MARBLE & SALT (Lesbian)

Chapter 3 (Part 1) SHE, SHE, AND THE FIFTH WHEEL

NB! The chapter features mature content

She never showed up.

The first two days I could not sleep, nervously listening to the deathly silence of the room. I was afraid that the ghost strega would return, but marble eyes, forgetting about me, would not save the situation at the last moment. She said that strega's absence would be enough for my life. But what if someone else comes, someone worse? How many monsters are there in the darkness?

Out of fear of what might lurk in the gloom of the mirrors, like the superstitious old lady from the remotest farm, I covered the mirror in my bedroom, as if someone had died in the house.

Because I did not sleep – I drank coffee, and because I drank coffee – my heart was constantly beating fast. I even had to get a bottle of valocordin, which I bought for Dasha a month ago. My bestie was worrying about the exam and brought herself to such a state that she experienced a severe pain in her chest. Usually she never complained about her health, so Danya and I were scared to death, thinking that there was something serious with her heart.

"So, dear friends, my end has come," Dasha said tragically. She lay between random printed lists, compendium of lectures, and other notebooks, her arms folded across her chest. "My great aunt also died of a heart attack. It's a family thing, you can't get away from it. My hour of death! Just don't call my parents now. I don't want them to see me like this..." she said it in all seriousness, which frightened us even more.

"We are calling an ambulance," Danya and I reached a common conclusion, while Dasha was gasping for air on an impromptu deathbed, tragically decorated with library student books.

Of course, it turned out to be a panic attack and something dystonic, according to the tired doctor. Since that time the smelly bottle has always been staying somewhere nearby, and it has come in real handy for me: coffee, valocordin, coffee, valocordin. A little bit more, and I won't need a ghost to finish myself off.

After the conversation in the bathroom, Dasha, to my surprise, almost immediately and without any comments got over to Danya, but judging by the absence of certain sounds behind the wall, there was no joyful consummation in honor of the reunion.

She preferred to sleep in the same room with her ex, rather than sharing a bed with a psycho that cannot be brought out and introduced to friends without an incident. So, there was only one conclusion: the splitting, which my mother often warned me about, began to occur earlier than I thought. I can't call it a quarrel, since everyone was extremely polite to each other. Too polite, which, again, was completely unusual for us: no friendly jokes, no laughter and vigorous discussions of the latest events at breakfast, or even classic Latin American soap opera arguments between the couple. Ruthless politeness simply knew no bounds!

I refused to write down the phone number of her psychologist friend (a future psychologist, and not some kind of science luminary. Madame Jung, pffff!). My neighbor girl, in turn, gave up too easily. I know Dasha too well: she is the person who will fight to the end, but persuade the most stubborn ram. For whatever reason this time she decided to mind her own business. I know, it's partly my fault; I was not completely honest with her. I did not tell her what exactly happened between me and the blonde, and, moreover, what happened between me and the one who I am so desperately waiting for...

On the third day the marks on my neck disappeared, which brought me a little closer to the feeling of my insanity. After all, these marks were the only confirmation of what happened at the club. Now they are gone.

Finally, I was able to fall asleep and forget about the unpleasant sensation of anxiety and the expectation of something that may never happen. But I relaxed too early, seeking comfort in the night's oblivion: I saw a dream, the same dream, which was not like my usual blurred images of friends mixed with the events of the day. It was repeating exactly everything that happened in the club from the very moment when I turned around from the feeling of a ghost standing behind my shoulder. The dream copied all the details, except for one thing:

A girl with marble eyes presses me against the mirror; her fingers are sliding down; pleasant shiver is running all over my body. Now she will touch me there! This time I am not resisting, and I am not going to stop her. It's happening right now...

But she stops when I'm the most vulnerable: she removes her hand and looks at me somehow indifferently, causing such a humiliating feeling in me, as if she slapped me in the face in front of everyone. The feeling of how unwanted I am is simply unbearable, and I wake up, sitting up abruptly on my bed, breathing heavily.

And this happens every damn time; then I can't fall asleep till morning. I wrap my arms around myself, lull myself, swaying from side to side like a small child without parents. During this period, I seem to be sleeping and not sleeping, but at the same time I can clearly feel that I am lying in my bed.

I wish I could feel Dasha lying next to me and breathing quietly in her sleep; it is impossible to sleep with her in summer: she is like a blast furnace! But these nights I am feeling so lonely and bad, that I am ready to go to their room (I don't care what they were doing there!) and lie down like a dog at their feet. How pathetic I am!

One week has passed. My life gradually began to settle like mineral water, losing all its bubbles came out, and it became nasty and bitter-salty in taste. The behavior of the family continued to be exemplary friendly, and everyone seemed to deliberately avoid each other. Danya is running his father's errands like a madman (It was clear that his dad hoped to hand the business over to his son, embracing hope to retire), and Dasha is shifting from one fancy company of her friends to another: one swaggy party smoothly flows into another. Of course, she never invited me again. Who needs coocoo Valia-Velia with whom it is impossible to drink or flirt?

"That's strange," I said to myself when I was at home alone once again, "if it were a man... even the most incredible and handsome (I can't recall any incredible and handsome dudes I do like to provide a good example), I would definitely feel abused, feel dirty, practically raped!" But I didn't experience anything like that with her, on the contrary, I was waiting for her coming with some crazy despair. Once again, I want to feel her fingers, her lips on my neck, on my earlobe; I'm eager to touch the "snake" lines on her skin, run my thumb from the corner of her lips to the middle, as if erasing lipstick...

Having thought about lipstick, I grab onto my unwashed face. What if she comes right now, but my face is so pale and dull?

I don't really use cosmetics, well, I do use it a little, when I go to university so that people do not shy away in fear. Maybe I should start using it now like a real adult woman: bases, contouring, highlighters... I touch Dasha's brightest eyeshadow palette. A pearlescent blue smear remains on the tip of my index finger. Yeah, now I'll watch a lot of beauty vlogs, then put these blue eyeshadows, fluff up my hair, and turn into a fashionable lady from the eighties (blast from the past), since my appearance is too far from the "Instagram look".

I should probably call that future shrink-girl... maybe she could really advise something sensible, like "more sleep", "healthy eating habits"; or she will recommend to hang a wish board over the table with persistently positive slogans: "life is good! life is great!"

That's it, it's time to get out and ventilate my brain.