Dana has stopped fearing the dark. That woman isn’t about to come tearing into the diner to knife her down. It’s been a while since their last night. Six weeks at least, if not more. Dana forced herself to stop counting. She only managed because she’s seeing someone now. His name is Sean, he works in an office and has a nice apartment not far away from the diner. He’s not bad looking, a bit taller than herself with short dark hair that he takes good care of, and he has very nice, clear blue eyes.
They met at a party Samantha took her to, and he asked her out for a drink after they chatted for a while in a corner of the living room.
Dana went because Christie forced her to, and Sean made her laugh more than expected which calmed her down. He was very sweet, asked her to the movies and went out for a nice Italian dinner with her. She waited till the fourth date before she agreed to go to his place for a drink. There they talked for over an hour, drinking Screwdrivers with expensive vodka. Sean kissed her when she came back from using the bathroom. She had learnt that a bathroom said almost everything you needed to know about a guy. Sean’s bathroom was tidy without being freakish, which was a relief.
She came back and sat down, Sean leaned into her and said ‘You’re very beautiful.’ That’s when he kissed her. She enjoyed it and didn’t mind when he stole his hands under her top. Soon enough he grew hasty, but she asked him to slow down, which he did. He smiled sheepishly and took his time. It was nice, she enjoyed it, but she didn’t stay the night. She told him she had some stuff to do the next day, something with Christie. Sean nodded and smiled a that’s-ok smile. He walked her to his door and kissed her again, he was a really good kisser. Then she went home. That was three weeks ago, and they kept on seeing each other about three times a week. It was nice. Dana felt cared for, and she liked that.
*
The Prince has decided to leave his Kingdom and pay a visit to a dilapidated monk who lies wasted in the arms of an Angel. In His arms a body feels fragile and frail, the movements too quick, the suddenness too hard, yet His smile brings life back again. Questions are asked which are answered accordingly, he doesn’t want her, the sister, the mother, the soul that allowed him to conceive a possibility of rest, he doesn’t want her to feel she has failed. The Prince stays for an evening, eating and drinking, laughing and talking and then in a moment he remembers that last week was the Seventh which explains the sadness in His Highness’ limbs, the weight holding down the light in His royal eyes.
He refrains from asking about Her, whom the Prince will never mention, will never acknowledge with a syllable or a sound, only to feel weak with curiosity, buried underneath questions, for they had been marvelous once, but that was in another life, another world, so perfect and terrible it was close to a fairy tale.
While clearing the debris of the evening he cautiously points to the fact of the Seventh looming dark in the past. She smiles sadly and nods saying that it was to be expected. He still loves Her, she says and her eyes say it is a deep love, like those sung in stories, and her body says the Prince is not alone in His misery, but he turns away before he reads the last sentence written on her skin, feeling the tatters of his monk’s habit flail. Even now in her presence it is too much for him, too much to see her honesty, too much to feel the presence of the past between them. For despite all attempts to the contrary, certain words have not yet been said.
On her knees she holds him firmly, gently, tightly, covering him with heat and softness, sucking him in till there’s just blackness and rain turning the ceiling to sleet. In intervals she releases and descends, withholding and repenting, increasing in boldness and subtlety, an ingenious trick that makes his thoughts drop dead and his brain suffer a heart attack. On the plains, outstretched, he is only reaction, a body burnt by the sun, melted to a carnal cry, dark and dissolving in the fading light. When he is alive again she lies next to him, smiling against his skin, kissing away the remnants of his sanity, subjecting him to the loss of will and power, leaving him without direction, a lobster, cooked and roasted, without a shell.
*
Dana is in the Mall with Sean. It’s Samantha’s birthday soon, and since Sean knows her now, they decided to pick a present together. Neither have a clue what to give her, Sam always has the newest gadgets, and she loves glittery things. Dean takes Dana’s hand and smiles when she smiles at him. They walk on to the next shop but find nothing there and take the escalator to the next floor. It should be something playful, something that makes Samantha laugh. They’re walking past a electronics store when someone walks out and almost into them. He apologizes immediately – ‘Amanda!’
He looks genuinely happy to see her. Dana wants the ground to break open and swallow her whole. She finally remembers Sean and says,
‘Hi. Sean, this is Carmine. Carmine, Sean.’
Both nod at each other. Dana can barely make herself look at Sean.
‘How you been?’ Carmine says. Dana blushes bright red.
‘I’m good. We’re looking for a birthday present for my friend Samantha.’
‘The blonde one?’
The fact that he remembers makes Dana blush even more.
‘Yeah. It’s her birthday this weekend.’
‘Sweet,’ is all he says before looking at Sean and smiling an easy, open, How’s-it-going smile.
‘Well, don’t let me keep you,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you round.’
Next he’s gone and Sean turns to her asking,
‘Who’s that?’
‘Oh, just a guy from work,’ Dana says, her ears very hot.
She turns to Sean and forces her whole face to smile. She even goes so far as to kiss Sean, who takes the kiss a little further before he suggests that they check the ticket store, the mall still has one and apparently Sam mentioned something about a band. Dana remembers to nod. They start walking but – What was that? Why was he so happy? Why didn’t he even care?
© 2014 threegoodwords
three good words 