Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts

Monday, January 6, 2014

Take Me, Break Me

Part Three


        That night, Kory lay awake, physically and emotionally exhausted, but unable to put her mind to rest. She focused on the warmth radiating from the blonde angel lying next to her, which always lulled her to sleep, even in the most restless of nights. Tonight, however, Kory felt like Michelle’s warmth had turned into a burning heat, and succeeded in only making Kory more restless. Slowly and carefully, Kory pulled herself from the grasp of the heavy comforter and Michelle’s limp arm and left the room. She found a slip of paper and a pen in the kitchen and jotted down a quick note about not feeling well and not wanting to get Michelle sick, signed it with just a ‘K’ and snuck back into the bedroom to leave it on her pillow. It wasn’t quite a lie, really, Kory had begun to feel sick from the heat, but it wasn’t the full truth.
         Kory found her journal and began writing:

        ‘I had another attack last night. Again from crowds and people, but this time it was worse. I think it was the fear that M thought of me as just a friend, but it caused something horrifying to happen. While I was trying to get ahold of myself, I heard Lucy talking to me. Like actually telling me to right myself and get back to the party. She was never supposed to be anything but a tool for work, but now she’s edging her way into my life. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scared for my own sanity. Am I going mad? If I am, do I tell someone? Or should I just sort this out on my own? I think if it ever happens again, I’ll talk to the Father. March 4th/5th, 2012.’

        After finishing, Kory turned the page and began writing again, this time just for pleasure. She finished a total of three poems which she titled ‘Shitty Poetry: One Two and Three’ and then she collapsed onto the sofa and finally drifted to sleep.
        When she woke up, Kory smelled burnt toast and heard the sizzling of eggs on a frying pan, along with Michelle’s casual whistling as she cooked. Kory didn’t rouse herself right away; she sat on the couch, under the warm blanket, and listened to the calming sounds of her lover. When the toaster popped the burnt bread out, Michelle snatched them quickly and put them on a plate before looking at them.
         “Oh shit.” Kory heard Michelle exclaim before she tossed the black squares into the bin and she laughed loudly from under her blanket. “Oh good! You’re awake! Come here baby, I made you breakfast!”
        Kory looked over the back of the sofa at Michelle and smiled. Michelle had left her hair down, and it stuck out at a drastic angle from one side of her head. She wore plaid sleeping shorts and a sports bra under Kory’s apron. The apron had once said ‘Kiss the Cook’ but as a joke with herself she had crossed out ‘Kiss’ with a sharpie and scribbled in ‘Snog’ instead. Kory had never actually worn the apron, just let it hang next to the refrigerator as an inside joke, again only with herself.
        Michelle cleared her throat and pointed to the words on the apron. “Come here, my dear.”
        “Yes my little poet.” Kory threw the blanket off of her body and walked into the kitchen area, where Michelle pulled a Polaroid camera from behind the blender and quickly snapped a photo of Kory.
        “Gotcha!” Michelle whooped in excitement as Kory lunged towards her, catching her in her arms and planting her lips firmly on Michelle’s as she tried to retrieve the photo. “Oh no you don’t!”
        “M, come on, I'm just in my ‘pants.”
        “No darling, you’re in your panties.
        “Sweetie, you’re British now,” Kory said as if she was talking to a child, “we call them pants here. What you call ‘pants,’ we call ‘trousers.’”
        “Either way, this is going on the fridge.”
        Kory sighed exaggeratedly. “Fine, but make sure we take it down if my parents ever visit.”
        “Come on, your parents are okay with your gay-ness. If my parents ever visited and found out I slept in your bed…” Michelle dragged her forefinger across her throat. “Even worse if they found out we were dating, banged, and took near nude photos of each other in the morning.”
        “Babe, no one says ‘banged’ anymore, and besides, I don't see any near nude polaroids of you around here.”
        “Well the morning isn’t over yet. You still have two hours before class.”
        “Ooh, I can think of a few things we can do in two hours.” Kory pulled Michelle in closer to her body and began kissing her neck.
        “Me too! We could eat this wonderful breakfast i cooked for you and then we can play patty-cake!”
        “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
        “No I mean actual patty-cake,” said Michelle with a totally innocent look on her face, “what were you thinking?”
        “You’re silly, M.” Kory let go of her and looked around the kitchen. “What did you make for us?”
        “Over-easy and toast! Except, the toast burned, and I'm pretty sure it’s inedible now, and i couldn’t keep the yokes from breaking in the eggs so now they’re scrambled.”
        “Good, I like scrambled eggs better.”
        “Wonderful! Bon appetit!” Michelle served up the eggs and they sat at the coffee table cross-legged and ate.
        The eggs were also burnt, but they ate them anyways, and then Kory and Michelle played patty-cake, actual patty-cake, until Kory had to go to class.

