Promises
I would never lie to you.
I told you I’d do this and I will.
I don’t know if I told you I’d do it because I didn’t want to make myself I liar or vice versa. I know that it’s hard to do something for yourself – solely for yourself. I know.
I make dinner for myself. Just for me. I hate it. It’s one of the most difficult tasks. I can cook. Hell yeah I can cook. And I can cook for you and your mate and your kid, easy. But just for me. That’s hard.
I want to be able to do things just for me – for no one other than me.
I stall in my living room as I look down on my heart.
I want to curl up under the stairs and just stay there. I don’t want to be looked at, seen. I pull two black bin bags from the roll and attempt to wrap the heart in their darkness but it’s not working. It just looks like a heart wrapped in bin bags – funny that.
I pace.
I don’t want to prolong this ordeal – make the distance any further, make the pain any more intense than necessary. I could just go from my flat – my Camberwell…
I pull myself together.
YOU PROMISED.
I make some last minute precautions…
I leave my flat with Peckham in mind.
An elderly man presses the traffic light button for me and the 12 to Peckham arrives almost instantaneously. I hop on the bus. When I say hop clearly I do not hop – I stumble, I fumble, I struggle. It’s quite busy and I have to stand with my heart between my legs. It is red – no bin bags shroud it. A man, about 27, he smiles and watches me from the corner of his eye all the way to Peckham library.
Peckham – where I so so badly did not want to come.
No more than 30 second after I get off the bus a bloke with the whitest teeth and the biggest smile swoons –
I love your love!
And I love you!
And I feel like a dickhead.
Peckham is wonderful. Truly. I kick myself for not starting the walk from further within Peckham’s depths – perhaps another day, a day when I am less of a complete fool.
Forgive me Peckham for my judgements and ignorance?
Carrying the heart past South London Gallery but why can’t I find my groove – I can’t seem to carry the heart in the way I once could, hands reaching across and touching in front. I sit on a wall and try to manoeuvre… but no, it’s so so awkward. I continue on for a minute or so but then have to stop again. ARGH, don’t know why this is happening – has the heart changed shape? Have my arms shrunk? I don’t know but I walk on awkward looking and all.
In Camberwell –
-You’ve got a big heart!
-Whose heart is that?
-Is it made of stone?
A little boy flutters his fingers across the heart as I walk by.
I pass my house and I am glad I went the extra distance, I am glad Peckham met my heart but there’s something about Camberwell, maybe it’s simply the fact that this is my home… I’m worried, I’m slightly anxious, I don’t want anyone I know to see me I suppose… I keep my head down.
I’m ok as long as you don’t know me.
I’m ok as long as I don’t ever have to see you again.
Up Walworth Road and it’s not as busy as I hoped it’d be. I planned the walk to coincide with the evening rush hour. It’s really quite quiet here this evening. The road is long and I feel alone. East Street, East Street… still not there. Most people look at the ground or chat on their phone regardless of the huge heart on display. I feel better than walk number 1 though. I haven’t needed to sit down half as much. Maybe it’s to do with wearing a different bag – yes yes I did find one (go me!). But this time I feel a lot more nauseous than before. I find that the easiest way to carry the heart is to lean back a bit and press it right into my stomach. It smushes your lunch up but it makes the weight seem less…
Finally East Street! I look at my arm and read street names, I know it was near East Street. I know it.
Yes! Manor Place! I turn down the street and I need to sit down. I need to sit down now. I find steps. Here I rest. I think I pushed too hard. I think I should have stopped more often at the beginning.
I thought I was fine, I thought…
-It’s ok to go slow.
But I’m meeting someone later, I need to get to Soho by 7:30.
-Sometimes people are late.
Not me.
-Some things take time.
I can make it in time!
-You need to give things the time they need.
There’s a clock opposite and I watch the big hand tick forward.
I need to go.
-5 more minutes…
I need –
-You need 5 more minutes.
I sit.
A light rain falls.
I wait 4 minutes and then go.
I am only standing about 2 minutes before I need to stop again. Why are you being so awkward heart? I jump it up in my arms and try to find that comfortable hold, but I can’t. Jump up again – no… where is it?
I’m getting agitated.
I’m not even half way.
Why is this happening?
All of a sudden things seem too hard, the distance is too far and my body is saying enough. Jump the heart up and try to continue on.
On this side street off Walworth road at 17:07 I want to cry.
Then people.
People in front of me and I can’t cry. I hold in these tears for these people that I don’t even know. I carry my heart and give them a half smile as I walk past.
Why didn’t you help me?
Couldn’t you see my shaking knees?
Half heartedly I keep on going, Kennington Road in the distance. Ok. Ok. Nearly half way. You can have a break at half way – a good long break, I promise you, I promise.
I promise we’ll continue onwards.
