Human After All – By Elsie

II. Face to Face

The divorce proceedings were remarkably quick and uncomplicated, which was surprising considering we had no prenuptial agreement and the size of our global estate was quite massive, bigger than I had estimated. Marlena was curiously absent for most meetings. I saw her on maybe two or three occasions, and she was unusually detached and emotionless, something I have never known her to be. Sharp hair, body shielded in crisp dark suits. Bold and tall, beautiful and proud, skin pale, a mask of stone. She was all these things, to keep herself cold and aloof. I felt like I understood.

We never spoke directly, opting to communicate mechanically through our lawyers. I did attempt to initially, but I was met with frosty silence. I suppose there wasn’t much to say anyway. What could she say, what could I say that wouldn’t seem trite or insincere?

I watched her carefully, studying her silently. If she was aware of my scrutiny, she gave no outward indication. I read her for moments of weakness, waited for her to look up at me and tell me she couldn’t do it. I selfishly wanted her to stop this because I was too stubborn to do it myself, and it was then that I realized I didn’t want to lose this connection to her, even if it all had just been an illusion.

There was a moment before she signed her name on that final piece of paper where I saw her hesitate briefly. The pen touched down slowly, before stopping, and she raised her head up to look me in the eye for the first time since that night so long ago on the roof. She gazed over my face, looking for what I’m not sure. Seeking out hope, maybe. The seconds extended into eternity and there was immortality in our silent stares.

I could see her strength waiver for brief seconds, I thought she might say something just then, but she only sighed and looked away, letting herself finish what she had started. The pen strokes echoed in my ears, and suddenly she was Marlena Evans again.

As she walked away from me, I swallowed hard and felt my eyes sting.

III. The Prime Time of Your Life There were women after Ava, so many women. A whole menagerie of different hair and skin colors that seemed to blend together. One after another, short and meaningless relationships that never progressed further than casual fucking. Each of them like me, emotionally handicapped and desperate for money. Social climbers who wanted the power that came with my legacy. But they never lasted. It used to be enough in the beginning. I enjoyed their youth and their eagerness. Shallow perhaps, but I had little interest in forming tangible bonds with any of them. The mansion seemed so large and empty. The hallways stretched endlessly and silence echoed along the walls. Even with all of my possessions and decadent furnishings, it all seemed too bare and drab. It didn’t feel like a home. Maybe it never was. I had not been to Chez Rouge in some time, but oddly it was the first place that came to mind in my haste to escape the mansion. Stepping into it was like stepping back in time. All of the same couples were there, drinking the same wines at the same tables and dancing to the same songs I remembered. And then there was Maggie, the gracious host, always smiling, always cheerful. I hoped she hadn’t noticed me when I entered but that quickly diminished as I saw her making her way towards me. “Hello, John,” She greeted me warmly, looking me over, looking for traces of her old friend. “Evening,” I replied, perhaps a little colder than I would have normally. I wanted her to have little doubt as to who she was speaking with. She went a little silent at that, unsure of what to say. I was not her friend and she knew nothing about me. After a pause, Maggie continued, “It’s nice to see you. I hear great things about your work with Basic Black.” I smiled graciously, tipping my glass to her. “I am at an advantage,” I told her. “I have the knowledge of thousands of employees to rely on.” A polite conversation. Small, humorous. We fell silent and she looked around the room, her gaze flicking from face to face, smiling at each patron to pass her. All this time had passed and we had nothing to say. Or maybe too much we couldn’t mention. “You look…well,” she told me. I wanted her to look at me again. I was not well. “Do I?” a slight arrogance about my tone, something defensive. Momentarily I wondered if I had decided to undergo this change because I knew it would fluster people. She couldn’t look me in the eye. She looked over my shoulder; down at her hands. A simple question about my appearance and she couldn’t look at me and answer. Something was wrong. It sizzled in the air. She looked away and took a sip of her water, and I felt the sudden urge to look behind me. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but then a familiar laugh floated above the crowd towards me and I instantly knew. It didn’t take long for me to pick her out in the crowd. I may not remember anything, but there are certain instincts that never dull. A glittering blue dress, dark as night. Perfect shoulders, the color of milk, hair longer than I remembered, falling in gentle waves. She was more beautiful than my memory of her. I’d thought about this moment so many times over, but I never imagined this. This awkwardness, not being able to meet her eyes. The buzz and chatter of conversation and laughter all around us. Somehow I imagined we would do this alone somewhere. I imagined that she would sense my presence and magically float towards me. Reality is a cruel mistress. Now I had no control. I was mere feet from her and a year from being her husband. I couldn’t remember how to hold that wall between us, and every feeling I ever felt for her was suddenly right here, rushing back in waves. I realized then that I loved her. I did. I loved her in that way you can only love those you can’t have. Madly, obsessively. Crazily. But then that was the way I did everything, those days. I was almost to her when I heard it. “Are you ready, darling?” A man’s voice, and I forced myself to look. The man’s suit, the man’s boots, the cropped hair. The deep voice, the adam’s apple. The facial hair. The broad shoulders. I recognized him. Shane Donovan. We were friends in my former life. Hands on her shoulders, skimming down to rest around her waist, pulling her close. Face in her neck, smelling her. It tickled, it made her laugh. I imagined it smelled like orchids, her favorite kind. She never noticed me. I saw Maggie staring at me with big, sympathetic eyes. I couldn’t handle her pity, or her stare. I chewed the inside of my mouth, irritated. “I need air.”