        On the bus to the pub, Kory had no trouble falling asleep. Her day had been longer than it should have been with only two lectures and a discussion class, and during all of them, she could barely take her mind off of hearing Lucy actually talk to her, and when she could, it was replaced with the fear of just being Michelle’s friend, despite the wonderful morning they had. After hours of worrying, she was exhausted, and the bus seat felt so comfortable. When the bus driver arrived at her stop, she had barely woken up enough to pull the line that requested the stop. The driver did not yell back to her, and Kory did not recognize his face. Kory rushed off the bus without even thanking the driver, and then realized that she still felt raw and exposed in her skimpy work outfit. Typically, her bus ride nap gave her the opportunity to switch to Lucy without a problem, but due to Kory’s newfound fear of her, she couldn’t bring herself to make the change. Kory walked up to the back door of the pub, where Shaun was standing smoking a cigarette.
        “Hey Lucy,” He said, “you’re a bit early.”
        Kory’s heart skipped a beat. Lucy… “I— yeah, the, uh, bus driver was new…”
        “Wouldn’t that make you a bit late?”
        “W-what? No, he sped a lot.” Kory hugged herself tightly as she wondered how she was supposed to tend the bar as her normal self.
        “Ah, makes sense.” Shaun held his cigarettes out to her. “Fag?”
        Something in the back of Kory’s mind laughed at that. “Sure, thanks.” She took the cigarette and lit it with her own lighter, which she always carried to work.
        “You look a bit pale, you alright?”
        “Fine. I’m—I mean, I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather.”
        Shaun stubbed the smoke on the bottom of his shoe and dropped the butt into a nearby puddle. “Well, I’ve gotta get back. I’ll see you in there.” He smiled at her as he opened the door, and Kory mustered enough courage to return the smile, though it felt awkward on her face and she said nothing more to him.
         Well that was bloody pathetic!
        Oh son of a—, Kory thought at Lucy’s appearance, what do you want?
        Did you know, said Lucy, avoiding the question, that in America, ‘fag’ means someone who is homosexual? Its like Shaun just called you a fag! Lucy laughed loudly, which Kory thought was strange, seeing as there was no actual noise. You’re a bloody fag with a fag!
        Are you going to help me out or not?
        Help you? Lucy sounded confused. How and why would I do that?
        Because thats why I created you! To help me do my job well!
        What’s in it for me?
        You get to take over my body for the next six hours. Wouldn’t that be nice? Not having to put up with my ‘pathetic’ social skills?
        Hmmm… that does sound nice. Your social skills do make me cringe. Kory wondered how Lucy was able to cringe without an actual face to cringe with. I’ll do it.
        Suddenly, Kory felt confident and strong, she felt herself stand up straighter, and even felt some amount of excitement for beginning work. Kory tried to bring her hand up to her mouth to take a drag of the cigarette, but nothing happened. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and observed her make-up. As she fixed the minor imperfections in her eyeliner and lipstick, Kory placed the cigarette in her mouth and took drags of it periodically. Kory then began to panic; she did not initiate any of these movements. Typically, when Kory became Lucy, she became more confident and had a more social mindset, but she could always control her own actions.
         Something is terribly wrong, Kory tried to say, but only thoughts came out.
        “Oh hush,” said Lucy, audibly, “I’m just doing what you said I could. I’ll give you the controls in six hours.” She flicked the remnants of the cigarette into the nearby puddle with nearly a third of the cigarette unsmoked.
        I wasn’t done with that, Kory protested, and there’s still another few minutes before we have to start. You could have finished that.
        “Well, dear, it’s an awful habit, and I don’t appreciate you treating my body like that.” Kory thought Lucy must like the sound of her own voice; she did not have to speak every time she wanted to say something, but she did anyways.

