WAKE UP: Omen in Red
The fluorescent lights of the supermarket hummed with a faint glow. She adjusted the hem of her oversized, long-sleeved knit sweater, pulling the cuffs down until they nearly covered her fingertips as the half-filled cart rolled slowly in front of her.
"Seriously girl, it's eighty-two degrees outside," Gwen said, tossing a carton of eggs into the cart. She glanced at Elara's heavy sleeves, her left brow raised.
"Aren't you dying in that?"
Elara shifted a bag of pasta, her thumb tracing the familiar raised ridges of the skin beneath her sleeve. She bit her lips.
"You know why I wear them, Gwen."
"I totally understand that you think you have a reason," Gwen countered, leaning against the cart.
"But you are the only person I know with a massive insecurity about a birthmark. Nobody fucking cares, for real. If anything, it looks like a cool tattoo...you haven't finished yet."
"It looks like a scar," Elara muttered, her big brown eyes scanning the shelf of a specific red wine.
"And I'd rather not explain my scar to every person who passes me in the frozen food aisle, looking at me like I stole their purse."
"Well I think it's cute," Tiffany chimed in from the other side of the cart, where she was busy comparing two different brands of cereals.
"It looks cool, mysterious... At least Kael thinks so... he keeps staring at you like you're a freshly baked bread."
Elara's hand faltered on a bottle of Cabernet.
"Kael? He doesn't stare. He's just...observant. We've worked together for three years, he's a friend Tiff."
"Bitch, 'observant' is checking the clock to see when your shift is over," Gwen interjected, her lips curved.
"Kael tracks you, he hungers, he knows when you go on coffee break, your favorite coffee... when you want to take a dunk...the man is practically your shadow."
"As I said...we have been coworkers for three years. Besides, he's just being nice especially since he knows Isaac is always busy," Elara said, finally gripping the wine bottle.
"Speaking of Isaac, he's been working so hard lately... I'm going to surprise him with a nice dinner."
Gwen rolled her eyes, making a sound that was halfway between a cough and a scoff.
"Exhausted from what? Being shady? I'm telling you girl that man has a red banner written all over his profile, I don't know what you see in him really."
"Gwen stop," Elara pleaded with a soft sigh.
"He's just been stressed... You don't just throw away a five-year relationship because of a little distance."
"Gwen can... your longest relationship is what, two weeks?" Tiffany tossed some lip gloss into the cart.
"That motherfucker had it coming," Gwen defended.
"You don't trust anyone...”
"I trust my gut, honestly girl five years is a long time to ignore your gut. I know you know," Gwen added quietly.
"My gut is just fine," Elara said, her voice a whisper, almost like she was trying to convince herself rather than her friends.
"Everything's fine."
After checking out, she parted ways with the girls, the weight of the groceries pulling at her shoulders. She drove home, the sunset casting a long distorted shadow across the pavement. Air escaped her lungs; a strong surge of determination washed over her, she'll cook, they'll talk and the distance between her and Isaac will become non-existent...
At least that's what she hopes. But as she pulled into the driveway of their weekend house, the stillness of the air made her stomach drop. The house was dark except for the flickering light in the upstairs window.
The air grew thinner as she stepped into the house. Music blasting, Loud thumping bass that vibrated the walls. A song was playing at a volume Isaac hated
"Isaac?" she called out, her heart beginning to thrum against her ribs, her voice drowned by the music.
Has their house been broken into?
The stairs creaked beneath her weight, wine in hand as she gripped it like a weapon, the grocery bag crinkling on her arm.
The bedroom door was ajar. As she reached for the handle her foot slipped on something, a discarded silk dress that wasn't hers.
Suddenly the wine she intended to use as a weapon felt heavy. The room was a mess of discarded clothes and condom wrappers. In the center of it all, on the bedsheet she just picked out the other day because she thought it matched the curtain was Isaac... but he wasn't alone.
He was panting on top of a woman Elara didn't recognize. Her hair tangled and skin pale, her moans drowned by the music. The grocery bags slipped and the bottle of Cabernet hit the hardwood floor with a sound like a gunshot.
The glass detonated, sending shards flying and the dark red liquid spraying across Elara's white sneakers. It pooled around her feet.
The music died as Isaac jolted from the bed, scrambling for light, the sudden brightness blinding.
"Elara?" Isaac gasped, smoothing back his hair, his startled face sliding into a sudden irritation. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were staying at your place tonight."
"I... I... I wanted to surprise you," Elara whispered, her voice small as she almost choked on her words. She stared at the wine on the floor... It was expensive.
The other woman didn't say a word. Grabbing a handful of the discarded clothes; She glanced at Elara, her eyes a mixture of pity and awkwardness as she bolted toward the door, brushing past Elara, whose mouth was still half opened and eyes were wide in shock.
"Elara look," Isaac said, stepping off the bed; hiding behind the wall of discarded condoms and clothes, he stayed on his side pointing at the mess.
"It's not what it looks like... We've been under a lot of pressure lately... you've been so distant... I needed an outlet."
"An outlet?" Elara finally looked up, her big brown eyes red, unshed tears shimmering in them.
"Five years Isaac... Five fucking years! Let me make dinner for my boyfriend, I said. We've both been busy, I said... an outlet? Did you try therapy, journaling, or go to the fucking gym Isaac!"
"Well, maybe if you were around more, if you pay attention to me I wouldn't need an outlet in the first place!" he snapped, his voice sharp.
"You didn't tell me you were coming, you can't just sneak up on people... with that hideous scar hiding behind those damn sleeves."
The silence that followed was crushing, more than the music, it was loud. Elara didn't argue... she didn't scream; she turned around, walking into the closet like a ghost. Grabbing the small overnight bag she kept there, she stuffed a few things inside with trembling hands.
"Where are you going?" Isaac called out.
"We are done," Elara let out a small breath as she stumbled down the stairs to the front door.
"It's pouring outside, stop being dramatic Elara. Come back let's talk like adults."
Elara didn't look back. She walked out the front door, the rain drumming on her. It was a cold violent shock. By the time she reached Gwen and Tiffany's porch, she was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face, the red wine on her shoes washed away by the mud.
Gwen opened the door before Elara could knock. She didn't ask a question, she stared at her friend's shivering frame, the empty eyes, and the way she was clutching her arm through her wet sleeves.
"That son of a bitch," Gwen spat out, pulling Elara into the warmth of the hallway.
"I knew it, I bloody knew it...that slim-no-good motherfucker...ohhhh...I will fuck him up, I will fuck up that little piece of shit..."
"Okay... Gwen, let Elara sit first," Tiffany chimed in.
Elara let the bag drop. She looked at her damp sleeves, where the birthmark beneath was beginning to pulse with a faint heat she had never felt before.
"He's gone Gwen, it's over... everything." Elara's voice finally cracked.
"Oh honey," Gwen said, wrapping a dry towel around her friend's shoulder.
"Like my mama always says, 'the trash eventually takes itself out.' It's about time too.”
"We got you girl," Tiffany hugged Elara as she broke down completely.
"Everything's over"
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