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Lena. Soul tethered to the black knight. Chained. Dragging by the ankles. Fatigue setting in. A small studio apartment above the bookstore. Separate. It had become the palace dungeon. The black knight. Ethan. Slumbered on the bed. Sweaty. Satisfied. A low growl under his breath. Lena wanted him out. But she had convinced herself it was necessary. Boyfriends, after all needed to be taken care of.
She reached out to a copy of Simon Taylor’s “Soup and Bread” - a poetry anthology related to his diabetic interests. She sat at the desk. Evening light dancing on her face. Like tears. Taylor had killed himself. Mark had recited Taylor from the fire escape. Why?
A growl. Ethan. Breaking her trail. She looked back at him. Still asleep. She went to the closet, looking for her innocence. Put on a bunny hoodie. And stepped out of the apartment to temporary relief. Safety.
Mark Penn. Penn’s Noodles. A small eatery. Family run. Quiet. Cosy. Loyal customers. Raymond was downing a bowl of noodles and listening to the Knights match.
“Marky! Why the long face,” Raymond smiled.
Mark, about to answer. Cut off. Mom.
“Marky! You are late…” Mom said. Burnt hand. Oil. Bandaged.
“Your hand… are you okay?”
“Small burn… I’ll survive…” she sighed, “But we have a full house. Two birthday dinners… Cakes in the fridge…”
Raymond and Mark cooked and waited tables on alternate. Dad managed the front. Money of course. Mom did… well everything. Johnny used to be around before the boxing.
Mark. Noodles frying. Sauce. Oil. Onion. Tears. His mind was on Lena. Did he lose her? He barely had a chance. That guy. Tall, dark bastard. Polished like a set of armour. Cuffing her wrists. Dragging her around. Lena wouldn’t let anyone do that - unless she loved him..
Mark shook his head.
“Marky! Mr Jones saying food too salty…” Mom said.
Mark turned. Goofy smile. Tears streaming.
“What happened Marky?” Mom said. Raymond throughly entertained.
“It’s Lena… She has a boyfriend…”
Ethan. Waking. Room without a princess. Scent of Lena on the pillow. Sweet. Cotton candy. He stood up and walked to the window. Looking down from the second story. Harrow Square. Lena sitting on the bench. Hood up. Facing away.
Ethan. Eyes narrowed. Hunting.
Lena. Cool night air. A quiet wistful breeze. Lamplight dazzling over the cobblestone like curtain shadows. Swaying. Breathing.
“Mom… Am I doing the right thing here? I mean I know for sure you’d ask me to break up with him… He’s nothing like boys in romcoms… Not a knight in shining armour… But he has a sword… Slicing away my fears… Protecting me…”
A sword slicing away danger. And bra straps.
The city hummed - a mix of distant traffic, people, a trumpet in the subway, cats and rats in a chase. Carried by the wind. Through the windows of stone towers. Vibrating the day’s heat.
“Mom… I have to let you go…” Heavy heart. Clutching her belly.
A shadow appeared next to her. A man. Reaching. Lena turned. Eyes wide. No one was there.
She looked up at her window. Meeting Ethan’s eyes. Narrow. Hunting. Ethan tensed his hands. Relaxing. Pulling out a cigarette. Lighting. Exhaling. Watching. Lena. Then he picked up the telephone.
Earlier that day. Afternoon turning dark. Cafe closing. Carey was satisfied with her work. Musical theatre here I come! Carey looked very much like Lena. Shorter. In hair and height. Healthier - not skin and bones. She ran a fair bit. Especially for a drama nerd. Her skin, whiter.
Notebook tucked in her backpack. Sun gone. Evening lamp lights. Navy blue. A rat. Watching from the dustbin. Moira. Quiet again. It was a strange thing. It was like everyone disappeared and then reappeared all once. Quiet moments, always savoured.
RIP!!!!!!
Carey looked back. Her backpack. A hand. A knife tearing it open and spilling the guts out. She tried to run. The straps tight. Struggle. Push. Pull. Screams.
“Get off me! Stop it! Help! Help!”
Ash. Rummaging. Knife in hand. A wallet. Notebook. Pens and Pencils shooting out, hitting him in the face, likely internal archers. A pen mark on his cheek. Black.
“Please stop!” She said, managing to get free. Falling forwards. Ash collected the treasures.
“Hey you!” A man shouted from a window. Ash bolted. A knife left behind. Carey against the wall. Chilled to the bone. Shivering.
Carey got up. Ran home.
The apartment, dark. Quiet.
”Dad?” Voice, trembling. Toppling over like a game of Jenga.
On the kitchen table. A note. Some money.
Hey kiddo,
Business trip in New Holden. Clients from overseas.
Money for pizza. Go wild. Sorry for the short notice.
Dad.
She sank. The chair catching. Otherwise, she’d drop to the ends of the world. Dad was always there for Lena. But never when she needed him. Why did she have to be so strong? Anger. Burning. Fist. Pounding the table. Legs shaking. Cursing.
Nothing changed. Quiet. Empty. Alone.
She rushed to the telephone. Cord stretching. Dialling in.
The phone rang in Lena’s room. Ethan looked at it. Smiled. Picked it up. Fast breathing on the line.
“Lena? Are you there?”
Lena stood from the bench. He picked up the phone. Lena. Ethan. Locking eyes.
”Carey… How’s the application going?” Sly.
”Ethan, give Lena the phone now…”
How could Lena have him over this late. Disgusting.
“Tell you what… I’ll give Lena the phone if —“
”Fucking hell Ethan! Give Lena the goddamn phone!”
Ethan slammed the phone down. CLUNK! Blood boiling. How dare she!
Lena opened the door. Ethan getting up. Wrapping his hands around her waist. Intangling. She looked up. Taking a kiss. He lifted her up. Swinging her.
“Who was on the phone?” She said with a soft smile.
“Wrong number…” He said.
She looked over his shoulder. Was that? Something in the mirror? He lifted her up to the bed.
“Hey… Can we take it easy tonight?” Lena asked.
Ethan was already kissing her neck. Reaching down. There was a hot feeling in her chest. Acid. Hot. Lena struggled out. Falling on to the floor on her bum.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan said, hungry.
“I left something outside… I’ll be back in 2 minutes…”
”Go on…”
Lena shut the door. Dark stairwell. She took a deep breath. She walked out of Harrow square. Not looking up at the window. Quick. She took a Taxi. A sense of ease washing over.
Home. She opened the door.
“Dad?” Carey said.
”No it’s me,” Lena said.
Carey stood there. Tears streaming. Carey!
Lena’s arms around her. “It’s okay… It’s okay…”
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