        Inside the pub, Lucy lead Kory’s body through the back of the building to her locker, where she traded her bag for her name tag, which she pinned to her lapel before pulling her shirt to show as much cleavage as possible. Oh my god, Kory thought, I never go that low. Why have a shirt on at all if you’re going to show that much?
        Calm down, Kory, Lucy replied, internally this time, at least I’m not going around showing my fanny.
         Why would you ev—
        Yet. Lucy winked at Kory in the mirror as she walked past. Kory felt like hitting Lucy, and if she had control over her own limbs, she most likely would have, even if she gave herself a black eye.
        Lucy skipped out of the back of the building and into the bar area, where she greeted Conner with a friendly hug and a lighthearted ‘hello.’ “How’s it been so far?” She asked him.
        “It’s a Monday night,” Conner replied, “How do think it is?”
        “Slow then?”
        “Very.”
        “Oh well.” Lucy shrugged and found a stool to sit on. “You, sir, are free to go. I have it covered up here.” Conner bid her thanks and told her to have a good night, a sentiment which Lucy returned.
         As the night progressed, Kory tried to relax, and whenever Lucy thought something directed to her, Kory ignored her. Lucy did the job well, but Kory felt as though Lucy was trying to irritate her with every action, going out of her way to make uncomfortable conversation with every person at the bar. Kory decided that she would come back before her next shift and tell her boss that she could not continue working there, which only irritated Lucy even more.
        After a large group of men left, Lucy went to clean up their table, and Kory stopped paying attention. Kory, Lucy thought, do we know the girl that just walked in? She seems awfully familiar.        Kory snapped back into reality and saw Michelle walking up to the bar, where she sat down and placed her purse to the side of her on the bar. Don't you dare, Kory thought, knowing exactly what could happen if Michelle met Lucy under these circumstances, that’s Michelle.
        Oh well now! Isn’t Michelle the girl you fancy?
         Don’t even talk to her. You’ll ruin everything.
        Well I can’t just not do my job!
          Give me my body back! Let me talk to her! Kory tried to scream, but nothing came out. She fought with Lucy for every step she took toward the bar, but Lucy walked on with no trouble.
        “Hello miss,” Lucy said professionally, “what can I get you?”
        Michelle looked at her with a half-smile, like she expected something more from her. “Um… You’re Lucy?”
        Lucy tapped her name tag. “So it would seem. Were you looking for someone else?”
        “Well, I mean… no. I guess not.” Michelle pulled out her wallet and handed Lucy a five pound note. “White Russian please.”
        “Could I see an I.D. please?” Lucy asked.
        Seriously?
        “Seriously?” Michelle replied.
        “Of course, miss,” said Lucy, “I can’t risk serving you if you’re under age.”
        “Do I look like I’m under eighteen?” said Michelle as she pulled her driver’s license out of her purse and handed it to Lucy.
        “Some people would take that as a compliment.” Lucy looked at the I.D. and actually read it, legitimately verifying Michelle’s age.
         You really don’t know her do you? Kory asked.
        Would I ask who she was if I did? Lucy replied internally, Now be quiet, I’m working. “California? You sound very British for being a valley girl.”
        “This is so weird,” Michelle muttered under her breath, “Well I never lived in the valley, I lived on the beach. But I moved here almost four years ago, so I’ve had a little while to adapt.”
        “That’s good,” Lucy said as she handed Michelle’s license back to her, “some Brits like Americans, but most just see them as tourists, or as I like to think of it, the rebellious child.” Lucy flipped the bottles around as she poured Michelle’s White Russian, except for the cream, which she pulled out of a small cooler under the bar.
        “Oh that’s funny!” Michelle actually laughed, which irritated Kory more than it should have. “I never really got into U.S. history, but I know enough to understand that.”
        “You didn’t get into history?” Lucy exclaimed as she loudly placed Michelle’s drink in front of her, “How could you not get into history? It’s only the most funny and fascinating subject to study.”
        “Oh wow, I take it you really got into history?”
        “Oh by far. I’m actually majoring in it at Royal Holloway.” Lucy picked up a towel and began wiping down the surface of the bar.
        “I thought your major was international relations,” Michelle said quizzically.
        “No…” Lucy stopped wiping the bar briefly to show Michelle the confused look on her face. “Where did you get that idea?”
        Michelle smiled warmly and sipped at her drink. “Okay, I admit, you’ve got Lucy down.”
        “I’m sorry?”
        “Baby, come on.” Michelle leaned on the counter with her elbows tucked into her sides so that Kory and Lucy could see into her shirt. “Talk to me for real. I missed you today and I have a crazy story for you.”
        “Miss,” began Lucy, “I think you have me mistaken with someone else.”
        No, Lucy, Kory thought, seeing what was about to happen, please just let me talk to her.
        “Kory, I can recognize you anywhere, it doesn’t matter how much make-up you wear, or how much cleavage you show. You’re still my girl.” Michelle reached out and touched Lucy’s face. It was barely a touch, but Kory felt it too, and it felt so wonderful. Quickly, Lucy grabbed Michelle’s hand and pushed her away.
        “Ma’am,” she said firmly, “I’ll have to ask you to refrain from touching my face, or calling me baby. You seem very nice, and you’re quite pretty, but I am not your girl. My door just doesn’t swing that way.”
        “Damn baby, you really have it all under wraps, don't you?”
        “Look lady—”
        Lucy, stop.
        “I don’t know who you are and you’re starting to freak me out.”
        “I wonder if I make you break character…” said Michelle with a mischievous smile.
        “What are you talking about?” Asked Lucy loudly, “I’m not a character, I’m a person!”
        “I was thinking about that thing you did when we were… celebrating last night.”
        “Excuse me?!”
        Michelle threw her head back and laughed. “God, it felt so good!” She brought her head back down and looked at Lucy. Not at her eyes, but at her mouth. “You certainly know how to use your tongue.”
        “Alright, that’s it.”
        Lucy, no. I swear to God if you call—
        “Security!” Lucy yelled into the back of the building. “Shaun?!”
        When Lucy looked back to Michelle, her smile was gone. In its place was a frightened and bewildered look, as if Lucy pulled a ready gun out from under the bar and fixed it to her. “Kory?” she said, “what are you doing?”
        “My name isn’t Kory. My name is Lucy.” Lucy placed her finger on her name tag. “As the bartender in this establishment, I reserve the right to have anyone I see as disturbing the peace escorted from the premises.”
        “I knew when I came looking for Lucy, she wouldn’t be the same as my Kory,” Michelle said as Shaun grabbed her by the elbows, “but Kory never told me Lucy was such a twat!”
        “Shaun, please get her out of here,” said Lucy, and Kory winced.
        I wish we had separate bodies so I could tear you in two, Kory thought.
        Ain’t that a shame, thought Lucy smugly.

