another fall
She’s twenty two years old, living in Manhattan and going to business school across the road from the pharmacy Charlotte works at. Charlotte. She’s soft and sweet and brave and sharing an apartment with her is next to heaven. Sometimes they share a bed. Sometimes Charlotte braids her hair with her clever, precise fingers. Sometimes Cordelia almost plucks up the courage to kiss her, but she never does. She’s lost some of her courage, she thinks one night as she watches the sun go down. Some courage, but no kindness. She’s proud of her kindness. In the morning she makes Charlotte pancakes for breakfast. Charlotte calls her a gem, which makes her feel like she’s glowing. She practically skips to her work at a small bakery.
Work is good. Work is great. She’s always loved baking, and now she can do it as a job. This morning she bakes lemon melts and sings love me do to herself as a kind of prayer. Maybe Charlotte will hear it all the way from the pharmacy, realise that Cordelia’s all she needs, run down to the bakery, sweep Cordelia off her feet and dress as a man so they can get married. Wouldn’t it be lovely. Cordelia sighs and carries on folding in the lemon juice.
That night is a perfect warm fall evening. Charlotte and Cordelia sit on a their balcony and smoke menthols. Laugh over the antics of Cordelia’s regulars. By midnight the radio is on and they’re tipsy and dancing. Cordelia feels dizzy with sheer smittenness. She spins and bops and giggles and Charlotte watches with a wide soft smile. An hour later they’re in Charlotte’s bed, lying facing each other. Talking. Edging closer. Touching noses. Foreheads. Cheek to cheek. Kissing- Kissing? Kissing! Kissing! They’re kissing! Cordelia’s on fire. Joyus.
Then it stops and Charlotte's hyperventilating and shaking and Cordelia tries to help but Charlotte shrinks away. Cordelia is frozen. Cold. Shell shocked. She backs away. Out of the room. Into her room. Lays in her bed and sobs bitterly all night.