1.

 

   The light filled my room as it had never done before; washing over my walls, so bright, the cheap plaster lines became invisible in the glow. The world inhaled from outside, but it was fleeting; the radiance already vanishing behind another cloud.  Had I still been sleeping, I would have missed it. My dreams of the ordinary being conquered by the two of us, the promise that lapsed over into my conscious thoughts was liberating, but like that radiance, bittersweet with realization. The corners of the ceiling come into focus; the dark grey-green shadow coated my thoughts like someone just placed bars around my view of happiness.

 

   I took a breath of her in, myself, inhaling her heat. The woman was still there, in flesh and bone, both so pale against that pillow she could have been made of paper. The white-blonde hair fell off her shoulders like vines, and my eyes traced the tips of it down her flawless shoulder blades. She wasn’t as fragile as she appeared though, and the moment I accept this into my still waking brain, the likeness is shattered. My fingers curl back to me, retreating from their hovered position above her thigh. This image took me home last night. She laid me in my bed and made my breath catch and my body tremble with pleasure. But in all her typical dominant strength she was as yielding as a petal under my whim. Those eyes, normally staring me down with order and judgment, were questioning her right to moan as she did. This bed was a battlefield where we were both made humble, and for once, equal.

 

   I sit up, hearing the noise of Chicago which wasn’t readily perceptible seconds ago. Someone just turned up the volume on reality; the sobrieties of it making me wince. The romance of this hour dying against the sound of traffic and morning irritation.  This room is freezing, compared to that bed, so I dress and go for the bathroom. She doesn’t stir, making me parade with accomplishment. I piss. Judge my facial growth, which can last another day before I’m considered a lazy slob by the standards of my secretary. The girls at the office let me slide with far too many things given the amount of charm I lay on, and the occasional treating of coffee or lunch.  I brush my teeth, pausing half done when I’m positive I’ve heard her stirring, and come out of the bathroom to catch the last of a breast and her stomach as she slips a shirt on and my eyes snap up to her face, my hand wiping my mouth and holding it there; suddenly I’m reticent, not sure what to say. My hands smell of printer paper - a scent I’ll never rid myself of - and faint traces of last night’s wine.  Those stormy grey eyes of hers settle on me, realizing I’m watching and as she’s tugging her shirt down, I catch the faint traces of a blush on the pale white neck she’s got craned away from me.

   For a moment I am wondering if I should even ask her to stay. If it’ll make any sort of difference if I told her it’s what I’d really like. This relationship was damned from the start, but in our stubbornness, and perhaps because of our isolated lifestyles we keep unconsciously beating it back to life, knowing the entire time it won’t work, but the few moments are worth the ache that follows after.

 

   “Hello?”

   “Hey, um… I don’t have much time but, I want to see you.”

   “Erin?”

   “Are you free tonight?”

   “Uh yeah, I can be free. What’d you have in mind?”

 

 

She walked along the edge of the bed, to me, all hips, and closed her eyes leaning into my neck. That same heat she carried warming me, making that bed look inviting all over again. The mint perfume of my breath smeared with her heat and she studied me closely now checking my expression for guilt or regret, her face coming around my cheek, lips gently gliding across the stubble. We didn’t need words but I used them.

 

   “Stay with me today.” I suggested as casually as possible without making it sound like I was begging. Her eyes went stiff at the idea, but ultimately, slowly relaxed in sorrow.

   “I can’t. You know this.” she reminds me, and I do know this but I was hoping for something new. Her voice is quietly rough, the sound of someone throwing away the scraps of holiday wrapping paper. She takes in a deep breath, her eyelids lowering to a soft close as she rests her lips to mine in a light, not quite kiss. “I love you.” She tells me which is new.

 

   I hold this precious obsession in my arms in that door way, searching her face now for proof maybe, for some motive behind that line so I could believe it, but before I could respond, she’s pulling away from me, my hand recognizing something hard on her back. She brushes passed and goes for her boots, the knife on her side which no normal young woman carries like an actual everyday tool, but her, resting against her so casually, like an extra appendage.  I know by now, she’s got another in her boot and they’re making me sick. Like seeing your favorite piece of art defaced, you begin to hate it with disappointment; in your eyes it’s ruined. Those knives slice into my ideal ‘morning after’ and I hate her suddenly for bringing them, for owning them. I begin to watch the radiance fade, but it could just be the clouds moving again

 

   “Well that was fun.” I spit out, immediately regretting it. That tone was a slap to her face. She looks over her shoulder as she’d sat on the bed tugging boots on and her shoulders drop with a barely audible sigh. She just caught up.

   “That’s not fair.” She tells me looking at the mess of blankets we emerged from.

   “You’re right, it isn’t. But this isn’t either. You can’t just... leave like this.”

   “I can come back.” She said, raising those eyes up to me. I don’t think she intentionally levels people with those like she’s doing now, it’s more of a natural trait she carries.

 

   “I didn’t expect you to call.”

