Little Girl Blue - 𝐖𝐋𝐖

𝐈𝐈. Pragma- ThirtyOne

Jane

"Most days I'm not what I think I am. Everything I do somehow deflects my past in the same way it reflects. I feel eaten alive most of the time...empty." The red dial on the clock swung around and around, time and everything else just passing me by. "Don't pity me, either. You know I don't like that." I waved my hand as if it were some minuscule revelation I were having. "But anyway, we can't really say we're surprised this happened, either. Now can we Doctor?" She shook her head though said nothing further.

I continued, the complimentary cup of tea I was given warmed my bones. I was sitting frail and  lost like a child huddled in the love seat, "like I was saying— Florence, that's her name by the way—you remember me telling you about her, right? Well with her it was the first time I didn't feel like that, at least not so much." She was the first burst of energy I've had in awhile, the first good thing and I couldn't let myself forget how much I was missing her.

She adjusted herself and the notepad anchored on her knee. "I was under the impression she was a fling when you said you had a visitor. How did you meet?"

Chuckling almost, "that's not important—"

"Jane," the lines in her forehead creased as she leaned on her hand. She was a patient woman, she had to be.

I released a brief sigh, stalling, really. "You want the whole truth or half of it?" Except I knew the answer when I asked. "She was a student at the school although recently it was at the bar."

"Your student?" Her face was unmoved by the information, but I knew her questions were lining up at each confession.

"No, thankfully." God knows what would've happened, "but her sister was."

"Older or younger?"

"Twins actually. Fatimah was a year ahead."

"So how did you get to know Florence? You met..." She tapped her chin, those sweet brown eyes squinting as she tried piecing things together, "how many years has it been?"

I cleared my throat, rubbing out the growing headache. "Four years ago. The girls are adults now." And almost as if to clear my conscience, I added:  "and it wasn't on purpose." Or accident. It just happened. All too fast, it seemed, than either of us could keep up with.

Her nose rose just as her suspicions did. "So I assume, being that you said she was living with you, this isn't a typical relationship."

I nodded.

"Was it sexual, Janine? I thought we weren't doing that anymore." I thought it was funny how people used the word we when it really had nothing to do with them. My habits, my addictions, my (in)sanity, had painfully been made clear they were my own. My file even said so:

Post traumatic stress disorder
Sex addiction
Narcissistic tendencies
Severe depression and anxiety
Alcohol abuse
Borderline personality disorder...

There was no need to lie. "No actually, I wouldn't let myself but it certainly was hard." I remembered the closeness of our bodies, how her weight on top of mine was a blanket, how hard it was to not get a taste.

"So," it seemed she was actually dumfounded at the idea, "it was romantic."

"At times, I believed so. We knew what our feelings were but somehow that still wasn't enough." I shrugged.

"Were you afraid?"

"No." I swallowed, "you know that's not how I try to live." But I was untrusting. There was so much about that girl I felt I would never know and so much I felt I couldn't reveal. Those two didn't mix when it came to partnership—love.