I've written a short story. My creative writing class is making me do all sorts of things I don't want to do, and I love/hate it. Anyway, I decided I might as well post it for the perusal of the two people who read my blog. (It's probably actually more like one person, so to that person I say "thank you").
The title is.... still working. Let's go with "In the Flash of An Eye" for now.
Hilary
had never seen such green eyes. Looking into them, it was impossible to stay
angry, they were like a calming ocean and the way that they flashed blue when
he got angry was really pretty hypnotizing. They also turned pale when he was
hiding something – Ryan didn’t know that, but Hilary did. She had seen it lots of
times.
Hilary looked down from his gaze to
his clunky brogues, shoes she hated more than anything else he owned. They were
pretentious, coffee-shop shoes, the kinds of shoes that matched the hipster
clothes he had started wearing when he took that job at the recording studio.
She sort of missed the dirty Vans he had worn when they first met, the shoes he
wore when she figured out how his eyes paled in a lie.
On
her birthday, the year they first met, his shoes had got especially dirty. The
off-white fabric was always a little more on the grey side but now they were
smudged with dark brown and stained with grass-green to match the marks on his
casual, well-worn Levi’s. Hilary had tried not to worry about the mud that was
getting on the bleached floor of her corner kitchen as they stumbled inside her
studio apartment together. They had tried to go watch a meteor shower in
celebration of her birthday; instead they got really cold and really filthy
from lying in the grass up the canyon.
“I still can’t really believe that
you didn’t get me a present. Like, it’s my birthday.”
Ryan had leaned in closer to her,
until her eyes couldn’t look anywhere other than into his. Those dark green
eyes. God, were they something to write sonnets about, something to sing about
from the rooftops of skyscrapers, something to worship. Of course she would
forgive him, he didn’t even have to ask, not with those eyes. Not with the way
she loved him, already much more than he understood.
“I swear I did get you a present! I
just left it at my apartment. Can I bring it by tomorrow?” Ryan had drawn her
in even closer with his eyes. He was used to being forgiven. That stare could
make a girl do things, and as she had looked into his eyes, Hilary felt that it
had probably served him well.
But
she had also felt a change, as his eyes turned ever so subtly lighter. If she
hadn’t studied those eyes for hours she probably wouldn’t have noticed. But she
had been trying for weeks to figure out a tell, anything to help her feel on an
equal playing field with her perfect boyfriend and his dark green eyes.
Back in the living room they now
shared, in a better, more expensive town, Hilary looked around at things she
liked in their apartment; the couch was brown distressed leather, the stereo
was playing Howie Day, the room was sort of warm as the early morning sun
started to creep through their lacquered shutters, and Ryan’s eyes were very
green and very close to hers.
She forgot
herself and looked from his shoes back into his eyes and started to melt in their
sea-green pool. He moved an inch closer to her and lowered his head so their
eyes met in a perfect diagonal line. He probably took another step closer but
Hilary’s skin was already electric from his hand on her waist. She closed off
her mind to the surrounding sounds and colors.
“Of course I didn’t kiss her,” Ryan
said quietly, barely audibly.
That’s
when his eyes paled.
Hilary
suddenly drew away from him and started to count in her head how many times she
had seen those eyes change. Every year when he forgot her birthday, five times
including that first. When he had said that her favorite green dress made her
look thin. The first time she asked if he loved her. When he had said that he
wanted to marry her. When he had told her parents that he wanted to set a date
for a wedding soon, and was just waiting for Hilary to feel ready. Each time he
had said he hadn’t been out with Rachel after he came home in the morning with
puffy red eyes. They had been paling more frequently and more regularly,
recently.
She
must have pushed his hand from her waist more forcefully than she’d meant to
because when she let herself forget those pale eyes and look back at him, Ryan
stared down at her with a face full of concern, eyes back to dark green. She
couldn’t let him touch her, couldn’t let him kiss her, but also, couldn’t seem
to get mad at him.
“Sorry,
morning breath!” she said with a thousand watt smile and a quick peck on his
cheek. “I better go before I miss my flight, I’ll be back Thursday by 10:30.”
“You’re
so funny when you get self-conscious.”
“I
love you, Ryan.” Hilary said with one last forced hug as she turned for the
door.
“I
love you too. Have a safe flight.”
Hilary
was in the shuttle to the airport when she started to cry, realizing his eyes
had changed again
The
flight was longer than Hilary remembered. She hadn’t taken it for a few years
–three years. It had been three years since she’d been to see Brynn. So when
she climbed out of another airport shuttle on another side of the country she
walked quickly, but anxiously to the orange painted door of Brynn’s little
house. She hadn’t seen Brynn in three years, had never met Harrison, and had
been totally mute on how bad things had gotten with Ryan.
