WOW.
So, this is my first update in 102 weeks. That's almost two years. That doesn't mean I haven't been writing, just that I forgot about this.

So here's a pre-nano-practice-short-story! I like it. 1068 words.


OPTION 1:

* Pieces of Pineapple
* Carrier-Bag Cat
* a beautiful lie
* snowfall


Challenge #204 Musemuggers
October 7, 2007 1:17AM

She walked slowly down the hall, her pink socks fitting comfortably with the cheap grey and beige linoleum. She didn’t know why she bought the socks at the time, but she supposed it made no real difference. Not much did any more. Not her impulsive move, so long ago. Not staying vegetarian. Not even the cat, which was now in a carrier-bag on it’s way to her mother’s place so it could be taken care of properly.

She sighed, and without thinking touched the spot on the wall where she’d first kissed her. They’d only known each other a few weeks, and had only met each other that morning when she picked her up from the airport. She didn’t even think of this woman as someone to fall in love with until she’d met her. She was just someone looking for a roommate in another city, and she just wanted to move somewhere new. Then she saw her.

She walked right up to her at the airport, ignored the bags slung over both of her shoulders, gave her a suffocating hug that seemed to squish some of her own sunshine right into her, then said, “I am so glad to see you, Erica!”

Erica. The way she had said her name was unlike the way anyone else had ever said it. Her voice was light and kittens playing and secret tears in the night. Her voice held her, but in a softer way then her arms did. More like the ground is held by softness after a snowfall.

She let go, and asked if she had any more bags.

“No, just these two.”

“Oh, yes. The rest is coming on the bus. Well, let’s go then!”

And with that, they left. And came here. They dropped off her bags, then went for lunch. She treated her like she was an old friend, telling her stories and already making inside jokes, just for the two of them. She couldn’t remember most of that day, just that there was laughter and food and maybe wine. She couldn’t remember most of that day, until they returned to the apartment, and she kissed her, here, right in the entranceway, right after she closed the door behind them. That moment is still as clear to her as the cleanest water from the purest spring.

She touched the spot on the wall again. She had told her, “Remember this. This spot. Right here,” and she touched the wall beside her head. “Remember that spot. Promise me, Erica?” She nodded, and she kissed her again. Then they went to sleep. She offered no explanation, no questions. Just a kiss, a memory, and a good night.

They lived together for two years. Two years they saw each other every day. They kissed, they held each other, they made love. They went on a trip once, to the coast. But they didn’t make love while there, or kiss. They had a lot of fun, and met and played with a number of interesting people, but they didn’t make love there. When they returned to the apartment, however, they made the most passionate love they’d had in some time.

She moved from the entranceway and went into the kitchen. She was hungry. She needed to eat, so that she could continue to think. She opened the fridge. The only thing she found was a bowl of pineapple slices, left overs from something. She tested them. They were still good. Still juicy and clean, like pineapples should be. Pineapples were their favourite fruit. She ate another piece and thought about that. Pineapples were like her, she realised. They were light. They came from places where the sun shone as strong as she had, and they kept that with them when they were shipped to the cold places, to be eaten by cold people like her to remind them that sunlight really did exist.

There had been no pineapples for a while. She started to spend more and more time out of the apartment. Never with her - they never did anything together. Or at least, very rarely, and never as a Couple. Sometimes they would go out for drinks with their friends, or dinner, and sometimes they would even go see a movie together, and hold hands, under the arm rest, like too teenagers on a date, scared that anyone would see. She didn’t know why everything seemed so secretive while they were out of the apartment. Towards the end, she mentioned it once. She was told that it didn’t matter, she just liked being discreet and polite in public. That sufficed. She started spending more time out, leaving her alone at home. She never minded. She always came home to her, and they always kissed in the entranceway, right by that spot.

She ate the last piece of the pineapple, and ran the bowl under the tap for a moment. That was the last pineapple. Two nights afterwards, she told her that she was moving out. She was moving in with a man from her office, her fianceé she called him. Fianceé. She’d never said she wanted to be married. She would have married her, if she had wanted to.

“No, Erica. Things like that don’t work in this world. I love you, in my way, but it’s time for me to think about my career and my future, and my life. I need to have a husband and children and a house in the suburbs. It’s safe that way. I’m safe. Don’t you see? This was nice. It was a lot of fun. We had some good times together, didn’t we Erica? Didn’t you love me? You need to let me go now. You need to let go of me. I need to leave now, he’s waiting for me, all my stuff is packed. Erica, let go!” And she hit her. Not hard, but she hit her, across the face. “I’m sorry, Erica. I shouldn’t have done that. But I have to go. I can’t stay here, with you, it would be too hard. Good bye. I love you, good bye.”

So she left. She left her furniture. All she took were her clothes and her collection of movies starring people like Audrey Hepburn and Judy Garland. Everything was exactly the same as it was before, except for her. Before, they were each other.

Now, she was just Erica.