Tag: Sadness

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Short Stories

The Other Night in Piccadilly

“When did we stop doing that?” Charlie asked while pointing at a group of friends —probably not older than 20— drinking beer and laughing under the statue of Eros or well, as Charlie always obnoxiously pointed out, the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain. “I’m sorry to inform you we’re not too young to be kids nor too old to be adults,” I said. “You’re such a granma Claire,” Charlie said. He stopped holding my hand to get a cigarette that he ended up choosing not to smoke, but rather throw into the tip jar of a guy singing Sinatra songs. We kept walking. Charlie’s plan was to go and eat something in Chinatown, I on the other hand simply wanted to get some takeout and eat it while watching whatever was on the TV at the moment. “Do you ever think about where you will be in 30 years?” He asked. “First, I don’t know if I’ll be alive or if there’s still a planet. Second, I would hope, settled, maybe with a family, not sure,” I replied. “You see? I would hope to be in the middle of Thailand taking street photography or in the Middle East eating some local food. There are so many things to do, places to be, people to know,” he said. For the record, Charlie has never been anywhere further than Birmingham, and it was by accident. “Since when do you want to do all of that, we’ve been together for 8 years and I’ve known you for 10,” I asked. In the past months, he’s been acting like his time is running out, as if he needed to do everything now. “Precisely, I’ve been the same Charlie forever. It’s been Charlie and Claire for God knows how long,” he said, not looking at me. “Eight years,” I noted. “Well yeah, eight years! That’s a kid in primary school,” he said. “You’re acting like it’s a bad thing we’ve been together for that long. I don’t have you tied up, you could’ve left,” I replied. “Could I? Could I, Claire? Eight years,” he said under his breath. I felt like crying, not entirely out of sadness but out of anger. “You’re such an idiot, Charlie,” I said aggressively wiping the tears off my face with my hand. “Perhaps it’s best if we…,” he said. “Perhaps,” I replied looking away. Charlie tried to reach for a hug but instantly regretted it. He kept walking, I turned around and walked in the other direction. I went back to the statue of Eros. One of the guys from the group shouted: hey you! Come with us. My first instinct was to ignore him and keep walking, but I didn’t want to go back home and explain to my mum everything that happened, so I turned around. As I was approaching them one of the girls said to the guy who shouted: don’t be an ass. “I won’t,” he said. “So, why are you crying, love?” He asked. “I don’t think she wants to talk about it Michael, shut up,” the girl said. “You’re right. Let’s drink to that,” Michael said while handing over a can of cheap beer. I opened it and chugged the whole thing. I hate beer. “Woah, I was not expecting that!” Michael said. “Are you from around here?“ she asked. “Yeah, Camden, my whole life,” I replied. She approached me and whispered in my ear: was that guy your boyfriend? “Yes, eight years,” I replied. “Men are such idiots,” she said. “Amen to that,” I replied. “I’m Katie by the way,” she said as she opened another can and handed me one. “I’d like to make a toast, to…—” Katie said while looking at me. “Claire,” I said softly. “— Claire. We often find and lose love at unexpected moments,” she ended. We sat around the fountain for what felt like an hour, I’d already had three beers on an empty stomach. We talked about politics, musicals, flamingos, and death. “I’ve got to go, my mum is probably worried about me,” I said simply wanting to go back home and cry my eyes out for hours listening to Taylor Swift or something. “Bakerloo line?” She asked. “Yeah, but then I’m taking Jubilee,” I said. “That’s alright,” she said. Katie said goodbye to Michael, she kissed him. “Text me when you’re home, love you,” he said. Michael stayed there with another guy to whom I didn’t talk to. We got to the station and boarded the train. “Was that your boyfriend?” I asked. “Yeah, we’ve been together since high school, I love that crazy man,” she replied. There was a moment of silence, the only thing we could hear was the rattling noise of the train and a group of — probably— lost Spanish tourists talking. “Do you know what hurts the most? That Cha—my stupid ex, virtually said that being eight years with me was somehow a bad thing, like a waste of time,” I said holding back my tears. “People who’ve been lucky for too long stop thinking they’re lucky and just think that’s how it’s supposed to be,” Katie said. “Baker Street,” the voice from the train said. We both got out. “It was lovely meeting you,” I said. “Me too,” she said. I walked towards platform 10 and she walked to another one. As I turned around to ask for her number or Instagram I could no longer see her.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