        Just as promised, at the end of Kory’s six hour shift, Lucy gave the control of her body back to Kory. Immediately, Kory ripped off the name tag, pulled her shirt up, grabbed her bag and sprinted out the door without clocking out. As she walked to the bus stop, she smoked a cigarette angrily and thought about how she was going to explain what had happened to Michelle. She finished her cigarette as she arrived at the bus stop, and in one fluid motion, she flicked the butt into the street and pulled out a fresh one, which she lit as she mumbled inaudibly, “Fuck you Lucy, they’re my goddamn lungs.”
        When the bus arrived, Kory was three cigarettes down and dizzy from the nicotine. She boarded the bus and didn’t reply when Chris bid her a good morning, instead she walked all the way to the back of the bus and let her anger and embarrassment steep in silence. The half-hour bus ride seemed like it took ten minutes, and Kory had not decided what to tell Michelle, so she decided to just tell the truth, about everything.
        When she opened the door to her flat, Kory heard Michelle’s voice. She paused for a second with her hand on the door knob, just listening to Michelle talk. She sounded calm, but distinctly sad, Kory couldn’t hear what exactly she was saying. Quietly, she stepped into her flat and sat right on the floor in front of her door, still listening. Kory felt a tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach, not like she was going to be sick, but the feeling people get when their arm breaks just before the pain sets in, like the sickening realization that something has gone horribly wrong. But what Kory felt wasn’t a momentary realization, it was much longer than that, as if she was experiencing it all in slow motion.
        “Okay, I love you too,” Kory heard Michelle say into her phone, “yeah, I’ll see you soon. You too.” Kory stood up and walked slowly into the living room. “Kory?” said Michelle cautiously.
        “It’s me,” she said quietly, “Look baby, I’m so sorry about what happened at the bar, I didn’t mean for it to go that far, and I understand if you’re angry but—“
        “Kory, sit down.” Michelle motioned to the other half of the love-seat that she sat on, and obediently, Kory sat.
        “If this is about Lucy, I want you to know—“
        “I’m moving back to the States.” If she had stated the day of the week there would have been more emotion in her voice. “I leave tomorrow night.”
        “Darling, you’re scaring me.”
        “Now you know how I felt when I looked into your eyes and saw no affection.” Michelle looked into Kory’s eyes, but Kory looked down. “It hurts to know that you love me so little that you can just turn it off at will.”
        “No!” Kory yelled, grabbing at Michelle’s hand as she stood to walk away. “It’s not—“
        “Don’t.” Michelle violently pulled her hand out of Kory’s. “Don’t touch me.” She stepped around the coffee table and retrieved a suit case from behind the sofa. “And don’t try to call me.”
        With that, Michelle walked towards the door. She opened it with her left hand, placing her back facing Kory, who said simply, “please don’t.” Michelle paused slightly like she might come back, but she just looked forward.
        “Goodbye, Kory.”

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Take Me, Break Me

Part Two

        Kory sat uncomfortably in the wooden pews, far too early in the morning, listening to a man speak on the unholiness that was gay marriage. Most of Europe had legalized gay marriage, and this man, Father Anthony, could not express how upset he was at that fact. His voice reminded Kory of a drill sergeant rallying his troops, brandishing his bible like an M-16. Kory sat silently, running her slender fingers through the end of her tangled black locks as she felt a hand on her shoulder.
        “Enjoying the sermon?” Father Abrahms asked with a frail smile that wrinkled his face but didn’t touch his eyes.
        “Not in any sense of the word,” said Kory, looking around the pews at the people intently listening to Father Anthony’s alleged words of wisdom. “These people actually get off on this, don’t they?” Several of the people around her turned their heads at her words, and she felt their judgmental eyes piercing her back as she stood up.
        “Would you like to speak someplace else, dear?”
        “Yes please, I’m underdressed for this shit anyways.”
        Kory followed Father Abrahms out of the chapel and through the massive wooden doors of the church. The two sat on a bench just outside the church’s gardens and the Father pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Kory, which she took and lit off of the Father’s ancient-looking steel lighter. Neither of them said anything as they smoked for a few minutes.
        “I told her,” Kory finally said as she exhaled a plume of smoke, “I told her that I loved her and then I kissed her.”
        “How did she take it? The confession, I mean.”
        “I didn’t really give her time to respond before I kissed her.” Kory ashed the cigarette onto the pavement and watched the wind sweep it away, leaving no trace of its existence, briefly bringing Kory’s mind back to her grandmother.
        Father Abrahms followed her eyes to the ashes as they danced away in the wind. “Well what she says isn’t the only way she can respond to such a heavy statement. How did she look? Where was she looking? Tell me about that.”
        “She looked uncomfortable at first, and I could feel her tensing up. She was lying on my lap when I said it, so I wasn’t really looking at her eyes, but when she sat up she didn’t look too upset or anything. She looked into my eyes and her eyes looked happy, not uncomfortable like she started out.”
        “Thats good, Kory. I’m really happy for you.” He stopped to take a drag from his cigarette and make one of his famous pauses, and turned to look Kory in the eyes. “Tell me about the kiss.”
        “You sound like a perv.” Kory smiled at him, and he returned the smile, this time it reached his eyes. “It was better than I ever dreamed it could be. I mean, it started out kinda awkward and one-sided. I think I surprised her. But after that she started kissing me back.” 
        “You talked about it all afterwards, yeah?”
        “Yes,” Kory said in a breath of smoke. The frigid air made it hard to tell when the smoke ended and her breath began. “Mostly about stuff we already knew, but she decided she wanted to let her feelings for me grow in the presence of a relationship.” She stopped and smiled. “She slept in my bed last night.”
        “Is she still there?” said Father Abrahms in an alarmed tone. “It’s hardly eight in the morning, don’t tell me you just left her alone in your flat.”
        “No no. She went to church and then went home to get clothes and sort some things out for a party that we’re going to tonight.” 
        “Good.” He snuffed out his cigarette on the ground and flicked it into the street. “I’m very happy for you Kory, I really am. Sadly, though, I have to get back to work.” The two stood in unison and shook hands, which Kory felt was too formal of a departure considering the embrace they shared the last time. “It is always good talking to you dear. Enjoy your party tonight.”
        “You too, Father.” Kory paused, embarrassed. “I mean, not the party. Enjoy your night.”
        “That’s too bad, I thought that was an invitation!” With that, the Father went inside leaving Kory in the cold with the last few drags of her cigarette. The wind had stopped blowing, but for some reason Kory was chilled far more than before.

        “Baby, come on!” Michelle yelled through the bathroom door, “We’re going to be late! How long does it take to put on make-up?”
        “Calm down M! I’m done now. I don’t put on make-up very often, so I’m not as fast as you are!” Kory opened the door and looked at Michelle, who was wearing a blue dress with one strap that flowed down to her mid-calf. The dress hugged her form, but was not overly tight. Kory smiled. “How do I look?” she asked.
        “You look beautiful,” Michelle said, kissing Kory deeply on the lips, “but we are actually going to be late and my potential boss will be there and I can’t give off the wrong impression so let’s go!” Kory laughed at her rambling as Michelle took her hand and pulled her out of the apartment and into her car. Michelle drove uncomfortably fast, but her hand was still knotted with Kory’s, so Kory didn’t mind.
        As they pulled into a parking spot outside the party, Michelle let go of Kory’s hand and picked up her purse instead. Kory followed suit and exited the car, but only wanted to feel the warmth of their hands together again. As they entered the house, though it was more of a mansion, Kory stared in awe at the grandeur that was the entry room, which may have been larger than Kory’s entire flat. Once the two women found their way through to the center of the party, Michelle was bombarded by her friends and potential colleagues, and Kory stood awkwardly out of the way, pressing her fingernails into the seams of her handbag. A familiar young man in a tuxedo without the jacket walked by carrying a tray of drinks, and Kory grabbed one hastily, looking for some liquid courage for the social night ahead of her.
        “Kory? Kory, I didn’t expect to see you here!” the familiar man with the tray said.
        “Oh, Chris!” Kory feigned enthusiasm, though she was happy to see a familiar face, “No bus driving tonight?”
        “No ma’am! My uncle needed some help with his little party so I told him I would work for him.”
        “Little party? This is massive, Chris.” Kory took a sip of her drink and was startled to taste only apple juice.
        “All of the drinks are non-alcoholic,” Chris explained, in response to the obvious confusion on her face. “My uncle’s boss is a recovering alcoholic. But you didn’t hear that from me.” Chris leaned in and kissed her politely on the cheek, “I’ve got to get back to serving these wankers some apple juice.” He winked at her jokingly. “Have a great time. It was lovely seeing you.”
        “Bye Chris,” Kory said, and returned to standing aimlessly holding her drink in one hand and her bag in the other. All she could think of was how she could convince Michelle to let them leave before the crowd made Kory suffocate.
        “...and this is Kory!” Michelle turned the attention of several of her flock to Kory, whose face immediately matched the bright red dress she was wearing. At least Michelle is here, she thought, trying to calm herself down, You can handle whatever crowd comes your way as long as she is there to take your hand. “I met Kory my first year in college! Sorry, ‘university.’” Michelle made air quotes with her slender, manicured fingers. “I always forget that college is a different thing here. Anyways, Kory and I were roommates in our first year and since we had the same major we ended up staying friends for the rest of our school years! I really couldn’t ask for a better friend. You know, I should really introduce her to….” 
        Kory tuned her voice out as she felt something clench in the pit of her stomach. 
        Friend? The word echoed in her mind. Friend? Michelle… is that all you see me as? Kory felt dizzy. Michelle wouldn’t be taking her hand at all tonight, not in front of these people. Suddenly the crowd around her felt overwhelming, like walls that were closing in on her. Kory stumbled towards the door, but bumped her shoulder into a girl wearing an identical uniform as Chris was. The impact caused the girl to drop her tray, which was luckily empty, but the girl swore at Kory under her breath. Kory apologized, but felt like a ship bashing against the rocks at shore, its anchor lost into the sea.
        Finally, Kory made it outside into the crisp evening air. The cold bit into her exposed skin  and made her feel naked. Why are you wearing such revealing clothing? She asked herself, half expecting an answer from somewhere in the recesses of her mind. 
        Come on Kory! A voice replied, Go back in there and show them that a little crowd can’t stop us! Kory knew that voice. It was her own voice, but just a touch more confident. 
        Lucy?
        Yeah! Lucy confirmed. Now get back in there!
        I can’t. I came because Michelle wanted me to, but she doesn’t even want me anymore. I can’t breathe in there. I can’t go back in. I can’t… I… Kory closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Good, she thought, I can breath out here. Ooh, that feels so good. In and out. In and out. I can handle this. This is a-okay. The world is going to stop spinning soon and I can stand up and find a bus home. Any second...
        Kory! Lucy pulled her back into the vertigo, and a wave of nausea hit her, Don’t you think about going home!
        Stop! Kory yelled in her mind. She pressed her hands against the sides of her head, Stop talking to me! 
        Kory!
        Stop!
        “Kory!”
        No!
        “Kory, are you okay?” She opened her eyes and saw Chris crouched down beside her, using his tray to balance his weight. The metallic tray reflected the headlights from a car passing by and shined it directly into Kory’s eyes. The sudden flash of light tipped Kory’s nausea over the edge and she collapsed to her side, spitting sick on the ground. “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Chris said as he rubbed her back and held her hair away from her face. “Why don’t I call you a taxi? You can go home and get some rest.”
        “Where’s Michelle?” said Kory in between heaves.
        “The American? She went into a meeting with my uncle’s boss. A sort of impromptu job interview. Why, was she your ride?”
        Friend?
        “No, well… yes she drove me here, but she’s my…” She stopped, the word friend still echoing in her mind, “she’s my friend.”
        “I’ll let her know you weren’t feeling well and you went back to your flat, yeah?” Chris was still rubbing her back, making her feel comforted. He was a good friend.
        Once Kory had stopped throwing up, Chris stood and called her a taxi. “Did you eat something bad?” Chris asked as they waited.
        “No…” Kory almost inaudibly whispered, “it wasn’t that. I don’t do crowds very well, and it just got to be too much.” She didn’t feel like telling him about Michelle; she didn’t want to open up to him like that. 
        Friend? 
        Chris was a good friend, but Kory still didn’t know how genuine he was. A short while later, the taxi arrived and Kory climbed in as Chris handed the driver a few pounds to take her home. He kissed her again on the cheek, made sure she was buckled in, and shut the door.
        The taxi ride passed by without a word said other than the location of her complex. When she arrived, Kory had began to feel much better, physically. Her mind was still reeling from Michelle’s words. They had been together for just over a week, ever since that first kiss, and she had seemed so happy with Kory. The night before, Michelle had passionately decided to not go back to her own flat, and instead she stayed with Kory in her bed. They made love for the first time that night. 
        Friend?
        Kory took a long shower to wash off the night. She hoped that maybe the memories would wash away too, but they remained present in her mind. Kory put on some pajamas, put her hair up, and took out her notebook and pen. She looked at the most recent entry, one that she had written that very morning. 
         ‘We made love last night for the first time. I showed my soul and she showed hers and they met with the such pleasure I wanted it to last forever. Sleep came easy to me, knowing she was beside me. Her presence makes me feel like nothing will ever happen to me. She rushed off to church this morning and told me she needed to sort some things out for some business party later today, but she would come back with some clothes. She means to stay here again tonight. I’m going to see Father Abrahms at his church. I feel like he deserves to know about us. --March 4th 2012.’

