Beat me to the Punch

    Flora needed to make the pain more tangible, to find someway to hinder the ache in her soul from growing into more of an all-consuming beast. The pain was constant; it stalked her no matter where she tried to hide. She had to find some way to bring it into the light so that she could get it under control, so she flicked her green lighter and let it burn. The metal of the lighter began to glow an angry sunset orange, getting brighter and hotter with each second. When the edges of the glowing metal became smudged by carbon, she released the lever, and pressed the searing hot lighter into her lifeless, left bicep.
    Her teeth clenched. She pressed her eyes tightly shut as she began to feel her culpability fade, being replaced by the concrete agony in her arm. The lighter was beginning to cool and her arm was throbbing lightly in a calming rhythm. She let the lighter drop onto the grass and held her arm up to the streetlight so she could look at what she had done. She thought that her chastisement was beautiful in the way that the bubbling flesh cast a small shadow upon her arm. With one last look at the moonless night sky and a silent prayer for peace sent to the first star she spotted, she picked her cigarettes and lighter up off the ground beneath the swings and began the two-block walk back to her house.

    The light to her bedroom was on; through the window she could see Celeste and Michael embracing. Celeste rested gently against his shoulder, her hair, falling in long waves over his back, looked like a liquid gold waterfall. Michael’s face was to the window; his algae green eyes were heavy lidded. They had found each other again. Flora thought about how Celeste had spent last weekend with her ex-boyfriend, Barry, having blown off plans with both Michael and herself. Flora still felt slightly rejected and incensed. “Obviously Michael has found a way to forgive and forget,” she thought as she opened the front door quietly and made her way to her basement bedroom.
    Flora could hear the muffled voices of Celeste and Michael as she approached the door to the bedroom she had shared with Celeste for the past six months. Flora missed having her own bedroom; she missed having a place that was solely her own. Flora wanted something that she didn’t have to share.
Flora flung open the oak bedroom door so that it crashed into the closet door. She hoped that she had disturbed the two lovers.
    “Sorry to disturb you two, but I needed to get some stuff out of here,” Celeste and Michael untwined as Flora brushed past. Putting her hand to the small of Michael’s back, Flora shoved him farther aside as she headed for the cluttered computer desk in front of the window. She rummaged through the papers on the desk until she found her emerald leather journal. Grabbing a pen from amongst the chaos, she turned her gaze to the couple centered in the room.
    “Actually, I’m really glad that you’re home. Michael and I were just talking about Bill Dryer’s graduation party out on his grandpa’s farm tomorrow night, and we were wondering if you wanted to go with us.” Celeste flashed her radiant smile that caused many a heart to shrivel in its brilliance. Her forget-me-not eyes twinkled with the residue of lovemaking and a hint of manipulation.
    Flora looked from Celeste to Michael to see if he shared Celeste’s eagerness for a third-wheel in attendance at the party. Their gazes held for less than a heart beat before he looked past her and out the window.
With a shrug of her shoulders, Flora replied, “I guess I could go. I don’t have anything else planned for tomorrow night. If you’re really sure that you guys don’t mind.”
    Crossing the three feet to Flora and enveloping her in a hug, Celeste squealed, “Goody, now Michael and I can go too! His car’s in the shop so you’ll have to drive, k? Oh, you are the bestest friend.” When Celeste’s arms released her, Flora felt an exploited chill wrap itself around to where her friend had just been. She lowered her self slowly into the worn gray computer chair and watched as Michael awkwardly said his goodbye to Celeste. His eyes briefly met Flora’s as he mumbled a brief farewell before rushing from the room.
    With a sigh and a toss of her golden locks, Celeste turned her attention back to Flora. “I see that you’ve grabbed your notebook. Are you planning to head out to Blue Sky? And if so, do you want some company for an hour or so?” Before Flora even had a chance to answer, Celeste began getting ready. She packed the usuals into her brown leather satchel: notebooks, pens, dictionary/thesaurus, cigarettes, and her Virgo lighter that she had received from Barry on her last birthday.
Feeling that she didn’t have the choice to say no to the beaming blonde standing before her ready to go, Flora simply nodded in defeat. “Maybe Celeste can help me figure out what to do, burning my arm will only work for so long,” she thought.

    Flora entered her ‘77 banana yellow Omega with questions swirling through her mind, like the winds of a cyclone. Starting the engine, she started the questions. “So, you and I haven’t really gotten much of a chance to talk since last weekend. What exactly happened with you and Barry? Why did you two break up? And how the Hell did you and Michael get back together after being split up and ‘just friends’ for almost two years?” Flora didn’t mean for the questions to come out like carrion upon injured prey; she hoped her friend wouldn’t be offended.
    She wasn’t. Being a person who thrived on drama, mostly self-imposed, Celeste divulged the happenings of the past week in her love life. “Well, first off, Barry was less than attentive on our trip to visit some friends in Kentucky; he actually left me alone in the hotel room while he went off and drank at bars where I couldn’t get in to because I wasn’t 21 yet. And while I was sitting alone in that poorly decorated room that smelled like stale cigarettes,” Celeste brushed her blonde waves back behind her ear and turned in the cracked leather car seat to face Flora, “I had time to really think about my life and I came to realize that Michael was the best boyfriend I ever had. And I knew that he still wanted to be with me because he was still hanging around all the time, making plans with me, and essentially dating me without reaping any of the benefits,” she tossed her head back as she let out a small musical chuckle. “So when Barry and I were driving home, I pretty much knew that I wanted to try over with Michael. I wanted to see if I could find those old feelings again.” Celeste turned back toward the window and watched the countryside as they passed. The quiet in the car during the rest of the drive felt like a third passenger to Flora. A third passenger that sat behind her, breathing cold damp air down her neck, and passing judgment as Flora passed mile markers.

