joel+clementine // 24.06.2017

a gentle excerpt with lots of grammatical mistake from a book i’ll never write.

illustration from weheartit.

the poem is not mine. it is of pablo neruda. it’s one of my favorite poems.  it’s called if you forget me.

the song they sing is also one of my favorites. it’s called endless love by lionel riche and diana ross.

large (2).jpg

 

11 pm

“hey.”
“hey yourself.”

his eyebrows furrowed.

“what?” she jumped.
“nothing. you look like shit. IS THAT VANILLA PERFUME? why do you want to smell like dessert?”
“huh.”
“huh what?”
“ask me if i care?” she smiled.
“you’re awfully rude. should i be concerned or are you a rude person in general or-”
“can i?” she pointed to the warm blankets he was drowning in.
you could just see joel’s auburn hair and his pointed nose.
“can you what?” he looked confused.
“god jo, it’s freezing. move so that i can sit beside you.”
“why would i do that?”
“because it’s freezing, that’s why. now take your legs off of the book you idiot.”
“you idiot.”

//

12 am

“ow, jo. put it off.”
he moved the flashlight from the page of the book they were reading towards her eyes.
“put that off, joel.”
“DID YOU KNOW THAT HE TURNS OUT GAY AT THE END?”
“why are you screaming?” she screamed back.
he decided to whisper. “because it’s awfully quiet here, Clem. also, please stop giggling on every page. it’s sad.”
“what, being gay?”
“yeah.”
she rolled her eyes. “really, jo?”
“what, i’m just saying. he’s the one running around with pom poms and tears streaming down his face.”
“weird.”
“weird.”

//

1 am

“MY LOVE”
“THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE”
“THE EVERY STEP I MAKE-”
“god clem. i hate you.”
“why?”
“that’s my favorite song. and you sang the wrong words.”
“but we can always make up our own words right?”
“but not this one. because this is the epitome of a song that’s very beautiful.”
“okay. let’s go again.”
“okay. MY LOVEEE”, joel dragged the word. “THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE.”
she waited for a moment, looked up at him and screamed.

“THE EVERY STEPPPPPPPPP I MAKEEEEEEEE.”

“GOD CLEMENTINE.”

and i swear you could hear them laughing softly if you tiptoed from the next room.

//

2 am

“hey.”
“hey.”
“hey hey.”
“hey hey.”
“hey hey hey”
“talk to me, clem.”
“what do you mean talk? i’m right here.”
“but you’re not. you want to tell me what’s going on?”
she stopped for a moment and looked at her wrists.
he waited.
“do you- do you think you’d ever love me- i, uh, mean- this way?”
“what do you mean this way?”
“this. all of this. i’m sorry, i should really not-”
“hey.”
“hey.”
he smiled.
“Clementine, i love you. i’m here to tell you that.”
“you don’t sound convincing.”
“what am i supposed to do, get down on one knee?”
“hmm.”
he rolled his eyes.
“seriously, clem. hey, how about i punch you in the face now for thinking you’re not good enough for me? how about that?”
she closed her eyes and pretended to cover her face.
“idiot.”
“idiot.”

//

3 am

“are you snoring?”
“i’m wide awake, Clem.”
“okay.”
“okay.”
“i thought you were.”
“what?”
“snoring.”
“i was not.”
“are you asleep?”
“clementine, here, hit me.”
she raised her eyebrows and punched him in the stomach.
“ow!”
“okay. you’re awake. so i was thinking we could stay up the whole night and then wait for sunrise, yeah?” she grinned
“there are two hours to go for it. let’s wait until we die or something.”
“okay.”
“okay.”

“you know i love you, right? i mean you know that right?” joel looked up from their book.
“you do?”
“nah. i changed my mind.”
“okay.”
“hey, i’m just kidding.”
“okay.”
“are you mad?” he nudged her elbow.
“no.”
“okay.”
“ask me again if i’m mad.”
“are you mad?”
“i am. now apologize.”
“i’m sorry clem. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i really didn’t mean any of that, i-”
clementine rolled her eyes.
“okay stop. god, such a pain.”
he grinned.
“hey jo, read to me.”
“this one?”
“yeah.”
“okay. close your eyes.”
“but why?”
“i don’t know.”
“okay.”
“okay.”

joel cleared his throat and whispered.

“i want you to know one thing.
you know how this is:
if i look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window-”

he stopped abruptly and whispered.

“clem.”
“clem?”
“hey clem?”

“ARE YOU ACTUALLY ASLEEP?” he hissed.

“shut up, Jo.”

he grinned.

“are you snoring, clem?”

“get away from me, Jo.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

inside.

why are some of us
embarrassed
afraid
and
careful
to say the word
rape
and vagina
around people
when clearly somewhere
a girl in a city riding a bicycle
handles the brakes poorly
to avoid the encounter of bullies
on the side of the road
when clearly somewhere
boys (not men) insert a rod inside a girl’s vagina
taking turns to rape her
and not afraid
to get away
with handling a body
like eating the pulp out of a pomegranate
and leaving out the hard fruit skin
naked?