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@weareokaybook
I’m sitting on top of my bed, leaning against the wall, watching the snow fall again. I want the thunder of ocean, a day that’s cold but dry, the feeling that comes with heavy clouds in the distance. Relief from the drought. The novelty of being homebound. Wood in the fireplace, heat and light.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
I’m looking at the seams of my jeans. I’m looking at the threads in the rug. I’m looking at my shaking hands that I’ve snatched back from hers, and I’m sure I must be losing my mind. Like Gramps, like poor Mr. Rochester’s locked-up wife, like the howling woman in the motel room next to mine.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Our time is running out, and I’m not ready. I’m feeling the dorm’s emptiness again. It’s settling in, that it’s not going to transform for Christmas, that it’s going to look exactly the same as it does now, only one person emptier.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
It was a summer of denial. Of learning what Mabel’s body could do for mine, what mine could do for hers. A summer spent in her white bed, her hair fanned over the pillow. A summer spent on my red rug, sunshine on our faces. A summer when love was everything, and we didn’t talk about college or geography, and we rode buses and hopped in cars and walked city blocks in our sandals.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Something in me is cracking open, the light coming through is so bright it hurts, and the rest of me is still here, wounded.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Despite the sweetness of the news, loneliness, bottomless and black, rushes in.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
All I can hear is the crackle of the fire. She may not have really been crying—I may have imagined it—but I can feel it now, the way I hurt her. Maybe it’s all of this remembering or talking about books and paintings again or being with Mabel, but I can feel the ghost of me creeping back. Remember me? she’s asking.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Above me is the head and neck of a deer. A buck, I guess. His antlers cast long and graceful shadows along the wall. I imagine him alive, in a field somewhere. I think about spring, grass and flowers, hoofprints and movement and a body, intact. But now there is stillness and drips of candle wax and quiet. There are the ghosts of who we used to be. There is the clink of Mabel setting our dinner bowls into Tommy’s sink, and the exhaustion that comes with knowing that something will have to happen next, and then after that, and on and on until it’s over.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
I’m alone tonight. Tomorrow, Mabel will arrive and stay for three days, and then I’ll be alone again until the middle of January. “If I were spending a month alone,” Hannah said yesterday, “I would start a meditation practice. It’s clinically proven to lower blood pressure and boost brain activity. It even helps your immune system.” A few minutes later she pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saw this in the bookstore the other day. You can read it first if you want.”
She tossed it on my bed. An essay collection on solitude.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
I had never felt so ravenous. It’s not like my experience was vast. It’s not like I was used to being touched this way. But even if I had already been kissed by dozens of mouths, I would have known this was different.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
I go back into my room and collapse on my bed. The sky is changing, becoming darker. I’m going to lie here, in this silent place, and stare out the window until the night turns black. I’ll witness each colour in the sky.
And I do. I feel peaceful.
Nine Lacour, We Are Okay
We were innocent enough to think that our lives were what we thought they were, that if we pieced all of the facts together they’d form an image that made sense—that looked like us when we looked in the mirror, that looked like our living rooms and our kitchens and the people who raised us—instead of revealing all the things we didn’t know.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Those days and nights at the motel, I thought I was afraid of his ghost, but I wasn’t.
I was afraid of my loneliness.
And how I’d been tricked.
And the way I’d convinced myself of so much: that I wasn’t sad, that I wasn’t alone.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
I wonder if she’s dreading the rest of the hours in this day. Maybe she wishes she hadn’t come.
I think I’ll close my eyes, too, try to sleep away the sick feeling, the whisper that I am a waste of her time, her money, her effort.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
Outside is the moon, the contours of trees, the buildings of the campus, the lights that dot the path. All of this is my home now, and it will still be my home after Mabel leaves. I’m taking in the stillness of that, the sharp truth of it. My eyes are burning, my throat is tight. If only I had something to take the edge off the loneliness. If only lonely were a more accurate word. It should sound much less pretty.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
The winter sky is bright gray and sharp. I see a bird come and go outside the window, a thin branch snap and drop.
I should have gone with her.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay
“I was lonely,” I say.
And then I say it again, because I told myself lies for so long, and now my body is still and my breath is steady and I feel alive with the truth.
Nina Lacour, We Are Okay