I know you (I think I know you)

Side piece from the short story collection 'intimacy'

They knew her well. All of her. She knew them only half well.

Her long, limber lover. Her pale, pale, lover. What she knew, she knew well. She knew about every scar they never had. They were a careful child. Silent, thoughtful, too interested to be afraid. They were careful now. She was careful too. She liked to pretend they didn’t notice.

She wanted to know all of them. Now, and now, and now and…

She took a breath, and then held it. She liked to drown.

They couldn’t swim. She knew that.

“You’re back”

They stood by the door. She looked up at the ceiling and counted to ten.

They sighed. She counted to five. They walked towards her, closed the door behind them. She felt them before they sat down, perched on the edge of the tub, opposite her. They had a heavy shadow. They filled a room as easily as they didn’t. She liked to imagine that they were meant to be the shadow. Her silent lover, lighter than air.

She smiled. 

“You did your hair without me” They looked down at her, one dark eyebrow raised. They were showing off. Every first sentence out of her mouth (never) traveled well through the air. Her teeth shredded each word, mangled each syllable. “Your hair”

They traced a thumb over the paint-splatter splotch of dark brown skin on their inner forearm. She watched their movements. Circles, five clockwise, a pause, five counter-clockwise. Slow, controlled. Feeling, not scrubbing. She sat up too quickly. They didn’t flinch.

“That’s a nice color” They stayed still for her, and she leaned into them, one hand braced on the wall, one hand on the edge on the tub. “Is that the color you wanted?”

“It is a nice color” They said, looking down like they were reading a book. She only used black pencil. She liked the harshness of it, the double onslaught. Dark, and then dark again.

She only used black pencil. She only had black pencil.

He always looked good in black.

She gasped. They flinched.

They knew her well. They knew her well. They knew her well.

“They” She said, squeezing her eyes shut. Their breathing slowed down. She felt their shadow shift. She shook her head. “They. They, they, they, the�"“

“That’s five” They placed a hand on her cheek, and another low on her back, digging in. She leaned in, breathing into their mouth until the digging stopped, and then she stopped.

They couldn’t swim. You didn’t need to know how to swim to hold someone underwater. 

Author's Note

Work in progress. I'm a little stuck on where to go next with it