For Old Times’ Sake

It was somewhat late at night, I was organizing my room for the third time since I was a small kid. Looking for anything I might think was important. In one not-so-old box which had been relegated to the depths of a drawer, I found several receipts, movie theatre receipts to be specific. The ink was barely there but I could make out some details such as the date, they were from four years ago. Suddenly it hit me. “Ava,” I thought to myself. She was pretty much the only person I went to the movies with four years ago, those tickets probably were from the first movie we went to together. I took a picture of the receipts and sent them to Ava. She replied about 12 minutes later: “receipts?” I texted her: “AMC receipts from 4 years ago.” “No way,” she replied. “Wanna go out for a movie? For old times’ sake?” I texted. For all I knew she could be dating some dude named Kyle or I don’t know, serving in the army. “I’m free tomorrow night, I still live in the same house,” she replied. The chances of her being in a relationship with a guy named Kyle or whatever significantly decreased. My stomach felt weird just to think about seeing her again, perhaps it was the $1 burritos my friend Erick’s “burrito guy” sold me that day. I started wondering if she still felt something or if she just remembered me like I remember that Starbucks barista with blue hair who wanted to become a writer but got pregnant and had to move to Denver with the kid’s dad. I couldn’t figure out if Ava even saw me as a friend. Did I ask her out as a friend?
I couldn’t answer that question if my life depended on it. Nostalgia is a powerful thing. I went online and bought a couple of tickets to the latest movie starring The Rock and went to sleep. The next day, at about 6:00 PM I drove to her house, she lived a ten-minute drive away from mine. When we were seven our parents agreed to take each other’s kids to school depending on the day, that’s how we met. Ava’s dad and my mom worked together. I texted her that I was outside, then I saw her walking out of the front door. “Nice ride,” she said, probably joking since it was the same car I had in high school. Once we got to the theater, she ordered the usual: small popcorn, medium Mountain Dew and king-size Snickers. Ava always said that there was some poetry to ordering one thing from each size category, I didn’t quite see the poetry there. The only thing I could see was that we had overpaid for the Mountain Dew but underpaid for the popcorn. I simply got bottled water, I have never been a fan of popcorn, they are great, but I hate when they get stuck between my teeth. I’m probably traumatized because of that time I went to the movies with a girl and ended up with my braces filled with whatever that mildly-hard part of the popcorn is. We sat in the last row of the theatre, and as I was about to start the conversation, an astronomically loud Samsung ad started playing; it was about a brand new feature that no one would care about in a year or less —like most things these days. I tried talking three or four times more, but it was impossible. Going out on a “catching up” date to the movies and an action-packed film of all types is, speaking from experience, a terrible idea. I believe Ava could see my frustration, and softly said: “maybe an ice cream after the movie?” Once the movie was over, we went to get a milkshake and then got into the car — just as we did four years ago— to drink while she picked the music. Ava set the volume to a low-enough-to-talk-but-not-low-enough-that-there-would be-an-uncomfortable-silence-when-no-one-spoke level. I started with the basic “How’s everything been?” Ava started talking about her work and college, eventually, she mentioned Tom, her —in Ava’s words— “guy I’m seeing but we’re nothing yet.” I told her about Kate, my ex, and how she always bought Ava up every time we argued. Ava laughed. So far the day had a feeling of an old sitcom reunion, everyone is a little older, they’re doing the same thing but it didn’t quite feel the same. I remembered a physics class with professor Stevens, he talked about the fact that you can move around however much you’d like, but if you end up in the exact place your displacement would still be zero. Ava and I went to college out of state, we were both pretty much out of it, thousands in student debt, work, new friends, her parents got divorced, her dad had a new kid named Alana, I almost died in a car accident last fall, but there we were, in the same parking lot of the same AMC, listening to some old music but mostly new music from old artists, in the same car. All of that combined made me feel at home. Yes, a lot of good things happened in those four years, but a lot of bad ones too. Feeling as if none of that happened, as if all of that was merely a dream or a passing thought, was amazing. Man, what a drug the past is, it makes us weep, but we still crave it. Ava’s face was dimly lit by my old car’s light, her eyes glimmering by the glimpse of the past. I touched her face to register if all of it was real, and then we kissed. Many things have changed, but I was glad to know her kisses haven’t. I drove her back to her house. As Ava was getting out of the car, she got a call from Tom. She acted as if it was nothing. I smiled and started driving back to the place I used to call home, but now it’s just “my parent’s house.” A few hundred feet before finally getting to the house, I stopped to let my old neighbor Mr. Smith cross the street with his dog. I checked my phone and saw a notification from the airline that my flight had no changes and was scheduled for tomorrow morning.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

