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Hi, my name is Ripping
Seams
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 | Part 11 |
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 4.89 with 9 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-01-28 10:31:37 |
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Pam did not sleep that night. In fact, she did not even climb into bed. She stayed the whole night on the floor pretending to be dead, thinking about how she could possibly tell Timmy that she had decided she were no longer to see him.
When she saw the first signs of the sun, Pam’s muscles twitched. She could feel where her skin was stuck to her clothes with blood and sweat. Stiffly, she began to struggle to her feet, and she decided she would stare this day in the face, in the same way she would stare Timmy in the face if she were to tell him that she didn’t really love him.
But that would be a lie, and how could you stare someone in the face while telling them a lie? Anyhow, that would be what Pam would have to do, whether she liked it or not.
She walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. She began to stare into it, and she looked so long and hard that she could no longer feel anything. She branded herself a witch, a cold heartless impostor of a lover, because she would have to feel like that about herself for her to say what she needed to say. She needed to become detached and cruel, like her own mother.
So she got ready and grabbed her sketchbook from her room. She also pulled out an old top from the drawer to recycle in textiles. She often recycled old clothes in textiles, and this time it was to be an old leopard print cardigan she bought ages ago on a shopping trip in Middlesbrough, or was it Newcastle? She couldn’t remember. It was a long time ago, in the better days, in the much better days.
The day passed very slowly for Pam. There was a part of her that wanted to see Timmy because she loved him, and a part of her that did not, because she would have to let him know her news. She was most worried when she got to textiles, because she knew they would be near each other, and Timmy would probably want to make plans to meet up with her again. She felt quite sick in that lesson, and was near to not being able to concentrate on her work.
But she could. Pam was Pam and she was always able to do her work, in rain, snow or sunshine.
Thirty five minutes into the lesson, Pam went into the sewing room. She looked towards the corner where she had first seen Timmy. The desk was empty. The room was empty. So she went up to the door of Timmy’s classroom, and through the window, she saw him working at his desk.
She stood staring for a moment. He looked fine. He looked very alright, and she wished that he would never have to endure her refusal of him. Perhaps if Pam could leave college without seeing him, she could leave him not knowing for a little longer. She considered it once again for a moment, as she had considered it many times last night, and no, she did not have any other choice. It was best she did not get close to anyone at all, and yes, she really did need to get rid of Timmy. If anyone found out about the bruises covering her body, it would be the end of these days. Pam could be killed if it were found out.
She backed away from the door, and carried on with her sewing. Her mind did not wander. She liked the way her sewing took her mind away from the rest of the world, and when the next twenty minutes were up she took her book outside with her, having been dismissed by her tutor, of course. It was late evening and the sun was beginning to set. Pam smiled slightly to herself, she had escaped.
And then, all of a sudden she felt something on her, squeezing her flesh hard and invasively. She gasped at the feel of the hand clinging to her buttocks and squeezing and lingering. As she took a few steps around she suddenly tripped slightly and her book fell to the floor, and before she looked for who had touched her, she scraped around the floor for it, pulling at the pages and lifting it back into her arms. She stood up fully to face the man before her.
Timmy’s eyes were bright and wet, though they held a little sympathy. He smiled, taking a step back from her and raking his thick fingers through his tousled dark hair. “Aw am sorry Pam; didn’t wanna make ya drop yer book”. And then he was stepping towards her again, and then reaching towards her. Quickly, she lashed out at his hand, batting it back to him.
“Timmy!” She cried in a sorry sort of frustration, then impulsively she froze, and her mouth hung agape. All the words and sentences she had been compiling whilst she had laid on the floor for hours on end…were gone. All that was left now was the bare threads of what was to become of the pair of them. “Timmy…”She continued this time but much more softly, but then she choked on it, “I…I…I can’t see you. I can’t see you anymore.” After that she was about to say that she was sorry, but what would that mean? She could not say that…
And then Timmy just stopped, and he stared at her.
She stared back at him for a moment, waiting for his reaction. But there was not much of a reaction. What if he did not understand? She would need to make him understand…and so she would have to explain further, she would lie more. She would tell cold lies, just like her mother.
“I thought about it,” her stare suddenly became callous, “for hours. And Timmy, I don’t love you. I never did. I never will. Face it; you’re no good for me. It was wrong. All of it. And I never want to see you again,” and then she spat out her last words, in such a vile way:
“I really don’t, you disgust me Timmy.”
At that point she could say no more and so she turned away, trying never to look back. Timmy had almost bitten his lip, almost. In exchange he just allowed his jaw to drop. He released a small noise, a small start in his throat, but it was dry and still nothing else came. And then in his head he was thinking “I guess… I guess…”, but nor could he finish that sentence, not even in his mind. And so he accepted her will, and he in addition then turned, and he walked, and he sunk away into the gradual death of the morning’s sunrise.
Pam’s walk turned into a run, she knew that she must return home as quickly as she could, to remind herself why she had thrown such a tormenting desire out of her life, a desire that tormented her but that she adored. The reason it tormented her was because she knew she could never really feed it. She knew that from the beginning. She always knew that.
She fell into her apartment door when she arrived, slipping the key into the lock. She failed to turn it though. She had stopped again to think. She felt like a wh.ore, because she had given Timmy her love just to abandon him.
It was all terrible, it was all bad, and she thought, she could never be happy again.
Not without Timmy. |
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