incendiarystory (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} incendiarystory) wrote,@ 2004-12-08 20:10:00 |
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Why Sleep When I'll Only Dream - CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY
Honesty In Front Of The Animals That Can Not Lie
They had sat down in the park nearly an hour earlier and she had wanted to slap him on and off since the moment he opened his mouth. As they walked through the gate and he payed the 14 Euro, he had said, "whatever Sandra told you, it's not entirely untrue."
She had turned to him and said, "and that's supposed to get me to stay?"
"Hear me out," Scott had replied.
And hear him out she had. At first he wasn't putting up too much of a defense. Emily thought he might be feigning ignorance. "I don't know exactly what Sandra told you even," he had said, seeming to pause for her response as if she'd tell the whole story.
"I shouldn't have to tell you," she had replied.
At first Scott had been silent before saying, "Emily, you know we were together, um, I'm not exactly sure what's happening here, been together?"
Emily didn't know either. "I guess that depends on what you tell me happened with Sandra."
Scott paused again and looked down. From the look in his eyes it appeared to Emily as though he was trying to choose his words extremely carefully. Finally, he said, "what did Sandra tell you happened?"
"I can't say," Emily had replied.
Scott looked perplexed and, Emily could guess, frustrated. "Can't say? How am I supposed to tell you if it's true or not unless you tell me what it is that I supposedly did?"
"It's not that I don't want to say. I'm not trying to be difficult here, but the thought of it makes me physically ill."
"Well then I can definitely tell you that it's not true. I never did anything to Sandra that would make someone physically ill."
"Are you sure?"
Now Scott raised his voice. "Emily, please stop playing games."
"Funny you should mention games..." Emily's voice trailed off.
"You're trying to get me to incriminate myself by guessing what I might have done and naming the worst thing," Scott said. He had started to stand up and walk away. Emily wondered if he was actually the one playing games. He was so anxious for this meeting and now he was walking away. She knew it was some sort of plot to get her to tell him what happened. But, he genuinely seemed to not know what she was referring to. But, how could he not, he had read Sandra's e-mail and Sandra had copied her on the whole chain, his original response and all.
"Scott," Emily said loudly after him, still seated.
Scott stopped. "I told you not to lie to me," she continued in the same voice, "I read the whole set of e-mails that you and Sandra exchanged. I know that you were able to respond to her that 'you didn't want to pay for sins you had committed years ago,' you tell me what those sins were. And you better come clean soon or I'll let you walk away next time and you won't have a chance to come back."
Scott walked back to the bench and sat down. He still seemed to be choosing every word as if it could be his last.
"You're referring to the comment she made about playing doctor, right?"
Emily nodded.
"What exactly did Sandra say I did?" Scott asked with desperation in his voice.
Emily looked away.
"Emily, what did she say I did?" Scott said angrily.
"She said..." Emily shot back, "that you raped her."
"That I what?"
"That you were playing doctor and you raped her."
"Emily, I don't remember doing that. I honestly don't. What I do remember doing wasn't nearly that awful."
"So what do you remember doing?"
"I mean maybe once I touched her in a way that wasn't very, um, appropriate. Just stuff that eight years olds do, you know, curiosity and all that."
"Curiosity?" Emily exploded, "curiosity?"
"You know, show me yours, I'll show you mine kind of thing. I was curious what one felt like so I touched it."
"She's your cousin Scott, didn't you know that's incest?"
"I was eight years old, Emily."
"You still should have known better."
"How was I supposed to know better? You tell me that you didn't do anything when you were a kid that you aren't proud of now?"
"Well, yeah, I mean I ran away from home once or twice, but I was always back before dark. And I would never have even thought of doing something like that."
"Well you're not me and I'm not you," Scott snapped back, obviously defensive.
"Obviously not," Emily screamed back. "You think that truth was supposed to make me feel better? You thought that wasn't going to accept me. Not only are we not each other, I don't think you understand me."
"Oh, I think I understand you perfectly, Emily," Scott said, "you're scared of life. You're scared that you're going to get hurt."
"Hello, Scott, I think I have a reason," Emily said rolling up the sleeves of the shirt that she had put on since the last time she had seen Scott.
"That's just an excuse," Scott replied.
"An excuse? You call this an excuse," Scott said.
Scott stopped talking and looked away. "I'm sorry, Emily, I got upset there," he said still facing the other direction. His calm demeanor seemed to return almost instantly. Emily felt pangs of jealousy that all it took for Scott to regain his composure was a brief respite from the heated discussion.