About Time

“What should we do with the body?” I said while doing my best impression of a CSI investigator. “Stop it,” Olivia said, chuckling. “No, but seriously, what are we gonna do with Mark? We can’t just leave him here,” I asked. “Fine, we’ll take him with us, pray my dad is asleep or out watching a football game. Is there any game tonight?” She said, audibly nervous. “Two things, one, it’s three in the morning, two, I wouldn’t know there was a football game if I was physically there,” I replied. I called an Uber, we were the only ones left or, for that matter, able to acknowledge our very own existence. When the Uber arrived, Olivia and I lifted Mark, and to the best of our abilities sat him on the backseat. Mark’s skin was fish-belly white, at least three tones lighter than sober Mark. “Is that guy ok?” The driver asked. “He just needs some air,” Olivia said. Phyllis —the driver— opened the window on Mark’s side, his hair looked like a hair product commercial. Once we got to Olivia’s house we carried Mark into the living room and placed him on the floor. Olivia put a pillow under his head. “How thoughtful of you,” I joked. She threw a pillow at my face. “Water?” I asked. She nodded. I brought two glasses of water, and we sat on the couch, staring at Mark’s drunk self. “I can’t believe you once had the biggest crush on him, what a taste,” I said, feeling my head slightly dizzy. “Shut up, I had a crush on you too,” Olivia said, seemingly regretting saying it. “You did?” I asked, somewhat surprised. She nodded, visibly embarrassed. “Well, I had a crush on you too, or have, I don’t know,” I said, feeling dizzier. “No, you didn’t,” she said. “Since fourth grade, I fell in love with that girl with the huge eyeglasses and the rubber band collection,” I replied, feeling slightly drunk, it was as if my body was now allowed to process the beers after we sorted the Mark situation. Olivia rapidly sat on the edge of the couch and looked at me. “Tell me you’re joking,” she said seriously, she had that stare that made you confess even your deepest secrets. “I’m not,” I replied. “When did you have a crush?” I asked. Olivia sat there in silence for a few moments, then answered. “Fourth grade, I even liked those stupid shorts and your weird obsession with pirates,” she said with a nostalgic voice. “I still wear shorts, and my love for pirates hasn’t but increased over the past several years,” I said. She smiled. “And Mark?” I asked. “I thought if I liked your best friend you would be jealous,” she noted, with her cheeks looking more red with every second of silence proceeding it. “So, do you still…you know?” I asked. My heart was beating with emotion, and my head was spinning courtesy of Coors Light and Olivia. She turned around without looking at my face. “Do you?” She asked. “Every day more since fourth grade,” I replied, thinking that sounded like something Michael Bublé would say. Olivia turned around, smiling and with her eyes sparkling. I grabbed her hand, she looked into my eyes. In a heartbeat, Olivia kissed me, and I kissed her back. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she said. As I placed my hand on her face to properly kiss her we heard a grunt. “About fu-hiccup-ing time,” Mark said and then went back to sleep. We laughed, her laugh hasn’t changed one bit in all these years.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Close your eyes

I was finishing a can of cheap beer when the doorbell rang. I knew it was her, she always arrived ten minutes late to everything, after some time I simply learned to adjust my schedule ten minutes past the agreed-upon time. I opened the door. “Hi,” Miranda said while waving her hand nervously. We sat on the living room sofa. The lights were dimmed, the TV was off, it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen. “Are your parents home?” She asked. “Pediatricians summit,” I replied. “So?” I asked curtly. “So what?” She replied. “So why did you want to see me?” I asked dryly. “I can’t see my boyfriend now?” She replied. “Your boyfriend? I’m glad I still am, it doesn’t look like it,” I replied. “What the hell are you talking about?” She asked, annoyed. “Miranda, I know why you’re here, Josh heard it from principal Jenkins,” I said with a soft trembling voice. My eyes started to get wet, I could feel my eyelids doing their best to prevent a single tear from escaping. Miranda’s eyes looked exactly how I thought mine did. “Charlie,” she said hardly being able to speak. “I’m happy for you, you know that, you deserve that and more, you deserve the world Mimi, every single fucking inch of every good thing out there,” I said, now being able to feel some teardrops sliding down my cheeks. “I lov-“ she said but I interrupted her. “Don’t. Don’t say it, not now,” I said while placing my hand on her thigh. “I don’t even know if I’ll succeed, it’s still a one a million chance,” she said. “If there’s someone that will make it, that’s you, LA is going to love you,” I said with a smile. She jumped and hugged me, her tears started wetting my shirt. “So, who’s this big shot producer?” I said trying to delay the inevitable. “I’m not really sure, I mean, he’s legit and all, he said something about a teen’s show or something, he liked my voice after watching an Instagram post,” she replied wiping her tears, her eyes now visibly red. “Charlie, we could…I don’t know…try long-distance? Maybe?” Miranda said. “Mimi, I don’t want to distract you from your dreams, and let’s face it, you’ll have no problem finding a better-looking guy than me in LA,” I said. “But I want you, Charlie, I don’t know why you don’t even want to try,” she said, crying a little. “Because you deserve better, LA or not, you deserve a guy who drives you to Target to buy some weird kitchen contraption to make an Instagram recipe or goes to your house in the middle of the night because you feel lonely, or…or,” I said, then stopped to take a deep breath. “Or, tells you how beautiful you are every single fucking day because you’re and I just want to kiss your face and tell you how much I love you but I’m not that guy, I’m not,” I finished, crying. “Charlie….,” she said and kissed me. “I don’t want to see you leave,” I said. “I have to go,” she replied. “I know, I literally don’t want to see you leave, I’ll close my eyes and then you can go. Good luck Mimi, I’m proud of you,” I said as I slowly closed my eyes, seeing her face less and less with every fraction of an inch my eyelids got closer to each other. I waited for a second or two and said with a soft voice “I love you,” not knowing if she heard me or not.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Last Day In Old North | Short Story

