imperial violet

MORE TICKLES THAN PUNCHES

Monday, June 06, 2005

amber says

they all came calling for her.

the pervs

the blowhards

the decent guys, just out of a bad marriage. unsteady and frayed but, hearing something in her voice, thought 'maybe ...'

her voice, casually warm, the kind that smiles but doesn't snicker. she liked long walks on the beach, soaking in jacuzzis with wine coolers, making pancakes for her 'special someone' in the morning.

just a girl maybe. but then again, maybe the girl of your dreams.

here's what i know. i didn't do it to fuck with those guys. they weren't even part of the equation.

i'm prone to building sandcastles- beautiful transient places to live and dream in- until they're washed away or trampled.

amber was a sandcastle. i created her and left her message in the 'love search' mailbox. the thing about being a kid no-one notices is that you notice everything. and i knew they'd love amber. i knew they'd want to reach out and smell her honey wheat hair.

the calls came and kept coming and piled up on top of each other. my mom got tired of explaining to the broken hearted and the horny alike that 'there is no amber here.' she had the phone disconnected.

we both pretended not to know that amber was a 13 year old malcontent. equal parts rage and loneliness.

and, from then, until college, phoneless.