Red Lights, Black Hearts

by Fabiola Francisco

  Instead of making advances on me, he held me on the sofa and spoke of his life. He spoke of his travels and his adventures, always keeping one arm around me in case I had the temptation to scatter away. I didn’t. I listened, imagining everything he said as if it was a storybook and it was my responsibility to illustrate the images in my mind. A young Max traveling Europe with a backpack. A Max working restaurants while in college so he still had money to party on the weekends. An older Max succeeding in his career. All images of Max that show who he is.

  I continue to watch my ceiling, darker than usual because of the clouds hovering over the night sky. Through my window I can see the big flakes floating down. I feel in my stomach a contraction. Nausea over everything I told Max washing over me. Nausea over everything he said about our souls knowing each other clouding my mind. I don’t believe in that. Souls don’t have memory of each other. If they did, if souls lived within us, then God must exist. And if God exists, it would be too easy to blame him for my misfortunes.

  No, a God that the world talks about wouldn’t let things like abuse and rape happen to people.

  “You awake?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Of course. The mond admires the night.”

  “You can go back to sleep.”

  “I’m too busy admiring you.”

  “Max, I know you have hope for me, but this can never be more than what we have.”

  “One day you’ll understand.” With that, he closes his eyes and silences the night.

  When I wake up, my bed is empty. I was very aware of Max’s body next to mine all night, but now I feel confused about his disappearance. I turn over and face the wall. Max talks of feelings and connections and souls as if it were the most natural topic of conversation. My mind is divided; the part of me I have been perfecting for years stubborn in her ways, not believing in people or the world. The part of me that has been caged up for even more years, trying to ease her way out of prison, hopelessly wishing that the words Max speaks of are true. She sits quietly inside of me, battling my inner demons so that I can once again believe in more than darkness and hatred.

  “You awake?” I hear Max whisper. I turn to face him, hair disheveled, eyes bright and a smile in place.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I made breakfast. Get up.” He turns and walks away. He’s demanding yet subtle. What was it he told me yesterday to do? Oh yeah, read Paulo Coelho. I should write that down or I’ll forget in a week or two.

  After going to the bathroom, I walk into my kitchen and see two coffee mugs steaming, and some type of crepe looking thing but slightly thicker on plates.

  “Sit and eat. I made Dutch baby pancakes and coffee.”

  “You cook,” I state clearly.

  “I cook.” He sits across from me in the round table at my kitchen and we eat. Silence, coffee, and the smell of sweet, powdered sugar wafts around us.

  “Thank you,” I say as I drop my plate into the sink to wash later.

  “You’re welcome.” Max stays in his seat and assesses me. “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine. You? I should be the one asking you since it’s my apartment.”

  “I slept well. Looks like the snow is slowing down.”

  I peer out the window and nod. “It does.” The entire neighborhood is covered in snow. Maybe Bale was right in telling me to stay home.

  “Have you traveled since you’ve been here?”

  “No. I haven’t left Amsterdam since I arrived.”

  “Have you ever thought about it?”

  “Honestly, no. My mind was always about escaping memories. I learned the hard way that no amount of traveling will do that.”

  “Let me help you.”

  I shake my head gently and look at him.

  “Come on. Get dressed,” he instructs.

  “For what?”

  “Just do it.”

  We walk outside and Max stops in front of my building. The streets are quiet and covered in a thick blanket of snow. The city is staying indoors in the warmth of their homes instead of venturing out into the cold wilderness. I like the cold wilderness.

  Without a word, he bends down, grabs a handful of snow, and throws it at me. I stand dumbfounded. He laughs lightly at my reaction.

  “What are you, five?”

  “Just a bit older than five.” He throws another.

  “What are you doing?” I shake the snow from my hair.

  He laughs openly. What kind of man throws a snowball at someone?

  “Showing you how to have fun after the storm.”

  I look up at him, amazed at how well he reads me, and throw a snowball at him. Serves him right. He smiles slowly, mischievously, and I widen my eyes as he stalks towards me. He gently knocks us down to the ground and rolls us over until I’m under him with wet hair and cold cheeks.

  “Do you feel that? Do you feel the snow?”

  I nod subtly.

  “That’s feeling. That’s understanding the world you live in and being a part of it. Feel more, Sam.”

  I grab a handful of snow and smash it in his face.

  “Did you feel that?” He growls and I sneak away trying to stand before he catches me. Had I known what this would consist of, I would have worn a different coat. A cold hand wraps around my neck and pulls me back. Max’s lips are on mine before I can react.

  “Did you feel that?” He echoes. Baby blues stare back at me with compassion.

  “I did,” I whisper. He’s a kind soul attempting to spread his goodness to me, sacrificing a bit of his for my damaged being.

  “I want you to feel so much more. I want you to forget indifference was ever a part of your world and hatred traveled your veins. I want you to free yourself of the past.”

