Hvítblinda
written by: Siobhán Conaghan
He takes her on a walk. It is through a violent white streak, an absence. Of light, of meaning. All there is around them is his terrible smile.
And her quiet anticipation.
They stop walking in the middle. He stops her. Puts a hand on her shoulder, forces her to look toward him.
All she can think about is the reflection of what lies around them, in his pupils.
It gives him a look of madness. His irises are brighter blue now.
And his smile, horrible.
I want to talk with you, he says, Just talk. Talk with you.
She almost thinks, You fucking fool, but stops herself.
Then she actually says, aloud, You know that I loved you, right?
She wants to smack him, break his face into very small bits as if he is just a piece of easy life.
A false man, Not Real. Made Of: Paper & Wet Glue.
He shakes his head. He is still grinning, terribly. Oh, what a charming man you are, she wants to say. What a boy you are, what a sick one.
But all she ends up saying, all she is able to say is, In another life you have a wife and three daughters and you still want me, don’t you?
He lightens his grasp on her shoulder.
I wish with every bit of me that in another life, you have such an overloving heart that you take it to your burial, she whispers. So you can get a good taste of what I have felt, and do feel.
He shakes his head, so gently that she barely notices it. The whiteness is becoming more brilliant around them. His beard looks blonder in the light, now.
I want to talk with you ,he says. Just talk.
Ok, she says and puts her hands on her hips. Yanks herself away from him.
In another life, before this one, we promised something. Promised to be there, but not. Magnets, but not quite attached. And I was to have certain problems. Maybe, yes, a wife and three daughters. And an insufferable amount of love in my chest, he says.
She shakes her head, so gently that he doesn’t notice it. You cannot possibly overlove, too.
Yes, he replies. Yes, I can. And I am very sorry for it.
It’s seen within other ways.
* Hvítblinda – when translated from the Icelandic, means whiteout—either alluding to a furious winter storm, or something deeper, more profound. More symbolic.
- Hvítblinda - October 12, 2024
- Maybe This Isn’t a Dream - July 9, 2024
