“Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”
Homer, The Iliad
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“You know if you stopped smoking we would’ve been married already,” rich sarcasm underneath Trixie's voice. She pulls a nearby chair to the end of the back door’s steps.
This was Katya’s usual chair - the chair she usually sat on when she stepped outside for a smoke break. When shoots went on longer than expected, anyone on set - Trixie included - could find the timid blonde seated here, looking at the back lot of the studio.
It always seemed like there was something on her mind. No one knew what it was, but it seemed like the longer she dragged the cigarette smoke into her lungs, the closer her brows would press together on her forehead.
Now sitting comfortably in front of her pensive companion, Trixie propped her feet up on the very last step with her elbows resting on her knees. She was leaning forward in the metal chair, trying to inch herself away from the overcast in case of any unexpected rain.
Katya pulls a single stick out of a fresh Malboro pack and taps it against her propped knee.
“You know sitting closer to me won’t protect you if it rains,” she says chuckling as Trixie sheepishly makes herself smaller at the thought of a raindrop hitting her.
As Katya lifts the wrapped tobacco - and god knows what else - to her deep, red lips, it suddenly hits Trixie. Maybe it was the way they were sitting; with her looking up at Katya, and Katya looking down. Or maybe it was the way she inched herself closer to death in every intake of smoke and mystery. Whatever it was, she had to admit, the girl looked powerful. Dominating, even.
The sound of the lighter sparking to life rang between the two women; its flame burning the specks of brown at the end of the white paper.
Trixie watched as Katya’s cheeks sunk into themselves, her chest expanding in acceptance of the putrid smell, only to escape in a line of grey clouds from her mouth. Clouds much like the sky above them.
“Why do you do that?” Trixie asks, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“Do what?” Katya replies, smirking.
God, why is she smirking…
“Make smoking look so hot”.
The women erupted in laughter, their limbs flailing comically.
“Oh shut up, you bitch,” Katya extended her arm towards Trixie, nudging her shoulder teasingly. She takes another drag of her cigarette before expanding on the issue. Trixie composes herself in the meantime, a residual smile plastered on her face.
“Do you really want to know why I do it?” A shine coated the crystal blue orbs that gazed at Trixie. In all the years she’s known Katya, it was very rare that her eyes moved away from the innate gloom that covered them. The first time was when they shared their first kiss, and the second time was now.
What the hell is happening, Trixie thought to herself.
“Yes, of course I want to know. I asked you to quit before and you did. But now… I don’t know. Why’d you get back into it?” Discernment flooded Trixie’s face. She had a bad habit of rubbing her lips nervously, even though she wasn’t nervous. Or am I?
Trixie’s pointer and thumb clasped themselves gently onto her bottom lip, catching Katya’s eyes for a brief moment. She looked down bashfully shortly after, silently scolding herself for looking.
Do I really want to say this? Katya asked herself, Is this really the time? The moment? To do such a thing?
The cigarette was near the end of its life, and so was Katya. At least, that’s how she felt when facing the queasy situation she had set up for herself. Deep down, Katya knew there was never going to be a time to say something so bold yet so true to her heart. For more than half of her friendship with Trixie, she’s been wanting to tell her how she really felt. Not about her. But about her and her boyfriend.
She puts the cigarette butt out in an ashtray beside her in an effort to buy her a few more seconds to think.
Katya knew this would rock Trixie. And maybe that’s why it felt like there was a rock in her throat.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell her, Katya thought. Her brows started to close the gap between them as she juggled the consequences of her frivolous feelings.
The silence had grown longer than normal, causing Trixie to panic slightly. She was so close to knowing - seriously knowing - why her resilient friend couldn’t give up the one thing she had asked her to do. The only thing she had asked her to do.
“Please, Katya” she pleaded, reaching for the smoker’s wrist.
Their break was almost over.
Ten more minutes and this is over, Katya sighed while allowing Trixie’s deep, loving brown eyes to hold her heart as gently as she held her wrist.
“Okay,” Katya dry swallows to push the rock out of her throat. The rock still remained.
Her heart pounded against her chest; years of suppressing her innermost comments, emotions and visions were all coming to the surface like a submarine. She didn’t want this to be real, but it was.
“I smoke because I can quit anytime I want.”
“What?” Trixie let out an offended gasp, appalled at such a stupid reason. Katya sensed this and rushed to explain herself to her overly chatty friend.
“Let me finish. I smoke because I can quit whenever,” she said, announcing every word slowly, “but I can’t quit you, Trixie.”
Katya continued, “It gives me something to do when you’re out with Daniel. In every pack, every cigarette is for me. But there’s only one of you, and you can’t split yourself in halves babe. Every day I come here and see your fucking little brown eyes stare at me across the room, as if I was the only one in that bitch, and I love it. I adore it, I crave it. Smoking won’t kill me. Loving you will.”
Impassioned exhaustion released itself in the form of a sigh from Katya’s mouth. She asked herself, as her shoulders drooped downwards, how it was possible that she felt both relieved and more heartbroken at the same time.
Tears started to swell up into Trixie’s eyes as she stared at the defeated Katya. There was nothing the talkative counterpart could say to her quiet friend to fix the situation. There was even nothing she could say to herself.
“Katya I didn’t-”
A crew member bust through the back door, slamming the metal frame into the rail behind it. The connection of the two things disintegrated the tension between the almost lovers.
“Ladies, that’s enough we have a show to finish.”
“Wait!” Trixie exclaimed, but it was already too late.
Without missing a beat, Katya stood up and strutted towards the door. Her shoulders were back, she was standing taller than before it seemed like, and soon enough, the confident woman disappeared without a word. The only thing left was her smoking ashtray and an opened box of cancer sticks.
Trixie stared at the items in front of her, the crew member’s calls muffling in her eardrums. Raindrops started to hit the asphalt. She could only hear Katya’s voice and the very last thing she had said before she left.
“Smoking won’t kill me. Loving you will.”
Loving you kills me too, Katya.