  He says it so simply and honestly. I live holding on to blame for what people did. My actions reflect that. My decisions are an effect of that cause. He’s already proven to me that more than indifference moves within me. How much more is he going to show me of myself?

  “I haven’t played in the snow since I was really young,” I state unprompted.

  “You’re never too old to act like a child again.”

  At what point after meeting Max did I begin to process things differently? Maybe it was before meeting him, when I would stare at my reflection in the glass and see a hidden part of me begging to escape. Maybe I’ve wanted to expose myself for longer than I thought and I’ve just forbidden it.

  Childhood. That was when life was simpler and I was blind to the truths of my environment. You are too old to act like a child when you know that childhood was just a lie disguised as innocence. To think that all I believed then was just a mask of ignorance. What if it happened to me? What if that was why I attracted John? It’s a question I’ve had since I found out about my mother’s own childhood. What kind of monster does that to his own child?

  “Hey, I lost you.” Max looks at me softly.

  “Are you done playing outside?” I’m harsh. I shouldn’t be with him, but I am.

  “I’m going to prove to you that good guys still exists and fairytales aren’t just in movies.”

  “There you go again talking fantasies.”

  “When you stop seeing things as reality versus fantasy from a judgment stand point, and you open your eyes to what you feel, life will be different.”

  “It’s hard not to judge when everything you believed was bullshit.”

  “You can’t appreciate light until you’ve been blinded by darkness.”

  “I didn’t need to be blind by it to appreciate the good in life. I was happy. That’s just an excuse.”

  “We tend to take for granted what we have when we don’t know what other options are out there. I’m not saying you took your life for granted, but we’re human and don’t realize it at times. When something shakes our core, it makes us question our strength. The light is there within you, but it’s your choice to turn it back on. Your light shines the night sky, let it shine internally
as well.”

  He always talks about my light as if he knew me for a lifetime when in reality it’s been some weeks, maybe a couple of months. His confidence in stating the good within me is unwavering, even after knowing what I’ve done. People like Max just don’t exist, and if it weren’t for Bale confirming his existence, I would question if he were real.

  I walk up the few steps leading to my building and go back inside. I grab the blow dryer and dry my damp hair. Even through the noise of the dryer I can hear him washing the dishes in the kitchen. He stays. Why does he always stay? Wouldn’t a man already have given up on a woman like me?

  “Are you going to shut me out?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I already told you why. We’re connected. When you find the person you’ve spent a long time searching for you don’t just walk out.”

  I’m not worth fighting for. I’m chaos on a path of destruction, but I won’t argue with him. Max has become significant in my life. One of the few I want in it. Regardless of how ludicrous his ideas of love and life are, I have grown fond of him. I’m not who he needs in his life, but I want more of him. It’s selfish.

  Max gets closer and swiftly picks me up. He guides us to the couch, my legs wrapped tightly around him. He kisses me softly and lays me down, his body following mine and he just holds me close.

  I allow him to hold me and keep me safe, for a brief second pulling me into his world. A moment of blissful peace that I haven’t felt in far too long. I know a man won’t “fix” me, but there’s a part of me that misses who she was. Around Max I feel comfortable exposing bits of her every now and then. I don’t feel the need to protect myself from him, but life can be cruel.

  “Just because I haven’t experienced something like you doesn’t mean I don’t understand the world. I know there is bad just as there is good. I just choose to see the good, so I don’t drown in the negativity.”

  “I’m barely floating above it.”

  “You’re surviving a lot better than you think.”

  I turn to look at him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “You always are, but seeing you like this in your natural glow is something to behold. I’m grateful for the privilege of being the one who gets to see this side of you.”

  “Why do you say such nice things?”

  “They’re not nice, they’re true. I’m just telling you how I feel. Accept it.”

  “People like you just don’t exist.”

  “We do. I do. I’m here, feel this.” He places my hand over his heart. “I’m here.” His voice is quiet as he repeats this.

  I keep my hand on his chest, feeling the drumming of his heartbeat in silence. It soothes my mind and I let go for a little while. I have to wonder why I’ve been given another opportunity at life.

  At some point I must have fallen asleep on the couch. I open my eyes to the crook of Max’s neck and his soft breathing in my ear. My body is stiff and I need to check the time. The sun is setting, which means we’ve slept through most of the afternoon. I have work tonight and I’ll be damned if Bale says no again because of the weather.

  I get off the couch carefully and check my phone. Nothing from Bale, but one look out the window tells me that no news from him is a confirmation that we’ll be staying in again. The snow started up again and the wind is blowing wildly. The universe must be playing with me, creating experiences to test me.

  “Looks like we’re stuck inside.” I hear the smile in Max’s voice.

  “Yup.” I turn around and walk into the kitchen. I can’t stay inside for much longer. It’s too much. Being with Max is too much of a reminder of what I can’t have.

  Despite knowing Max is a great person, I hold myself back. Believing that we could be more would be foolish. I’m meant to wander the rest of this life alone, purgatory is a high price to pay to avoid hell altogether. I’ve had plenty of the devil’s play.

