The Pile

I could see it long before I had any idea what it was. The torsos were piled high, all pretty and colorfully clothed, with arms and legs jutting out here and there. They weren’t moving, at least not that I could see. Not a twitch or a blink or the slightest hint of a breath. 

I was fascinated and drawn to it; how did it get there, and how the fuck did it get so damn high? You barely acknowledged it, though somehow I knew it was yours. You half gestured in that direction -- a vague backhand toward ‘something that used to be something’ but bored you now. 

Someone less adventurous might have kept on walking, but I’m a digger, a prodder, a poker by nature. It was definitely so much more unsettling up close, much bigger than it looked from farther away. I reached out and ran my hand down a beautifully smooth, tanned, cold leg.  I saw that I had been right. They were perfectly still. What happened, I wondered, that every single one of them was completely done, spent...gone? 

I turned and asked you, noticing you hang back several feet, staring alternately between me and the pile. Your eyes betrayed you (like they always do.) They confessed the stories of the ‘what’ and the ‘how’. You gave no excuses, but your eyes showed a hint of remorse.  I realized that these were the remains of your appetite. 

You told me how they came willingly, and how you left in exactly the same way.  You punctuated your justifications with certainty, masquerading as honesty. You offered beautifully crafted explanations of problems and solutions and effortless tales of actions and consequences. Out of the corner of my eye something sparkled, as an earring or a bracelet caught the light. She wore that just for you, I thought, and wondered whether you had even noticed. 

Then I felt you upon me. 

You brushed up slowly against my back, nudging me so gently that I thought it might have been an accident.  Maybe I just imagined it.  But your rapid breathing and a stronger push betrayed your true intention.  ‘To the pile,’ they said. 

I turned to face you, and you locked onto me. Your pull grasped my body so hard that I could smell and taste it. The buzz was sudden and delicious, exciting and foreign. This is how it happened, I realized. They didn’t realize it until it was too late. The allure and fascination was so quickly followed by the click of the magnetic lock, they had didn't notice the door swinging shut. 

I heard my breath quicken to match yours. We are the same in so many ways, I thought. We came together for purposes not clear and yet I see myself in you, and you in me. As I took a step closer, I closed my eyes and contemplated my fate. I could choose to believe this was the purpose - to swim in the sameness and be yours for right now –  to eat and drink until I was completely full.  I could simply say yes, and feel every single nerve ending firing in succession until we were both spent. I could satisfy you and give in to me. 

It seemed like hours before I was able to open my eyes.  Somehow I found my voice: “I don’t belong in that pile,” I said. “I won’t go.”  You heard me.  You stopped.  For the first time in a long time, you stopped.  I looked in your eyes and realized that you didn’t hate them, you hated yourself.  What felt familiar in me was different, or maybe you were just done.  Without a word you smiled, took my hand, and led me in the other direction.