From Alive to Living, Julie and Anfer
One Week Post
I escape to the back of the room, the usually empty corner by the bar, dimly lit, and furnished like a living room. As I near the couch I notice Anfer standing in front of the mirror, his lips are moving but his voice is covered by the music. I pause to watch him. His face is scrunched together and his hand is on his head, pressing as if blood was pouring out. I step towards him so I can see his face in the mirror, through it I watch his grimace morph to a smile, and his hand pushes back his hair. I pause again as he walks left, crouches down to open cooler. I hear a cork pop then he turns and walks towards me, full glass in hand. I quickly try to compose myself as he walks over, smoothing back my hair like he did his and standing straight. “I thought you didn't drink?” I joke with professional playfulness.
He chuckles masking a wince I only barely see, “I don't," he says extending the glass, “I heard this was your favorite,”
My usually composed heart beats wrong as I take the glass thumping to a traitor's rhythm that I hear in my ears, “thank you” I say with my lips against the rim. I take a sip.
He was right.
“You ok?” I ask, curious and dangerously worried. “It looked like you were in pain…” I say with a nod towards the mirror.
He waves his hand as my worries were a cloud of smoke he could fan away, “migraines, a side effect from the medication I’m taking” I don't believe him but I have no reason not to so I nod sympathetically. He gestures towards the couch. “Why don't we sit down; y'know, before someone finds, and drags us back, to the floor.”
I shouldn't, there's no deal I could make, no favor to win, but still those bright orange eyes bore into my duller brown ones and I can't resist for a moment.
3 Months Post
The fan moves cool air across my face, his voice is soft, and the story he’s telling is a sweet one. I can't tell if it's real yet; but he has a way of having them stick even after I know they're not. “Aileni walked her all the way back and…” I press my head back into his chest and open my mouth for another strawberry.
His body beneath mine vibrates as he chuckles, then his muscles go loose, and he keeps vibrating, and the strawberry doesn't come. I close my mouth and lift my head from his chest at the same time he lifts his from hanging off the arm of the couch.
“What was that?” I ask with concern.
He smiles and reaches back, picking up the small red fruit from the ground and wiping it off on his shirt. He puts it to my lips and they automatically open. “It's a good one right?” It's bitter, but I nod anyway. The strawberry was sweet.
6 Months Post
The room is still hot, and the sweat beads on my skin even with the blankets thrown to the floor. Beside me his breaths are long ins and outs. While I stare at the ceiling, still floating on the memory of our connection, I have a thought. “Is this what you wanted?” I ask nearly whispering. The words curdle in the air and I almost wish I hadn't, in fear of his response.
His breathing quiets and I know the words reached him, “Huh?” He turns on his side but a pillow blocks his face from mine.
“I mean, when you were younger…” I say more clearly than before, fighting off the anxiety I continue, “is this what you dreamed of?”
“A beautiful woman and stable financials?” he answers playfully, “yes, it's all I ever wanted and more,”
I roll my eyes happy that he can't see how I'm blushing like it's our first night all over again, “of course you would have, that's all your people think about isn't it.”
He lifts his head and rests it on his hand, smiling in a way he only does for me, “some of us, what did you want?”
I sigh and roll onto my side to hold his eyes while I speak. “I always felt so prepared,” I say, “but I'm not sure I ever had a real plan,” I admit.
“Sounds about right,” he says lightheartedly.
I continue holding onto the strength in his eyes, “I wanted money, status, a say in how things went”
“And you got that,” he says, taking my hand into his.
“I did… but it didn't feel like anything till i had you with it,”
He brings our hands to his cheek, “well then, im happy to be of service,” he leans in, his warm lips press against mine and reignite the fire we just put out then he pulls away, leaving me hotter than I was before, “so what do you want now?” he asks thoughtfully,
I bite my lip, I didn't think this far into the conversation, and the renewed warmth in my head doesn't help, but I know the answer. “You mostly… but I want a full life, one of the ones in the story books” I whisper, embarrassment heating my cheeks to replace the warmth he left everywhere else, but I continue, “I want a ring, and a cozy house; with plenty of space for… for more of us.”
He looks surprised for a moment then wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him fully, “I never thought you’d want kids.” he whispers lovingly.
“Only with you” I respond, pressing my face into his shoulder, squeezing him just as he squeezes me.
8 Months Post.
The call came late in the night, three hours away, but I was in my car the second I heard his name. Now I sit by a hospital bed, his hand in mine, barely warmer than the air the tears fall through. “Why,” I sob, I can't say anything else, of course I know why he did it, “why not tell me,” I wish i had never met him, i wish I met him sooner, “we could have done more,” I half whisper half yell.
He laughs breathlessly, wheezing in a way that makes my tears fall faster, “I didn't mean to live long enough to hurt you” The squeezes of his hand grow fainter and farther between even as he forces himself to speak. He laughs again, “they told me ‘two weeks’ months ago.”
I pull back, to look him in the eyes, to yell and scream, to throw a proper fit, but then those dimly lit orange eyes catch hold of mine, my throat closes, and my head drops again.
I liked making this one, it was a nice break (cry session) from a more relaxed character writing i was doing: The Lives of the As. This both has world lore and an epilogue that will take some time, but I might post some day. Final note, the title is not final.