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Raja couldn't sleep. She'd been trying, of course, but the city noise that usually lulled her to sleep was keeping her awake. That and the orange-tinted streetlights. That and Manila, breathing softly next to her.
Raja sighed and got up out of bed quietly, so as not to wake her ex-girlfriend. She padded softly on the cold floor out into the darkened living room and through to the kitchen where she poured a glass of water and drank it, leaning against the counter, thinking.
Back into the living room now. Raja decided she wouldn't bother going back to bed. She shrugged on a sweater that she'd abandoned on the couch earlier, and moved to the end of the room, sitting at her desk that looked out the window. There was a slight draft. Raja hunched her shoulders against it and sighed, pushing her long, greying hair out of her face.
She clicked on the desk lamp and took out her notebook from under her laptop and found her favourite black pen. Raja hadn't tidied her desk recently, and things were piling up.
It's four in the morning, the end of the December.
It was always best to keep records in times of upheaval. As an artist and sometimes a writer, she did she best to document her own state of being. Partially for her own sanity, partially for use later. Ironically, this was advice Raven had once given her, before everything collapsed so spectacularly.
A siren went by and Raja glanced out the window. The old snow was still crusting on the balconies across the street, grey and icy on the ground below.
New York is cold but I like where I'm living, there's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
Manila had convinced her to move to New York from her home in L.A. That had been a long time ago, when they'd been young and painfully in love. But Raja had grown to like the people, the density, the music, the art and even the winter. Raja thought of Manila now, her distance, and her sleeping form in Raja's bed. After Raja had sworn to herself up and down that she wouldn't let her back in again.
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert. You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.
Raja couldn't help the resentment that spilled onto the page. Raven had left suddenly and moved to Nevada or somewhere, much to everyone's surprise. People speculated, and Raja heard about it through the chain of gossip. Because everyone had something to say about Raven. Raja had so many things to say to her old friend, questions, accusations.
People wondered why, but Raja knew. Raven had told her a few things about her past, in their rambling conversations. The reach of some organizations was very, very long.
Yes, and Manila came by, with a lock of your hair.
It had hurt. It had really hurt when the tiny envelope fell out of Manila's coat pocket, the jacket draped over the back of chair. And Raja had picked it up and looked in it. A blonde curl. And then she'd turned to Manila, angry.
"She gave you a piece of her hair? What kind of fucking melodramatic bullshit-"
"Oh back off Raja, we-"
But Manila was making excuses again. Trying to keep a single nostalgic piece of the affair to herself. And it turned into an argument and then it turned into tears and then comfort and then a single delicate kiss on Raja's jaw and then suddenly they were all over each other, falling into bed. And Raja hadn't even meant to let Manila in in the first place.
Ah, the last time I saw you, you looked so much older. Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder.
Raja had seen her from a distance in the train station, after the collapse but before she left for good. Walking commandingly down the platform. Her blonde hair was lovely as always, but her face was drawn, thinner than it had been, deep lines under her eyes though she'd attempted to cover them with makeup. Almost shocking to Raja, who'd imagined Raven as perfect and vital forever. But no, she'd aged too. This experience had aged them all. Her favourite, infamous blue coat that she wore all through the New York winter was torn and hadn't been mended.
But Raja didn't say anything, and she knew Raven hadn't seen her when she'd greeted the young woman getting off the train. A kiss, an arm around her shoulders, that confident smirk of hers firmly in place on her mouth. The same smirk that had eventually convinced Manila to appear at her door, late one night.
Raja brought her finger to her mouth and chewed at her nail for a moment, then put her hand back down to the page.
And you treated my woman to a flake of your life.
Raven's life was so compelling. All of her friends, all of the parties, the drugs. The highs were very, very high and the lows… well. Even her paranoia. It was so easy to romanticize, compared to Raja and Manila's steady companionship. They had both been drawn in.
Raven and Manila's affair had gone on for so much longer than Raja had realized. And of course, just like in every case of infidelity, she was the last to know about it. All their friends knew. And then everything had fallen apart.
But of course Raven didn't actually want Manila.
When Raja finally found out about the affair there were tears and a screaming argument and then the breakup. Manila went to Raven for comfort while Raja seethed and paced alone. But Raven quickly stopped speaking to Manila, and stopped seeing her. And then she left, supposedly recalled to the gold base, and sent into the desert. Or perhaps she'd left of her own accord. Manila came back to Raja. And left, and came back again. And Raja let her in every time, because she couldn't deny those sad brown eyes.
I see you there, with a rose in your teeth.
Raven used to bring by single roses, leave them in that one good, thin vase on Raja's table. The melodramatic bitch.
Raja had imagined it, many times, to torture herself. The moment right before Raven and Manila first touched. The thrill of the forbidden. Who had leaned in first? Did Raven's immaculate hands tangle themselves in Manila's cloud of dark curly hair before caressing her waist, her hips? Raven's hands were so unlike Raja's, which were always stained with paint or ink, nails bitten down to the quick. A bad habit.
Had Manila pushed Raven down onto the bed, climbing on top of her, insistent? Removing their clothes, kissing her way down Raven's neck to her chest. Manila's lips to her stomach, and then lower. Manila had always loved to give. And who wouldn't want to put their hands, their mouth, all over Raven's body?
A noise from the bedroom. Shifting, and then footsteps.
Well, I see Manila's awake. She sends her regards.
