Vanishing Acts

I step out of the cab at exactly 12:26 pm. I look toward the restaurant, eyeing the table that we usually occupy, to see if he is here yet.
No.
This doesn't bother me because he is usually running late.
I giggle because I really can't wait for him to get here.
The hostess smiles as I approach her and guides me over to the table in the corner of the restaurant. I sit down and ask for a martini.
I glance at my wrist watch again-- 12:31.
Alright, Sloan, stop being so precise....you know he takes forever to do EVERYTHING.
I decide to look at the menu. As I scan over the familiar entres, I can't help but start to feel anxious.....I glance at my watch again-- 12:45.
Where are you?
I decide to call him from my cell phone.....he doesn't answer. So typical...but this isn't okay. The anxious feeling is beginning to consume me as I try his cell again. No answer.
I wave the waiter over and hand him a twenty. "Keep the change," I say as I get up from the table. It is now 1:05 and he is still not here.
The ride to his apartment seems endless, even though it is only three blocks down. The whole way I have his number on redial, endlessly calling him......never getting an answer.
The receptionist gives me a smile as I click through the sliding doors of his apartment building.
I get into the elevator and push the number 9. As each button begins to light up, I start to get more and more anxious.
I'm sure he is fine.....maybe he forgot? No. He specifically told me 12:30 at Imagio's. He wouldn'tve forgotten this.
Finally number nine lights up and I get off, heading straight across the hallway to room 901.
I knock.
No answer.
I press the redial button on my phone as I scrounge through my purse, looking for my set of keys.
I open the door, ear still pressed to my phone, hoping that he will answer this time.
That's when I hear it--the soft chime of his cell phone ring. I follow the sound and find his cell phone sitting on his bedside table, along with his keys and wallet.
That's funny...how did he manage to lock his door without his keys?
I decide to wait for him.....when he gets back, boy is he going to get it.
"Where are you?" I think to myself as I sit down on his couch.

I wake up to a growling stomach..
do I really have to eat?
Seeing as I barely have the energy to get up oout of bed, I make the decision to go to Manny's to get something....maybe a luna bar....or some beer.
I end up deciding not to get anything but some beer and my usual camel lights.
As I walk back up to my apartment room, I hold the door for the woman behind me-- "Thanks," she said, timidly. "You're welcome." My voice cracked...I don't think that I have talked to someone in over a year.
My apartment smells like rotten eggs.
I don't care.
God, I want him so badly right now. I want to smell him, I want to kiss him, I want to hear his voice. I want him so badly right now it hurts.
I gulp down my beer and decide to go back to sleep. Even though I relive that nightmare everytime, it's better than actually being awake.

I am standing on the Pier, looking at the ocean that is spread out in front of me. It is such a gorgeous picture, I am breathless. The skirt of my white dress billows in the wind, my hair is flying everywhere. I am so entranced by the ocean I do not hear him come up behind me. All of a sudden his big, strong arms incase me, making me feel so safe. He kisses the top of my head and says, " I love you so much. You know that, right?" I turn around and look at him. At his beautiful face. "Yes."

I wake up to a loud noise that is going on outside of my window. Damn. I hate this place.....is there construction going on somewhere?
I look out the window and see that the sleet is what is making so much noise.
I am surprised to see some crazy lady running down the street, chasing after something that must've gotten caught in the wind...
that's why you don't go outside when the weather is THIS bad....duh.

I finally ate something today....an apple. I must say, it wasn't as good as I thought that it would be. i had to drink a beer to get rid of its after taste. I guess that my body needs something, though. I have been feeling so weak, lately.

I hate this weather. It has been so miserable outside for the past couple of weeks. I peer out of my window again, this time seeing a black van making its way slowly up Baker Street. Hm.
I close the curtains.
I hate this weather.
I am cold......blankets?
Where are my blankets?
I find one underneath the bed and wrap it around me. I go and sit on my couch.....I find a cigarette squished between the cushions. My lighter is on the coffee table. God. I love smoke.
I look at my wrists. They are looking a little better today. After my cutting frenzy, they began to swell and turn purple. Thank God they look better. I hate doctors.
I finish my cigarette and smash the butt on my cushion...a bad habit.
I close my eyes, the rhythmic noise of the sleet is now putting me to sleep.

I look in the mirror. My hair is in its usual messy ponytail, my teeth are brushed, make-up is on. I have on my new sun dress that hugs my naturally thin body.
I smile.
Today is the day.
I leave my apartment at exactly 12:00 p.m. We are meeting at a little restaurant in Manhattan called Imagio's at 12:30. We all know that New York traffic is a mess.
My red pumps click as I skip down the stairs. I am so excited.
The weather outside is gorgeous: sunny, cloudless, in the high seventies. I love this weather.
I wave hello to Victor, the bellman. He blows me a kiss and calls me a taxi.
"Have a wonderful day, love," he smiles at me.
"Why thank you," I smile back.
He tells the taxi driver where I need to go as I look out the window onto the streets of New York city. In this beautiful weather, in this beautiful city, all I can think of is how today is the day.

Making more marks

I sometimes wonder what I'm doing here in this drab, gray apartment building. My dad left me a lot of money...so why am I in such a dumpy place?
I had forgotten to pay the electric bill (what's new?) and so my apartment was freezing and dark. Not to mention the weather outside was not much better: wind and gray skies. Awesome.
I haven't slept in quite some time, due to the fabulous temperature of my home. I've been eating less and cutting more. I think that I'm doing worse than ever....but, I don't care.....it's not like he's here anymore.

I get up from my couch, cigarette in hand, and slowly walk over to the window. I look out onto the street, which is completely desolate. There is not a living soul in sight. No one wants to go out in weather like this.
Why am I here, again?

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen. The room smells so incredibly sour. Damn. Whatever is in my fridge needs to be thrown away....nah, I don't feel like it.

I look around for cigarettes....I can't find anymore. My I have already smoked up my last pack. Great. Cigarettes happen to be one of the few things that I cannot live without...I guess that I'm going to have to go get some at the store.

As soon as I get to the elevator, the doors open, exposing a woman dressed in a short dress and high heels. She gives me a nasty look that asks, "are you getting on, or what?". I really do hate people sometimes.
The elevator doors close behind me, encasing me in a box that reeks of perfume and total awkwardness. The doors open and I quickly exit, making my way out into the windy and gray atmosphere of this hell hole.

The grocery store is fairly empty--thank God.
I grab a six pack of beer and head to the cashier to get some camel lights.
After I scrounge around for change at the bottom of my coat pocket, I am able to come up with the money to pay for my "necessities".

All too quickly I am back in apartment 901. Thank God.
I pop open a beer and light up a cigarette, making my way to my old, beat up couch. I inhale and wash the smoke down with a swig of the bitter liquid. Heaven.
I close my eyes and think of Him.
I inhale again, this time keeping the smoke inside my lungs as long as I can.
I open my eyes and extinguish the cigarette butt the cushion of my couch. I watch the tiny red pieces slowly burn a hole into the fabric.
Oh well.
I go to the kitchen and go straight to my knife drawer.
I open the drawer, exposing the beautiful, sharp and shiny blades of relief. I slowly pull one of them out, examining it closely.
I watch as my left hand wraps itself around the handle of the knife, guiding the blade to my right wrist. The blood comes out in a smooth, straight line.
"this one's for you," I think.