  “What’s your favorite color?” He interrupts my thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Your favorite color. What is it?”

  “Are we playing twenty questions now?”

  “No. I just want to know more of you.”

  There are trivial things I don’t know about Max yet I feel like I know every piece of him. He’s the eye of the storm, opening the sky to calmness, but what will be left when he passes by will be destruction to myself. I’m allowing myself to dream when I know dreams are illusions of the mind.

  He looks at me impatiently.

  “Purple.”

  “The color of wisdom.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Wisdom doesn’t come from colors. It comes from experiences. It comes from learning hard lessons and controlling the masses.”

  “Control. I know you think you have control, but the only thing you control are the movements your body makes while you dance.”

  “And the men that come in.”

  “That’s a false sense of control. They control themselves and surrender to you, but the only person you can control is within you.”

  “If I have no control, I have nothing left.”

  “False again. When you release control you have everything left.”

  “You contradict me.”

  “Only when I must.”

  “Bale won’t let me work tonight.” I state to myself.

  “So stay with me.”

  “I’m suffocating.”

  “I’ll help you breathe.” His eyes are intense.

  “You’re everywhere.”

  “That’s not true. I’m gone at times when I travel to Germany. I’m gone when you’re working.” His voice hardens at the mention of this.

  “You’re everywhere,” I repeat. His memory surrounds me. When the sun is shining and when the moon is illuminating the sky. When he comes to visit me at my window and when he leaves. When he’s in Germany. When he doesn’t show up and when he does. His essence is always there one way or another.

  My phone beeps and I check it.

  Bale: No work, babe. Stay warm.

  I don’t bother to respond.

  “I need to shower.” I walk away and Max gives me the space he knows I need.

  The steam of the shower fills the bathroom, clearing my breath, and I close my eyes. Seducing is what I do. It’s what I’ve done for the past few years. Before that I was a prisoner to someone else. I have been different parts of myself already. This stage I am in has been the most comforting besides being a child. With my knowledge of the world I can act in ways that protect me and allow me to move forward.

  I’m the daughter of a man unable to make the woman he loved happy and a suicide victim escaping her abusive past. What a combination. If either of these run in my destiny, my hope for a future is to continue walking down the path I’m on with a black heart and lonely soul. I don’t need more than that, or do I?

  Do I need Max? Do I need what I’ve already learned about him now that I know someone like him exists? Am I capable of melting bits of ice to allow him a space in my heart? Questions. All these questions with no clear answers because I won’t allow myself to hear them.

  The stream of water falls down on me with its heat prickling my skin. I’m an extremist. I love the bitterness of winter or the heat that burns at contact.

  “What’s your favorite book?” Max continues to ask me questions as the night rolls by. Both of us stuck inside this tiny apartment eating spaghetti on the floor of my living room.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have one.”

  “Everyone has a favorite book. Any, from when you were younger?”

  I pause to think. I decided he didn’t deserve my bitterness and indulged him in his game of questions.

  “Of Mice and Men.”

  “Interesting choice. Steinbeck.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “I went to an American school. What book more suited for the American dream than that one?”

  “What is yours?”

  “I already
told you once. The Alchemist.”

  I nod in recognition. He had.

  “What’s your favorite flower?”

  “Those that grow wild in fields, untouched by the human hand. They escape the torture of being contained inside a vase.” The irony of my words isn’t lost on me when I see Max’s lips harden into a line.

  “You could be free like that,” he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I am free.”

  “Really free.”

  “It’s impossible to get rid of your shadow.”

  “Shadows are an extension of who we are, but they do not define us. Shadows are created with light to remind us of ourselves, so we don’t lose touch.”

  “I disagree. Shadows haunt you.”

  “You only haunt yourself with the mental limitations you place.”

  “More coffee?” I stand and stretch.

  “No.” He grabs my hand and pulls me back down. “Thank you,” he says and kisses my neck with a soft peck. “Thank you for being you around me.”

  Right here, right now I become aware of something. A part of me awakens and speaks to me. A part of me I have never met before. She speaks of connections deeper than human ones and pasts beyond this world where peace surrounds and light conquers. This flash behind my eyelids clarifies Max’s feelings. The emotions I feel with this new, uncovered me rush through me. I don’t know how to explain them. I have never felt this before. It’s a quiet understanding that we are deeper beings than the physical form. Confusion travels through my core as I battle this person with my mental perception of who I am.

  Max is a part of this. Max is a part of this world I’m feeling. If he was right about this, what else was he right about? Am I living in my own creation that only exists in my mind?

  The melting of the snow brought about a mixture of emotions. Realizations I didn’t want to admit to. Awareness that dawned on me brighter than the noon sun back home in South Florida. Resistance to what was happening around me.

  I’ve never been happier to be back at work, doing what I know and keeping my mind busy with tempos.