Stories - Just A Distraction

I could hear her upstairs tidying up or just moving things around. I paused for a moment to savour it. I wasn't fealing to good, and I just wanted to focus on the stair, the old paintwork, and worn steps and the steep climb to the room she was in. each moment felt like the last, for no reason at all. I dont know. I had stood outside for a while, again for no reason. I thought I could see her through the brickwork, the masonry, wallpaper and furniture, like a cut away building, but I couldn't, it was a fleeting glimpse, a momentry vision, and I didn't even pause on it. But I was there for a while.

I climbed the stairs and poked my head round the corner, she hadn't noticed me. I thought for a moment that she had and that she was embracing me with her mind, titying me, caring, knowing what I saw and how I felt, but that was more of my imagination. She was just there, tidying, sorting, I dont know what, I was seeing, but I wasn't seeing properly. I couldn't even see what she was wearing, but she was right there in front of me, dark trousers, a jumper,? a shirt, dark, she was wearing dark clothes.

She turned and said high. I dont know, I couldn't think, I said high and stared at her, and then the window. She seemed preoccupied with continuing to do whatever it was, sorting, cleaning, tidying, moving things about. The room was already so tidy. I dont thing she was too velous, I think it was natural, it was a natural process and it was normal to her and normal to see it being done, but I could never see it, I couldn't see the purpose or motive and so I never really knew what she was doing or guess what she would do next. If I were watching a man draw I would guess they would draw a head and then predict that the eyes and nose and mouth would follow, you could follow the process, but not with her household chores, the things she moved and cleaned. You might guess that that was that, that the bare room was clean and there was no more cleaning but then she would takea pillow or a cushion and correct its position, tidy some chairs, and thinking it would never end she might stop and say there, all done.

I sat down in the comfy chair, I hoped she wouldn't say anything, but she did, or at least she diverted her attention towards me. She asked, whats wrong? I didn't really think, I just said said, I dont know, its by my thoughts, I keep thinking about nasty people, in my head, they're like viruses, evil people, I just cant get them out of my head. She looked at me, as ever, with her big brown eyes and her pretty face. I just wanted the moment to last, as ever, to stay forever, but it was impossible, and time kept ticking on. I said I just want to keep you in focus, to have you filling my mind, my thoughts but it doesn't work, its not strong enough. I cant get these nightmare visions out of my mind, no matter how I try. Its my mind but it always comes back to these terrible visions that arn't you, from the past

She looked at me. I wanted her to know the awnsers, I wanted her to have the wisdom, so much that I believed she did, and felt that she did and felt that in her gaze there was the cure. I cant describe how she looked at me, it was not like anything that you can classify directly. She didn't look like she really understood anything that I had said, and she didn't look that wise or knowing, that was me wanting her to be those things, already believing her to be those things. All I can say is that she was there and she was giving. It was las though she was just giving. Giving what I dont know, but she was giving, almost as though I should take that unknown and convert it into what I wanted it to be. It was all to vague to say what happened, in that moment, in that passing of time that had no boundries.

She said, hah, then lets go to the pub, its easy, we can go for a drink, you dwell too much, its simple, we go for a drink and you'll forget, ssoon, you see, she said, we have drink and you wont remember, we talk about stuff, trust me, and she reached for her coat that was neatly hanging from the door.

I followed her down the steep staircase, the lights were dim and I could sense the throng of people passing in the streets outside. She looked quite mundane in her jacket, a kind of ski jacket affair with more style and fluff than actual ski functionality. I followed her down the street, just an inch or two behind, but by her side. I knew whre we were going, the bar on the corner. The place with the wooden floors and brass metalwork, with the basement and upstairs all within a few meters of each other. We had beers and watched the people outside, and she started to tell me about her day, about the cat, the tram ride, the weather, her lunch, her fingernails and her face. She was pretty talkative and I enjoyed watching her, every nuance of her facial expression, her mousy nose twitching, her features, well, I guess delicate, tiny. She looked like a china ornament. I just fed her the right prompts, like I was feeding a steam train coal, just enough to keep her at full steam, really??!! i'd explain, and chortle a bit, on, just enough to get her to the next junction, the next sentence, the next thing to tell me.

I could see her jewelry, I could place it, in piles on the side board, I could see her putting it on, taking it off, and I could see it there, doing its job, a couple of rings on her slender fingers, some loops in her ears, a delicate chain around her nexk disapearing down the neck of her top. She would talk, I could se her lips moving, her head nodding, gesturing, glancing at me, the window, into space at a reference she had conjured up, and she held my hada little at a certain point, I dont know why. he hands were moving slightly in gesture as she talked, here, there, on her purse, her glass, and then, my hands. I dont know why, it wasn't a strong grip, just a passing grip as though to say, she was reffering to me, thats it, she was reffering to me, maybe she was saying, and then I said you could do that, or then I said she said you were there, and to demonstrate this she held my hand, abenstmindedly, just the top of the finger, just a slight grip, her ring changing its stance on her finger, each ray of light passing though a differnet degree of its respective spectrum, an incidental fact of the moment, there in time, lost in comprehension, a fact, a solid material effect that was as real as we were, not fictional or imagined, and I could touch the ring, feel it, I could lay my eyes on it, if I chose, and see it in full detail, if I chose, I could see it, but I didn't, it was just there, in the incidental out of the corner of my eye, another detail of that moment as she said something that prompted her to take my hand and I noticed that I had forgotten my worries. I noticed that I felt almost guilty for dwelling of concerns that were not there like a self indulgence.

I dont know what I was thinking, not really. I could see my thoughts, follow them, they had words and effects but they were not so bold that I knew what they were. But I knew, like an overlay of thoughts that maybe I should not have left her side, that whilst I was with her my mind would always be at peace. It seemed that way.

But you know, she was never there, she never was.

That was just a dream, the stairs. I stood there. Something in the stairs, waiting. I waited for her. For who I dont know. And the worries came back. I have to admit. They returned, I dont know, what was it, anxiety? fear, the knowledge that I was just standing there, on the pavement, and there wern't even any stairs. No imagined girl with long fine dark brown hair and brown eyes, lost in her charm, alive in my heart. How long could I stand there believing the room was there.

Forever..