ZOЁ
By
Sean Garland
The first time I ever heard the
song “All I Need” by Radiohead, I was in love. She sat in front of me, smiling
blissfully while we allowed the romantic music to subdue us to a cuddle. We lay
on our backs; our arms outstretched searching for one another amongst the
scattered blankets and way too many pillows. She wrapped her legs around mine,
entangling our limbs like forming the shape of a heart. I held her close,
lifting her leg up to my hip and then clutching her thigh I pressed my body
towards her, my nose touching her nose, our lips inches away from locking in an
embrace forever. The summer heat pours into her bedroom, glistening through her
drawn pink curtains. The usual roar of the downtown traffic is blurred out by
the beat of the song, a light tap of chimes amidst the stroking keys of a heavy
piano. I stare into her eyes, the glee of happiness shining from inside her
pretty little pupil chokes me up. She looks at me with such joy, such emotional
passion; I am awestruck. What did I do to deserve such affection? The song
plays on, “I’m an animal,” Thom Yorke hymns, “trapped in your hot car.”
“Sean,”
she tells me, tears starting to fill her eyes. I’m worried at first so I sit up
to show my concern. She immediately puts a hand to my face, she’s cool to the
touch and chills me to the bone. “I really love you.” Now she’s made me all
warm and tingly inside.
“I
love you too,” I say while leaning in for a kiss. She perks her lips together
and meets me half way.
Thom
breaks into the chorus. She sings along while propping herself on top of me.
“You’re all I need....” she whispers in my ear while kissing my neck slowly,
“You’re all I need....”
I
close my eyes, trying to picture anything more beautiful than the moment I am
in. I can’t think of anything. Suddenly now, the song is in its climax and I’m
making love to her. When the song ends, we hold each other tightly, our sweat
mingling with each other, our bodies meshing into one being. This is love, I
remind myself, the feeling you get when you know you’re meant to be with
someone.
The
song becomes intoxicating. I listen to it while falling asleep with her in my
arms; I hear it when I’m spending every waking second with her. Still, I cannot
fulfill my appetite.
Eventually,
the summer winds die down and the cold autumn breeze begins to howl in the
distance. I’m standing with her at the train station, the song playing louder
and louder in my head as we’re holding one another tight, not wanting to let
go. “You’ll come and visit me?” she asks, tears pouring down her face, “I ought
to stick with you....” Thom says, “because there are no others....”
I
hesitate for a moment, and then reassuringly tell her that I will come to
Toronto as soon as possible. I tell her
I will visit every weekend. I’m full of shit.
Months
go by, the song still playing in my head. I’m thinking of her, but she’s miles
away. I begin to question our love, thinking god knows what she’s up to in a
city like Toronto.
She
visits me more often than not. We make love to the song each visit. She stays
for the weekend, and then heads back. When she leaves, I’m still hungry. I’m
cold. I’m lonely. I’m a disgusting pig.
She
hates me, but I had to tell her. It was the right thing to do, other than being
a terrible decision that I’ll regret for all the wrong reasons. She looks at me now with such distain, such
hatred for the man I’ve become. She stares at me, perhaps looking right through
me. I search her big brown eyes for any last signs of hope. I don’t want to let
her go. She insists I do. Her pupils no longer hold a luster, but carry a
darkness in which I have instilled within her heart. She hates me for my
mistake, she says she always will. Her face is haunting in the moonlight, she
yells at me with such angst. She fades into the shadows of the night, the last
time I’ll ever see her. “You were all I need,” I call out to her. My voice
trails off in the night. I’m listening to myself sing, a scratchy voice from on
an old broken record.
I fucking hate
that song.
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