Sorbet Glaze
She always believed in passion – not really love, but passion. Her name was Savannah. She was a native to San Diego, California, and loved every minute of it. She carried a long mane of golden blonde hair down her rib-cage. She had a glistening smile and cotton-candy cheeks. Savannah always seemed to meet the right man at the right time; each being the perfect flame for that perfect time in her life. The flame just kept burning out. Mike was the current fire in her life.
She was often questioned why she moved on so quickly to another man when each one seemed to suit her so flawlessly. Savannah always knew that was the problem. Each and every man was just too perfect for her. Her sister, Mel, always hoped she would settle down so they could let their future children grow up together. Mel knew this was just a fantasy, but clung to it as each year passed. Mel was married – most days happily, other days thinking, is he really the man I’m meant to be with forever? These thoughts came and went just like Savannah’s boyfriends.
Savannah and Mel often fantasized as teenagers what their future husbands would look like, act like, even smell like. Savannah wondered what would be their favorite beach, would they like the same frozen drinks, and would they ever consider swinging. Yes, swinging. Savannah was always curious about exploring her sexuality with women but never was open with her boyfriends. Mike would kill her if he knew. He might really kill her.
Mel was more predictable. She enjoyed going to book-stores and brunch in the city. She wondered if her future husband would share her joy of scrap-booking and do-it-yourself home projects. Both sisters knew what they wanted, but Savannah always struggled to commit. It all just seemed so final.
Savannah loved the outdoors. Even though she loved a good hand-stone massage, she couldn’t get enough of running, biking, and climbing any mountain she could find. Her hikes usually involved an Ipod, good pair of shades, a mini backpack full of lemonade and strawberries, and an old pink bandana wrapped among her golden hair.
Savannah felt different today as she laced up her running shoes for a long morning hike. Some days she felt high, not high from indulging in any sort of drug, but a natural, extreme happiness. Other days, she just felt bored and complacent, as if everything was moving in slow-motion. She knew deep down that she was the unpredictable type, but earnestly wanted to change that. Sometimes.
Each hill seemed harder today and the sun felt warmer on her face. Above the mountain top, she noticed shades of pink and orange lightly touching the sun; she always liked to call it a sorbet glaze. She giggled each time she said it. Upon coming across each stream of water, she would sit down and splash her hands around, just like a child would. As the time went by, and the sweat began to stick to her body, like a second-skin, and she thought about each failed relationship and what actually went wrong. She realized a pattern.
Am I crazy? Why do I keep pushing everyone fuckin away? It’s like I’m afraid to get close to them if they break my heart. I’m breaking my heart anyway. I'm a fuckin disaster.
She kicked up some rocks and sat on the nearest tree branch she saw. She gulped her lemonade and closed her eyes for a moment. She heard some footsteps approach her and looked up.
“Hey Savannah, how are you doing?”
It was Dr. Harrison. He told Savannah he liked to hike sometimes too as a stress-reliever. She never thought she would bump into him here though. She thought he said it just to fuck her. She did fuck him though, at the end of a session once. She sat on his desk, in her shortest skirt and spread her legs. Yes, just like in the movies. They fucked for a few hours that day.
“Hi Dr. I’m well, just taking a break.”
The sweat began to pour down her shoulders and Dr. Harrison began to rub them for her. She was getting over-heated from the sun and from his fingers laced upon her collar-bone. She decided to lightly move his hands off her shoulders with a light smile. She wanted to fuck him but knew she couldn't, not here. There were kids around. What the fuck, she thought.. That would be horrible.
“How are the medications working this week since we changed them?”
“They’re okay, I think they’re starting to slow some of my impulsive behavior down.”
“That’s good, it may take some time. Remember to go to group tonight if you can.”
“Yes I’ll be there.”
Dr. Harrison smiled, nodded, and went on his way. Savannah was sun-burnt and ready to go too. She dusted some of the dirt off her and got into her car to drive home.
