter in the air while explaining why they have broke up with boyfriends, why they own nine cats they cannot take care of. tonight i muttered 'please mummy' into my wine glass when she got too mean. tonight i wanted to jump from the table a few times because uncle jerry is saying we should bomb everybody and m isn't talking at all and grandma has just gotten off the phone with uncle bill she is crying a little. no one seems to notice this. she is sitting directly across from me. i keep wanting to cry but i can't. i am pinned in because of all the chairs and bodies jutting from table to wall. i can't get out. they are talking about religion and weddings and the lord of the rings. i want to get out. my dad asks me what's wrong and everyone stops talking and i have to stare at a candle and say 'nothing' loud enough to be heard in a straight voice without crying. jerry got grammy a big screen tv. my cousins aren't talking. they leave suddenly and we leave behind them. we hand out presents and hastily stow them away in paper bags to open at home. tonight i am trying not to cry and i don't know what it is that is making me like this, the oldest cousin's silence or the younger cousin's willingness to talk too much. all the bruises on her legs and arms. grammy breaking into crying jags and then drying up the moment after. just wanting to hug my dad in the kitchen and never ever let go. we are carrying presents to the car. grammy stays back on the porch. mum has walked a ways down the street with jerry to talk shit about the situation, how grammy doesn't want to go to her sister's funeral. dad is somewhere and kelly is somewhere and i run back to the porch to say goodbye to grammy. i am crying. she is crying. i don't know what we are saying, but with her on the porch step and me on the ground i am able to hug her in this eight year old way, down low in the middle of her. i am able to talk into her chest, directing my words at her heart. i am telling her i love her and i am so sorry i don't see her and i am so sorry her sister has died. i let go and then clamp on again. i let go and pull away and run back to the car. i am crying and standing on sidewalk. it is that bad kind of crying, the loud gaspy kind. kelly is hugging me and mum is yelling at us and my aunt and uncle are standing there and i am choking and crying and i walk to kell's car because i don't want to listen to my mother and i don't want to squint at christmas lights and there is a silhouette of my grammy standing on the porch alone and it is absolutely breaking my heart. and i would like to roll up the windows. i would like to sit in the dark. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |