Three months ago her bony frame rattled inside of this armour, weighing her down. But now, the armour hugged her muscled body with ease where she stood on the crescent shaped balcony. The anticipation of finally getting to demonstrate what’d she learn these past three months caused her heart to race with adrenaline. Descending the spiral stairs from the balcony, she felt the heat of her power solidify inside of her. She’d spent three months learning to summon her power and now she could hardly keep it contained. Directly across from her stood her opponent, who appeared more like an obstacle than an adversary. Towering above in another balcony was Kaleronis, the man who destroyed her so many times in this same ring that he saved her. Locking eyes with him, she slowly held up her hand, wiggling four fingers in his direction. She didn’t need to say or do more. He understood the message she was delivering; she’d only need four moves to completely incapacitate her opponent and call it a day.
The contents of her life were packed away in a suitcase by the door. At 34 years old, this was all she had to show for it. She thought this place would stick, thought there was room for her here. But she was wrong. She let herself be wrong. Sure, she'd left dozens of times before but it never crushed her like this. Usually she would scan the room one last time, visit her favorite spots, say goodbye to the few people she let herself like. But doing that this time would crush her and would taint the memories that she needed to keep pure and whole. The boardwalk with funnel cake sugar coating them like snow from the windy day. The creek where she twisted her ankle and he carried her the whole way home. His room, where his fingers released her shirt buttons. Where his calloused hand grazed the softness of her inner thigh. Where they lost all sense of time. Where she ruined everything.
On the way out, she left the book by the door knowing he'd come looking for her here. Leaving this book would not only help him understand that she was not coming back, it would also tear out the last pieces of her heart and let her move forward. It served its purpose by bringing her to him. She had no use for it now as he had no use for her. And with the final click of the latch on the door, she was gone.
In the beginning, you're fueled by newness and surprise. Every story an adventure, each touch a revelation. Years into the relationship, you might look back on this time of exploration longingly. You might wish to unlearn, just a little, what you know too well in your partner.
But not me. I relish in the rituals and yearn for the knowing. The expectation of his touch, the synchronicity in our movement. Conditioned to arch into his wandering hand, Pavolivian in response. In this utopia, we have our own language. My name replaced by terms of endearment, molded over time until it is unrecognizable and uniquely ours. Inanimate objects, no longer called in the mother tongue. Jokes that you couldn't begin to explain to others, partly because you've long forgotten where it came from and partly because outsiders will never transcend your orbit. Over time, the world we created becomes foremost. In the outside one, I'm alien. In the outside one, I exist to get back to safety, back to him. No, you can keep your shiny penny; I'll hang on to the timeworn, tarnished relics of our love.
Because when he left both worlds, he took ours and left me here. And now it only exists in the corners of my mind as exhibits I visit. Our language unspoken, eroding by attrition. The membership to our secret club, lapsed. The colors of our world fading over time and the fabric of our lives unraveling in my weakening grasp. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, not willing to let any more of our world slip out, slip away, even if it means staying forever in this liminal space.
His eyes matched the person I once knew, but his smile was someone else altogether. That once boyish grin was now a million dollar smile that could get him into any room. But behind his eyes, he was still there, the boy who saved her life 17 years ago.
— The familiarity hit her like ten ton brick when she first locked eyes with her date. It gave her the same feeling she gets when she walks into a room but can’t remember why she went there. Like the thing you’re searching for is right in front of your face but totally invisible.
But as far as she could tell, she was a total stranger to him. Was this how blind dates were supposed to feel?
“Looks like we just beat the rain.” He says.
“Huh?” Tearing her eyes away, she follows his gaze, “Oh yeah it’s really coming down now.”
