Katana

In the light of a full moon, I saw her face gleaming silver. Like a well-sharpened sword, it struck me, and viciously cut away any ideas I ever had against being with other women. 

I remember vividly; one evening, after we’d just finished “watching” a movie, we were lying together on the couch, cuddling; enjoying each other’s company. Alex took a sip of her wine.

“Fuck men.” She started.

“Seriously.” I replied.

“No, really, I’m not just saying that.”

Alex was always getting into these tirades, even after one drink; ever since we started dating, she always lamented her past relationships with guys. I did too; not a fan, to be honest, but with her it was serious. With her...she couldn’t get over it. Something must’ve happened, I always thought, but I never knew what that something was.

“Back in highschool, there was this guy, Jack…” she said.

“Oh, you had a Jack, too?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah, doesn’t everyone have a Jack?” she replied, half-seriously. “But I mean, this guy, he was such an asshole, I don’t even...I don’t even want to get into it.” She took another gulp of her wine. “But, its probably really stupid, because it was just some high school bullshit thing that we tried to take into college. Like, of course it was never going to work, but why did he have to lie about it is all I’m asking, ok? Like why wasn’t he fucking honest or something.”

“Alright, honey, you’re ok.” I said, running my hand through her hair.

“Ok,” she said, calming down, “ok…”

She didn’t mention Jack for awhile after that, but it kept niggling at me. I mean, it couldn’t possibly be him, right?

We met at a concert; well, not exactly. We met in an alleyway behind a concert venue. I wouldn’t say that she was in the most flattering position, either; but at the time, all it meant to me was relief. 

“The fucking bathrooms in there are so nasty.” I said, squatting down next to her.

“I know, right? I always come out here.” She replied.

Her makeup was intense, sharp wings out even past her eyebrows; and many different ornaments, gold and silver, were studded or hung onto her face. As for me, I did a quick touch up before going out. I’d gone to the gym earlier that day, and there’s no primer/finisher combo that can prevent a good sessions's application annihilation.

“You work out?” She asked while wiping herself.

“Yeah. I like it. Most people think I’m healthy.” I replied while shaking off the last few drops of urine.

“They think you’re healthy?” she said, quizzically.

“If I didn’t care so much about my legs, I’d probably be starving myself.”

“I don’t…”

“I like to hurt myself.” I said, candidly. Exposure to the open air had an effect on my personality. She was jarred.

“Wow.” She finally said. “I’ve never met someone who was so honest.”

After the show was over, as we were leaving the grungy bar, she basked in a moonlight glow, and almost sparkled. She looked supernatural. Her black lipstick like the deep dark crevice in the curves of an old engraving. Her foundation porcelain like sea foam. Her hair flowing like clouds drifting in the sky. And I was run through the heart; I never even saw her draw, but by the time my hand reached my chest, she was already behind me, cooking breakfast. The smell of butter and eggs was sweet as it drifted under my nose and lifted my eyelids.

“What…” I began, but then she smiled when I looked over, and it all came back; then I smiled too.

One morning, when Alex had already left for work, and I was just beginning to relax alone in the apartment for a few hours before running some errands, I received a foreboding call. Jack. What did he want?

“I’m gonna be in town for a few days-” he said.

“No.”

“What?” he said, surprised.

“No, Jack; I’m not getting coffee or catching a movie or getting dinner or anything. We’re done. We’ve been done for over a year, I can’t believe you still call me.”

“Oh…” he said, saddened.

“Look,” I hesitated to say it, “sweetie, you’ve got to move on, ok? I don’t love you anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Find someone who can really take care of you. I don’t want to keep answering your late night calls, I don’t want to keep you so dependent on me. It’s not good for you.”

“Rachel...” he said.

“I’ve got someone, and it’s really serious. More serious than we ever were, Jack—I’m sorry to admit it. She’s wonderful, I really wish you could meet her.”

“She?” I could feel some of his old humor coming back.

“Yeah, she.”

“So you’re gay now?” he asked sarcastically.

“It doesn’t fucking matter; Alex is amazing, she’s everything to me right now.” I said, angrily.

“Alright, chill,” he said. “Wait, did you say Alex?”

“Yeah, why?” I answered.

“Oh…” he paused, “nothing. There was a girl from my hometown, or something, I don’t remember. It’s not important.”

“Ok.”

“Alright.”

“Talk to you later.” I said.

“Yeah. I love-”

I hung up before he could finish.

I could tell when Jack was lying. You don’t spend 3 years talking to someone every night without picking up on their ticks.

When she finally spilled the beans, and told me all about Jack—all about how much she loved him, how serious they were, how much she depended on him for support; and how much it hurt when one day, for no reason, it all suddenly evaporated—I listened; and fixed her hair, and held her close to give her comfort, but didn’t speak a word of what I knew. Because I loved her too much. I loved her more than I’d ever loved anyone else, even him; and I didn’t want to lose that love over something so stupid. I didn’t want to gut myself with his blade. I wish he never existed, I wished he could've been erased from our collective past, but there he was—in both our memories; I wonder if his impression was the only thing which brought us together in the first place; I wonder if we would’ve liked each other so much, if we weren’t both looking for a piece of something lost. 
We took a walk afterwards, on a damp late spring night. The cherry blossoms, which lined our street, had all grown bare. We kept talking, but it was mostly me; mostly me kicking matted petals against dark holes in drainage outlets.

She was warm, but my breath was cold, seeping with empty comforts.