I think

I would've enjoyed this life more, 
If I'd done it all, 
When I was a bit older.

"Foolish child, 
Don't you know that to grow is to live?"

No. 
For there are no living pains, 
Only growing pains. 

"What has stopped growing,
is dead."

And what has stopped dying, 
Wont grow. 

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

The One Where They Drove Home

They’d been sitting in silence for ten minutes, listening to the woodland critters come to life around them. In the dimming evening light, Anvi searched the space before her for details that may indicate a hiding threat: rustling of the trees afar to signify a hiding bear or the stirring of water to indicate the presence of some hidden sea monster. The scene remained  tranquil before her, to her dismay. She needed chaos to stir the restless souls trapped in her body, squished between organs and muscle. Something to cause a ripple across the flat surface. She looked to her right, where her present company sat with eyes closed, no doubt soaking in the serenity of the scene as if it were some life force. For a moment, she wondered if she could agitate him into disrupting the stillness, heckle him until he shoved her into the lake or kissed her on the mouth. She’d take either one.  It wouldn’t work, Anvi knew. Isaac was an immovable object. Nothing Anvi could do would provoke any response from him. 

As if in response to this mute frustration, Isaac spoke, “Have you found what you’re looking for?” 

“No.” 

Isaac peered down at Anvi. 

“I think it’s the monotonous pattern that will get to you first.” Anvi concluded, “Damn rat race.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s the realization that you’ve caved.” Isaac looked at Anvi with defeated eyes, “The knowledge that you could’ve pulled yourself out if you’d just – resisted.”

“And you think that would’ve worked?”

“Honestly,” Isaac dragged in another breath before returning, “I couldn’t tell you. But if you didn’t try, you have noone to blame but yourself.” 

Anvi let the words settle. “This isn’t what we’re made for.”

Isaac let out a monosyllabic laugh.“Made for?” 

“But of course, you think this is all incidental.” 

Isaac said nothing. 

“I’m not saying you’re wrong.” Anvi started

“But?”

Anvi smiled, “But if it’s all incidental anyway, why do we have to stick with the laid out plan?”

“Why?” Isaac’s brows furrowed, “See a way out do you? I’d gladly follow if you lead.” 

Anvi frowned. “I’ll find a way out.” Her voice sounded small. 

Isaac smiled weakly.

“I will.” Anvi insisted.

“Sure, sweetie.”

“And when I find it, I’ll come back to take you with me.” 

The skies turned from a deep tangerine to a duller lavender. Mosquitoes were emerging from their dwelling, in search for fresh blood to feed on. Anvi had her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

“Cold?” Isaac asked. 

“I’m ok.” Anvi shook off stiffly.

“Hmm.” Isaac stood, “I’m getting a bit chilly. So I might head home.” 

Anvi bit back a frown. 

“C’mon.” Isaac half out a hand, “Well play a game of chess before calling it a night.” 

“Don’t wanna play.” Anvi mumbled, but took Isaac’s hand nonetheless. 

“It’ll be fun.”

“I’m just tired.” 

“C’mon, Talia will worry and I don’t want to earn a reputation with her.” 

The drive back from the lake to Anvi’s home was uneventful. Anvi watched the trees slip by. 

“What are you thinking?” Isaac  asked 

“I’m just  glad to be living in a place where greenery was just so readily available.” Anvi said. 

“Yeah?”

“I lived in the city for a while, growing up, before Talia and I could afford a place with a lawn and all that.”

Talia and Anvi once lived at an apartment in downtown that was so locked in concrete that their apartment would often go days without visible daylight. Anvi was sure there must’ve been some urban planning law that was violated by such construction. The building was so old and so forgotten by those who might take issue with complaints related to improper urban planning. Nonetheless, it was a roof over their head, and an affordable roof. 

“Talia had been a waitress at the time,” Anvi said. A woman of only twenty seven with a five year old niece to feed. Anvi was surprised by how detailed her memory of that time in her life was. “I remember I’d sit at the counter, coloring after kindergarten until Talia’s shift ended.”

“That was just- allowed?”

“Yeah, it was a mom and pop shop and the couple that owned the place adored us. The Stephenson. Their grandkids never came to visit so we were kind of the closest thing they had to family.” Anvi wondered if Mr. And Mrs. Stephenson were still well. They were so old when Anvi was so little. “In a way, they were our only family too.” 

