The Sun Will Shine Again (A Lesbian Story)

Part 3

Zofia and I ate the hot wings she'd ordered, quenching our thirst with water, and talked until it was almost midnight. We talked about our lovers, our families, our taste in music, and whatever other topic was mentioned. Zofia's deceased girlfriend's name was Beatrix, Zofia was an only child, and she was a professional tattoo artist and a lead guitarist in a small local band. It was a nice change of pace, considering for the past few days I hadn't talked to anyone about anything. Then came the question, "So, do you wanna sleep on the couch or in my room? The bed's big enough for two people, but I understand if you'd rather not."

Under normal circumstances, I would not sleep next to someone I'd just met, but these weren't normal circumstances. I was broken down, lonely, and yearning for someone from the dead. "I'd like to sleep in your room," I said, "if that's cool with you."

"Yeah," she said, "I'd like that."

Zofia took a brief shower, and I took one after her. She gave me another change of clothes – an oversized tee, underwear that didn't quite fit, and shorts with elastic that fit to my waist. Her bedroom was neat, with the bed in the center of two nightstands on the left wall. We lay down on opposite sides of the mattress, and she clicked off the lamp next to her. I lay on my side, facing the window to the outside. Sometime in the early morning, she had woken up, put her arms around me, and fallen back asleep. That, or she did it instinctively in her sleep. Cara had done that before. I was startled at first, but I felt safe. Her breathing was even and her body cradled cozily against my back. Cara, I thought. I love you, and wherever you are now, I hope you're happy. A tear formed in my eye and rolled over my nose and onto the pillow. I miss you, and no one could ever take your place, but I think I've found someone who can fill the void. I sniffled quietly, not wanting to disturb Zofia, but I couldn't stop myself from shaking. I love you so, so much. Don't you ever forget about me, because I promise I won't ever forget about you. Zofia must have felt it, though, because she stroked my hair. She didn't say a word, but I appreciated the silent concern for me. When she tensed and sniffled as well, I assumed she must still be grieving Beatrix. I felt an instantaneous connection form between us. Eventually, her hand rested on my shoulder as she fell asleep again. Shortly after, I had cried myself to sleep, but not all the tears were bitter.

The digital clock next to me read ten thirty-six when I woke up. The sky was dark behind the thin white curtains that covered the window. The room was empty besides myself, and only the sound of traffic and the patter of rain outside filled the silence. I forced myself out of bed and I walked over to the curtains, spreading them apart, only to be greeted by a dark-grey sky, the sun nowhere to be seen. I went to the living room, expecting it to be dark in there too, but the overhead light was already on. On the glass coffee table between the TV and couch, there was a piece of notebook paper with a message in neat handwriting: Eve - I've gone to work, be back around 5:00. Feel free to eat anything in the fridge. Please don't leave the apartment by yourself.

I guessed she didn't want the same thing to happen to me as to Beatrix. I doubt she'd ever be able to forgive herself again if that happened to someone else that she knew. Although, I didn't really know her. I'd just met her last night, but there was something that connected us. Maybe it was the trauma of losing a dearly loved one in an extreme way, or maybe it was that we both needed someone to lean on. Whatever it was, Zofia and I had more between us than the average strangers.

My stomach rumbled so I went to her fridge and peeked inside. Like she'd told me last night, there was leftover pizza still in its box, pre-made salad in a sealed bag, and a giant take-out container of rice. I decided I'd help myself to the pizza when there was a knock on the door. I wasn't sure if I should answer it or not, so I went to it and peaked through the peephole. Standing there was a young woman with long, greasy black hair that was bobby pinned back on the right side. She had light bronze brown skin and and thin eyes and eyebrows, and underneath her bottom lip was a small golden sphere.

"Zofia, you home?" she shouted as she knocked again. I undid the deadbolt and turned the knob, cracking the door open. The woman looked confused to see me. "Um, hi, does Zofia live here still?" She stood with her weight on one foot, arms dangling to the side of her thighs. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke.

"Yes," I said, opening the door completely, "but she's at work right now. She said she'd be back around five, though."

"Oh, I thought she had the day off today," the woman said. "And who are you?"

"I'm Eve," I replied, holding out my hand. She shook it.

"The name's Lucy," she stated. "Could you tell Zofia I stopped by and to call me later?

"Sure."

"Thanks. Later." She raised her hand to me as she retreated down the hallway.

I shut the door and returned to reheating the pizza in Zofia's microwave in the corner of the kitchen. I reminisced about the weekends Cara and I spent the entirety of in our pajamas just eating, talking, and watching TV shows. My heart felt heavy again as I yearned to hold her in my arms, but I was powerless. I couldn't bring the dead back to life. I reminded myself that I could still visit her grave if I wanted. I decided I'd leave once Zofia got back, and I'd buy flowers to place on her tombstone, too. After all, she really loved flowers; they were probably her favorite thing in the world.

Most of my day was spent on the couch with the TV droning on in the background. It felt weird to be in an apartment not my own, and eventually I gave into the impulse to look around. I walked back into the bedroom. When entering, there was a desk in the back right corner. I sat down in the small office chair and gazed at everything on the surface - cups of pens and pencils, a stack of paper, a laptop, and finally, a face-down picture frame. I gingerly picked it up and brought it to my face.

The glass was cracked from the top left corner to the bottom right corner in a jagged arrangement, but beneath the layer of glass, there was a photo of a couple. One girl was Zofia, who beamed with a white-toothed smile, while the other girl had her arm around Zofia's neck, pulling her closer to the ground, and wildly grinning, making the peace sign at the camera with her fingers. She had thick, bright auburn hair that went down to her shoulders and wide, piercing blue eyes that gave her a youthful look. The closeness and glee the couple displayed was invigorating, and I smiled. But, once I realized that this was Beatrix, my smile faded, and I put the picture back the way it was, a pit forming in my stomach. They looked like they were a really happy couple, I thought. It's a shame it ended the way it did.

My heart hurt for her loss as well as my own, and my hand went for my phone before I remembered I didn't bring it with me. That was probably a good thing. If I had started looking through my pictures of Cara again, I would break down, giving me an understanding of why the frame was flat on the desk. I looked back at the clock on the end table. It read 5:03 PM. Zofia would be home soon, if her note was telling the truth. A weak beam of light trickled into the room for the first time today. I went to the window and gazed out at the sunset behind the city skyline. That was the first time I'd seen the sun in days, even if it was already making way for the moon. I opened the the window to let in fresh air and was met with a cool, gentle breeze. Taking a deep breath as my hair rustled in the wind, I knew that one day soon, I would see the sunshine again.