After stopping for a quick smoothie, she walked into her apartment, slid out of her tank and shorts, and jumped into the shower; looking through her closest eagerly, she pulled out a tight white sun dress, with the perfect V-neck cut to show some cleavage and her tan skin. About fifteen minutes later she arrived to the meeting. She took a seat next to her friend Allen. They fucked once after group but now were trying to be friends. Yes, friends.
Each person started to introduce themselves around the room. Savannah was next. She caught the glimpse of a new guy in group: he was tan, bright blue eyes, sand-blonde hair, and definitely a surfer of some sort. He was hot, really fuckin hot.
“Hi, I’m Savannah. I’m a sex addict.”
The group chanted back,
"Welcome Savannah.”
She texted Mike and told him she had to cancel their date and she would make it up to him. Savannah had other plans tonight.
She always believed in passion – not really love, but passion.
Friend
Do you come here often? I do and I don't like to see others but I'm glad your here. For once I hated the touch of another but now yearn for the touch to my soul. I am here and I welcome you. It's a world of blue but when we connect all I see is a kind of rainbow hue... hope to see you again soon.
Once a slave
Forget your swollen black eyes
And sunken cheeks
Forget your lies
and how they scarred me
Forget what you stole
and each time you betrayed me
Forget the blood stained ceilings
and your head down in front of me
Forget the years I spent
trying to save and love thee
Remember the lesson
and how you changed me.
I forgive your swollen black eyes
but please remember to forget me.
Where the Heart is
The chimney stirs every so slightly
Here he kisses her ever so gently
As she holds his hands ever so tightly
They sleep among the powdered soot
In this home they've built ever so perfectly
But a knock at the door would soon wake
An image of perfection too soon to take
Mistress of hell in a world so fake
These lovers rise to a world of mistake
The chimney stirs ever so slightly..
Coffee and Croissants
There she was - dressed in the darkest haze of shadows, with strands laced among her cheeks. She came here for her, but would soon find she was here for them. Her name was Cece; her father gave her the nick-name when she was a baby. He was the typical drunk, loved his family but never showed it. The absent kind. She still loved him. He was all she had left. Cece's mom passed away while hiking; the doctors said it was a heart condition. She did have her art though, her one true love.
Today was her interview. It was the day she was waiting for. Would Ms. Reynolds enjoy her art? Would she hate it? Cece couldn't wait to find out. She scurried into her red slacks, black slinky tee, and her favorite black blazer. It was a tad too warm for the blazer, but that didn't matter.
Cece began to draw when she was young. She had constant nightmares about the Asylum down the street from where she grew up - the Klein asylum. Her dad would often go on intoxicated rampages about the people there and how they were ruining society. Cece found that the Asylum began to inspire her passion of art. The characters in her dreams always ended up on her paper. Now she just needed to show the rest of the world.
"One more block down" she frantically called to the driver. The building looked as she imagined. It wasn't very modern: red brick layered the bottom to the top, small windows dressed each floor, ignoring any perceivable pattern, and an old mail room was visible through the clear glass door. She dropped her half-eaten croissant and still full cup of coffee in the trash. She lived on coffee and croissants. She rode the elevator with excitement but apprehension. Was this her debut?
She opened her portfolio slowly for one last glance. When she lifted her eyes, Ms. Reynolds stood in front of her outside the elevator door. Cece just knew it was her.
"Nice to meet you Cece, I'm Ms. Reynolds. Glad you found it ok."
"The pleasure is mine!" Cece shook her hand with delight.
The office was dank, something felt quite eerie, but rather interesting. She felt passion spark within her. Cece showed her portfolio to Ms. Reynolds and patiently waited to see her expression. She stopped at one of Cece's favorites. It was a charcoal sketch of a man with a sword through chest; his chest made of stone and snakes. Cece drew it after one nightmare and it became a part of her soul, as odd as that sounds.
There was always a constant character though in her dreams. He was an older man: he wore glasses, had a rusty-red beard, and very pale skin. He always looked suspicious. Cece was scared of him and never actually drew him.
"Well Cece you have the job!"
What....she didn't know what to say.
"You mean, your hiring me? Really?"
