Sunday, May 25  

Change

Vic is not afraid of change. She's addicted to it. She changes fast and hard into new lives, new versions of herself with the one-fingered ease of a driver who knows the stretch of highway between their lover's house and their own in the dark of any night.

change: verb 1. to alter; to make different; to cause to pass from one state to another 2. to alter by substituting something else 3. to give and take reciprocally; to exchange.

Vic walks home in the dark. She's not afraid of Toronto and it is not afraid of her. They coexist without noticing each other much of the time.

She turns down the alley that leads to her apartment and walks with the ease of a cat, thumbs looped into her pockets, whispering a line of poetry to herself over and over. It came into her head for no reason and it won't go away.

Come live with me and be my love and we shall all the pleasures prove.

She can't remember who wrote it or where she read it or when. But she rolls it over her tongue like it's a new lover's nipple.

The change in her pocket makes quiet time. The sound of change in a pocket always reminds her of her father.

Vic has changed again. She doesn't want William she realizes. She wants his ghost. And that is both more difficult and more easy to live with. Come live with me.

She doesn't wonder why he doesn't call again after their brutal fucking. He floated in and left, quiet like a ghost and he's had as much impact. He's only left a sense of disbelief, a vague longing but nothing she can touch. And be my love.

It's changed her, but for once not left her hollow.

To whom will Vic have to prove her change? To the old women in their back gardens who watch her amble by in the dark? She's just a younger version of themselves to them. To William? He's a small moment already passed by. To herself? She's the most critical audience of all.

Because she's already seen a hundred changes and seen them all change again. She has turned leaves as often as matresses and coats. She walks backward a few steps like a model on a catwalk, turning back again and squinting sexily at her own shadow.

And we shall all the pleasures prove, baby. Just wait.