"No Emily, I don't call that an excuse. I'm sorry. What I do call an excuse is the fact that you wouldn't talk to me this morning at the hostel. You're were afraid that I'm something that I'm not. You were afraid to talk to me about it. But, you know what? That isn't even the Emily that I remember, what's happened to you?"
"What's happened to me? What's happened to you? How are you staying so calm with all that's going on around you right now?"
"It's that I can accept what's happening and roll with the punches and laugh at the disasters," Scott said.
Emily flinched at the word "punch."
"That's easy for you to say Scott. You don't know what I went through in Paris. You don't know how I was almost arrested at the airport because Sandra tried to bring a bunch of prescription drugs in a plastic bag. You don't know that Sandra gave a guy a blow job right in front of me. You don't know that she then abandoned me in the hotel to do God knows what around Paris with the same guy. And, then she wasn't there for me when Greg, when Greg..."
She started to cry.
"No, that's not true. She was there for me the morning after when I came home in shock. But, then she wasn't there for me when I needed to leave Paris."
Emily felt Scott's hand gingerly touch her shoulder like he was afraid again of the reaction. "Emily," he said, "I know this might not be my place right now and I think that I might have a little too much vested interest in the situation with Sandra, because she blatantly lied about me. But, really you're better off without her."
"I know," Emily sniffled. Scott removed his hand from Emily's shoulder and patted down his pockets looking for anything to give her to wipe her tears. Emily looked over as he took out a piece of paper. She reached for it and he pulled it away at first.
"This is what I used to see when I saw you," he said unfolding the paper once and then again to reveal it to full size.
Emily looked over and saw a drawing Scott had made of a little soldier with two stripes draw in across his helmet.
"What is it?" Emily asked, grabbing at the paper again. Scott handed it to her this time. She smoothed out a few of the wrinkles as he explained, "it's the statue of The Little Insurgent in Warsaw. The cap is supposed to have one white stripe and one red stripe, but I didn't have any colored pencils."
"What's the significance?" Emily asked softly, all trace of anger gone from her mind.
"This statue represents a child soldier who was willing to fight and die in the name of Polish freedom. I thought of you when I saw it because you believe so strongly in everything. You really inspire me, Emily. Or, you really inspired me. That was the Emily that I loved, not someone who would run away from a challenging situation, not someone who would believe what someone like Sandra said without challenging it."
Scott ran his hand across her cheek, wiping away the tears.
"I just can't fight anymore, Scott. But, you're wrong that I've changed. I think that I've changed too much. It's like I channeled all the energy I used to have for making the world a better place into violent thoughts. I feel like I've lost control. I don't know where to turn?"
"Emily, I'm willing to help you. There are all sorts of people that are willing to help you."
"I know," Emily said, wiping her hand across her face. She had given up trying to maintain any of the look of propriety that she usually fought so hard to maintain. Maybe Scott was right, maybe she had lost the courage to fight for anything. Maybe she was too busy trying to fight for herself, her own sanity.
"Emily, you're not violent," Scott said.
"Yes, Scott, I am, there are things about me, things that I've done, things that you don't know," Emily said softly.
"As long as you're forcing me to bear my soul, you might as well bear yours," he replied, loudly and abruptly.
"Once I broke the headlight on this guy's car," Emily said.
"And I bet he did something to deserve it."
"Well, he abused me," she said.
"Abused you how? Why haven't you ever told me about it? I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything that we weren't supposed to lie."
"You want to tell me about lying?" Emily said, anger starting to raise in her body again. She could feel it in her chest rising slowly to her brain, "why didn't you ever tell me about what happened with Sandra. You spent the whole time we were together making allusions to it, but you couldn't tell me the truth?"
"Hit me," Scott's voice suddenly rang out.
"Scott, I..."
"Come on Emily, you're mad at me right now, hit me."
Emily bit her lip and lifted her arm up. Then frustrated she put it back down.
"See, Emily, you can't hit me. If you were really as violent as you seemed to think you are, you'd be able to hit me, wouldn't you?"
"I guess..."
"No, Emily, there's no, I guess about it. I keep trying to tell you that you only think you're violent. You're not capable of hurting a fly unless that fly really asks for it."
Emily exhaled. She knew that Scott was right. If she wasn't able to hit him after all that he had just told her than maybe she as dangerous to others as she had thought. Or maybe she's just end up punching him when he least expected. Maybe the temptation to punch him was tempered by the fact that he was telling her too.