The
polished brass doorknob was looming ominously, a symbol reminding her she’d
have to tell Brynn that Ryan had postponed the wedding again. And she’d have to
tell her about Rachel. She thought about leaving, about finding another shuttle
and telling Brynn she’d have to come visit another time. Just then, the
portentous knob turned and her best friend was enveloping Hilary and dragging
her inside the house.
“You
look so GOOD!” Brynn squealed, relaxing her hold on Hilary’s shoulders
slightly, just enough to appreciate her designer jeans clinging to her svelte
frame. “I wish I had enough time to go to the gym these days, but you know how
they say that being a mother is a full-time job? Turns out that’s actually true.
I’m lucky if I can get mascara on in the morning.”
Hilary
smiled widely with the sincere smile she hadn’t felt on her face in years. The
nervousness started to roll off as she walked more deeply into Brynn’s strange
and yet welcoming home. If she had chosen ‘Brynn’ out of a catalog, her house
would have looked like this. Art deco lamps and couches decorated a craftsman
living room that was clean but not tidy, as though an actual family lived here.
Brynn’s heaving white couch had stains from chocolate and markers and little
two-year-old fingers that had explored the coarse fabric.
“Wow.
I wish my house could look more like this.” Hilary expressed sadly, remembering
Ryan with his pale eyes sitting on their pristine leather couch.
“Oh
whatever, Miss New York, I’m sure your house is beautiful. I’m always so
jealous of your style. We do what we can, but Harrison’s walking now so we
can’t have nice things anymore.”
“Harrison’s
walking? I can’t believe I missed all of baby Harrison. It’s good to see you
Bee, it’s been too long.”
“I
missed you too, you butt, how have you not been here in so long? Now, get in my
kitchen and we’ll get you something to eat. Skinny-mini, you look starved.”
That
was the best part of Brynn. You could go years without seeing her, then as soon
as you did it was like you’d only been apart since breakfast. She was the same
Brynn that Hilary had known in college and high school and growing-up, short
and happy and eager to do everything for others.
“So,”
Brynn said, “I’ve got some brownies that you have to eat, I don’t want to hear
about your diet anymore. It’s bad enough that Ben’s mother won’t let me feed my
own child sugar, I never get to make anything fun to eat. So please, eat a
brownie it will change your life.”
“Where
is Ben? I haven’t seen him in ages!” Hilary changed the subject and picked at
the brownie without taking a bite. Ryan’s business partner had just proposed to
a girl the size of a coatrack and Hilary did not want to show up at that
wedding looking like her pre-pubescent self.
“He
took the little prince to the grocery store so I could get a break.” Brynn
pushed the brownie back towards Hilary and balanced one for herself on the
bulge of baby number two.
“You
got so lucky with Ben, he’s such a great guy. I wish that Ryan would go grocery
shopping sometime.”
“Do
you actually want Ryan in charge of food, though? Love him to death but he’s an
overgrown teenager – he’d probably bring back spray cheese and Doritos,” Brynn
said with total seriousness, distractedly wiping little finger smears from a
refrigerator covered with Harrison’s doodles and pictures of a happy family.
Hilary’s fridge was filled with lettuce and kale, but was missing doodles,
decoration, family pictures, permanence.
“Yeah,
but you and Ben just have such a good deal. He loves you so much.”
“Hey
this will be you and Ryan soon! Do you have a date set yet? I’m not showing up
to your wedding like a little round whale, so you better give me at least three
months.”
“He’s
just been so busy with work we figured we’d give it at least six months or so,
so you have plenty of time to prepare to be my cute little matron of honor.”
“Is
that why you aren’t wearing your ring anymore?” Hilary stopped playing with her
brownie. Brynn stopped tidying the kitchen to look at Hilary directly in the
eyes. Brynn never pried, she would never force you to tell her anything. That’s
what made her a great match for Hilary, the anti-sharer. She would let you tell
her when you were ready. Hilary was almost there but not quite, and then three
digital notes started trilling from her bag.
“Ryan” the phone read.
“Sorry
Bee, but I’ve got to get this, it’s Ryan!” Hilary put on her most bubbly voice
as she carried her phone from the room and evaded Brynn’s curiosity.
“Hey
Hils, I have to talk to you. Remember when I said I didn’t kiss Rachel?”
“Yeah,
what about it?”
“That’s
not true. We were late at work so I made sure she got home. Then, I don’t know,
I could just tell that she was expecting
me to kiss her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I did. Baby I’m so
sorry.”
“Is
that all?”
“Yes,
I promise that’s all that happened.”
