Witchy woman
16 December 2010 10:24 AM Categories: Fiction | Writing prompts
It wasn’t like I was a one-night stand. Well, it turned out that I was a one-night stand, but before that, we were friends. Close friends. Talk-about-lovers friends, and tell-about-the-spinach-in-the-teeth types. Of course, you hadn’t told me that Samantha was your girlfriend, though you’d think I would have figured it out from Sam-this and Sam-that, from the fact that you had a cheesy beach picture of her on your phone. Oh, no. Your relationship with Samantha became much more serious the minute you pulled out.
Your silence covered and cooled us, a blanket of snow, the sudden blizzard of the unsaid. I took it well, pushed myself a millimeter away and said, “I have a boyfriend, too, you know.” Well – yeah. You did know. Before you kissed me, pressed me up against that brick wall (all the teenagers and the botoxed and the homeless passing us by, we were just a blip on the promenade that night, a small sin), reached for the back of my neck, you said “But what about Phillip?”
“Fuck Phillip,” I told you and you were funny, dry as always: “That wasn’t who I was hoping to fuck,” your lips so close to mine that I could taste your words. We laughed and you kissed me. You know the rest.
Now I see you and my fists clench in my pockets. In the past few years, you’ve gotten beefier, have grown into that British face. Perhaps I could hide the punch in a tender gesture, trace the edge of your chin with my talon, reach back as though I’m about to run my fingers through your hair. Then: POW! You yelp in surprise, hold your nose (cover your eyes), press your palm to your lips (caress your broken check) and I run away, cackling like the witch that I am.
From a prompt: Confess to something. It's almost totally unedited from the original 12 minutes of writing. My partner thought it was funny (as it was meant to be, in a kind of twisted way), but now I wonder. I offer it here as a diversion.
Image by me (the moment before the punch?).
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