    Celeste and Flora sat in their usual corner booth at the Blue Sky, just at the start of the smoking section. Behind them sat a drunk couple who had left early from the nearby bar. The couple was arguing about how he had slept with another woman while they were broken up. The girlfriend was angrily tapping her fork, covered in cheesy eggs, upon the table as she screeched about how she still considered it cheating.
    Celeste leaned in toward Flora and in a low voice whispered, “Can you believe some people? If you’re broken up, it’s a free game. Ya know?” She waited for a reply from Flora as she stirred more sugar into her cooling coffee.
    “Well, I guess. But what if he felt guilty and wanted to admit his sin to the one he loved? Shouldn’t he tell her then?” Shrugging, Flora sat back against the pale mint green plastic booth.
    “I see it this way: if telling the person would help them, and you’re not just telling them to make yourself feel better by getting it off your chest, then yes, you should ‘admit your sin to the one you love.’” Celeste looked at her watch and muttered an intelligible string of expletives. “Damn, I really need to be getting home and getting some sleep. Michael and I have plans for breakfast tomorrow. And don’t forget, we’re leaving for the party at about 10 tomorrow night. You about ready to leave?”
    Flora nodded, feeling a little more at ease after having coffee and conversation with her friend. She was ready for sleep, hoping for a night free from the beast of her dreams.

    Flora attempted to enjoy the party. Reminiscing about classes, teachers, and past parties, Flora kept a smile pasted securely to her face. Her gaze continually wandered back to Celeste and Michael. She watched as Celeste sat on Michael’s lap, like a queen regally lounging on her throne, openly flirting with all of Michael’s friends. “I guess some things never change,” Flora thought to herself with a smirk.
    As the party began to die down, Flora made her way past the bonfire to the picnic table spread with various half-empty liquor bottles, empty 2-liter soda bottles, and a punch bowel filled with Southern Comfort and orange juice in the center. She had already downed enough alcohol to quiet the beast to a low roar, but she wanted one last cup of punch before she went home to where the dreams waited to rip at her with razor sharp talons.
    She reached the table and looked squarely into the mossy green eyes of Michael. He smiled a slightly intoxicated grin as he filled two cups with the warm punch.
    “Guess you beat me to the punch,” Flora attempted a joke in her discomfort.
    “Yeah, so, how are you doin’?” he replied slightly chuckling.
    Grabbing a cup and waiting for Michael to finish with the ladle, she replied, “Fine, I guess. How are you?”
    “Good,” he nodded.
    “That’s good,” Flora’s uneasiness was growing with each word that passed between them. “So how are things with you and Celeste?”
    He finished with the ladle and handed it to Flora, their fingers brushing lightly in the exchange. His gaze never left hers. Standing with two full cups of the sweet intoxication, he replied, “Good. We’re at that fragile part of a relationship, and I’d really hate for anything to mess it up.”
    She looked down to the cup she was filling, swallowing back words she couldn’t set free. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”   
    Michael shuffled his feet and looked back over his shoulder to where Celeste was drunkenly hugging guys as they left. “Well, I better be getting back to Celeste before she freaks out. Did you want to leave after we finish these drinks?”
    Flora could only nod. Tears of remorse and the loss of what could have been burned her eyes like the lighter had her flesh.

    Intoxicated, the three stumbled down the stairs to Flora’s bedroom. Celeste leaned heavily into Michael’s arms for support.
    Motioning to the queen-sized canopy bed, Flora slurred, “You guys can take the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the futon in the other room.” She swayed as she walked, holding the wall for support. Falling onto the black mattress, she pulled the green velvet blanket off the back to cover herself up with. She hoped that her high blood alcohol level would be enough to keep her sleep dreamless. Closing her eyes, she pictured eyes the same color as the blanket that encircled her and velvety soft lips that had been pressed to hers seven short days ago. She escaped into her memory of entwined limbs, and fell asleep.
    An angry voice from the other room pulled Flora from her coma-like state. She couldn’t discern what was being said, but the tones told enough of the story. The angry tone was Celeste’s, and it was followed by the pleading low tone of Michael. Knowing that her beast had been brought into the light, and there would be nowhere to hide from it in the morning, she embraced her beast of memories and deceit and fell back into the escape of sleep.