Koev Halev: Part Two

In their apartment's oppressively shadowed, cruelly colder interior, Nour sat with their back determinedly pressed into the right-angled intersection of the sofabed's right and left sides, legs against their chest, face impaled down on their knees.  

A stiff-limbed shadow puppet standing in front of their sun-backdropped balcony, Elyna repeated, "You don't trust me," her voice roughly cracking octaves.

Nour rolled their head back and forth. "I wanted to," they murmured. Then softer, "I don't know what to do."

Looking everywhere except at Nour, she said, "After all these years … five years together. For five fucking years, you lied to me!"

"I did not want to… I wanted … I really wanted to say something."

"But you never did. Fuck, you still aren't saying anything. Look at me," her last three words spiking in volume and pitch.  

Caterpillar brows barely raised over the pale moons of their knees; Nour said, "I don't know what to say."

“L'œil De L'esprit, what is it?”

"A place I go to. Every month … where I have to go."

After an explosively exasperated huff, Elyna's voice was lower and softer, "You said you told me everything. Why didn't you tell me about it? Is someone working there? We haven't talked about other people… it'd be fine. You just have to let me know."

Nour shook their head. "Not that. Never that, mon chou."

"I wish it was," Elyna answered, tone remaining low. "I'd understand that." A long pause, then, "You say you love me, but you've kept this from me. You hurt me, mon bébé.”

"I didn't mean to. It is," a steadying breath "I'm scared."

"Why? What the hell do you think would happen? Lying is worse than anything." Hugging herself, she added, "I don't think I can go back after this."

An unfamiliar sound. Not in general but specifically to Nour: year after year, fights and reconciliations, not once had she heard them cry.  

There were two Elynas. One rushed to embrace them, share heaving tears with them, dispel their sorrow any way she could. One frozen in place, unshakably, selfishly resolute.

Then a third appeared, the Elyna who sat down next to Nour and stroked their back. "I'm here," was all she could say.

"Happened so many times. Every time..." middle two words were ferally growled "every damn time. I'm a coward, a fucking coward. But I didn't want to lose you. If you found out. It's always… wrecks my life."

Elyna said nothing, did nothing except run her hand along Nour's rigid spine.  

"Was born this way. But no one ever talked about it. It got so bad, Zaaef took me to see someone. Not a doctor because it was illegal to treat it. But this person had studied it, I think, in Europe or maybe China. I don't know. She tested me, told me it was how my brain was wired. It was nothing to be ashamed of," voice stuffed with tears. Nour lifted their head high enough to run the back of their hand under their nose.

"Gave me medication. Expensive and illegal, so couldn't take it often. Zaaef said he would get more, but I knew he didn't have the money. It was fine because it didn't work very well. Even when I got here, the clinics I went to, the drugs they prescribed didn't help."

Elyna bent down and whispered "Thank you" into Nour's ear.

Turning to her, they shakily smiled. "I'm so sorry. I should have said. Everyone else… they left when I told them." Nour closed their eyes, began talking like they were reading from a script. "A doctor suggested transcranial magnetic therapy. Said had to go through a series of monthly treatments over several years before it was permanent."

Now openly unguarded, wholly vulnerable, completely fragile, Nour gazed at her. "I'm so sorry… should have told you."

Elyna didn't know what to say but instinctively knew remaining silent would be worse. She managed to mumble, "I understand."

Expression instantly stiffened, eyes immediately wary as they retreated within themself. Nour's words were shockingly clear, "You never can."

Jackhammers outside, staccato bursts of jarring machinery; jackhammers inside, a loop of unrelenting self-condemnation in her mother's bitterly drunken voice.

I don't think I can go back after this, I don't think I can go back after this, I don't think I can go back after this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did she say that? How could she say that?

From L'œil De L'esprit to Jean Jaurès Avenue, trying to navigate past their brutally critical gazes, each of their expressions uncontroversial proof of her worthlessness. From Jean Jaurès Avenue to the Porte de Pantin Metro station, every word, gesture, what she should have said, what she should have done screaming around a tightly cinched Mobius loop of stupid, stupid, stupid. From Porte de Pantin to the Stalingrad station, disapproving stares roasting her cheeks, pushing tears to the corners of her so-very-tired eyes, Elyna unquestionably knew it was over.  