 

IV. Veridis Quo

I read the paper, as I did every morning, seeking out knowledge and facts to arbitrarily fill the blanks left by my lack of memory. Sometimes I skimmed through the society pages, searching out faces I might recognize, names I might remember. More often than not these people were strangers.

But not on this particular day. There she was, on the front page, smiling at me like she did that very first day. Overcome and bleeding her joy. The picture was deceptive. Her eyes glittered and bore into mine, but it was just a photograph, a piece of printed paper, and she wasn’t looking at me at all. I went to touch her face and came away with the inky residue of her image soiling the pads of my fingers.

My immediate reaction was anger. I felt like I’d been betrayed. Like I was being left out, left behind. All of these irrational and illogical thoughts flooded in unfiltered, overwhelming my natural sense of order, reminding me of just how human I could be. I always knew this ending was a possibility, but it was a thought I continually kept at bay.

It suddenly struck me that I was missing all of this. People were making plans, cultivating new relationships, living real lives outside of these golden walls. All of these things were like secrets that were being kept from me, and though I intuitively knew I had no real right to feel this way, it didn’t stop me from doing so.

I looked into their identical smiling faces and I hated them. I could see Shane Donovan holding her close in private, much like the picture in the paper. Taking her to his bed every night to make love to her, thrusting between her thighs, waking up to her golden hair spilling over his shoulder, her long legs curled warmly around his. Muttering words of affection to each other, their bodies communicating in ways that only two people who are emotionally intimate can, transmitting love and joy through sex and sweat.

That image stayed with me as I quickly grabbed my coat and fled in search of truth.

It wasn’t hard to find her. She still lived in her penthouse uptown, and though it had been a while, I was still able to navigate the path to it without much thought. It’s funny what the brain remembers and forgets.

Going up the elevator to her home, I could feel the adrenaline running through me, see the pulse in my wrist pulsing in time to the beat of my heart. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement. Perhaps it was a bit of both, but I idly realized this was the first time I could remember feeling this way.

I was completely convinced that I was confident and self assured of what I was doing, but as I rang her doorbell, time seemed to shift and slow, and I began to have serious doubts. I quickly processed through all of the possible things I might say when she opened that door, and even conjured up a bevy of possible scenarios ranging from the uneventful to the preposterous. I did not like this anxiousness.

Ultimately, however, none of this mattered. I could see the door opening and just like that she was standing there, shock registered all over her face. She openly stared, waiting for it. For me to say something, maybe wondering if she was imagining things. But the words never came, and I could see her tightening her grip on the doorknob that she still held.

