Weighing Love With Onions

I grew up growing onions. It’s what I know. I’ve learned love doesn’t grow in such neat lines the way onions do. When I was young I would try and compare the things I didn’t know, like love, to what I did, onions. I thought all I had to do was water, feed, and protect my love and it would grow healthy. Love is a bit more complicated than that, sometimes it can be given all it needs and it still dies.

If we’re talking truthful simplicities, then I am madly in love with Alicia.

“See! Eleanor, it’s that shit, that you know drives me insane!” I could feel the walls shudder for me as she slammed the prison gates.

“I was trying to help.” My voice shrunk, knowing I could be yelling and still be unheard.

“I saw you eyeing Esmerelda the whole night. She can refill her own drinks.”

“Esmerelda treated me like I was a toy.” She also wouldn’t scream at me.

Alicia paced the room blathering on about her own insecurities projected on to me. I don’t care if she can do magic, in fact, I kinda like being the one to do it. It used to fascinate her when I surprised her with a full drink at the twirl of a finger.

“I wanted whiskey”, she’d pout.

I’d change it.

“Actually the vodka cranberry did look good.” She’d say, holding up her cup, a smile pawing at her mouth.

I’d change it back, and she’d stare at the colors as they swirled into completely different chemistry.

“Are you even listening?”

“Yes darling, every word.”

Finally weathered, she slumped into the other couch.

“Are we going to be okay?” She whispered, I couldn’t actually hear her but I’ve grown to know the shape of that question.

In the past, I’d nod my head and we’d embrace to fight another day, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Her voice hollow.

“It doesn’t feel like the person I fell in love with is here anymore.” I made sure she saw my fingers, curled into a pre-snap.

Before I could hear more objections, I snapped and felt the cool salty night air kiss my face. Her anger was replaced with the sound of the ocean's eternal song.

I closed my eyes and listened carefully to each wave as it crashed.

The first time we transported together was this beach... at this point, I don’t think there’s anywhere I could go that isn’t stained by her.

“Now hold on tight,” I told her, “or you could be lost in the space-time continuum.”

Her eyes grew to dinner plates as she squeezed me tighter. When she found out I just said that so she’d hold me close, she turned bright pink. I hadn’t had a favorite color up until that moment. Sunsets are pretty, rainbows are alright, but that gentle blood pink hue awoke a part of me I didn’t even know was dormant.

We baked our skin in the sun, while she told me stories I’ve heard told over and over for the very first time. They were woven with such enthusiasm, and she would go back if some ultimately unimportant detail was forgotten.

Her auburn hair flowing through my fingers, parted as my nails gently scratched her scalp with each drag. The way her eyes closed and her lips parted, was the equivalent of a cat purring.

“Why do I stay?” I asked the ocean, “Do I love my memories more than I love the person who sleeps in my bed?”

Of course, the sea never answered. Instead, it played its eternal song, lapping at the shore beneath my feet.

"Am I that afraid to be alone that I'd amputate the parts of myself I love the most?"

A scream ripped from my chest that has built up for years. Like peeling away the layers of an onion. Until I'm finally left with nothing but the bulb. Vulnerable, I could let myself rot, or I could make something mighty tasty.

“Are you going to break up with me.” She tried to sound unemotional but her voice cracked.

“I haven't decided yet. Do you want me to?”

“No.”