Black Boxes. Caroline Smailes

second silence]

      But it did.

      And we did.

      And then Pip did.

      And once when I questioned why you sang such sad sad songs about places and times and happenings that I never understood.

      You said, I sing them because I like them.

      And that, the words don't matter.

      That, it's about the way things join together.

       How they loop.

       How the syllables become beats.

       How the beats have to fit.

      It was a timing thing with you.

      It was a red thing with me.

      The view from here is red.

      [sound: humming of same now vaguely recognisable tune]

      I had short hair when we met.

       ~Do you remember?~

      I spiked it with cheap gel.

      That was then.

      Now my hair grows long.

      If you call out at my window, I will let my hair fall down to you.

      I must remember to blink.

      My eyes are dry as I stare out of my window.

      Red eyes.

      I want to dip my fingernails into my eyes and I want to scratch and scratch and scratch my itch.

      But I don't.

      But I can't.

      [sound: fingertips tapping surface]

      A memory may flake off and stick under my nail.

      And I won't be able to put it back into my eye.

      And then I will forget.

      And I can't let that happen.

      My memories are all that I have.

      [sound: sobbing]

      So I look out of my window.

      [ten second silence]

      And I look onto the sand and I don't blink.

      And if I stare and stare and stare through the pain.

      Then I can see our names.

      I see.

      ALEX+ANA.

      Then I lie flat.

      [sound: a body flopping back onto bed]

      My back stuck to my red duvet.

      My arms and legs a perfectly straight X.

      I open myself.

      I open all of myself.

      Waiting for you to re-enter into my picture.

      I know that you'll return.

       ~Are you there?~

       ~Can you hear me?~

      You're waiting for me to die.

       ~Are you there?~

      You're waiting to see if you've killed me.

      [silence]

      I am trapped.

      I will not leave this black square box.

      [sound: pinging of a filament in a light bulb]

      When we were students you liked to sing.

      I liked to sing too.

      You once told me that I had a sweet voice.

       ~Did you once say that?

      I'm not too sure that you did.

      I remember one day.

      I couldn't tolerate hearing the same sad song over and over.

      About the same Indian Girl.

      And how she had broken your heart.

      So I asked you why you didn't write a new song.

      Something about the two of us.

      We'd been together for over a year.

       ~And do you remember what you said to me?~

      You said, I can't write about you.

      You laughed when you said that.

      And you said, the Indian Girl is the only girl that I have ever loved.

      That, nothing could compare to her.

      I never asked her name.

       ~Would you even have told me?~

      [sound: glass smashing]

      [two second silence]

      From the beginning we had problems.

      Sexual.

       ~I know that the topic makes you uncomfortable, but I want to talk about it.~

      I have to talk about this now.

      There won't be another time.

       ~You've seen to that haven't you?~

      We've never spoken about our sexual problems.

       ~Where to begin?~

      You had a problem entering me.

      With intimacy.

      From the very beginning.

      [sound: a loud sigh]

       ~Yes you did.~

      Your erections were laughable.

      And the story of our passion failed to have a beginning, middle and end.

       ~Do you understand what I mean by this?~

       ~I don't think that you do!~

      You weren't erect or you were erect.

      Nothing in between.

      And it seemed to me that the level of your stiffness had nothing to do with me.

      I wasn't involved.

      It was an up and down kind of thing.

      There was nothing that I could do.

      And I tried.

      I tried everything.

      Everything.

      I feel embarrassed.

      [voiced: unrecognisable words]

      [volume: low]

      At what I allowed you to do to me.

       ~Do you even know that I tried?~

      You'd blame the drugs.

      You'd praise the drugs.

       ~Do you remember?~

      I know that you're clean now.

      That all stopped when I was pregnant.

      Everything stopped when I was pregnant.

       ~But do you remember sex and your joints?~

       ~Do you remember the potion that they created together?~