A short silence passed. Anvi kept her eyes on the passing trees. She noted that Isaac drove carefully, not going more than a couple of miles over the speed limit. “You’re a safe driver.” 

“I try.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a safe driver.”

“No?” Isaac challenged, “Why is that?”

Anvi shrugged. “Talia tells me I live my life like I’m made of china.” 

“Talia drives like a madman.” 

Anvi laughed. “How would you know?” 

“I saw the giant dent on the front bumper of her Toyota.”

“Ohh, that.” Anvi said, sheepishly, “Yeah that was me.” 

No.

“Yeah.”

“I have gotta know how that happened.” 

Anvi peered up at Isaac, trying to decide if he was getting ready to laugh at her. There was a smirk playing coyly across his face, waiting to grow, “That might be a story for another day.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense.” 

“Another day, Isaac.”

Isaac sighed, “Fine.” 

Anvi took a moment before saying,  “It’s a little embarrassing, but sometimes I overthink things and it gets me into more trouble.” The silence that followed remained Anvi’s to fill, “I kinda don’t want you to know how messy I am just yet. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, Anvi. That’s ok.”

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

The One With the Piano

Anvi followed the sound of gliding music to the open auditorium. She descended the room to the piano and sat in the first row to watch Isaac play. He paid her no mind, enjoying the melody as it spiraled in a graceful waltz. When it came to an end, he didn’t look up. 

“How do you play like that?” she murmured to herself, but the larger room carried the echo. 

He looked up, for the first time acknowledging his company,“Practice.”

She sighed,“I practice. I used to compete actually. And I play pretty well when I’m on my own, but it’s not the same in front of people.”

He peered down at her, quizzical eyes forming a plan,“Come sit with me.”

She thought to deny his request, but couldn’t think of any excuse that made sense. It was painfully obvious what would happen next: he’d challenge her to play in a way her pride couldn’t resist, then scrutinize her when she inevitably fails to meet his expectations. Nonetheless, she obliged. 

“Care to play me something?” He didn’t slide off of the bench, just over to the edge to give her space. It was long enough for the both of them, but too close to Anvi’s comfort. 

“Sure.” Anvi hovered her fingers over the keys, feeling sweat drip to their tips.“Just don’t laugh if I fumble.”

“Then don’t fumble.”  

Anvi didn’t fumble, and she was half sure it was out of spite. It wasn’t nearly as graceful as when he played, but she didn’t fumble and for that she was grateful. When she was done, she looked up at him, expectantly, sure he might criticize her playing. 

“You’d probably enjoy an audience more if you weren’t nervous.”

Really?

“I’m gonna get in your head. Then I want you to play as well as you can. Keep playing until you get through it without fumbling.”

“I didn’t fumble.”

“You will.” He assured.“Can I get in your head?”

“Go ahead and try.” Anvi challenged peering back up at Isaac. She wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she’d like to be, but she amended herself for maintaining eye contact. 

His eyes were black to their core, almost as if there were no margin between pupil and iris. His expression held less attention than an apathetic stare into the space through her. Gail wondered how long she’d have to hold eye contact before he got into her head. 

“Are you burrowing into my subconscious yet or—”

 “When you start playing, do you take a breath in or out on the first note?”

“Out.” She returned. 

“How many stumbling notes do you forgive before you get frustrated and start over?”

“About three.”

“Such short patience. It must have been difficult being raised by a cold mother.”

“My aunt made me cookies when I cried.”

“Rewarding failure. That explains a lot.”

“You should know.”

“How’d you do on that last math test?”

“That’s personal.”

“So you failed?”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you say—”

“Because it’s personal.” Anvi repeated flatly. 

A shadow of a smile grew across Isaac’s face. “I can tutor you. I did well.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I want your lunch money.”

“But I’ll starve.”

“That’s the idea.”

“You don’t need the money?”

“MaybeI like seeing you suffer.”

“Kinky. You should see me do math.”

“So you’re failing.”

“I’m not. It’s just painful.”

“Masochistic addiction? Now who’s kinky?”

“Still you.”

“You think so?” He raised a brow. 

“No—Do you?” It was stupid. She fumbled, just as Isaac had predicted she would. 

He said nothing in reply, just shook his head, smirking, and turned back to the keys.“Play.”

Anvi played, reading the notes carefully while paying mind to her fingers. Half way through the song, she became aware of the pace at which she was reading the notes and wondered if her fingers could keep up. 