"You know what you need?" Scott asked.
"What do I need?" Emily replied.
"When's the last time you worked with any clay or anything? When was the last time you had any creative release?"
Emily tried to think and couldn't remember. She hadn't had access to a studio since school went on break. "Do you really think that will help Scott?"
"Yes," Scott said, "I really do think it will help."
He got up from the bench and motioned her to stand up. "Let's get you to an arts supply store."
"I don't know Scott," Emily said, "I'm pretty tired right now and..."
"I'm not taking no for an answer Emily. Come on, get up from the bench."
"But where am I going to put the sculpture when I'm done? I mean, it's gotta dry and it's not going to fit in my suitcase and..."
"Emily?" Scott asked. "What did I say about rolling with the punches. You're going to find a way. If it takes stealing all the toilet paper from the hostel bathroom to protect your clothes to get it home you'll find a way to get whatever you make home...," Scott paused, "to Chicago, I mean."
"Maybe to the apartment?" Emily asked.
"If you want to leave it there, I'm game," Scott said.
"But, I mean, what do I make. I'm not inspired right now."
"Look around you Emily, we're in Berlin. This is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. You can find something here that inspires you. You know what, I've got just the place. Let's go to the train."
"Where are we going?" Emily asked.
"It's a surprise."
"Scott," Emily paused, horrible memories beginning to flow back into her head. She felt rumblings in her stomach, "you know that I don't like surprises."
"Well, will you still go no matter where I tell you?"
"Of course."
"The Brandenburg Gate."
"Scott, I've been there already -- nothing."
"But, they composed symphonies about it. Hmm...where else." Scott scratched his head, "Um, the East Side Art Gallery."
"Nothing. Been there too."
Scott paused seeming to think about somewhere else to go, "Checkpoint Charlie."
"Checkpoint Charlie? There's nothing artistic about that. But, I haven't been there yet so I guess it's a start."
"You are one tough sell right now, Emily," Scott joked.
"I don't know," Emily said, "I think I let you sell me pretty easily there."
Emily tried to smile at the joke she was making but her lips would not curl as she wanted them to. The corners of her mouth just stayed as flat as her voice had when the words came out.
Chapter Word Count: 2264
Daily Word Count: 2264
Total Word Count: 81556
They had sat down in the park nearly an hour earlier and she had wanted to slap him on and off since the moment he opened his mouth. As they walked through the gate and he payed the 14 Euro, he had said, "whatever Sandra told you, it's not entirely untrue."
She had turned to him and said, "and that's supposed to get me to stay?"
"Hear me out," Scott had replied.
And hear him out she had. At first he wasn't putting up too much of a defense. Emily thought he might be feigning ignorance. "I don't know exactly what Sandra told you even," he had said, seeming to pause for her response as if she'd tell the whole story.
"I shouldn't have to tell you," she had replied.
At first Scott had been silent before saying, "Emily, you know we were together, um, I'm not exactly sure what's happening here, been together?"
Emily didn't know either. "I guess that depends on what you tell me happened with Sandra."
Scott paused again and looked down. From the look in his eyes it appeared to Emily as though he was trying to choose his words extremely carefully. Finally, he said, "what did Sandra tell you happened?"
"I can't say," Emily had replied.
Scott looked perplexed and, Emily could guess, frustrated. "Can't say? How am I supposed to tell you if it's true or not unless you tell me what it is that I supposedly did?"
"It's not that I don't want to say. I'm not trying to be difficult here, but the thought of it makes me physically ill."
"Well then I can definitely tell you that it's not true. I never did anything to Sandra that would make someone physically ill."
"Are you sure?"
Now Scott raised his voice. "Emily, please stop playing games."
"Funny you should mention games..." Emily's voice trailed off.
"You're trying to get me to incriminate myself by guessing what I might have done and naming the worst thing," Scott said. He had started to stand up and walk away. Emily wondered if he was actually the one playing games. He was so anxious for this meeting and now he was walking away. She knew it was some sort of plot to get her to tell him what happened. But, he genuinely seemed to not know what she was referring to. But, how could he not, he had read Sandra's e-mail and Sandra had copied her on the whole chain, his original response and all.
"Scott," Emily said loudly after him, still seated.
