weavingwebs

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SUZE

Suze woke up to the sound of crying from the house next door. She thought about her neighbors living in that blue house for a moment before rolling over and looking at the mass of human next to her that was her husband. Suze thought about the fact that he was more of a mass of a human than her husband these days and wondered when their relationship reached the complete stop it had at this time. She rolled back over and started to think about her schedule for the day but quickly decided not to- today was the same as every other day: coffee on the way to work, long day at the shop, phone call with her mother, and home again for dinner.

Suze thought about what it would be like to feel empty empty empty and decided it would be best to skip work. She knew the aching need for emptiness well and what she had to do to fight it. Instead of letting herself get carried away by her distracting fullness, she choked the thoughts down and decided she would bike to visit the Thursday Farmers Market instead of working at the shop.

Suze reached for her phone and texted Louie. "I cannot be at work today, You are the boss for the next twelve hours. Thank You for understanding." She liked to capitalize "You" because she wanted to remind Louie that they were important. With new purpose, Suze smiled to herself and swung her feet out of bed.

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JACK

Jack decided it was time to learn how to use consensual physical contact with people and allow others to do the same. Just stuff like hugs, hand holds, knee touches she somehow forgot to learn as a child. Jack did not necessarily want casual hugs and hand holds and knee touches nor did she necessarily want to know how to initiate them, but she was tired of feeling separate.

Sitting on the the Blue Train on the subway, Jack realized that it may be useful to watch strangers manage their bodies. Jack also realized that human touch is something less technical than "management," but she liked using that term anyway. She laughed to herself when she realized how representative that was of her need for control and inability to touch.

Jack looked up at the couple across from her. Someone with short hair and someone with long hair sitting side by side, saying nothing. Jack watched their hips bump together with a jolt of the subway car and saw a small smile form on the lips of the long-haired half of the couple. Three stops later, the one with the short hair got up abruptly and left without saying goodbye. Jack realized they were probably not a couple but that their touch was very significant.

"There must be something to learn there," she thought.

Jack looked down at her own hips, followed down her thighs to her knees. She admired the way the skin and fat of her thighs spread wide past the sides of the subway seat and the way the light-colored stretch marks on the tops of her legs looked next to the stripes on her short shorts. Jack pushed her hoodie up on top of her head and pulled the strings tight around her face.

"There must be something to learn here," she thought.

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LOUIE

Louie tripped down the subway stairs on their way to the Blue Train. Louie was running late because their super talkative boss, Suze, was super talkative and super talked to them on their way out the door after work. They know that Suze always means well and that she goes home to a quiet and withdrawn husband but she talks too much and it exhausts Louie.

Louie made it in time though, walking through the closing subway doors and letting out a heavy sigh of relief and resignation. They saw Ray and sat down next to her, the way Louie had been doing for months now. The first time they saw Ray, they introduced themselves and the two exchanged names. Louie and Ray never spoke to each other again after that initial conversation, but sat together on the subway nonetheless.

Louie looked forward to sitting next to Ray. Sometimes, their knees bumped together as the subway train screeched to a stop. They liked the way Ray would blush when this happened and the way Ray never forced conversation. They also liked the way Ray wrote poetry almost every day in her brown notebook. Louie called the notebook Ray’s Poetry Notebook in their head. Louie had come to know Ray’s handwriting and syntax and devotion to semicolons, and the notebook itself had become a regular part of their day.

Today, Ray was staring down at her Poetry Notebook. Louie looked over to see “How do you not always think of death” scratched into the top of an otherwise blank page.

When the subway jolted to a stop, Louie’s hip hit Ray’s. Ray’s knee bounced back, hitting Louie’s. The doors of the subway opened and Ray closed her notebook quickly.

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BEE

Bee woke up on Thursday feeling like it was going to be his last day. This was not a new feeling; in fact, he felt that way every Thursday. Bee had become accustomed to the ominous thought and had learned not to let it ruin his day; it was no longer morbid, it was fact and he was waiting for it to become true. So Bee kept busy and moving on Thursdays. “Better to end moving than lying down,” he thought.

This Thursday, he was drinking Saint Street Coffee and reading a story about Noah and the Ark when a friend of a friend came and sat down across from him. Bee was too distracted by the thoughts in his head to remember the friend of a friend’s name. “Oh well,” he thought and rambled to fill the space where her name would have been.

Near the end of the conversation, Bee watched the coffee shop barista spill a bucket of water and soap on the floor. He watched her stand and stare at the water instead of cleaning it up. Bee liked this. “It’s flooding,” he thought and smiled to himself.

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RAY

Ray starting working at the Saint Street Coffee Shop in January. She was drawn to the mechanical nature of making people’s coffee and the sounds of the shop: the grinding of the coffee beans, the click of spoons in mugs, the oven alarm early in the morning.

Before starting work at the Shop, Ray wrote Poetry. Poetry, she had thought, could pay the bills. And for some it can. For Ray, this was not the case. So now, Ray makes Poetry and coffee and she can usually send in her rent checks on time.

Ray writes poems about the customers in the Shop on the subway ride home after work. She learns their names and their drink orders and writes love poems to them. Ray can feel very lonesome sometimes.

dear maxie,we are a tribe of tea drinkers and we hold our cups the same; i’d be happy to make your earl grey every day this week and the next. the moon tells me about the inside of your palms; it’s okay it’s okay.

Ray was cleaning tables the day Maxie came in and sat with a lanky fast-talking boy. She listened to their conversation, quelling her ever-present desire for voyeurism. The boy with Maxie spoke like something was burning a hole inside of him and he was trying to convince it to stop. Ray heard him ask Maxie, “How do you not think of death all of the time?” The question made Ray’s heart beat a little faster and she dropped the water bucket she was using. She watched quietly as the sudsy water spread out all over the floor.

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MAXIE

Maxie met Bee when she skipped her Thursday Yoga Class. Last month, Maxie’s mother said “yoga is good for you” so Maxie signed up for Thursday Yoga Classes at the yuppie yoga studio down the street. On Thursday, Maxie fought with her mother on the phone and before ending the call, chose to skip yoga out of spite.

So instead of Thursday Yoga, Maxie went to the also yuppie coffee shop on Saint Street. She thought, “Thursday Tea and Scones instead of Thursday Yoga Class.”

When Maxie walked into the coffee shop, she saw Bee immediately, recognizing him as a friend of a friend. When she neared his table, Bee looked up and Maxie was relieved to see a flicker of recognition on his face. Maxie grabbed some earl grey from the barista and sat down across from Bee.

After a few moments, he began to talk to her. Maxie quickly grew fond of Bee and felt her face flush as she observed him. Maxie could see the wheels turning between his eyes and could feel the waves of words he was saying ebb and flow. She liked the way Bee’s voice became hushed and desperate and the way he looked at her hands when he spoke.

After speaking to Maxie for what Bee declared was “too long,” he changed his pace and began to ask Maxie questions. She let out a short laugh because Bee was not leaving enough space between his questions for her to answer. Although, admittedly, Maxie did not believe should could find the answers he was looking for anyways. After Bee left, Maxie stayed sitting at the table. She sat there for the afternoon, warmly, thinking quietly about Bee’s questions: “What’s your mother like? Do you miss your Thursday Yoga Class?” and more hushed, more desperate “Where is the elephant in the room? How do you not think of death all of the time?”