Scene 7
“Did you find our speed boat?” Lexa asked the designated captain of the plausible patrol ship who had rescued them after a prolonged 2 hours hiatus in the water.
“Yes. We actually came across your boat first but seeing the passengers missing we set out for the search.” His authoritative tone replied as a matter of fact. He was a man of good old age, almost ancient in appearance but the way his eyes shone spoke of wisdom beyond his veteran era. He spoke something to one at the wheel before excusing himself down the deck.
Lexa and Clarke were both muffed under heavy covers but the frostiness palpitated their skin like needle still riling up the skin hairs almost perpendicular. She could see the coastline, the end of their havoc destination in her far view point and was close upon not noticing the nearing and the odd shuffling and bump of heels of Clarke’s and her’s until she looked into those icy blues. She weren’t essentially pointing at Lexa, rather they were curiously staring at her lap and when they most probably felt the burn of green, they looked up. Eyes fluttered, up and close speaking in their own silent language. It was then Lexa looked up the man whose petty scrutinised gaze was ogling the unclothed bare skin of the exposed blonde, who had been sitting in her panties.
Clarke shifted again towards Lexa, almost pushing her to the verge of her seat. Lexa’s eyes sought those of the man again, who now thought it was time for him to mesmerize them with his crooked black teeth.
“Reckon you can relocate your eyes elsewhere mate?”
The venom that flared in her icicled voice paused both pairs of eyes to look at her. The sturdy man had the look of a predator, the sneer on his face was something that Lexa was urging not to punch off. The blonde, however, looked terrified. Not for herself, but towards the man who was the subject of her dismay and anger. It was nerve wrecking. Controlled but aimed only to kill.
“And reckon where should I put them, love?”
His perception, now concentrated solely and solely on Lexa’s toned skin, quite deliberately portraying his taste be known as he flashed his eyes up and down her bod. The surveillance made Clarke’s blood boil. Her jaw tightened and the strength she held onto the seat, her nails digging in her skin, urging her to not leap over the man and kill him himself.
But Lexa had somehow heard her unvoiced adrenaline thought.
“Then I’ll just have to relocate them for you.”
Lexa’s stiff fist was inkling in agony to punch the headlights out of his dim twitted brain. But Clarke held her by her wrist, almost struggling to not unbid Lexa out of her hold.
“Clarke …”
“He’s not worth it.” But Lexa paid her no heed.
Luckily, it was the voice of a third voice that cessed all movements.
“James, we are inbound.” But the captain underlying warning tone quivered him back to his shell.
The captain handed Clarke the last of their bags, before biding them a farewell, sending them off with a kind smile and three words that caused a turmoil in her. She kept rewinding the words over and over again like a broken tape recorder. She didn’t not what she should do with them or why did they even matter? They were just words from a stranger.
“Your girl’s feisty, Ma’am.”
The drape over her irises blurred her vision. Her eyes were still cloaked with slumber and she didn’t know why she had woken up until she felt ice feet shuffle against the warm ones. She jolted them back in unknown contact and it was then she realized it wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone but the proximity at which she slept next to the now lain brunette, their faces facing each other, had caught her off guard. Her warm breaths were cascading Clarke. Her lips were parted, a bit ajar as air moved in and out in steady steps. And under the silver night, Lexa looked like a mere silhouette, a shadow. Clarke almost caught her frown in her sleep, making the blonde wonder what was Lexa dreaming off …..
The unrelenting sounds from her phone ruined her orchestra of thoughts. She didn’t bother looking at the name of the caller and just snapped open the saved message. It was her biggest regret.
“Clarke baby ….. princess, princess …. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you. Fuck, please … we both made mistakes. I …. thought over it. It’ll be hard but I’m willing to forgive you. We can start fresh, baby please. We’ll adjust …. Couples do that, right? I … I miss you so much. Come home, Clarke, please. Fuck, please …”
Into the aloofness of the night, that heart wrecking voice flew adrift. Clarke didn’t stop the message half-way. She couldn’t. She was transfixed. Rooted. She inhaled those babbled words, the tipsiness behind them echoed through electronic waves and they burnt Clarke.
Princess.
We both made mistakes.
Start afresh.
We’ll adjust.
Miss you so much.
Please.
Upheld emotions breached her dams. And when silent tears were turning into messy sob, with a last, almost longing glance at the sleeping brunette, Clarke rushed to the bathroom.
Summer of 2012.
They say you become 20 only once. Making 20 sound like a milestone of some sort almost competing with the accomplishment of 18. Endless night of alcohol and partying or so she hears. Which is true since Clarke had seen and done it first-hand. Clarke had woken up bright and early mostly due to the inconvenience of her phone which had been chirping to its own rhythm ever since twilight.