Scott stopped. "I told you not to lie to me," she continued in the same voice, "I read the whole set of e-mails that you and Sandra exchanged. I know that you were able to respond to her that 'you didn't want to pay for sins you had committed years ago,' you tell me what those sins were. And you better come clean soon or I'll let you walk away next time and you won't have a chance to come back."
Scott walked back to the bench and sat down. He still seemed to be choosing every word as if it could be his last.
"You're referring to the comment she made about playing doctor, right?"
Emily nodded.
"What exactly did Sandra say I did?" Scott asked with desperation in his voice.
Emily looked away.
"Emily, what did she say I did?" Scott said angrily.
"She said..." Emily shot back, "that you raped her."
"That I what?"
"That you were playing doctor and you raped her."
"Emily, I don't remember doing that. I honestly don't. What I do remember doing wasn't nearly that awful."
"So what do you remember doing?"
"I mean maybe once I touched her in a way that wasn't very, um, appropriate. Just stuff that eight years olds do, you know, curiosity and all that."
"Curiosity?" Emily exploded, "curiosity?"
"You know, show me yours, I'll show you mine kind of thing. I was curious what one felt like so I touched it."
"She's your cousin Scott, didn't you know that's incest?"
"I was eight years old, Emily."
"You still should have known better."
"How was I supposed to know better? You tell me that you didn't do anything when you were a kid that you aren't proud of now?"
"Well, yeah, I mean I ran away from home once or twice, but I was always back before dark. And I would never have even thought of doing something like that."
"Well you're not me and I'm not you," Scott snapped back, obviously defensive.
"Obviously not," Emily screamed back. "You think that truth was supposed to make me feel better? You thought that wasn't going to accept me. Not only are we not each other, I don't think you understand me."
"Oh, I think I understand you perfectly, Emily," Scott said, "you're scared of life. You're scared that you're going to get hurt."
"Hello, Scott, I think I have a reason," Emily said rolling up the sleeves of the shirt that she had put on since the last time she had seen Scott.
"That's just an excuse," Scott replied.
"An excuse? You call this an excuse," Scott said.
Scott stopped talking and looked away. "I'm sorry, Emily, I got upset there," he said still facing the other direction. His calm demeanor seemed to return almost instantly. Emily felt pangs of jealousy that all it took for Scott to regain his composure was a brief respite from the heated discussion.
"No Emily, I don't call that an excuse. I'm sorry. What I do call an excuse is the fact that you wouldn't talk to me this morning at the hostel. You're were afraid that I'm something that I'm not. You were afraid to talk to me about it. But, you know what? That isn't even the Emily that I remember, what's happened to you?"
"What's happened to me? What's happened to you? How are you staying so calm with all that's going on around you right now?"
"It's that I can accept what's happening and roll with the punches and laugh at the disasters," Scott said.
Emily flinched at the word "punch."
"That's easy for you to say Scott. You don't know what I went through in Paris. You don't know how I was almost arrested at the airport because Sandra tried to bring a bunch of prescription drugs in a plastic bag. You don't know that Sandra gave a guy a blow job right in front of me. You don't know that she then abandoned me in the hotel to do God knows what around Paris with the same guy. And, then she wasn't there for me when Greg, when Greg..."
She started to cry.
"No, that's not true. She was there for me the morning after when I came home in shock. But, then she wasn't there for me when I needed to leave Paris."
Emily felt Scott's hand gingerly touch her shoulder like he was afraid again of the reaction. "Emily," he said, "I know this might not be my place right now and I think that I might have a little too much vested interest in the situation with Sandra, because she blatantly lied about me. But, really you're better off without her."
"I know," Emily sniffled. Scott removed his hand from Emily's shoulder and patted down his pockets looking for anything to give her to wipe her tears. Emily looked over as he took out a piece of paper. She reached for it and he pulled it away at first.
"This is what I used to see when I saw you," he said unfolding the paper once and then again to reveal it to full size.
Emily looked over and saw a drawing Scott had made of a little soldier with two stripes draw in across his helmet.
"What is it?" Emily asked, grabbing at the paper again. Scott handed it to her this time. She smoothed out a few of the wrinkles as he explained, "it's the statue of The Little Insurgent in Warsaw. The cap is supposed to have one white stripe and one red stripe, but I didn't have any colored pencils."
"What's the significance?" Emily asked softly, all trace of anger gone from her mind.
"This statue represents a child soldier who was willing to fight and die in the name of Polish freedom. I thought of you when I saw it because you believe so strongly in everything. You really inspire me, Emily. Or, you really inspired me. That was the Emily that I loved, not someone who would run away from a challenging situation, not someone who would believe what someone like Sandra said without challenging it."
