thelesbianlifestyle.com

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre

Whitish-grey smoke curled around the tar-black shards of wood. The heat was just beginning to cool enough to allow anyone near the rubble.

She squat down near the seething mass. Maybe trying to inhale the last living bits of what was, maybe trying to make sure it was all done. Being there in either case.

It was then that she knew it was time for her to give up Voice. For what would it serve now?

The people around busied themselves, tamping out flare ups, dousing drenched mounds of smoking burn, anything to keep from looking at her.

Maybe they were afraid of looking into her eyes, of asking what would be next because they didn’t know, they couldn’t imagine what she would say or think.

She caught someone’s eye - they looked down. She said nothing.

Reaching her hand into a cooled pile, she brushed aside the soot, ash, debris. Beneath, a char-edged picture lingered; bright gap-tooth smiles emerged: an impromptu picture of when they all moved into the house. Brothers, sister, mother aunt, grandmother. All younger than this time now.

It seemed the house wanted to die, it had been through so much. The poverty, the mice, the termites, the fights, the sorrow, the anguish, the secrets. Some of the ones in that picture had died themselves, others moved out and on to other places. She? She had been trying the best she could, fixing this, repairing that but she knew it wasn’t enough. The house needed more love than what her tightly squeezed heart could give.

Perhaps out of a sense of loyalty, she had tried to stay. Tried to warn the others. But between the egos and prejudices, no one heard. No one wanted to stay and listen.

So now that the house made it all end officially, what was the point in staying? What more was there to say?

She covered the half charred picture and stood, dour faced.”There is no one here to bury. The house died by herself.”

Those close by nodded, others too far away to hear, grew quiet. As she turned her back, they began to clean up.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you pick up?!?!”

She closed her eyes briefly and pulled in her lips, trying to stay the tears.

She moved around the one room efficiency, picking up things and putting them in boxes, others in a suitcase, still others in the trash. She paused a moment; the sun seemed like it would burn its mark through the floor.

“TALK TO ME!!”

She stopped again, looking into the clarity of the eyes that screamed back at her. She thought to begin a monologue, a eulogy of the life she had lived and how it had all ended with that house burning, she thought to scream back ‘FUCK YOU AND ALL YOUR BULLSHIT!’…

Instead, she looked down and continued her hap-hazard packing and throwing away and cleaning.

“Damn it! Every time you get like this… ::exasperation:: How am I supposed to know what’s going on if you don’t talk to me?”

Qua’ looked more like she was pleading than angry, perhaps realizing that her screaming had crossed another line she didn’t realize she wasn’t supposed to cross.

“Baby…” Qua’ reached out to Her, only for her advance to be rebuffed. As Qua’ stepped forward again, Lila shrank back, closing her eyes, as if she were about to be hit.

“Baby… please. Don’t do that, don’t step back like that, you know I would never hurt you. Have I ever…”

Lila collapsed to the floor, grabbing her knees to her chest. Biting her lips, silent.

Qua’ knealt down, approaching Lila cautiously, like a wounded animal.

“Okay, okay… I don’t have to touch you. Just… let me… Just… wait here, let me get some food. We can sit here and talk about this. Okay? Let’s just talk about this.”

Silence.

“Remember, like we talked about? We can go find a house together, you can paint it anyway you want. Would you like that? We can even name the dog Gertie, like you like… Anything you want baby, we can do whatever you want…”

Silence.

Qua’ stood then, grabbing her keys from her pocket, dashing out the door.

She heard the gravel hit upon itself, as Qua’ gunned the motor, trying to be gone the sooner to be back, maybe patch things up with some fried chicken and biscuits.

Her cell phone rang: Qua’ati Taylor.Qua’ had always wondered why Lila put in her full name.

“So I’ll forget when I need to.”

“That’s right! When you’re Mrs.Taylor all you’ll need to remember is that you’re mine! Who needs a last name?”

Lila deleted Qua’’s entry.

* * *

The light was still on by the time Qua’ returned. The boxes were cleared, the bed was stripped, the suitcase and Lila was gone.

No, No, God NO!!

“Lila?! LILA?!”

Silence.

Qua’ walked to the kitchen area and placed the two serving chicken and biscuits on the table. A beaten up ring box and a students tape recorder, it’s only other occupants.

She slumped into a waiting chair.

Opening the ring box, she found half of the wedding band set she bought for Lila, she looked at her hand for the matching pair. Hope filled her heart when she realized the band was in the box and maybe Lila had kept the solitare?

Play.

Lila’s voice was soft and calm…

Don’t look, I’ll be too far for you to find me.

Don’t call, I’ve already deleted your name from my phone - I don’t remember your phone number by heart and I wouldn’t answer if I did.

There is nothing. And that’s the way its been.

It has been my fault for letting things get like this. I should have stopped when I knew there was no hope.

But I wanted to believe. I believe that you love me and you want to be there for me. But only in the way you can and not the way I need.

And what I needed was you.

Just you.

And I felt a whore for asking, for wanting that… wanting you.

And now that the house is gone and my family is gone and you have always been gone. It is time for me to go.

I was the only one left behind. The only one who kept all the secrets. The one no one wanted.

Not even you.

Don’t remember me, even when I was here you couldn’t…

Click.

The tape recorder ended.

Qua’ looked around, hoping Lila would reappear.

But there was no one. Only silence and the hint of her smell. That earthy flower smell, that rain on dry earth smell… her smell…

Qua’ climbed into the stripped bed and willed herself to sleep.

Maybe this is a nightmare? Tomorrow will be better?

The next morning, Qua’ found the chicken were she had left it, on the table untouched. She grabbed the ring box and headed to her car.

As she drove down the lone street, a glint in the road caught her eye.

Stopping the car, then stooping down, she realized it was the solitaire. Scooping it up, she opened the ring box, threw it in and drove on, tears helping her find her way.