A slightly confused “John?” was all I managed to hear her say before I lunged forward, desperate. I gripped her waist tight in my hands and pulled her to me, kissing her hard on the mouth.

8.45 seconds. For so long I had lived on the memory of what it felt to touch her, to kiss her, to be inside her. She was initially stiff with shock, but for one brief moment I felt her soften under my touch, and angle her head just so to deepen our kiss. But then the reality of what we were doing set in, and she jolted, pressing me away with her hands.

Marlena touched her fingers to her swollen lips, dazed, breathing hard. “Get out,” it came so soft I thought I may have imagined it.

“Blondie-“

“Get out!” more forceful now. She trembled, and I could see fury building in her hazel eyes.

I wanted to say something, I wanted to shake her. But instead I dug my hands into my coat pockets and let the cold, harsh winter winds guide me home.

V. Something About Us

It was dead of night, and I almost didn’t hear the bell above the rain and thunder that raged outside. When Rolf announced her presence in the house, I was at once surprised and not.

She crossed the threshold into my home, soaked to the bone, face blank, hands balled into tight fists. She looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t even understand it myself.

I took a breath to break the silence when she lunged towards me suddenly, and rained down her fists into my chest, over and over. She was pushing me, striking me wherever she could, breath coming out in sharp cries and wild, uneven sobs, chest heaving. I gripped her forearms steadily, face impassive, and let her. I deserved her pain, her grief. I let it seep into my grey, empty bones.

She tired then, and began to slow down. Marlena shook her head at me, her anger unabated, “Why did you do that? Why did you have to do that?”

Inexplicably, it was the first time I had thought about my motives and after a beat I found I had little to offer by way of explanation so I gave her the only thing I had. “I don’t know,” I paused, my tongue dead weight in my mouth. “I… missed you.” Awkward, unnatural. I found myself uncomfortable with this level of honesty. It was disconcerting.

I thought my truthfulness would soften her, but it did nothing but give her more fuel to lash out. “After all this time?”

“I admit my timing could have been better.” It was so easy to fall back on dry humor.

Her shoulders sagged fractionally, and I could tell she was becoming exasperated. “Why now?”

“Why not?” More jokes that fell flat.

“You really are an asshole, you know that?” She took a step back and ran a hand through her rain slicked hair. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? I left you alone, didn’t I?”

I didn’t have anything witty to say to that, and it felt wrong to attempt it. “Do you ever think about that night in the tent?”

She lowered her eyes a bit, and I braced myself for something I didn’t want to hear, but I guess honesty can be contagious. “Sometimes.”

“I do too,” I admit. “All the time.”

“Why are you telling me this?” There was a strange quality to her voice, and couldn’t quite tell what she was feeling.

“I used to think that you were a part of everything that was holding me back,” I told her, uncomfortable but determined to get this out. “Your emotions were contemptible to me. I thought you were controlling.”

She seemed shocked, and more than a little hurt. She sat on the couch slowly, her voice soft. “You were never under my control.”

“You tried so hard to show me your way of living, telling me stories of my past and our life together, our family. You tried to introduce me to different cultures, different foods to broaden my palate and remind me of our travels. You took me places, places I was supposed to find moving or beautiful or historic, places that marked great strides in human evolution. You were trying to stir all of these things in me but I didn’t want it. I discovered how little I cared for the realities of my old life. Waking up at a certain time. Dressing in the same suits, working and never seeing results. It all seemed so boring and ordinary. I resented you for trying to change me.”

She wasn’t looking at me anymore, and I could see her playing with the ends of one of the pillows nervously. “If you really feel that way, then why did you…” her voice trailed off, unsure.

“I finally understood.” I told her simply. “It was never about control, it was about the human experience. You were trying to show me a way of life. It wasn’t about looking at old paintings or eating food. You opened yourself up to me, gave me individuality.” I moved to sit next to her the couch, and brought my fingers to lightly stroke the curves of her face, forcing her gaze onto mine. “I tried to think of things you had shown me, and I realized I couldn’t quite remember the color of your eyes or the texture of your hair. I didn’t want to lose that again.”