   “It wasn’t planned, I just….”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” I smiled at her, trying to get her to feel a little less guilty for wanting to see me. Though surprised I was just grateful.

 

   Shaking my head I go back to the sink, finish cleaning my teeth, trying to wash the taste of her skin out of my mouth. That ache was beginning to settle in, the type where you’d know it was going to hurt tomorrow. I know the bedroom is empty and she’s gone, but I call her name anyway. “Erin?”

 

2.

   After the silence, the door clicking shut was ear shattering. My stomach was so tense I could barely let go of the handle. I made my way down the hall and to the exit sign above the stairs.

 

   “You look amazing.” He said

   “Should we go in?”

 

  The sun is shining today, as if it were going to be glorious, as if the weather were some precursor for what to expect. It’s still freezing though; the sun is just a false sign of the end of winter. The streets are packed with matching black suits and cell phones, and among the sea of them, I am no one.

 

  There’s a hollow feeling in me as I walk. I shouldn’t have left him like that. All I can think about are his eyes, watching me because he doesn’t understand it and he’s angry but is powerless. He had no idea if I could, I’d stay, I’d of been his. Lay down the knives, forget how to use them.

 

   I didn’t choose this life. And I know now what I would have chose, that travel companion he was looking for, that dance partner in this fucked up reality, that person to be his equal; is something I can never be. No one believes you when you confess you’d like to be less than you are for them-no one.

 

   The restaurant is a symphony of glasses clinking and murmured conversations atop the ambient music playing from somewhere in the ceiling. Our table was laced with the little tools of fine dining. His eyes are the color of the candle on the table, making the washed out grey now full of motion; little pools of light I was drowning in.

He’s older than me, but not by as much as he believes. His face is weathered with work and travel and he’s handsome but tired. Tonight he smiles as though he were a kid again. That smile makes me lose it.

 

  Like clockwork, the El is waiting for me, the doors open just long enough for my entrance, closing as I am safely aboard. I chose a seat near the middle as the back was full of kids just off school, and the front a cluster of elderly women going on about a bag-boy’s shortcomings, as they went through their groceries.

 

   Thank God it was over with. His company was killing me. I could barely handle lying to him like that. Telling him I could come back? I didn’t lie though, when I said I loved him. I do love him. And now look what I’ve done to him.

 

   “What are we doing?”

   “Don’t talk…”

   His skin on mine starring as the best excuse I’d ever heard of. We’d held back for so long, through the fighting, the lying, and the wars we put each other through. All that emotion- we just couldn’t handle it and so it turned into hate… but never for each other.

 

   The trip home is long. If I’d of gone to the apartment I’d used when he visited, it’d of been a short walk. My true commute is over forty five minutes, and outside Chicago. The place isn’t even entirely mine. Tonight, I know for sure that I do not have it to myself as I’d like.

 

   That empty feeling is still there. I can’t shake it. It’s growing inside of me; it’s going to consume me. Deep breath after deep breath, and I’m stable enough to go inside. Get the feelings off your face Erin. It’s over.

 

   “Don’t you get it?” he laughed at me. “You’re the only woman I’ve considered raising the white picket fence for. Which is... sort of funny, considering that could never happen.”

   “I could make it happen...” I mumbled into the pillow, feeling powerless.

   “No. You can’t. We both know you can’t. This will never be more than this: us in this bed.”

   “I could leave it Tim.”

   “You won’t. They’d come looking for you. Hell, you shouldn’t even be here now.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me.”

 

   It’s almost colder inside. The fire’s going in the corner, but the heat almost refuses to spread further than a few feet. Winter needs to be over with. There needs to be change soon.

 

   “Hey there Sunshine,” Melissa says. She’s hopped off the couch and started towards me, eyes perked open as if my arrival bared treats of some sort.

   “Hey…” I let out a sigh and close the door behind me. The air in here is stale. It smells of mold and wood, like an old tree fort.

   “So, how’d it go?” she sings to me.

   “How the fuck do you think it went?”

   “Oh! Finally some reaction to the whole thing, I’m proud of you Erin. I told you it was going to be harder than you thought. I told you. But it had to be done. I’m glad it’s over.”

   “Yeah…”

  “It is over, right?”

 

   “Timeus, this isn’t something you’re supposed to know. Do you understand that? They can never find out. They’ll kill me.”

   “So why’d you tell me then Erin?”

   “I can’t lie to you anymore, even if you hate me for the truth.”

  “That’s not fair, God damn it. You can’t tell me something like this and expect me not to hate it. This is bullshit!”

   “Can I trust you?”

   “You have to ask?” he questioned, surprised. “I can’t believe you have to ask me that…”

 

   I walk over to the table, brushing some crap aside so I can begin taking my gear off. She’s watching me, waiting for an answer, waiting for me to tell her I didn’t promise him I’d come back. Her face is shifting from concerned to angry.

 

   “Erin.” She demands when my time of silence is up.

   I wince at my name. Quietly, my back to her; I set down my knives on the table, the blood of my lover lining the reflection of her proud smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

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