After days of trying to fit it in our schedules, Anna and I could finally go on a proper date. We had a “date” last week if you count falling asleep on the couch re-watching Mad Men, a date. I know she’s excited about her new job, she’s already becoming a fine lawyer but I’ve been working for two years already and I always had time for her…us. Anna loved lobster so we settled on going to a lobster to-go place and then to my apartment. I arrived early at the restaurant and ordered for both of us. She got there about ten minutes later.
“So how was work?” I said and then started eating.
“Alright, we have this divorce case that is sucking the living joy out of all of us, the husband is a rich guy, the type that is not going to give away some money without giving a fight,” she said.
“Cool, I know you don’t like divorce cases but this seems interesting,” I replied.
“I hate them, I remember going with my mom to her divorce lawyer every week, it was horrible,” she said biting on her lobster roll.
“Do they have kids? The rich couple,” I asked.
“Josh, could we not talk about divorce anymore? And no, they don’t,” she replied seriously.
Anna looked tired and confused. I thought it might’ve been the whole divorce thing. She never understood why would people who are willing to get married stop wanting it. Sometimes I think she hasn’t broken up with me for precisely that reason, she wants to prove to herself right. Even if we’re not married, yet.
Once we were done eating we went for a smoothie and walked towards my apartment. I love Boston, it’s such a nice place, I’ve always liked it, that’s why I decided to stay there after college. I didn’t plan on going back to Utah with my parents, that’s for sure. We walked by the Old North Church, in my 5 years of living in Boston I never went there, it was always either packed with tourists or on service.
“Cool church,” I said hoping Anna would ask me to go inside.
“Not really,” she said drinking from her pineapple smoothie.
“Come on, I’ve never seen what’s all the fuzz about it,” I said.
“It’s an old church, it’s on the name,” she replied without looking at me.
I didn’t say anything, I could feel Anna was looking at me.
“Fine, let’s get in,” she replied with not a drop of enthusiasm in her voice.
We got in, it’s was white and wooden, just like anything old in America. I wasn’t impressed by it, I preferred the sun outside, to be honest.
“It’s OK, one less thing I have to see before I die, we can go now,” I joked.
Anna’s eyes were fixed on the organ.
“My parents got married here,” she said softly.
And that’s why she didn’t want to go there, I thought.
“Oh,” I gasped.
“I didn’t know, Anna, I’m sorry,” I continued.
“It’s fine,” she said dryly.
“I’ve been thinking, perhaps my parents were right, maybe it’s not meant to be,” she said, still not looking at me.
“Your parents thought it was the right choice to end it, it doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other,” I replied.
“I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about us,” she said.
I froze right there, I was unable to say a single word.
“Josh I don’t love you, or maybe I do, I don’t know, the one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be with you,” she said.
“Since when?” I said finally getting to form a sentence.
“Months,” she replied still looking at the organ but now a tear was sliding down her cheek.
We didn’t say anything else, she gave me what was left of her smoothie, like she always did, then looked one last time into my eyes, and left the church.

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Short Stories

Mamihlapinatapai

Illustration of Adriana Casas by Gabriel Berm

Walking toward a hot dog joint nearby campus, I saw Andrea running toward the bus stop. The bus was already leaving, and she knew it. Once, the bus left without her, I walked fast towards her. 

“Andrea?” I said.

“Craig! It’s been ages! How are you?” She said, surprised.

“Right now, probably better than you,” I joked.

She laughed a bit. She was holding three heavy-looking biology textbooks, and her glasses were barely touching the tip of her nose.

