In the Alley

Short fiction

They stepped out of the doorway and into the alley, leaving behind them the sounds of laughter and clanking glass. The alleyway was poorly lit with that unnatural orange glow that cities find so appealing. They held fingertips and he led them deeper into the darkness. The lights flickered as the passed over the dingy brick street below. The periphery of the alley was littered with cigarette butts and trash and god knows what. But the air was cool here and a breeze brought in fresh air so that the odor was minimal. She couldn't smell much over the alcohol and tobacco on her own breath anyway.

He was not an exceptionally big man but he had a presence that filled the space around him. He wasn't traditionally handsome but he had a strength that was ever present. He wore it on his face, a face hard as stone, and in his eyes, dark eyes that shone with intensity and fierceness. When he looked at her his expression didn't ask. He was confident. And she found that appealing and difficult to deny.

But something had been off lately. He stood a little smaller than usual. His expression betrayed doubt. He felt distant.

As they walked his hand left hers and he pulled away. This rattled her.

She sped up a bit and grabbed a handful of his coat, a light jacket really, that felt horribly synthetic and generally unpleasant but it was cut well and fit his trim physique. She pulled herself forward and made her way in front of him. She put his hands on his chest and he stopped. His gaze didn't meet hers but instead flew past with a manufactured intensity. What was wrong?

She stood on her tiptoes and slid a hand behind his neck guiding his mouth to hers. She kissed him and he kissed her back. For a moment she was happily lost in the faint smell of citrus in his hair, mostly masked by the aroma of cigarettes and whisky, mixed in with a bit of muskiness that she found appealing.

She closed her eyes and continued to kiss him. She felt it, deep inside her. She loved him. She would never admit it to him, of course. She hated herself for feeling it. She wasn't one to be weak and it felt like weakness. But it was there. Deep. There was no point in denying it.

They kissed passionately at first, but feeling his growing absence she faltered. She stood back and looked up at him. His eyes were down now, staring holes into his boots. She had never seen him like this before. He looked pale. Unsure. Scared even.

Her anxiety was getting the best of her as she took a few steps back. He leaned effortlessly against a wall placing his foot against the dingy concrete behind him for stability.

"What is it?" she pleaded.

He remained silent and couldn't meet her gaze.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

Slowly his head tilted upward. And slower still his eyes followed. She didn't recognize the look in them. He seemed alien for a moment as he met her stare. The look was off-putting and for a moment the fear that she saw in him transferred directly into her.

"I have to tell you something. Something," he paused, "important."

He walked up to her and looked at her with sympathy and sorrow and anger all mixed into one expression. He put his hand behind her neck and entwined his fingers in her hair, gently, as if apologetically, and he bent down. His breath was warm on her neck. He spoke quickly; matter-of-factly. His whispers were blunt and labored. His voice cracked a moment. It wavered and was unsteady.

As his words came out of his mouth they registered in her head. Her eyes grew wide for a moment and then became unfocused, staring through the wall in front of her and beyond into the nothingness of the moment. His words were pouring out now, falling freely from his lips, but they didn't make it to their destination. Instead they fell harmlessly on the brick below and rested at her feet.

She stepped back as he finished and looked up into his eyes. He looked away, down the alley. He looked ashamed. Of what she wasn't sure. Maybe he felt shame at his fear or at the tiny tears that had welled up and rested on his eyelids. He blinked them away and pulled out his pack of smokes. She watched as he lit one and took a slow, long drag.

She walked up to him and placed her hands on his chest. She focused on her dark green fingernails and the pale skin on the back of her hands for a moment. His chest was hard and warm beneath his gray teeshirt.

She stood that way for a moment, numb. But inevitably the gravity of his words settled into her mind and instantly sunk into her chest. Her stomach fell. She thought for a moment she might collapse. But instead she tore her fingers into his chest and squeezed the shirt between them. She threw herself into his body wanting nothing more than for him to hold her. But he didn't. She pressed her face into his neck and let out a long, quivering breath. Her voice caught. And she began to quietly sob. Her tears rolled out of her eyes freely and spilled onto him leaving him wet with her emotion.

"No," she whispered to no one in particular. "Please. No."