Sciences Participating with Arts & Culture in Education

Dust Burning

Tiny particles of dust burn off the heater under my windowsill. Or at least I imagine them burning. Either way, it’s something to take my mind off of that phone. That phone that won’t ring.

Smoothing my worn sheets I think about the people, the bodies that have come and gone, each one wearing out my sheets a little more. Sometimes a lot more. I sigh in defeat and reach to grab my phone off my pillow. I scroll through the conversation we had today.

Hey, are you here? I want to see you before we all leave.

No, I’m not. I might be in later though, I’ll let you know.

I wanted to say goodbye.

I’m not going anywhere far.

No, but he was going far enough not to have to see me every day––which was possibly far enough never to see me again.

Why was it so important for me to say goodbye? I don’t believe in closure, and as he said: I’m not going anywhere far. But I couldn’t bear that the last time we saw each other would be simply by chance. Nothing said––with so much unknown.

Anyway, I tried. But he never showed up.

As I put down my phone, a small burning particle of me expects it to ring, flashing his name. I know I wouldn’t answer, but I still want him to try.

It starts to vibrate.

It’s Jasmine.

“Hey”

“Let’s go out tonight, let’s go dancing.”

“I’m so down.”

“Great, we’ll leave at eleven?”

“See you then.”

A real distraction. Good.I walk over to my closet and pick out something to wear.

This skirt accentuates the two smooth curves of my hips and goes in at the small of my waist. It stops on my thighs, showing off my long slender legs. I grab with it a cropped black shirt that ends midway down my ribs, leaving a sliver of smooth pale skin that teases below its hemline. I brush out my blond hair, which tickles the bare skin along my waist. Softly framing my face, my hair shimmers. Drawing a mascara wand up my long dark lashes, my green eyes glisten with seduction.

My beauty is mesmerizing, even to me, and I walk out of my door with a clear objective: I need to move on. I feel sick inside, behind every feeling, every word. I need to move on from this nothingness.

We walk into the club and are sedated by smoke machines and neon lights. The place is packed, and I almost have to resist the temptation to look for him.

Hips beginning to undulate as if by nature, and another cloud of smoke adds an extra haze to my already distant self. I feel the eyes of the club seduced by me, and a pair of hands is already working their way behind me. I look at Jasmine, as per usual when we go out, asking her to give me some kind of sign as to whether these hands are worth keeping. She makes a face and shakes her head, so I slide away and grab her hand, bringing her farther into the swaying crowd.

We dance together for a while, repeating the same maneuver whenever necessary, until I feel a broad chest approach my back. I look at Jasmine and she gives me an impressed look and tells me to stay where I am.

I reach up behind my neck and let my hands fall down his shoulders, his arms, until they rest on his hands around my waist, keeping them there. He moves his hips in behind me and we move together. Letting his hands go wherever they please, we stay here for another song and then he makes his way down my legs, between my thighs. I feel my teeth clench and guide him elsewhere, but he persists. I don’t want him there. So I take his hands, place them at his sides, and walk away.

Jasmine looks at me in girl code: What happened? I shake my head in response and keep dancing, trying to ignore the tightness of my jaw.

Time hurls by, moments mixing with the discs of the dj and the smoke. The smoke never ends. I sip something cold and sweet and lean my head back. I look over my left shoulder and see a man, the most beautiful man in this club. His jaw is strong and angular and his chest is broad yet compact. He's wearing a grey sweater that stands out from everyone’s black apparel, and his presence is discreet.

“That’s who I want.” And I walk over to where he is.

I turn to face him and we both smile at each other.

“Hi”

“What??”

“HEY”

“What???”

I give up and bring my mouth to his ear, “I couldn’t help but notice you from over there,” I say pointing to where I was. I realize that I had never done this before; gone up to a stranger and declared how I felt, what I wanted.

“What?”

Maybe that's why I've never done this before. Maybe I’m never heard.

“I’m Rose,” I smile, reaching out my hand.

“HUH?” He bends down his head so my lips brush against his ear.

“R-O-S-E”

“OH, Rose. Viktor,” He smiles in return and shakes my hand.

“Can I offer you a drink?” He gestures to an assortment of bottles resting on a table.

“No, thank you. I’m trying not to drink tonight.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, for the experience.”

He looks at me quizzically, but I hardly notice.

“What about juice?”

“Juice?”

“Juice: cranberry, orange, I think I have some apple...”

I laugh and say, “I’d love some cranberry juice.”

“Great, so what do you do?”

“Damn, that’s a long list.”

“Do you work?”

“Sort of. I’m a writer.”

He laughs.

“What about you?”

“I work.”

I realize he is the first guy to talk to me so far tonight. He hasn't even made a move yet.

We carry on for another song or two, talking about anything that can summarize ourselves. Until finally he takes a step closer to me and I can feel the muscles beneath his stomach ripple against mine. I turned my back to him and he draws my hips to his as we start dancing. This time I don't push him away. I want him closer.

I feel his friends fixed on him with envy, and for a moment I want nothing more than to be anywhere else but here.

After a few songs, his lips travel along my jaw and I slowly turn around to meet them.

Winding his arms around my waist, my hands slide around his neck and I let him kiss me as he returns the favour.

About an hour later, Jasmine tugs at my elbow, “Rose, it’s 2:35, let’s rap it up.”

I turn to Viktor, “I have to go.”

“You’re going?” His eyebrows are knitted together in concern.

“Yes.”

I smile.

He grins and I tap my number into his phone. I kiss him goodbye.

The cold air strikes my face and Jasmine stumbles beside me, clearly drunk.

“Well YOU certainly did well,” she says in accusing tones, giggling. I smile vaguely and link my arm through hers, holding her up. By the time I get her home and into bed, it’s nearly 4 am. Fumbling with my keys I walk into my apartment and take in the dark void that surrounds me, exactly where I left it.

I pull out a chair and sit down, still in the dark, alone. Is it possible to move on only to end up back where you were? I trace a finger on my lap and replay all the hands that did the same. I think about how I’d kissed Viktor, how I thought I’d wanted him.

But it wasn’t him.

My heart drops and I’m left emptier than ever. I lie my head on the table and pools of longing for the right hands, the right lips, collect beneath my eyes.

I slip my hand into my coat pocket and hover over his words.

I’m not going anywhere far.

One by one, each particle of meaning of those words burns up, and the ashes float on the pool of what I now know to be heartbreak.