No. Don’t fumble—

“Do it again.” Isaac snapped when Anvi’s fingers inevitably slipped. 

“I said I permitted myself three fumbles.”

“Well I’ll give you none.” Isaac said impassively, “Do it again.”

Anvi started over. This time, she tried to pay less mind to the notes, paying attention to her fingers instead. It was a mistake as the notes were not committed to memory as of yet. She fumbled before she got to the second line. 

“Again.” 

When she tried to focus on the notes and her fingers, she managed to make it further, but not to completion. She tired again, starting at the wrong key. Again, she tried, but her sweaty fingers slipped. Then she briefly forgot what scale to start on. When she got the scale right, her mind felt too scattered to continue. 

“I can’t do it.” She felt her eyes sting.

“Then fail.”

“No.”She sniffed. Breathed deeply and tried again. Her fingers glided over the keys, and she allowed them to carry themselves without thinking much about it. She feared that if she thought about it, she’d fail. When she realized she hadn’t fumbled yet, she panicked, stopping dead in her tracks before she had the chance to make a mistake. She started again, but this time she fumbled within the first thirty seconds. Her balled fists stuck the keys. 

She sat still, holding her breath to calm her pulse for several minutes. She could feel her company paying her no mind. He might have been staring at the clock on the wall for all she knew. After the silence between them stretched uncomfortably, he asked, “May I play?”

She sniffed,“Go ahead.”

Anvi listened to the melody built gradually in soothing circles. His slender fingers glide over the keys effortlessly. His pale knuckles shifted like pedals in a machine. It was like he was programmed with all of the right steps. When he finished, he looked down at her and said,“Meet me at 4:30 at the library everyday. I can help you.”

“They don’t have a piano.” Anvi shook her head. 

For a moment, he looked down incredulous, “You know how to play, Anvi.” He shook his head,“But that math class isn’t gonna pass itself.” 

She blinked. 

“Bring your textbook with you.” He turned back to the keys,“Now leave. I want to be alone.”

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

Go find the warmth in blue

Pretty pink hair and blue eyes that smile warmly. That’s all I ever see before the wind is knocked out of my chest and I can’t find the words to finish my thought. You wait expectantly, holding out a cappuccino, waiting for this transactional exchange to be finished. I ramble the first thing that comes to my mind, paying mind only to the cadence of my own voice, obsessing that it might match the warmth of your smile. The rock stuck in my throat tells me I have failed. Perhaps not all of us can grace this world with easy charm. 

A song plays from the speakers, its hopeful notes will always remind me of you. Perhaps that is why I still play it when it rains: to summon warmth from the frozen skies on days that promise the opposite. 

I know our paths may only cross briefly, but I will never forget what your absentminded kindness has made me understand. 

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

Denial

If I succumb now 
It’ll prove something about the world 
That I don’t want to be true, 
That I won’t wish into truth. 

So I stay kicking,
Against the tangled sea weed
Pulling me down
By the ankles 
To the ocean floor. 
I keep my face 
Above the broken surface 
Knowing that my legs, 
Human and weak,
Must fail me eventually, 
And that my breath 
Won’t hold out forever 
And that I must keep fighting for another second 
And then another more 
For if I succumb now
I will never see light again.

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

She’s someone kind

And warm, 

Who makes you feel safe, 

And realize, 

That you’re not quite as patient 

As you should be, 

And fills you with guilt,

For your wrongs, 

In a way

That only the innocent can.

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil 

I wonder if you could be somebody 

Just by willing it, 
And refusing to accept “no”
As the final answer.

Keep digging, 
And once you hit the molten core, 
And your shovel melts, 
Let yourself melt with it, 
And become part of something bigger.

Or cease to be.
Either way, you haven’t settled for “no.”

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil

Ego

The anger protects you.
So you’re reluctant to let it go.

Stay angry, if you dare.

Or let down that shield, 
And let fear take a stab. 
What have you to lose? 
Pride? 
Ha!

That thin film that clings to your face, 
Stopping breath.

Just stop.

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil

So carry on

Too many things are coming to shuddering halt after spinning chaotically for nearly half a decade and in the face of this overwhelming stillness settling in heavy slates within me, I hear the quiet whisper of nostalgia.

It is a weak longing for poison, for the racing of pulse and spinning of mind and hammering of heart that have sustained my being for longer than I can afford to forget. 

I look back to hear the ghost of experience sing a soothing solace: permission to carry on. 

All rights reserved © 2024 Josephine Joyil