Short Story 3 - She

She could feel his heartbeat accelerate and that exact moment, she knew she was in trouble. He was tense but determined. Tenacious even. He knew what he wanted and he was most definitely going for it. She didn’t want the same. She was a little bit scared, lost, confused on how to navigate such a sensitive situation. 

She pulled away gently, scooting over to the furthest corner of the couch. Putting as much space between them as possible. He moved in after her. She groaned internally, no, don’t come closer. 

She could hear his breathing accelerate, the slight stench of alcohol unmistakable. Getting more noticeable as he drew his face closer to hers. Drunk. He was drunk. Drunk and desperate, the worst of the combinations. She berated herself mentally, why did she think coming here would be a good idea?? 

She moved over further. Her back felt the corner. Nowhere left to go, she had to face him. He didn’t sense her discomfort in any way. Instead he got up and sat down almost right on her lap. There it was, the hand on her thigh. Firmly secured in its spot. Now rising higher and higher, probing for openings. Enough. 

She jumped off the couch, please stop, I really can’t do this. She tried to mask the fear and hurt in her voice. His face betrayed the disappointment, even irritation he was feeling. She could almost see the wheels turning, how could she possibly not want this, all the signs showed she did!

He stood up quickly. Why not, he accused. You didn’t mind before, I’m no stranger to you! Oh how they loved that argument. Physical contact once upon time meant a free pass for life apparently. She got angry. 

No, I didn’t! I kept moving away and you kept following me! She argued. Just please, leave me be. 

He grumbled a bit and went off to his room. She waited until she heard the sound of his steady snores and slowly drifted away into a troubled sleep. Nightmares plagued her throughout, chases and monsters. She woke up in cold sweat. Literally, cold though, he forgot to close the window, the room was freezing. Packing up her stuff as quietly as she could, she snuck out. Suppressing the feelings of discomfort. Only as she was reaching the airport, her phone buzzed. It was him, apologizing profusely, asking where she went. It won’t happen again, I value you as a person, I’m sorry! He wrote. 

She just rolled her eyes and walked on. Like that was not a line she had heard before. Different phrasing or context but the meaning, always the same. I’m sorry I fucked up so bad, you don’t really mind, right? 

But she did mind, quite a bit in fact. Their actions, brazen words, and unwelcome physical contact hurt her. Scared her even. One minute it was all fine and the next, she was backing away in horror, running off as the clueless man tried to figure out what in the world he could have done wrong. She knew this was the hand she had been dealt by the gods. It was her curse. 

As far as flight routines go, her nostalgia hit her right after about an hour in the air. Cruising altitude. Beautiful view. She wistfully recalled her many adventures and travels. The people she had met. The trips they took together. Her stories gave her happiness, a sort of comfort even. She was still in awe that she had lived something so incredible. However, as she dreamt on, a different memory began surfacing. One quite dark. Painful. She had done much to suppress it, erase it fully. The experience had disturbed her, shook her to the core. 

As if it had happened yesterday, she could picture the small, dirt road of the village in Latin America. The bus had dropped her off and left. Giving her some vague instructions regarding the location of her hostel. She had suspected that perhaps she was in the wrong town altogether and was on her way to the local bus depot when she made a wrong turn. For the life of her, she could not figure out how she had wandered off of the main road, it was so clear. What on earth persuaded her to take that path? 

Luckily it was morning and she had plenty of time to find her way out of here. This was the safer part of the country after all and she had learned how to be inconspicuous. The side road was unremarkable, typical small, colorful, poorly built brick houses. A few cats hanging out on roofs. Some strays running around. Nobody really gave her a second glance. 

She trudged along under the blazing sun, searching for signs or paths to the town center when she heard a distinct sound. A melody. Wind pipes, softly playing the breeze. They were a pleasant backdrop to an otherwise mundane scene. The windpipes decorated the front of a little store. Perhaps the local pharmacy? Judging from the various herbs and flowers hung out, more likely the local herbalist, shaman, or whatever the holders of the ancestral medical knowledge are called. She needed water anyway so she decided to give it a quick peek. 

Various colored crystals adorned the walls, put up on narrow little shelves. A heavy, dark curtain blocked the back of the shop off from behind the counter. Jars of herbs and liquids (was that honey?) were stacked against the walls. And behind the counter itself, stood an old lady, busily scribbling some most likely accounting information into her notebook. 

She had her hair tied up with a small colorful shawl, and was wearing a long equally colorful summer dress. Air conditioning being a first world luxury, the shop probably got stuffy during the long, sunny days. The old woman was quite graceful, rings with big stones adorning both of her hands. She looked like a person that kept herself always in prime condition. The girl was reminded of her grandmother in a way. 

The woman looked up as she sensed her approaching. What brings you to my shop, she inquired. Before the girl even got a chance to respond the woman slightly frowned, took you quite some time to get here, I was expecting you. Then the woman started to head towards the veiled back of the shop.

Well don’t just stand there, the woman said. She was confused, alarmed, but it seemed only right to follow her. A small voice in the back of her head was protesting but she simply ignored it. She followed the woman behind the curtain to find a small set of stairs leading up to a circular room. An elaborate design for a building and town so simple. The woman sat at a round table and was gesturing for her to take the seat facing her. 

She slowly sat down, laying her bags in the wooden floor. I don’t really have much money left, the girl started to stammer. The woman shushed her. No money required, she said, I have been expecting you. 

She pulled a deck of black cards. Tarot cards! Of course. The ancient herbalist was also a fortune teller. But the girl had never cared much for such things, she enjoyed watching her future simply unfold. 

The woman handed her the cards for a quick shuffle. They were quite firm, slightly heavy too. The girl simply took them and slowly shuffled, thinking about the people she had met on the trip so far. After she handed the cards back over to the woman, the memory became slightly blurred. The woman had laid out a sort of cross, overturning each card and explaining the story of the girls' life. The past, ancestral influences. How her charm was her greatest asset and worst enemy. And she was doomed to lead a lifetime of misunderstanding and constant pursuit by others. All this attention but no satisfaction. She was destined to be a loner. Past patterns surfacing in her mind, the girl started crying, no that can’t be true, she cried. How can I change this path, I want to be happy! 

The woman pulled out the final card from the deck. The person in it looked lost, staring ahead at a gleaming light. A light that seemed to be emanating from within. 

What is the answer to my question, she pleaded, I will do anything, I just need to know. 

The woman started speaking but she no longer had any recollection of what happened next. Her memory seemed to completely cut off at that exact moment. The next thing she knew, she was on a bus on the way to the town of her original destination. She was dozing off while hugging her bag. All of her stuff was intact. She inspected her hands and legs, nothing out of the ordinary. A dream, was it all a dream, she thought to herself as she buried her face in her hands. She felt tears. Her eyes were dry, tears still on the lashes. She had cried…? 

As she sat up in her chair, she felt something in her back pocket. A card. It was the card from her dream! The person staring at the light. In the corner was a small, delicate note: "you are your own curse"

She tried to remember the rest of that dreamlike experience but her attempts were futile. Nothing came back to her. So she continued on with her journey through life, feeling even more lost than she had ever felt before. Searching for the answer. Always.