Scott ran his hand across her cheek, wiping away the tears.
"I just can't fight anymore, Scott. But, you're wrong that I've changed. I think that I've changed too much. It's like I channeled all the energy I used to have for making the world a better place into violent thoughts. I feel like I've lost control. I don't know where to turn?"
"Emily, I'm willing to help you. There are all sorts of people that are willing to help you."
"I know," Emily said, wiping her hand across her face. She had given up trying to maintain any of the look of propriety that she usually fought so hard to maintain. Maybe Scott was right, maybe she had lost the courage to fight for anything. Maybe she was too busy trying to fight for herself, her own sanity.
"Emily, you're not violent," Scott said.
"Yes, Scott, I am, there are things about me, things that I've done, things that you don't know," Emily said softly.
"As long as you're forcing me to bear my soul, you might as well bear yours," he replied, loudly and abruptly.
"Once I broke the headlight on this guy's car," Emily said.
"And I bet he did something to deserve it."
"Well, he abused me," she said.
"Abused you how? Why haven't you ever told me about it? I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything that we weren't supposed to lie."
"You want to tell me about lying?" Emily said, anger starting to raise in her body again. She could feel it in her chest rising slowly to her brain, "why didn't you ever tell me about what happened with Sandra. You spent the whole time we were together making allusions to it, but you couldn't tell me the truth?"
"Hit me," Scott's voice suddenly rang out.
"Scott, I..."
"Come on Emily, you're mad at me right now, hit me."
Emily bit her lip and lifted her arm up. Then frustrated she put it back down.
"See, Emily, you can't hit me. If you were really as violent as you seemed to think you are, you'd be able to hit me, wouldn't you?"
"I guess..."
"No, Emily, there's no, I guess about it. I keep trying to tell you that you only think you're violent. You're not capable of hurting a fly unless that fly really asks for it."
Emily exhaled. She knew that Scott was right. If she wasn't able to hit him after all that he had just told her than maybe she as dangerous to others as she had thought. Or maybe she's just end up punching him when he least expected. Maybe the temptation to punch him was tempered by the fact that he was telling her too.
"You know what you need?" Scott asked.
"What do I need?" Emily replied.
"When's the last time you worked with any clay or anything? When was the last time you had any creative release?"
Emily tried to think and couldn't remember. She hadn't had access to a studio since school went on break. "Do you really think that will help Scott?"
"Yes," Scott said, "I really do think it will help."
He got up from the bench and motioned her to stand up. "Let's get you to an arts supply store."
"I don't know Scott," Emily said, "I'm pretty tired right now and..."
"I'm not taking no for an answer Emily. Come on, get up from the bench."
"But where am I going to put the sculpture when I'm done? I mean, it's gotta dry and it's not going to fit in my suitcase and..."
"Emily?" Scott asked. "What did I say about rolling with the punches. You're going to find a way. If it takes stealing all the toilet paper from the hostel bathroom to protect your clothes to get it home you'll find a way to get whatever you make home...," Scott paused, "to Chicago, I mean."
"Maybe to the apartment?" Emily asked.
"If you want to leave it there, I'm game," Scott said.
"But, I mean, what do I make. I'm not inspired right now."
"Look around you Emily, we're in Berlin. This is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. You can find something here that inspires you. You know what, I've got just the place. Let's go to the train."
"Where are we going?" Emily asked.
"It's a surprise."
"Scott," Emily paused, horrible memories beginning to flow back into her head. She felt rumblings in her stomach, "you know that I don't like surprises."
"Well, will you still go no matter where I tell you?"
"Of course."
"The Brandenburg Gate."
"Scott, I've been there already -- nothing."
"But, they composed symphonies about it. Hmm...where else." Scott scratched his head, "Um, the East Side Art Gallery."
"Nothing. Been there too."
Scott paused seeming to think about somewhere else to go, "Checkpoint Charlie."
"Checkpoint Charlie? There's nothing artistic about that. But, I haven't been there yet so I guess it's a start."
"You are one tough sell right now, Emily," Scott joked.
"I don't know," Emily said, "I think I let you sell me pretty easily there."
Emily tried to smile at the joke she was making but her lips would not curl as she wanted them to. The corners of her mouth just stayed as flat as her voice had when the words came out.
Chapter Word Count: 2264
Daily Word Count: 2264
Total Word Count: 81556