Clarke had dutifully scribbled up and down all her messages but none where from her. Clarke should have gotten used to it like Niylah had gotten used profusely apologizing for not wishing her first thing in the morning. Instead she would throw Clarke an extravagant wild party filled with exquisite gifts along with their ritual midnight love making. It was all fun and love but somehow Clarke didn’t get used it. Her missing Clarke’s birthday every once in a while, it still hurt Clarke.
And that was how, she found herself palming her face in a cartoon of chocolate to elevate her from her distraction of not calling Niylah immediately and screaming at her through the phone. She never considers herself one who falls pawn to jealousy or clinginess but surviving college in LA when your girlfriend is studying in Chicago and henceforth maintaining a long time relationship can be very hard. Niylah, on the other hand, saw jealousy not as a notion of love but rather through the eager eyes of possessiveness. One Clarke wasn’t very appreciative off but when you love someone you love them for all their flaws and Clarke loved Niylah just the way she was.
Her bedroom door flung open to reveal her mom who was almost sleepwalking in her night robe.
“Niylah hasn’t called you yet?”
“She forgot my birthday again, Mom.” Clarke frowned deeply, her words slurred over the mouthful of ice-cream.
“Then I’ll leave you to your sulking.” She smiled timidly before closing the door. Clarke didn’t even have time to retort back with sharp commentary. Instead very much against her own dismal she got back to her sulking nature.
The final drop of the sun lingered over the emblazoned horizon. Dusk was finally melting to night. She hadn’t come nor was she picking up any of Clarke’s calls or messages. Clarke was getting worried. Her eyes were so allured by the palate of colours, she gasped in shock when warm hands encircled from behind.
“Guess who?” asked the mundane voice. It was her, finally.
“I don’t know, Raven? Octavia?” Clarke toyed with her guesses.
“Clarke?” whined that imploring voice.
“You missed my birthday. Again. Forrest.”
Blindfolded hands finally let go and Clarke had her vison back.
“I had a very good reason.”
Warm doe eyes stared at her and Clarke forgot why the hell was she even holding a grudge for? But this time, the baby blue eyed woman wouldn’t get so easily swept off her feet. Clarke miffed in annoyance.
“Come on, it’s your birthday. You should be nice to other people.”
“What? I have to be nice to other people on my birthday?”
“Yes, princess.”
“And where did you find that rule?”
“Clarke Handbook 101. Now, come on I have a surprise for you.”
“What ….. “ But Clarke let herself go adrift in Niylah’s flow to their backward. Apparently where she went down on one knee and pulled out a box from the tucking of her pants.
Clarke was pretty sure there was a collapse in time, that utter momentary pause in the loop hole of time. Her heart thudded against her chest. Skipping multitude of beats at Niylah impeding actions.
The dirty blonde’s orotund voice spoke those words, peeling the ring out of a velvet box, that Clarke still remembers now. Scarred over her skin.
“You are my person, Clarke Griffin. You have been my first friend. My first lover. You have been my first kiss like a midsummer’s night dream, my boundless sky, my reality and the one and only love of my life. Make me the luckiest woman alive by marrying me?”
“Yes, Yes, Yes.”
And the silver ring frosted with a white princess cut diamond on top was slipped into her ring finger. Somehow sitting there on her finger, the glamour of the ring exploded ten times more. Or maybe it was because Clarke was truly happy. Impatient hands had run into each other’s hair to relish to moment forever. To stall time from running out.
Here in the backyard of her father’s house, under the orange beams of the drenching sun and the shied away stars as witness, Clarke was finally set to marry her love, Niylah Forrest.
The pain was overwhelming. It was like ripping off your bandages and teasing and pushing into your unhealed wounds. It was like breaking your wild heart behind your caged ribs and watching it crumble in front of your eyes.
Love always came with the seven sins. But to be ignited, incinerated in flames of broken promises and hindered faith was something that Clarke never could have fantasized. But as it turns out, sweet love indeed can betray.
Months and months of solitude couldn’t keep Niylah away from her dreams but somehow today Clarke felt only anger and sadness towards her lover. And Clarke was saddened by the fact that now it felt only anger towards her. Not love. Not hope for a future. And certainly not forgiveness that Niylah was pleading so much for.
And somehow in her own maze of riddles, Clarke desperately wanted to breathe. To be alive, to go home for once without shadows of your own doom trailing you. She cried for her father, she cried for Niylah, above all, she cried for herself.
Sitting on the concrete floor, Clarke did the one thing she promised she wouldn’t do. Not until the 31st . Her last thought trailed back to fragments of Lexa, her detached yet concerned eyes, her cold yet so warm arms and how her thoughts didn’t hurt for Clarke once. She thought of her broken promise to Alexandria before she picked up the bottle and soaked the burning fluid in.
Clarke could feel it churn her insides, twisting and twirling down her throat, then her food canal, slowly igniting the flesh inside her.
She felt like dying.