Filmed in high resolution, absolute certainty, she watched Nour throw clothes into a bag, unplug and pack their laptop, and, without shutting the door behind them, leave her forever.

Stalingrad station to De la Villette Boulevard; it was her fault. It was always her fault. Her mother was right. That primary school teacher was right. That job interview was right. All those people online were right. She was so tired… hard to keep her eyes open.

Want to go to sleep… and never wake up.

De la Villette Boulevard to the, not their, apartment. Nour wasn't there. They were gone. Because of what she did, what she didn't do. She was alone, would always be alone, because she was worthless, because she was always stupid.

Closed. The door was closed. But Nour wouldn't be inside. Nour couldn't be inside, not after what she'd done. What she always did.  

Nour was there, perched on one of the stools they'd scrounged from a les marchés aux puces, with a bowl of faintly steaming soup on the kitchen counter in front of them.  

They looked surprised. Not angry. Not disappointed. But they would be because after paying a visit to L'œil De L'esprit, she undoubtedly, undeniably, knew Nour's disappointment, their anger, and their leaving was inevitable and inescapable.

With a howling gale of tears, Elyna fell to her knees, curled herself into a fetal ball, and moaned, "Sorry! Sorry, sorry…"

Joining her on the floor and, after the briefest of hesitative pauses, Nour slowly, tenderly began stroking Elyna's shoulder.  

Ruthlessly clenched, spasmodically quivering muscles ebbed; each patiently slow slide of Nour's fingers unknotting more and more of them.

With their soft touches came their soft words, an adagissimo of, "It's okay. I'm here for you. it's okay."

Neither knew how long it was before Elyna twisted to face him. But when she did, Nour bent down and kissed her forehead, adding as they did, "Love you, mon chou," to their song.

When there were less clenched, fewer quivering muscles, and she wore the faintest of smiles, Nour scooped Elyna up in their arms and, as if she was half-full, half-empty, carried her to their sofa-bed.

Duvet tucked around her legs, pulled up to her chin, Nour slid in next to her. As their body touched hers, the tears resumed, accompanied by a new adagietto rendition of "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

"No need to be, aimer. You haven't done anything wrong. I'm here. I'll always be here. I love you," emphasized with repeated kisses between each repetition. "love you, love you, love you."

Tugging her arms free from the duvet's goose-down stuffed embrace, Elyna wound them around Nour, yanking their lips to hers in a starving kiss. Neither knew, or cared, how much time elapsed between then and their shared gasp for air, bursts of giddy laughter, a crystal bell chiming in both their ears.  

Breathlessly, Elyna tried to explain. But only "went to the L'œil De L'esprit clinic and had them..." came out before Nour's lips found hers again.  

Words silenced with their tongue, emotional starvation supplanted by carnal hunger, Elyna furiously kicked the duvet away. Fondling Nour's face, she cocked her hips towards them and raised then draped a leg over their waist.  

Kisses never parting, Nour's hands found Elyna's breasts. Fingertips plucking at her rubber-hard nipples, thumb circling her roughly aroused areola, Nour inhaled her excitement. Exchanging it with their own, fueled by Elyna fervently rubbing her groin against theirs.

What few clothes remained were thrown off. Sweat-slick bodies liberated, they rollicked and rolled while coupled lip-to-lip and tongue-to-tongue.  

Nothing spoken, nothing said but undoubtedly, undeniably known, with sweet laughter and panting giggles, Elyna and Nour bolted toward their familiarly intimate, reassuringly joyous, and excitedly rehearsed pleasures.

Mouths to genitals, genitals in hand, hands on nipples, nipples to mouths, mouths to fingers, fingers to asses, asses to their favorite buzzing, oscillating, throbbing toys.  

Up and down, top to bottom, and end over end, they lost themselves in repeated sighs, reverberating moans, and, conclusively, resonating screams.  

Face pressed against face, rasping breaths comingling, when their pulses belatedly stopped racing, Elyna solemnly raised her head and, staring into Nour's eyes, began crying again.

Thumbing away her tears, Nour joined in. Faces wetly painted, noses thickly coggled, they coughed and gagged up until sleep wouldn't let them continue.

Lids dipping, dreams beckoning, Elyna took Nour's hand and softly said,"I understand now."