A little Sad of Eye
This is the unedited version of the short story I submitted with my college application. It is a fictionalized contraction of events during a cold spring in Copenhagen when I was much younger.
A Little Sad of Eye
Written by Rasmus Groth
Clara sat quietly on her couch and glanced at the clock. It was 8 pm. A trickle of cold sweat ran down her side from the armpit above, her stomach in knots. Maya would be there in about an hour. The apartment was clean, and the wine was in the fridge. Maya was partial to beer when going out but preferred white wine when staying in. Alone with her thoughts, Clara stared at the wall. After pining for months, she had reckoned it was a lost cause. In all likelihood, it would have been had Maya not started to get serious with her most recent hookup. It was Maya’s adoration for this guy that had prompted Clara to let out her feelings. With the school year coming to an end and someone else monopolizing Maya’s time, it was now or never. Clara knew she was jeopardizing their friendship. But when was she supposed to be her whole self? And who with, if not with Maya?
It had taken her four beers in rapid succession to build up the courage. She asked Maya to go outside for a cigarette, and before the cold air could sober them up, she grabbed Maya by the hip and kissed her. Astonishingly, Maya didn’t resist. While their lips locked, Clara felt the blood rush to her head in excitement; only to be clouded by the grief of not having done it sooner. Encouraged, Clara dismissed the unwanted emotion and bared her feelings in what was likely an incoherent mess. She didn’t remember a word of what she said after the kiss. The sudden shift in Maya’s expression was all she recollected. It was anger. They had been attached at the hip for seven months, never going a day without talking. They were exchange students, feminists, activists, and there to have a good time, but most importantly, they made each other laugh. Mutually infatuated, they quickly grew deeply codependent. Clara was physically attracted to Maya from the moment they met. Unsure about how Maya felt, she had kept her emotions at bay, and when Maya started sleeping around with a variety of guys, Clara expertly shut out her true feelings.
That’s when Aiden came into the picture. He was sweet, loving, and handsome. Being with him, in yet another attempt at self-imposed conformity, Clara could kid herself into believing her romantic needs were satisfied. There had been a handful of guys like that back home. Guys who had provided a similar relief when the unwelcome feelings for a girl emerged - notably when it was a friend. And even though she drifted further from herself with every new guy she let in, she didn’t know how else to bury her feelings.
She flicked her wrist and looked at the time, 8:34 pm. The day had gone by so fast, and now every minute was an eternity. That morning, while drinking her morning tea steeped in melancholy, Clara heard her phone vibrating furiously in the other room. There was no rush to get it. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks, so whoever it was could wait. With the teacup empty, she looked in the fridge, knowing full well there was nothing to eat. And had there been, she would have no appetite for it anyway. A frail push swung the door shut again, and she went to collect her stuff for a mid-morning walk. The room was a mess, her belongings scattered everywhere. But with a trained eye, she effortlessly spotted her wallet, keys, and phone and threw them in her bag. Stepping onto the sidewalk, she grabbed her phone and stood motionless. The missed call was from Maya.
Maya picked up on the first ring as if she had been waiting by the phone. In an unfettered tone, and before Clara could get a word in, Maya told her to be ready at home with a bottle of wine at 9. She felt regretful and wanted to make up for it. Clara needed no elaboration; it was finally happening. The night had to be perfect. At the supermarket, she grabbed the most expensive bottle of wine she could afford and ran home to clean her apartment.
Exhaustion washed over Clara as she sat there waiting, but her heart didn’t care. Her expression might have been blank, but she was screaming on the inside. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. The knocking was faint, almost inaudible. Clara’s face flushed, and as the warmth rose in her cheeks, her forehead percolating. In front of the door, she took one last deep breath and reached for the lock and handle simultaneously. Maya pushed on the door as soon as it was ajar. In a reversal of roles, Maya grabbed Clara by the hip, guided her backward toward the living room, and kissed her deeply as they tumbled onto the couch. The taste of wine on her breath explained the forwardness, but Clara didn’t care; it only made her lips taste sweeter. Her fingers and toes tingled. Nudging Maya back up, she raised her top over her head, as did Maya. The heat radiated from one to the other, magnetizing the air between them and pulling them closer. Clara couldn’t get close enough. She squeezed so tight that Maya let out a small gasp, but their mouths reconnected a second later, and Clara felt light shoot out from the core of her being. She was acutely aware of every individual atom in her body, and the chain reaction from one to the other commenced with every touch or breath. Clara was equally in her head and out of her body and wholly complete, as if her whole life had been leading up to this. Every breath taken in preparation to breathe this deep, every step a lesson in stopping, and every thought an exercise in letting go. Clara lay down, lost in a sea of pleasure.
This time, the knock was louder. Clara rose from the couch dazedly and put on her top. Maya wasn’t there. She was probably in the bathroom. Startled by another loud knock, Clara shuffled hurriedly down the hallway and grabbed the handle. She halted suddenly at the sound of Maya giggling on the other side. They must have needed more wine. Smiling and waiting to be swept away for a second time, she tugged at the door and was stunned with confusion. With a bottle of wine in her hand, Maya smiled lovingly at her. On her left was Aiden, and on her right was the guy she had been seeing. Clara blinked hard and rubbed her eyes. How long had she been asleep? She glanced back into the living room and saw two untouched wine glasses and a crescent mark of fresh lipstick on the cushion.
Maya was talking. Something about it being late and heading straight to the bar. Clara forced a smile. Self-loathingly, and as her only method of penance, she bent down and tied her shoelaces as hard as she could. Toes throbbing, she grabbed her coat and shut the door behind them. Two steps down, Aiden leaned her gently against the wall and kissed her. She was about to push him back, but her mind gave up before the urge reached her muscles. The familiar comfort of detachment latched onto her lips and coursed rapidly through her body until she was numb. Her mind went blank, her body limp, and she kissed him back.