        Kory read it over and over until she finally decided to shut the notebook without writing anything new, and she wandered into her bedroom to put the notebook away. She slid the notebook in between two others, one filled and the other empty, and she turned and faced the bed where she had the best night of her life. The sheets were a dark red and the pillows were black (the combination made her think of luxury) and a blonde hair rested peacefully on one of the pillows, wildly contrasting with the dark colors. Kory crawled on top of the unmade bed and rested her head where Michelle had the previous night. The smell was still strong enough to lure Kory into sleep.
        Friend?
        Kory awoke to the sound of keys jingling through the front door.
        “Baby?” Michelle called into the flat, “Are you in bed already? I wanted to ask how you were feeling.” She walked into the bedroom and found Kory sitting on the edge of her bed looking at the wall. “Oh you’re awake. Are you feeling better?”
        Friend?
        “Friend?” Kory spat as she turned to face her lover, “Is that all I am to you? Has the past week meant nothing?”
        “What are you talking about, Kor?” 
        “‘Oh, and this is Kory,’” Kory imitated, “‘We’re just friends. She doesn’t matter that much.” She stood and walked out of the room, her shoulder barely brushing past Michelle’s.
        “Kory!” Michelle yelled as she followed Kory into the kitchen. “Is that why you left? Because I said you were the best friend I could have ever hoped for?” Kory ignored her. “I said that because you are! They say that the person you love should also be your best friend.”
        “But that’s not all I am to you! You could have introduced me with your hand in mine and said ‘this is my girlfriend, Kory,’ but you didn’t. Because of that, I had an anxiety attack and got sick in front of a fucking mansion! They must think the worst of me now!”
        “You had an attack?” There was genuine concern in her voice. “Why didn’t you call me or send me a text? I would have been there for you.”
        “Chris was there for me. One of the servers sat down with me and held my hair and rubbed my back while I threw up.” She looked at Michelle, who was no longer in her high heel shoes and whose hair was tied up, no longer in blonde waves that previously cascaded down her shoulders. She was the most beautiful when she thought she was the least. Kory was still so angry, but her anger couldn’t do much, not while she looked upon the face of heaven. Kory was crying, but not visibly. She had silent tears falling down her face. “All because you couldn't call me what I am.” Michelle took Kory in her arms and held her as she started to sob. “I love you Michelle, and that made me feel like I’m still just your friend.”
        “Kory, no.” Michelle looked into Kory’s eyes and brushed away her tears. “I introduced you as my friend as a precaution. I need to get a job with these people and my window was closing, but I didn’t want to lose that opportunity just because one of the people in charge is against gays. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit about what other people think about us, or whether or not they know we’re together. All I need to know is that I love you and you love me. Then I’m happy.” 
        Kory looked up at Michelle again, this time without tears.
        “That’s the first time you’ve said that you love me,” Kory said, sniffling, “romantically I mean.”
        “I know sweetheart, and I mean it.”
        “I’m sorry I overreacted. Everything seemed so much worse in that crowd.”
        “It’s okay, Kor. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you with your anxiety. I know that must have been really scary.”
        What Kory remembered about the attack was scary, but what had returned to her in her dreams was terrifying. Why was I hearing Lucy talking to me? She thought, but immediately brushed off the thought, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. “So did you get a chance to speak to the big boss?”
        “I did!” Michelle said as she threw her hands in the air enthusiastically, the shoes in her hand nearly hitting the ceiling light. Kory loved how happy Michelle was all the time, and Kory was happy to know that Michelle was happy with her, but she still wanted that introduction with her hand in Michelle’s. “I got the job! I start next Monday.”
        Kory smiled, but she could feel it not reach her eyes, there was too much on her mind, “I am so proud of you, darling!” She took Michelle’s face in her hands and placed her lips on hers. Michelle kissed her back briefly, but sat down in the nearest chair. 
        “I want to meet Lucy.”
        Kory’s heart sank. The mention of Lucy brought back flooding memories of her delusions during her anxiety attack. “No baby. Lucy isn’t me, she’s just a tool I use at work. You don’t want to meet her.” She terrifies even me, Kory wanted to say, but instead, she put on another fake smile and said, “Besides, we should be celebrating.” Kory pulled Michelle into the bedroom, where they one again showed each other their souls.

