Oct 12 2008
A Dormitory Break-Up from afar
I am always amazed by people who repeat phrases over and over, as if the person they are trying so ardently to communicate with did it get the first, second, or third time.
I can remember my Mother scolding my brother when we were much younger:
“Put the bike away.”
A girl in the adjoining dormitory is breaking up with her boyfriend for the third time this weekend.
“I want you to fix it! I want you to fix it! I want you to fix it! ” she says.
My best friend improvised some lyrical harmonies in a recording this summer, she said it was based on her dear friend in NYC who got high off pot and then got low off sadness.
“Love me, love me, love me,” she had screamed.
It’s beautiful I find, the recurring inflection these people apply to the repeating of each phrase. It’s the same, so there is this rhythmic quality, a song made out of something so desperate.
“I WANT YOU TO FIX IT, I WANT YOU TO FIX IT, I WANT YOU TO FIX IT.
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?
I CAN’T CHOOSE, I CAN’T CHOOSE.”
It’s such agony to hear this woman now divorcing herself from her estranged lover. I brought her over tea earlier, I thought the fighting was done. But I feel like a 6-yr old daughter crying as her parents argue over money, hiding in the closet.
My neighbor said “bad break-up.” But it’s just torturous on her. I’m sure the tea is gone and her throat is dry again, her voice is shrill. My soothing tea probably did little.
But I understand, I’ve been here before too.
“BECAUSE YOU HATE ME AND YOU DON’T LOVE ME. (metallic tinny voice of his over the phone argues), NO, I KNOW IT’S TRUE.”
“YOU DON’T. YOU DON’T. YOU DON’T. YOU DON’T.”
His metallic voice through the phone is making a strange song too:
“JUST COME HOME. JUST COME HOME. JUST COME HOME.”
Oh god, I promise myself, we won’t ever go through that again. One year ago today my last boyfriend broke up with me. Dear Henry. We were so perfect. And the song sounds just the same.
Promise me we won’t do this again.