“Oh.” It came out as little more than a breath, and I took note of her glassy eyes and accelerated respiration.

“I give you an essay and that’s all you have to say?” I was teasing, but as our mouths inched closer and closer, I found I had no desire to laugh. This had become very serious.

In the low ambient light where all I could see was her, I caught her and I kissed her. Not thinking about Shane, not thinking about Ava, not thinking about much at all. Arms around Marlena’s shoulders, mouth against her mouth, hands in her hair. She wasn’t fighting me anymore.

She groaned deep, hungry and strong. Broke the kiss to pant in hot gusts across my cheeks and eyes and then kissed me again, missing my lips and biting my chin before burrowing back into my mouth. My mouth ached, spread wide, I couldn’t get enough.

Opening myself up to her had not been an easy task, but I found some things between the two of us were as natural as breathing. I could feel my hands roaming her body, skimming for fastenings and buttons and zippers. I removed the pieces of her damp clothes from her body with precision, peeling them away from her skin to watch her flesh ripple with goosebumps from the cold air until her naked body was revealed to me. She shivered under my hands, but I wasn’t convinced it was entirely from the cold. I let my eyes devour her, memorizing every freckle and curve, my hands cupping her breasts, massaging them, holding their full weight in my palms. Watching her whimper and gasp. We’d had sex before, but somehow this was new.

I remembered that first time. How she had clung to me, undulating her hips beneath me, holding me between her legs. The whole time, she was looking into my eyes, desperate for the connection. She has no idea, I’d thought at the time. She has no idea what connection means. But in the end it was me that hadn’t understood.

That had been the beginning. The seed of what had me decide to reject myself.

I pressed her back against the strong pillows before curling my hands under her supple body to lift her up in my arms. Kissing, kissing. Her hands in my hair, scratching at my scalp. Yanking my shirt up, pulling it out of my pants, digging her hands down my back to touch my heated flesh. I laid us down on the fur rug that sat in front of the fireplace, spreading her out, watching her stretch and run her hands along the soft fibers. I had taken such pride in that rug, because it had been rare and exquisite and priceless, but in this moment I didn’t care.

She shifted against me and fumbled with my pants; parted her legs and pressed me closer, rubbing herself against me. I was hot, face throbbing and red with want. I’d never wanted something so badly in my life. Breath loud and echoing.

Marlena’s eyes glittered, a piece of hair fell into her eyes. Her hand strong on my newly exposed cock, alternating between long strokes and gentle pressure. I thought I would cum right there, all over her stomach. I shifted my weight and thrust against her. Something hard between us, nuzzling, working, seeking entry. I grunted and slid inside of her.

Oh God. She gasped and I groaned, watching her take it, take me, into her body. It’d been so long. I forgot what being with her felt like, having her warmth surrounding me.

For a moment the pain on her face was too much and I thought I would have to push out of her. She sensed this and held me still, gritting her teeth and panting until she was okay, until the pain became white hot pleasure and her skin glowed with it. It throbbed in my blood.

I understood her. I was a thing she could not conquer and yet I was always utterly hers. No wonder she hated me and loved me so much.

I did not expect this. I was dizzy and lost. My shaft throbbing, Marlena’s breasts against me. Her soft lips and sharp teeth kissing me hard. The stubble of my growing beard and the taste of her lip gloss. No sex I’d ever had had been like this. She was everything.

I gasped against her neck as she touched me, the slide of her hard nails over my back and all along my sides, too much to contain, leaving a path of small crescent moons. I made noise, too much noise, but the friction between us was unbearable. She was burning me to the bone.

She began to undulate beneath me, opening herself up as far as she could. I felt split in two, I felt open and full and overwhelmed. I listened to myself breathe and it was not a pleasant sound.

This is what it must have been like to be with her before the accident, I thought. To lose yourself to someone who is everything at once. No wonder Marlena wanted that old John back, craved that connection.

“Fuck,” she hisses, “John, yes.” Hair wild, spread like a crown. Moving her hips in rhythmic circles, using her muscles to squeeze hard on my cock. Hands grasping at clumps of the expensive fur beneath us. I continued to thrust, pushing as far as I could until my back ached and my cries burned in my throat.

