I had a girlfriend last spring. Her name was Olivia. We broke up in July, our differences becoming too much for us to deal with. But for ten months, it was like springtime, all the time.
Her dresses hid her amongst the flowers in the park, and her laugh was sweeter than any honey that the bees knew of. She held my hand and smiled at me, breaking through my self-doubt, like the sun through rainclouds. For ten short months, I was happy. And it was nothing that I would trade back, because for a time I had someone so gentle love me so passionately, and it changed my perspective of everything.
So, with that experience, how was Selene troubling me?
"Fuck off and leave me alone," she said. The tenseness had not left her voice.
"Okay, if that's what you want," I said, defeated.
A flicker at the corner of her mouth, a click of book heels turning on concrete, and she was off. She never looked back, but I watched her leave.
She was like a tornado; she hardly stayed in one place, moving on for the possibility of destruction elsewhere.
But all tornados had an eye, and I had foolishly gone searching for it - without realising that I would sooner be picked up and tossed aside, battered and disoriented.
I should have realized that one night stands don't lead to a friendship... in real life, anyway.
-24 hours beforehand-
I awoke on a stiff mattress, the taste of vodka on my lips, and the feel of acrylic against my bare skin. In the room I could hear the sounds of quick breathing and a pulling zip, and knew instantly that I had gone home with somebody the night before. Of course I did. Alcohol was my least favourite role model.
I groaned and opened my eyes. I was facing a silver nightstand with a single decoration: a frame with a photo of a red jacketed little girl holding a red balloon. The girl looked happy. I didn't know the girl, but then again, I doubted I knew the woman who seemed to have stopped redressing. I felt the anxiety in the room.
I sat up, taking my time to drink in my surroundings, but finding them too sour for my taste. The room was strangely impersonal, and the scent that lingered was heavy and musky, a man's deodorant. I noted how different it was to Olivia's floral perfumes. I also noted that the deer-in-headlights stare from the woman near the door was far different to my usual reception.
"Get dressed and get out," she muttered, her tone hostile. She then left the room, and the heavy sound of the door closing startled me.
I located my clothes at the foot of the bed and pulled them on, my mind buzzing with questions. I felt small. Did she regret last night with me? Did she remember at all?
Well, I guess it WAS a bad situation. I couldn't remember, either.
My handbag was sitting by the door, and I was relieved to see my purse still contained all of its belongings, and everything was intact... but my memory. I shrugged it off. It wasn't my first one night stand, and everything seemed fine, aside from the stranger's obvious regret.
I didn't see her on my way out of the house. I did find that the dreary, dark decor put me ill at ease, however, and I resolved never to return.
I would track her down, though, no matter how erratic her path.
-12 hours later-
I had a rule: never go out drinking for two nights in a row, it never ended well. But to hell with that rule; well, at least for tonight.
I was going to a bar, and I was dressed for any situation: catfight, heavy drinking, another night in the sack after learning more about my latest lover. I could tell that each option was more ludicrous than the last, but it never hurt to be prepared.
I had managed to track down the woman. It was simpler than the FBI fantasy I had been entertaining - I had a contact in my phone that I had never seen before. "Selene." I had called her, and I only caught her Voicemail, but the voice muttering its own name was unmistakably the same voice that kicked me out.
I had finally got hold of her, and after much persuasion, she reluctantly agreed to a meet-up: strictly non-lesbian, and no alcohol. I guess the bar itself was a comfort zone.
The place was teeming by the time I arrived. The pheromones were in the air as men laid all their charm on giggling women, and groups huddled in corners sloshed liquor as they raised shotglasses to their mouths. Selene sat alone at the end of the bar, reading the screen of her phone with a bored expression. I sidled up next to her, and it changed to a grimace.
"Hi," I said, awkwardly.
She looked at me like I was a jungle cat and she was my prey. Like I was waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. I let her size me up. It was only polite.
Quietly, she replied with, "okay, I'm here. Though leaving it behind us would be better than this."
"Who's the little girl on your nightstand?" I blurted. The image had been in my head all day, as if it could be something important. And it jumbled out of my mouth like it was a question I needed to know.
Selene suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable - for her. Then, "that was me."
"You looked so happy."
Another pause. "Like I said, it WAS me," she said. It was if she was tasting each word on her tongue before letting them slip past her teeth.
I absorbed that. She must have taken my silence for disinterest though, because she snapped.
"I'm fine by myself, so why do you keep badgering me?"
I looked at her, shocked. Eventually, I managed to say, "if you are fine by yourself, why did you give me the okay to meet up? I really don't think you like being alone."
She flinched. "I made a mistake, I'm usually careful. I didn't know what to do-" By the look on her face, I could tell she was kicking herself for what she had said.
Without another word, she stalked out of the building, leaving me rooted to my bar stool, feeling oddly sad for such a hostile creature.
-12 hours later-
I felt the push of shoulders and the prods of elbows as I walked the opposite way from Selene. I had a bad feeling that I set the storm loose, but I suspected that the vicious cycle of pain and chaos had started long before I had ever kissed her with my alcoholic mouth.
How I had even managed to kiss such a woman, I suppose I would never find out.
But that girl with the bright red balloon remained with me, and it bothered me. I could FEEL the happiness leaking from the photo. How could someone so happy turn out to be someone so bitter? It was a story that I knew nothing about, yet it broke my heart.
The balloon must have popped, the jacket must have been outgrown. The camera must have broken beyond repair, and the person behind it...
Well, for Selene to be so alone, that person must have left, or been pushed away. Something must have happened for Selene to not trust another human being.
Something destroyed childhood's innocence.
Without knowing what, from a great number of things, could have happened, I suddenly knew. That tornado had an eye, but it couldn't be met with another eye. The push and shove was so strong because it was but one disaster, and it didn't know how destructive it was on its own. All it knew was that if it continued raging, it would die out eventually.
It wished to finish so that nobody would bother with it anymore.
It raged so hard to find someone that it couldn't hurt, someone who could float in its eye until it stopped, and look at it clearly.
That person wasn't me. Walking away was merciful, for herself and for me.
Excellent. I'll keep walking then.
