a known situation | fiction

short story

a known situation

They stood across from one another, loaded up gun slingers who fancied their shot.  

   ‘How do you feel?’ he said, ‘how is your body?’

   ‘My body is fine, thank you.’

   Soon her one monthly period would end. This news felt awakening to him, like when the shower went instant cold for no discernible reason. Often, she seemed surprised by his expression on announcement that soon it would be over. A detective stare coupled with the raised eyebrow of the genuinely surprised.

   ‘We could drink some wine,’ he said.

   ‘So you can have sex.’

   He understood they could say anything when weak or in love.

   ‘We don’t need wine for that part.’

   Stood in a kitchen with considered lamplight that dimmed the middle of the room brightened a corner table, they drank from hot tea. She held her mug in both hands, blowing steam from the mouths edge cautiously with pink lips. He gulped hot tea.

   ‘We don’t need anything to do that,’ she said. 

   The calmness, a lack of sound and video distraction as they got used to new living conditions. Being early in co-living as two adults, helped them move in. But she understood her Mediterranean skin well, like dawn cries from a local mosque, or men in taxis looking to elongate. She embraced her heritage in moments.

   ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

   They stood dressed in the other persons jumper, loose sweatpants. Indoor clothes.

   ‘Thank you.’

   Her eyes, cat like and bottomless, would watch.

   ‘Your hair looks nice today.’

   ‘Only today.’

   He swallowed up the rest of his tea and placed the mug on a counter. Moved towards a brunette flow of hair, olive skin and the eyes of someone who thinks best on their feet.

   ‘I have to check first.’

   ‘Yes.’

   The subtle and unsubtle call of people she understood in animalistic forms, as though the sight of vast domes on an ancient building, gold arrows towering above the smog and hustle of hot Istanbul she had grown up in. How domes and arrows pierced a sky of smoggy wonderment, often came back to her during their verbal dance. Came back like a memory. The understanding of masculinity, politics and how social orders move. These were strengths of hers in moments of intimacy. His ability was creating situations. He stood in front of her as she sipped tea and said nothing. Then she smiled. And he smiled.

***

Googling: tenement flat history location, as an attempt to understand place more soundly from up high, entered his life through being with her. She would be weirder by proximity to someone she now loved, but often found strange, impulsive. He liked this about her. Soon after the tap was announced as officially being turned off, they would come together again, form common and uncommon patterns. Either with words and bed. Or bed. Never really no bed, even when they let opinions get hot over something trivial, especially when it had been five days.   

   In their silence, as one read the other puzzled. They learnt new things in silence. The sound of a wooden floor wedged between sandstone, would crack at various times of the day. Daily moods. Both could be fiery when hungry. But as a Scorpio he felt more justified, which gave him a feeling of dignity. They were vegetarians who ate meat once the period was over. The best kind of feeders could accommodate a bite like a napkin across the knees. Or bed sheets thrown across floors in rage or lust or whatever. And all the middle bits no one reads.     

   Before the exchange, and after the official announcement it was over, he would avoid serious topics.

   ‘You feel good?’ he said, stood there in front of her, a head length taller.

   ‘I still have some tea.’

   ‘Chug, chug, chug.’

   ‘David, wait please.’

***