“Oh God,” I prayed against her hair. I have given little thought to the existence of God, but in that moment I believed. And then there it was, the crescendo of an orgasm that made my blood fizz and pop. My fingers clutched her ribs, her waist, her thighs, digging into muscle and soft flesh.

Her face contorted in pleasure, gusting out breaths of breathless air, stretching her neck and looking away, fingers in her mouth as she came too. The rush of hot sticky fluids deep inside, shooting myself into her. We went this far together.

The haze cleared and the room was silent, save for the sounds of our heavy breathing. I rolled off of her, sliding out easily, setting in beside her, eyes closed. She shifted onto her side and lifted her head, looking at me and all at once she was sweet Marlena, the first time I saw her, in the basement of Rolf’s lab. She looked impossibly beautiful, totally female. Utterly happy.

I leaned towards her and kissed her softly and a bit sloppily, and I noticed tears in her eyes. I traced the lines of her, trying to remember them. When I woke up tomorrow in my big grand bed, I wanted to remember this Marlena, the Marlena that was mine, that looked at me with something other than regret.

“I saw you with Shane Donovan,” I told her, breaking our easy silence with uneasy conversation. “You asked me why I kissed you. I was… jealous.” I pressed tiny kisses along her shoulders. “Shane is an intelligent individual,” I managed. The words weren’t easy for me.

“So are you,” Marlena told me, and for a moment she looked at me with something huge in her eyes, something too big for me to read. But then it was gone. “Both of us were lost,” she started again. I knew about Shane and Kimberly Brady and their ill-fated romance. “Turning to each other was easy because we already understood. And then one day it didn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

I wasn’t sure how to digest this information. “Good to know.”

“I’ll never get used to that, you know.” I could tell she was trying to be light, but there was a certain sadness behind her truth.

Marlena began to pull away from me, but I wasn’t ready to let go. “Stay,” voice a low rumble, tightening my grip around her body. She seemed to think about it, but moments later I could feel her go soft beneath my hands and settle her head into the crook of my neck. A perfect fit. I understood then that comfort wasn’t perhaps so irrelevant after all, and it’s this thought, along with a jumble of other thoughts about the woman in my arms that lulled me to sleep.

Hours later as I began to awaken I curled my hand towards her body and was met with nothing but the feel of fur, chilled by the cold morning air.

