Pulling Apart
by Terri

I watch Blair and know he’s pulling away. Maybe not deliberately, he doesn’t want to go. But he does, helped by his own failed expectations. I watch and mourn a little at the distance between us. I long for the days when things were easy, relaxed, to be friends without the burden of responsibility lying so heavy on Blair’s shoulders. We pretend that everything’s fine, that we’re the same, but we’re not -- we can’t be.

With one touch Incacha set off a train of events that can’t be halted, and we react with deceptions and masks that hide the pain inside. If I concentrate I imagine I can see bloodstains on the floor, tiny droplets that remind me of that night. I itch to drop to my knees and scrub them away, but don’t. I know they’re only there in my mind. At night as I lie in my bed, I listen as Blair reads all he can about Shamans. Words whispered under his breath as he looks up web sites and ploughs through ancient books that crackle with age as he turns the pages. Trying so hard to become what he thinks he has to be.

He fails every time.

It’s not so bad now, Blair seems to understand that he’s no Shaman, that the bloody hand print on his arm was just that -- nothing more. The experiments with herbs and self-hypnotism have become less frequent, the ancient books abandoned under a pile of pillows. I should rejoice, but each failure seems to dull Blair’s spirit just a little more. On the surface he’s all babbling words and smiles, but underneath he’s beginning to fade, dulling a little with every failed experience. I’ve tried to explain that I don’t need a Shaman and Blair listens, but I can tell that he doesn’t believe me. He tells me he does, and his lies are so slick he believes them himself. That is until he’s alone and he remembers that bloody hand print on his arm.

Blair thinks I’m the special one, and he’s right. But what he doesn’t see is he’s special too. I don’t need a Shaman, I need a friend, someone that says ‘Yes you’re special, but you’re not a freak. There’s a difference’. I need someone who’ll watch my back, be there through thick and thin. Someone who’ll fight my battles even if I don’t want them fought. Someone to talk with, to laugh and play.

That’s not a Shaman -- that’s Blair.

The End

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