Friday, January 11, 2013

What We've Done

By guest author Connor Prendergast

Is our hubris
So unconquerable
That we truly believe 
Our words - our ideas - 
Can even begin to 
Allude to the vastness, 
The complexity 
And majesty of 
Where we are? 
How we are? 
The greatest poets 
Are tongue-tied. 
The greatest thinkers, 
Philosophers, 
Yield only great 
Questions. 
And yet, how 
Is there hope? 
We sit, so obviously 
Paraplegic, 
At the base of 
Olympus Mons. 
So inexplicably, 
We realize our tears, 
Rising geysers, 
Are products of 
Our immense joy.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

I Must Go On Standing

By guest author Connor Prendergast

Love is a long
Catastrophe,
Like the bruises plain
On hips, jeans
Drawn so low.
Like the silent
Crumple
When her breath
Falls warmly on
My neck, asleep.
The fire would
Be a low murmur,
A sort of
Cosmic play
On the sparks
On kindling,
Across the room.
We are aware,
Now,
That we can
collapse and explode,
All at once.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

That Night


       The first time they ever met was on the coldest day of the year. It was also the only time Elle forgot to check the weather report and left her house wearing a light jacket and running shoes, caught unprepared for the coming blizzard like a dove surprised by hurricane winds. Within five minutes of their meeting, Grace gave her the thick winter coat she was wearing, telling Elle her shivers were from nerves. “My body is pretty much a furnace,” she said, “I’d let you borrow its warmth, but this is only our first date.” The coat was the next best thing. As she wore it, she noticed it smelled like strawberries and felt like Apollo's embrace. Elle wore it home that night after dropping Grace off at her apartment; she blushed deep enough to match the scent that had then seeped into her pores when their lips first touched. She called as soon as she got home and opened up to her like front doors welcoming extended families home for the holidays.
       That night she fell asleep at one in the morning.
       That night she dreamed of strawberries.
       On their second date, instead of kissing Elle goodnight, Grace invited her in. The two women left a trail of semi-casual date-night garments leading from the front door to Grace’s bedroom. As Elle fumbled Grace’s blouse half-on-half-off her body, Grace asked, “Do you think we’re moving too fast?” She just replied with a bite on grace’s lip and a smack on her rear before she pushed her through the bedroom door.
       After, they lay panting, tangled in sheets and limbs as Grace told Elle the story of how she came out to her parents on Christmas morning. “My mother nearly dropped a handmade vase from my grandma, and my grandma nearly needed to go to the emergency room!” They laughed and held each other but Grace’s face fell. “That was the last Christmas I ever spent with my family,” she said with tears running down her face. They weren’t really tears of sadness - she had long since moved on - but they were tears of pure truth. “That was the year I turned fourteen.” Elle leaned in closer and kissed her tears away like a baptism left salty on her lips.
       In the morning, Grace made a pot of coffee and began steeping some tea for Elle that she found pushed to the back of the cabinet. She also made eggs and toast and brought it in on a small tray which she set down on the nightstand to lean in and wake Elle with a passionate kiss. Shortly, the two were sitting cross-legged on Grace’s bed eating.
       “So, you never told me your story,” said Grace, “When did you come out to your folks?” Elle stopped chewing for a split-second to pull up the bedsheets further up, completely covering her thighs.
       “I never really did,” she set her toast back onto the tray and brushed off her hands, “I guess its just something we always knew.”
       “So they were fine with it?”
       “No… my parents were extremely religious,” Elle pulled the sheets further up her body, displaying only her head and neck, like a father who let his kids bury him in the sand, “They sent me to a Christian summer camp for ‘troubled children.’ Actually, it was a really rough time for me." Grace leaned in to brush away her tears and kiss her on the nose.
       “Lovely…” Grace gripped the sheets, “Let me see them.” Reluctantly, Elle allowed her to pull the sheets back to display the scars stacked onto one another like a pile of disheveled therapist’s notes. “Oh, Elle… baby…” Grace didn’t need to run her finger along the scars to feel the texture, but she did anyway. The scars ran from knees to hips, varying in depth and density. Grace touched her lips to the valleys on either knee, moving up until she had kissed each scar like every one was a star the children would wish on someday.
       Elle took Grace’s face in her hands and pulled her into her arms. “Lover, I know, it gets hard sometimes, but you have to always know that everything gets better.”
       “I know,” Elle did not speak the words, only whispered them softly to keep from crying harder, “I spent four months out of every year getting taught that my love was a lie; that God hated me for falling for the prettiest girl on the playground during sixth grade recess.” Grace held her as she opened up once again, rocking her gently to the rhythm of her tears. “There was this one girl at the camp, she was a counselor, only a few years older than me, she told me she was there to really help the kids, not brainwash them like the others. She caught me in the girls showers trying to bleed the unholy from my veins.” Elle used her right index finger to trace the only closed scar on her legs. 
       “She didn’t tell anyone but the nurse, and she didn’t even tell her that I was gay. That night we stayed up in the nurse’s office braiding my hair as she told me about her two moms. They were devout Catholics and had been together for two years before their church’s pastor agreed to unofficially marry them, despite their faith. She said ‘Ellie, every time you think you’re alone in this world, you call me, day or night. I’ll tell you how you can never truly be alone; how there are always so many more that feel the same pain as you.’” Grace and Elle both wiped tears from their eyes as Elle continued, “She saved my life that night. I planned on cutting my wrists free of the world and the pain without so much as a ‘thanks for nothing’ note to my parents.”
       “Lover, so long as you live, you will never be alone.” Grace pulled up her shirt and turned to Elle, showing her rows of scars carved into her skin like a Mayan catalogue of events carved into stone.
Elle bent in and kissed them into stars left for their love to fathom into constellations.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Fears