VI. Short Circuit I watched her from across the room, settling delicate pins into her soft hair. Dress short yet modest, a soft ivory color that was almost the color of her skin. I suppose after a certain number of marriages, a spectacle wedding is inappropriate. “You make a very lovely bride, Blondie.” Marlena startled to attention and whipped around to face me. “John, I’m-” “-Why did you leave?” She couldn’t quite meet my eyes and turned back to busy herself with idle vanity. “I’m getting married.” “Yes, I can see that.” I took steps inside until I stood just behind her, watching her face in the mirror. “I meant what I said last night, you know.” “It’s a fantasy, John.” She leaned back into my chest, giving herself this last piece of intimacy. “It can’t happen.” “Why can’t it?” “Because I still miss him,” she finally admitted. “You. Him. God, I don’t even fucking know anymore.” “I am not a ghost, Marlena.” I used her given name to try to impart to her how serious I was. “You’re scared of taking that chance with me.” “I look at your face sometimes,” she took a shuddering breath, “and it makes me ache. John was so much a part of my life-“ “Do not dismiss me!” I could feel myself starting to lose control. Anger was something I found very easy to give in to. A base human emotion that was hard to manage. “Why are you afraid?” “I can’t separate the two of you.” She looked away, and blinked back sudden tears. “Sometimes I think it would be so easy to give into this, but then you’ll tilt your head a certain way, or say something and I realize just how different you are.” She paused then, face tight, her mouth settled into a thin, grim line. “And then comes the guilt.” “Guilt?” I did not understand. “Sometimes I think I could be happy with you.” This admission surprised me. The shock that must have registered on my face prompted her to continue. “I fear I’d be replacing you, the old you. And that I’d start to forget, replacing my old memories of the John you used to be with the John you are now. And I feel like the only way to keep the man you were alive, is to remember him because you no longer can.” “So I am irrelevant to you,” I told her, mustering as much arrogance as I could. It was hard not to feel inferior after that. “I didn’t say that!” She put her hand to her mouth as she tends to do when something has upset her, eyes red and moist, but I was too angry to let her tears affect me. “That’s not what I meant.” “I’ll tell him.” It was not meant to be a threat, but a statement of fact. “What?” Shane, Shane, her precious Shane, who she had not thought of once in the course of this conversation. Her eyes went wide with worry and she jolted away at that. “John, no. Please-“ “-John?” I could see the confusion all over Shane’s face. He obviously didn’t know what to make of my presence. My lack of invitation was very deliberate. “What are you doing here?” It would have been so easy to do it. To ruin their little fantasy, to make him hate her, to stop this wedding. Do not misunderstand me, reader. It was tempting. I could feel the power rushing through my veins. Everything I wanted was at my fingertips. But all I could see was the look on Marlena’s face, the little fists, the quickened breath. I could have done it to anyone else without a single regret. But not to her. I realized that I loved her enough to do this for her. “I came,” I paused then, maybe to gather courage, maybe for show, “to see the bride off.” I walked slow towards her, and reached to adjust a part of her antique lace veil that had become wrinkled. My hands on her forearms, I brought my face close to hers. “Congratulations,” I whispered before placing a chaste kiss between friends on her cheek that lingered suspiciously longer than it should have. If this was going to be it, I was going to have something to remember. She searched my face, gauging my sincerity. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, in synch with hers. “Thank you,” soft, overcome. She believed me. That was all I needed. I turned and simply left. I knew what would happen next, but I had no desire to witness it. Shane probably took her hand, she would turn to him and smile. They might even embrace and share a kiss before turning to walk down that aisle. I didn’t care. Instead I thought of the joy and wonder on her face as we watched the sun rise over snow covered mountains in Greenland. I thought of her surprised and gentle laughter when she found my inappropriate jokes humorous. I thought of the way she hummed badly to herself when she thought no one was listening. I thought of they way she used to carefully arrange her bottles of perfume along the vanity. I thought of all these things, and the hundreds of other moments I had stored away and took them with me as I walked right out of Salem, not looking back.

 

VII. Alive

I sat at a café, watching planes come and go, people reuniting and leaving each other, waiting for my call. To an outsider, this would have vaguely resembled something like running away, but it’s hard to believe that when I had nothing in this town to claim. I’d been confined within the Salem city limits for too long. I needed to get out and see the world. My passport told me I’d done that a thousand times over, but without those memories I realized it was time to create new ones. To see the marvels of human accomplishment that Marlena had tried so hard to tell me about. Maybe I would find more pieces of my own humanity.

I had the newspaper, but I debated on whether or not to read it. I wasn’t exactly sure I cared to find more surprises lurking in its pages. I was just about to stand up and toss it in the nearest trash when I was interrupted by the sight of a cup of coffee being placed before me.

“I didn’t order this,” I turned up, expecting to see a young waitress in a green uniform, but to my surprise instead found Marlena, holding a cup much like the one she’d given me, taking a seat. Still in her ivory satin dress, but unveiled, hair loose around her shoulders.

“Anything interesting?” she remarked casually, nodding towards the newspaper. She blew softly at her coffee before fishing into the stack of papers, coming away with the Science and Technology section. “You always said this section gave you a headache. Ironically, it’s also my favorite.” She took a sip and began thumbing through the various articles, ignoring my quiet stupor.

I hadn’t spoken a word, I didn’t know what to say. Any second now I expected her to come to her senses and go back to that other life. Realize what a mistake this was, what a mistake I was. But then she looked up at me with her big hazel eyes, and I stopped breathing.

“I want to go home,” voice quiet, trembling. But there was something else too. It felt like love.

My hand slowly covered hers, our fingers laced. “You are home.”

~ THE END ~