"Yes, sort of like giving you your first assignment and we'll take it from there."
"Wow. Thank you!" She was so happy she wanted to hug Ms. Reynolds, but of course she restrained herself.
"I want you to visit the Klein Asylum and meet with the patients. Get some inspiration for our gallery opening. The patients are all agreeable to your visit and excited to talk and share with you. Just keep a journal and let your creativity flow. We will need five pieces created with a small excerpt on each patient, with their permission of course."
Uh... "Really the Klein Asylum?" Cece was obviously hesitant.
"Yes Cece I believe you have what we are looking for."
Just like that Cece was off to the Klein Asylum for her tour. She was welcomed by Mary, the head nurse. From there Cece felt comfortable but stressed. As if she knew why to expect but had no recollection of meeting anyone here before. Cece was shown each dark-lit room along side Mary and met several unique patients. Some appearing normal but when triggered, became completely different individuals. Some were sad. Some were lonely. Some just wanted to die but weren't granted that right.
Cece always wanted a sibling. She felt lonely often and used her dolls to keep her entertained. Her mom was kind, but couldn't relate well to Cece. Plus, she let her drunk husband call the shots. Cece hated that. On the most lonely nights, a nightmare would be coming. She always left her pencils and paints next to her bed incase she needed them right away.
The tour was coming to an end. She then heard a voice shout her name from upstairs, a familiar voice. She slowly walked upstairs, escorted by Mary.
"Hi Cece are you ready to paint?"
It was the man in her nightmares: he wore glasses, had a rusty-red beard, and very pale skin. Cece thought she was just having another nightmare; she tensed up and couldnt speak. His name was Mr. Frederick and he was the head Psychiatrist at the Asylum. Cece sat down next to him, as if someone else controlled her body now. He handed her some pastel oil paints and smiled. He placed his hand on her thigh. Cece's temperature dropped lower. She thought his was part of the assignment; perhaps, a test. She began to draw and blocked out the touch of his hand on her red-covered thigh. A few seconds later, she looked down and noticed her pants were no longer the shade of red she slipped on this morning. No black blazer in sight. All she saw was blue. Her hair longer than it was this morning. Cece began to feel the heat come back to her.
"What the fuck is going on! Get your dirty hands off me!"
"Cece it's okay it's me, Mr. Frederick."
"What the fuck! Is this a test?"
"No tests sweetheart, we are just drawing today..."
She glanced around the art room and realized only her art covered the walls. Smack in the center was her favorite piece; it was a man with a sword through his chest- his chest made of stone and snakes.
She began to have a flash-back. She had been here before.
"Cece you're okay, it's just a bad day. You're home at Klein."
"Are you fucking crazy, you were just trying to fuck me or something a minute ago!"
"Cece your father was molesting you since you were a child and you have been in and out of hospitals since for depression and PTSD. I touch your leg sometimes because you only draw with physical contact. We have been decreasing that each month your here."
"He never molested me! You are though!" The nurses came up and closed the door so the other patients didn't hear. I saw they had a syringe in heir pocket.
"Cece you were pregnant with your fathers child at eighteen and your mom didn't believe you. You miscarried in your second trimester. I have touched you to help you stay creative and to cope. I know it's not right as a doctor but it was the only way you would keep expressing yourself. I never raped you or made you perform anything on me." Just like that, memories flooded her vision.
She asked "how long have I been here?"
"Since you were eighteen. About seven years."
"Are my parents alive?"
"Your mom passed away several years ago in a car accident. You like to envision her hiking and usually cope with her passing by remembering her that way, being in nature. Your dad, I'm sorry to say, was killed in prison a few weeks ago. We have not yet been able to process his passing, but we will with time..."
Her head dropped. She felt confused but remembered it all now. The truth was now reality.
"But what about Ms. Reynolds? The interview?"
"You often have dreams of showing your art to the world and opening a gallery. These are thoughts we encourage and this room has become your studio."
It was then I heard my favorite voice shout up, it was Mary. "It's time for coffee and croissants everyone!"