Raja listened as Manila walked out of their bedroom, and went to the kitchen. It was a small open concept apartment, so when Raja glanced over her shoulder she could see into the kitchen from her position at her desk in the living room. Manila was wearing Raja's long dark blue robe, staying warm against the winter chill.
Raja wondered whether Manila would have left with Raven, if she'd offered. Perhaps Raja should just ask her. This question had been driving an icy stake between them.
Raja hated that their relationship was split apart like this. Now defined in the terms before and after Raven.
And what can I tell you, my sister, my killer? What can I possibly say?
Raja glanced back down at her slanted scrawl in the notebook. A little melodrama of her own had leaked onto the page. She wasn't sure how it had turned into a letter to Raven. The other woman hovered in Raja's minds eye, floating before the window. A cigarette hanging from her mouth, curled in a half-smile.
Deep in the back of Raja's mind the feeling she'd been pressing down was rising back up. Jealousy. She was jealous of Manila for having had what she'd had with Raven. Raja almost wished she'd had the opportunity too. Her crush on Raven had been maddening, at certain points. But she'd never acted on it. Maybe something could've been worked out, between the three of them-
"Coffee?" asked Manila, her sleepy voice carrying across the dark room. It was shocking that they were even awake. The world wasn't awake yet.
"Sure," said Raja, putting her pen down and rising from the desk.
I guess I miss you, I guess I forgive you. I'm glad you stood in my way.
Maybe she'd needed a challenge. But she and Raven had been friends, good friends, and Raja was mourning that loss too. It had humiliated and enraged her when she found out. To know that Raven was still meeting up with her for coffee, giving encouragement and advice, telling her in snappy little quips about her life, her various dalliances. The women she had up her sleeves. Which made Raja feel special, like she was being let in on a secret. They bitched and gossiped, often the very next morning after Raven had been fucking Manila the night before.
Manila had done what she'd done for reasons she'd tried to explain but Raja couldn't comprehend. And the accusatory phrase echoed around in Raja's brain every time she saw Manila. How could you?
Raja sat at the small kitchen table, arms crossed. Despite her sweater it was still cold, she hadn't bothered turning the heat up yet. Manila placed a mug of coffee in front of her. She still remembered how Raja liked it. This had been their habit for years.
If you ever come by here, for Manila or for me. Well, your enemy is sleeping, and her woman is free.
Raja uncrossed her arms and gripped the warm mug of coffee with both hands. Manila sat across from her, elbow on the table, her hand on the side of her neck. Coffee mug held loosely in the opposite hand. It would still be dark for a while, until the sun rose. Manila had stayed over. Did Raja even want her again, after all this? Raja stared at the steam rising from the mug.
"She didn't tell me she was leaving, you know."
Raja looked up. Manila had an odd, sad look on her face. And inevitably, Raja still wanted her.
"I didn't think so."
"She- well, I don't know. I'm sorry about everything."
Manila was trying, her soft voice imploring. Raja decided she might as well bite the bullet. It was maybe five-thirty a.m. She was tired and wrung out.
"So, are we getting back together, or-?" asked Raja, frowning.
Manila's eyebrows drew together. Perhaps Raja hadn't phrased that the most generously. But Raja wasn't feeling particularly generous with Manila, despite the coffee and the continued attempts to apologize. Manila had been a conscious actor in this just as much as Raven. She'd lied, she'd snuck around. Raja hated feeling like a second choice.
Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes. I thought it was there for good so I never tried.
But the worst part, the part that Raja could least forgive Raven for, was the way she'd made Manila happy. The way that layer of boredom, of depression, had been lifted from Manila's eyes, years after Raja had given up trying to lift it herself. After they'd moved on to just managing it. That was the first thing Raja had noticed. And she'd appreciated it, glad to see the change in her partner, the person she loved most. Wondering naively as to the reason why.
"I-" began Manila, and then she stopped and shifted, pulling the robe tighter around herself. Raja should not have let the conversation last night evolve into sex, that was making this all the more complicated.
"I want to. I do still love you. If you can…"
Forgive me. The words that Manila couldn't say, because despite her apologies at the end of the day Raja didn't think that Manila actually regretted the affair.
And Manila came by with a lock of your hair. She said that you gave it to her, on the night that you planned to go clear. Did you ever go clear?
Raja remained silent.
"She said she was going to, you know, go clear," added Manila. Hope and worry in her eyes, guarded.
"Right," replied Raja, sarcastic, harsh, "And I'm sure she said she loved you, too."
Manila turned away, pressing her lips together. Facing the far wall, her legs crossed. No affectionate little side-eyed looks. Just hunched shoulders, Manila's pinched, frowning face in profile. Regret. Raja knew she shouldn't be so harsh. Where Raven had made Manila soft she'd hardened Raja against her. Against them both.
"We can get back together if you get rid of that envelope with her hair in it. I know you still have it."
Manila looked up and hesitated, mouth opening and closing. Raja rose from the table, and walked back to her desk by the window. The sun was beginning to rise. Manila was quiet but Raja held out hope, idiotically. She stared down at her notebook while she waited for Manila's reply.
Raja was done. She'd kept her record, she'd said everything. But her hand hesitated over the page.
Love, Raja. No. There was no love to give.
Fuck you, from Raja. Far too personal.
She took in a breath and slowly let it out. The silence stretched on.
Sincerely, R. Gemini.