People say they are scared of love.
They're not.
Love is what overcomes fear.
Overcomes sadness.
Anger.
Grief.
People do not fear love,
Their minds too often make false connections
Between the uplifting beauty of love,
And the gut-wrenching,
Peace-killing, nerve-wrecking
Explosion the heart withstands
Once silence falls.
People do not fear love,
They fear love's company.
They fear the uncertainty of love's return.
They fear they fall too hard,
Too fast,
Without being followed.

Love is a driving force,
A motive to become more,
To become better.
Life is the force that silences love,
That hinders it, but also gives it room
To grow.
Life is love's brother, twin, and friend.
The two are ever present and
Never alone.
it is because of life, its experience,
That we fear love.
it's all about that lovely girl,
That girl we would pray about.
if we had the power, we'd
Give her the sun,
The moon, and the stars.
if we never had that lovely girl,
if we never stayed up 'til midnight
Just to study the contours and curves
Of her body, and the beautiful imperfections
Of her skin, none of us would fear love.
When our world shone bright at the sight of her,
When our dull day went from black and white
To mind blowing technicolor, that day,
She gave us a gift.
Wrapped neat in brown paper bags,
And a tight black ribbon with a rotton,
Disheveled bow,
The gift was our experience.
Our gift was fear.

Like having the fear of death, having the fear of love
Makes not a difference in the world.
We live our lives afraid of our exit,
Afraid of our journey to the afterlife.
We live our lives being told what to think,
What to fear.
"Death," they say, "is the ultimate terror.
stay healthy, be good,
and postpone your finale as much as possible."
We live our lives repeating the mantra:
"i don't want to die,
i don't want to die,
i don't want to die,
i don't want..."
And we live our lives, but we die,
inevitably and absolutely.
Just like how we love what we can and
We helplessly hope our love stays true.
But it doesn't,
And we come to know that
Gut-wrenching, peace-killing
Explosion of sorrow and tears,
Of loneliness and fears.
The explosion sends shudders through our gears,
Leaving us screaming past the piers,
Praying to God that she hears,
But the terror manifests through the years,
Leaving us petrified of love.

For what seems like lifetimes,
We shy away from that blessed
Want. That sacred peace.
But, like the inevitability of death,
We fall again, still too hard,
Too fast.
We continue the process,
Through love and through fear,
'Til one day...

it stays.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Beautiful Things When Nature Sings

       Nature is nurture, the future boils down to something larger, like a departure. iT's the seasons that provide this reason, and while we are wheezing (that is, not quite breathing) and not quite seeing this relieving teasing and weaving that these seasons are pleasing, time is freezing, and love is leasing. Springtime is like sunshine written in common time, and sunshine is fine, but the warm shade under the trees and the smell of rain on the breeze, oh, this is beautiful and oh so colorful. iN summer, the sun may come on strong, but its song never steers you wrong as it sings all day long. iT's worry free and it's stressless, like finally cleaning up this nest's mess, or fitting in that red dress. Yes, summer can be so stressless, but this isn't the best yet. Now, in the eyes of some, autumn is the time of death, when the leaves and trees and stars and seas seem to lose their breath. But autumn has such depth and such breadth that this death, oh, it catches our breath, as if those rows of orange flow close to our souls. And our cheeks and nose, colored with a deep rose, seem to reflect those red leaves, those rows of rose. Gradually these trees undress their leaves, as if each tree knows (those rows of rose) of the snow's posed blanket of white, so they undress to sleep their night away, their winter's wondrous might. Winter's white might is powerful, quite right to say, and though some's sight shows it as a plight, show it with fright, the winter's white is truly beautiful. Winter's white's wonder is plentiful, and its love bountiful. Then, after this beautiful wonder (or wonderful beauty), this peaceful and playful cold opens the door to sunshine. Like going from a waltz's time to our fine springtime and sunshine written in common time, and sunshine is fine, but...