By Emi Gonzalez Perez

I know what it means when she leaves, when she groggily rises from the crumpled cotton sheets, silently and quietly. I know the guilty hang of her head and the curt snap of her words as she collects her wrinkled clothes from the floor of my bedroom. The sound of her nails scratching the hardwood in her haste to get away from me. She ignores me, and my stare that follows her every move across my room, almost as if I am the ache in her spine or the splitting pain in her temples. It is only once her pants are zipped and her jacket is buttoned that she turns towards me, she smiles begrudgingly, lips tight, almost downturned across her face. But then, for a moment her eyes soften. 

For a moment she loves me, safely and intimately in between the four walls of this cold brick house. She offers a chaste kiss to my forehead, I pretend I don’t feel the hesitation to step away, or the tight grip of her ring ornamented fingers on the pillow I rest on. It is until the next time she gives into her desires, that I will see her like this again. She will throw pebbles against my cracked window, slip past my fingers and into my bed. She’ll mend my mutilated heart through whispers and promises, and I’ll fall into her trap a million times more. 

“Bye Frannie.”

But for now I’ll wait until time slides out from under me, until I’ve lost count of the days, passing my nights with my eyes squeezed shut, hoping to hear the harsh sound of the pebbles on my window. For now, I’m left with my window cracked open, and a heart ripped in two.

1

I was wrong. I see her again at a gathering at the town lake just outside of Marley’s house, sometime in between her visits to my bed. The lakeside trees and the back of the home have been decorated with string lights, and the sun has started to dip under the horizon. A few rickety tables have been set up to celebrate the birthday of a town elder.

 Nearly the entire town is gathered at the water, speckling the grassy area with the vibrant colors of their best sundresses and polo shirts. It’s almost normal for our people to be gathered here a few times a month, there’s always a birthday or celebration around the corner. I spot Frannie from my place between the shoulders of people huddled at the drink table, I see the shine of her long black hair, and I inhale a gasp. The corners of my mouth rise involuntarily, and I push past and make my way in between the group of people to catch a glimpse of her again. Her burgundy red nails are tapping on a wine glass, she’s chatting animatedly with somebody, nobody to me.

“What day is it?” I ask approaching my cousin Lucia, who’s curled into a folding chair with a glass of the exact same wine in her right hand. I quickly look back towards Frannie, who’s playing with a thread on the blue sundress she wears. Lucia must stand up because her arm is suddenly wrapped around mine, I would not know because my eyes are not on her. 

“It’s Saturday, remember?” She pulls me along towards Elder Marley, who’s in the center of a throng of oldies, all grooving to the sound of 70s era music that’s sounding through the speakers. There’s a ping of disappointment in my chest as I lose sight of Frannie.

   “Ahh Marzia!” Marley squeals as we near him. He’s still dancing as he withers his way to us, his cold hands come up to squish my cheeks.

   “I’ve been looking for you. Thank you Lucia.” He grins at my cousin who smiles back, taking a sip from her glass. “I’ve got to speak to you urgently about some paint colors for your room!” My cousin wanders away when Marley takes me to the side of the dance floor. 

“The painter’s are coming soon this week. I meant to speak to you earlier, but the preparations for Ernest’s party had me tied up.” I listen attentively, but the entire conversation blurs to nothing when I catch sight of Frannie hand in hand with a town elder, dancing along to some song I can’t quite name in the moment. She’s mesmerizing, with the widest grin i’ve ever seen plastered on her familiar face, I find that she looks unfamiliar at the same time. Her arms are up in the air, and she’s jumping around energetically. I have never seen her so joyful before, not in passing, and definitely not in the confines of my moonlit bedroom. Suddenly, she disappears between the bodies of a few dancing guests, and I’m left feeling like a child who’s dropped their lollipop.

   “…color did you…” I nod dumbly, my neck craning to see her properly.

   “…are you looking…” My head snaps back to Marley, who’s already turned around and laid eyes on Frannie.

    “Francesca! Darling!” She’s being spun around when she faces us, that same big bright cheesy smile on her lips. Her soft blue dress is spread out around her, I think she looks entirely too gorgeous to be real.

   “Hi, Mr. Marley.” She greets, a little out of breath, she’s got a hand on her chest, I note, recognizing the rings. Our gazes connect, and her face drops a little. Unsure what our relationship is in this situation, I look towards Marley.

   “I was just speaking to Marzia here about some paint colors for her room.” Marley laughs, but I’m not sure what’s so humorous as my hands begin to get clammy. “Do you have any suggestions?” I’m not sure what makes me ask this; maybe I think it’s only fair for her to get a say if she spends half her time in my room anyways. Her eyebrows scrunch momentarily, they relax in the next second.

   “I like the color orange.” Marley looks towards me, waiting. I feel caught with both of them staring at me expectantly, so I speak before I can give it any real thought.

   “Blue sounds good to me.”