
Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event
by nick campbell
Red, she saw red. Sleeping beside me, a satisfied lover. She only climaxes in red and tonight she saw the raped sun cut the veins in its arms. Her body went rigid and slack, a seizure victim biting her tongue. Red pushed through her lips and I kissed each corner of her mouth, stroking her black sweat-matted hair.
She stuttered. Did you see them?
Three years and she remembered.
Yes. Amber butterflies disintegrating. All said with a smile.
Beautiful like stars with wings. They were always the best you had.
She raised her shaking hand up to my cheek, grazing it.
I woke up this morning and she stood outside my door contemplating knocking. We shared breakfast and she told me she was dying. I called in sick and took her out to jump through the fountains in the park and shopping at a sex toy shop. The things she wanted to do before she died. We came back to my place after dinner and fucked. She had junkie shakes all day and I think she lied to me, but I enjoyed seeing her.
Now she's curled next to me, a sleeping fetus.
I open the nightstand on my side of the bed and pull out a small lunch baggie with a few grams of cocaine. These bags suck, the drug sticks to the side and you've lost a gram to the lining. I lick my finger and dip it into the bag. The powder sticks like tequila salt without the promise of fluid to follow. I stick my finger into her mouth and wipe it on her tongue. The effect isn't immediate, but we won't see the sun blow up till eight minutes after it's gone.
She saw red.
Yes - I did.
She rolls over and places her head in my lap.
I guess you know the truth then.
You're not dying are you?
Not in the on the deathbed sense - but I need help.
Why didn't you go to a clinic then?
I don't need a lecture - I need help.
Let me think about it.
They were amber and I saw red.
I said let me think about it.
I don't need to think about it. I'm going to say yes. She has always had her hand tight around my heart, fingers spread thin mocks prison bars, inviting it to try and flee. I never could. Her grasp too strong, my heart too weak and I won't say go elsewhere. Rape victim syndrome. But she appears to need me, to want me. I can't turn my back on that.
Lay down and think, hands behind the head. She curls onto my chest, purring. I don't touch her. Play hard to get. There's no point in playing, she already won, but I can make her suffer some first. In spite, I will lie. Awake, but sometimes dreaming.
She saw red.