Oh Heavens
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Fresh. Soft. Cool. Deyanira relaxed on her couch after the long and cozy shower but once again she felt a hint of discomfort as she noticed the latest woman to be staring at her this day. But at least Moira did so with a hint of kindness. And something else as well.
“What? What are you looking at?” Deyanira asked the star who was sitting on the other end of her sofa. Moira was small and so she managed to tuck her arms and legs in quite nicely as she sat looking over to the woman who laid before her. Endlessly peering, the white-haired beauty poured what felt like a sea of intensity onto Deyanira, despite her eyes being as calm and steady as ever. Dark and firm.
“Do you have dreams, Ms. Solomon?” Moira softly asked. Deyanira looked back at her with a little tingle of confusion before she glanced away for a moment.
“Yeah, I guess… I dream about you getting your shoes off my couch.” she retorted. Moira continued her stare, even to the point where Deyanira was forced to turn back to her with an even deeper hint of discomfort. But then… Moira took off her shoes. And exposed her feet as she did so before lifting them onto the sofa once again; though now, a bit closer to Deyanira. She raised a brow.
“You know… I’m sure you weren’t always like this. So rude, so crass… that look of misery in your eye. Doesn’t it ever get to be too much?” Moira mocked with a little smirk. A smirk? Made her look more than a little devious. And perplexing. Deyanira shook her head before letting out a groan.
“Yeah, well… we can’t all be nice and fresh all day. Some of us have...” she mumbled.
“What?” Moira asked, now with a much more… innocent and curious tone. Genuinely so, surprisingly.
“What do you have? Is something bothering you? Would you like to talk to me about it?” she wondered. Deyanira raised a brow again. Talk… about what’s bothering her? How to even start…
Deyanira looked at her companion's tiny toes with disbelief before glancing away. Yeah, she thought… Your feet are still on my couch. She sighed.
Moira let out a little laugh.
“Oh you. Look at you. Poor, exhausted girl. So tired, so weary. Oh, my dear, when’s the last time you’ve had a proper rest? Has it been days? Weeks? Months and maybe years? Oh, I can’t help but to assume the worst, I’m afraid.” she said with a warm, teasing tone.
“But… are you? Are you afraid, Ms. Solomon? Of the future? Of your life? Of all the little things you wonder if you’ll ever have?” she asked.
Things I’ll never have, Deyanira thought.
“The things I’ll never… and what do you have then? Aside from your feet on my-” she tried to say before being interrupted… when Moira stretched her legs forward and put them over Deyanira’s stomach. Oh god, she thought. Well, I hope she doesn’t kick me then.
“Um… I think I... wish you still had your shoes on. I’d rather smell those than your...” Deyanira mumbled. Moira scoffed.
“Fool. Do my feet look unclean? Like… you were but an hour ago? So grimy, so hateful, so desperate to find something better. And now here you are… mocking my feet.” she taunted.
Deyanira kept glaring at this strange and possibly deranged short girl before Moira finally let out another happy little laugh.
“Oh heavens! Look at you! No, really, look at you! You’re so… How you say...” she wondered. Deyanira answered.
“Upset? Annoyed? Seriously wanting you to get your legs off my...”
“Sad. Hopeless. A bit… empty, perhaps.” Moira sadly said. Who the hell was she to… she covered her mouth. Her eyes… they changed, something about them was… they glimmered in a strange way. Deyanira peered into them. Was she…
“Deyanira.” Moira said for the first time. She hadn’t... until now. It sounded strange… how she said it.
“I’m afraid there’s something I must confess.” Moira stated while putting her arms down again. Her eyes were still a bit different from before and she even avoided eye contact for a while. She looked at the coffee table, the messy carpet and the hopeless little kitchen table. She seemed so distraught inside her heart before she finally found the strength to turn back to Deyanira. Her face looked guilty in a way.
“I’m stalking you.”
Deyanira paused… She what? She…
“When I first… I was sitting on my couch, much like I am now. Comfortable, relaxed… no shoes. I was going through the paper… and I saw this little article about… laundry prices across the city.” Moira reminisced with a pitying yet somewhat coy hint of amusement. “I admit, I was bored. And so I read it, I thought it was written well. Just good, something I enjoyed while drinking my morning coffee. A funny sort of scandal. And then the next day… I saw something about a robbery. It had gone wrong, some souls lost their lives. I read it… I felt something. I felt something cold and bitter in my heart. I wondered why; such things happen every day. Every hour, in fact. Every second. But… it was the words. Your words… I thought there might be something wrong with you.”
Something wrong, something… what? What’s wrong with me? My writing, my… what’s wrong with me, Deyanira thought behind her own shaky eyes. Moira let out a soft little sniff before she managed to collect her thoughts again. Scattered as she purported them to be.