“This is the second time this week. Now I have to wait 45 minutes to an hour for the next one,” Andrea said rather annoyed.

“I’ll keep you company if you want,” I said, begging every deity for her to say yes.

“You don’t have to,” she said, embarrassed.

I was starving, but something inside me was telling me to stay. In all fairness, it might’ve been the three coffees I had in the morning.

We sat on the bus stop’s bench.

“How’s been everything? How’s Michael?” I asked.

“Alright, I guess…and we broke up a few weeks ago,” She replied with a sudden sense of disappointment filling her face.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for the fact that I was sort of happy because of that.

“Yeah, It sucks people still can’t break up before they cheat,” Andrea said now with a lower voice.

“I know, right? What’s the need for being in a relationship if you’re gonna cheat anyway?” I said, thinking about my ex-girlfriend Claire.

“It’s going to sound like a cliché, but I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship again,” she said without looking at me.

I was starring at her face, so beautiful. I couldn’t help but think who in their right mind would cheat on her. She was not just extraordinarily beautiful, but smart, perhaps the smartest person I knew.

“We all say that,” I replied.

Her eyes were slightly red, and a couple of tears were sliding down her cheeks. I dried them with my thumb wrapped around the end of my hoodie’s sleeve. She looked at me. I slowly took my hand away from her face. 

“Perhaps it would’ve been different if we…” She said without finishing.

“Perhaps,” I said.

My eyes were lost in hers and hers in mine. I moved my body closer toward hers. She smiled. Andrea started moving her hands toward my chest and leveled my hoodie strings.

“You’ve always worn them unevenly,” she said and smiled.

She got closer to me. Our heads were inches apart. Then a hideous rumbling noise and the smell of diesel became part of the scene. Andrea did the longest blink ever. The bus’ door opened with a creaking sound. We stood up. I helped her pick up her books and handed them to her, our hands touched for a second. She looked at me, and I looked at her, we stood there for what felt like an hour. Our heads were as close as they have ever been, then we hugged. She got on the bus, and as the bus’s awful sounds were less and less present, I kept thinking what would’ve happened if we kissed.

Author’s Note:

According to Wikipedia, Mamihlapinatapai is a word derived from the Yaghan language from Tierra del Fuego. The word is listed by The Guinness Book of World Records as the “most succinct word.” The general understanding of the word is “A look that without words is shared by two people who want to initiate something, but neither start” or “looking at each other hoping that either will offer to do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do.”

© Gabriel Berm

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Uncategorized

Something

There’s something I like about you, I’m sure there is. There must be. Your eyes? Perhaps. Your smile? I wouldn’t lie if I say it might. Your way of life? That could be somehow. If it’s not all of that then what is what I want? Is it the fact that you’re not with me but you’re with them? Is it the no so tender way you talk to me? Or is it the fact that you just don’t like me?

©️ Gabriel Berm

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Uncategorized

Swiping

Swiping and swiping

Swiping my tears away

Swiping my loneliness

Swiping all my heartbreaks

Auctioning my love

Begging for some crumbs

Yet still having hope

That someday 

I’ll need to swipe no more

©️ Gabriel Berm

Categories
Uncategorized

V

I said what I had to

Yet my soul feels like it needs more

I wrote all the poems that I could about your smile

Yet I’m here thinking about it every night

I am supposed to be over you

Yet my heart beats faster when I’m with you

Without you my inspiration is gone

Without your eyes this world would be dull

Forgive me

For not letting all of this turn to dust

Forgive me if perhaps

There’s some love for you left in my heart

© Gabriel Berm

Categories
Letters Uncategorized

I Don’t want what I never had

Who would’ve said that after being my one and only inspiration for everything ranging from life itself to writing and painting I would end up absolutely out of inspiration? You were the muse of my midnight tales and my watercolor paintings and now, you’re nothing but a memory. A memory not even strong enough to write a short verse or a poem that doesn’t rhyme. Even your lack of love meant dozens of hours of melancholic entertainment. Your lips aren’t the lips I once wondered how they would feel with mine. They just seem like anyone’s lips. Your eyes are not the mysterious constellation that trapped me and lift me to the heavens anymore. Your voice isn’t that sweet song that I used to listen carefully. The truth is that I don’t love you anymore, I don’t feel a thing for you anymore, but I somehow cherish that feeling you gave me. You gave me hope even if I already knew there wasn’t a chance. The idea of “you” made me wonder how it would be like to be by your side. Now I don’t care who’s by your side, I couldn’t care less if it were me or that guy you always talked about. I cherish how I felt, my heart is now full yet my life feels empty.

© Gabriel Berm