“Don’t
even worry, that’s not a big deal.”
“Are
you sure that’s okay?”
“Yes
of course, I know she doesn’t matter to you. I’ve got to go, I’m grocery
shopping with Brynn right now. I love you though.”
“I
love you too.” He waited too long again, Hilary thought. It was like saying he
loved her was an after thought.
Hilary
dropped the gold glittery phone on the floor and walked back into Brynn’s
kitchen where she finally broke completely down, for the first time. An hour
later, Brynn was stroking her back while Hilary sobbed into her hands with $30
mascara running down her cheeks.
“Why
do I forgive him every time?” Hilary asked, not wanting an answer.
“Because
you love him Hilly, and that’s what love is.”
“And
I don’t question that he loves me, but I just don’t think he cares about me or
my feelings.”
“I
never said that he loves you, Hil.”
“You
know what the problem is?” Hilary ignored Brynn, “Ryan didn’t meet me until
after I started wanting to be pretty. If he had known me when I was chubby and
awkward and dressed badly he never would have asked me out. That’s the problem.
I’ve been so busy with work and trying to plan a wedding and keep up with
everything else I haven’t been putting any thought into how I look. I would go
after Rachel too, she takes really good care of her body.”
Brynn
shot Hilary a look that was sadder than any she’d ever received from her.
The
next few days were tense at Brynn’s house. They played with Harrison and
re-painted the baby’s room and stayed up late talking every night, just like
Hilary had imagined this trip would be. But Brynn kept asking Hilary what she
was going to do, kept pleading that she would stay here longer, kept begging
that she would leave Ryan. And Hilary avoided all of Brynn’s questions by
changing the subject or flashing a superficial smile as though the suggestion
she leave her boyfriend was ludicrous. But, she also left her phone in the same
spot on Brynn’s floor until it was time for her to go home.
“Don’t
let it be so long next time. I love you.” Brynn whispered just before Hilary
pulled the shuttle door shut behind her with one final flourish of her hand.
Two
hours later, Hilary flipped her shiny, pin-straight blonde hair, the result of
expensive, fragrant shampoos, over her left shoulder in a cascade as she lifted
the Michael Kors bag from the ground of the airport and onto her toned, tanned
shoulder. She was incredibly bored, waiting at the gate that would take her
back to Ryan.
“Delta
Airlines would like to welcome all passengers…” called a woman with fuchsia
lipstick and too-much 1973 blue eye-shadow from over the PA sound-system.
“Thank you,” Hilary told the hippie
in dirty espadrilles and rank dreadlocks as she passed back his newspaper she’d
used to kill time while she tried to block out her thoughts, “I can’t believe I
didn’t bring my phone charger, like, how dumb of me?”
“Whatever man,” the dirty hippie
said without looking up from his unread copy of Siddhartha. He’d turned one page the entire time Hilary had his
newspaper.
The
dirty hippie’s backpack ostentatiously advertised the places he’d been and the causes
he likely pretended to support with a series of sloppily ironed-on patches
equaled in filth only by the socially conscious shoes on his feet
“…in
all zones…”
Hilary balanced her own weight on
this season’s tortoiseshell Tory Burch Reva flats as she strutted away from the
gate where the agent with cheap make-up and poorly highlighted hair had just
invited her to board the plane.
She
used to wear socially conscious shoes with leather soles that were perfectly
shaped to her feet like his. Back before she met Ryan, Hilary carried metallic
pleather purses and had bad highlights and wore cheap make-up.
“…on flight B-132…”
Hilary
walked past the food court with McDonald’s and their salty, deep-fried potatoes
and rows of boxed chicken nuggets. Hilary hadn’t let herself eat food like that
in years, since before Ryan had asked her out. She couldn’t help but think
about the brownies she hadn’t eaten at Brynn’s because of a wedding for a
friend of Ryan’s. A guy she didn’t even like. A girl she liked less, the stupid
kind of dolled up girl that Hilary had allowed herself to transform into with Ryan.
The smell of salt and fat propelled Hilary forward and away from the gate.
Her
glitter-clad, fully charged iPhone vibrated in her designer leather bag where
she’d neglected it since Monday. She had answered it once, that call from Ryan,
but had carefully ignored it since. There was something unsettling about the
phone and the symbols it carried like omens of betrayal. The phone vibrated
again.
She
reached for the phone and pulled it out of the store-smelling leather bag then
dropped it in the closest silver can. The phone in its expensive case lit up
one more time among Big Mac wrappers with a message from home that Hilary would
never read.
“…to board at this time.”
The glass doors out of the airport
opened to let Hilary pass through just as the doors on her flight back closed.