“It made me sad, your article was so tragic. Hateful perhaps. Bitter and… cold.” Moira said.
“It reminded me… of myself.” she stated.
"It reminded you of…" Deyanira mumbled as she looked at her, again with confusion and again with… How could anything I have done… how could it remind someone like you of…
“Do you dream, Ms. Solomon? With those hateful eyes, with that heavy heart? Do you have a dream? Something you want to do, or see, or perhaps say? I can tell… in your stare, you don’t really want to be a journalist do you? I can tell in your words… and in that sad glimmer behind your beautiful blue eyes.” Moira spoke. And then she finally pulled back her feet. Deyanira felt a bit overwhelmed, everything that she had…
Deyanira sat up, perhaps she’d need water herself. She didn’t drink in the shower, of course not. Shit apartment and its rotten pipes but now… now. Moira got closer. Perhaps closer than Deyanira would’ve expected. Or wanted.
“You see, I think of myself at times and I swear I didn’t mean to just drop this on you… Well, what do you see when you look into my eyes?” Moira asked. Deyanira glanced at her… Your eyes, she wondered. What do I care about your…
“Money. A big house. Fast cars, rich boyfriend and those tiny toes of yours.” Deyanira grumbled. Moira looked a bit sad now… truly and utterly in her own little way. Perhaps she had hoped others would see more in her… much like Deyanira wished for herself as well.
“I wasn’t always like this. Can you imagine? Could you even? I wasn’t given any of what I have. I wasn’t born into it. There was nothing but a cold empty space where my life should have been. Everything I saw was… Dead eyes, warm blood dripping over the cold floor. Two people gunned down in the driveway of their house after coming home from dropping off their son with his grandparents. Waste of life, waste of pavement and that child will probably grow up to kill someone else.” Moira recalled. She honestly couldn’t believe any paper could have published that. Perhaps Douglas thought Deyanira was losing it and so he simply wanted to throw her a bone. Something like that.
“I… I wrote that.” Deyanira said. Moira sadly nodded her head before glancing away for a small moment.
“That’s how I felt as well. Hopeless, bitter. So full of hate and spraying it out onto everyone else I could see. I wasn’t always all money and big house, you see. I also couldn’t shower as often as I would have wanted. A tragic tale. And so I followed after your career. Small… hopeless, bitter. Yes… very much so but perhaps we’ll both find something better to tide over all of our problems. I know I have. Wouldn’t that be good, you think? Something… more comfortable and relaxing.” Moira said.
“And so. What do you dream of, Ms. Solomon? Singer? Actress? Dancer or maybe even a playwright? An author, delighting readers with tales of sorrow and despair? If you still wish to hold onto the words you work with now, of course. But I think you want something else. What is it, Deyanira? What is it you’re playing on repeat behind the sorrow in your eyes? Is it only your misery or the hope of something better as well?” Moira asked.
Deyanira’s face contorted as she felt a bit of emotion slip out which she then quickly pushed back where it belonged. She didn’t dream. I don’t dream, I don’t… Moira got closer, she hadn’t even heard her move. Perhaps she teleported. Strange… white-haired devil that she was. Or an angel. Yes, maybe that could be it as well. She’s touching my face, Deyanira thought. She’s gracing my...
“Oh dear. Oh heavens, no. Have I hurt you then? Have I… I only wished to tell you of myself, perhaps I dug too deep. Too cruelly and...” Moira softly said as she ran her fingers through Deyanira’s hair. Like comb teeth, they were so thin and so fine. So dearly…
“I think. That perhaps eventually. Or soon. You will find what you seek. Or at least, I truly hope that you do. I can see it in your eyes, as I said to you. I know it hurts you, I know what you feel. I endured it also. And maybe one day…” Moira said before she leaned in even closer, even if painfully so. She whispered. “Maybe one day you’ll be like an angel. Soaring high above the skies, with nothing but your light to carry you through the night. Wouldn’t that be special? Wouldn’t that be something? Wouldn’t you like to be the one now to be blessed with such gifts? After so long… you wrote that article years ago. I have been waiting for you. Not someone similar, not even if all but the same… Just you, that is all that I wanted. Yes, Deyanira. I have been stalking you. And I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
Deyanira turned to look at her, this beautiful white-haired angel. But was she truly beautiful? Why did her eyes make the black-haired woman feel so… Like knives they cut.
Moira kissed her.
Kiss, kiss, a kiss? Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, a kiss, a kiss, a ki…
She stopped.
“I am afraid… that I intend to take something from you now.” Moira coldly said. Cold but so… She smiled. “Close your eyes, my sweet. Dream now… dream for the last time about all the things you never thought you could ever have. And who knows? Who knows what you might wake up to tomorrow? You’re my sweet. Oh, you’re my sweet.”
And I am so dearly in love with you.