Violence

florence pulls the stained sheet over her face and groans. "not tonight, derek." derek scoffs and turns over. florence sighs. "derek, i don't feel well." derek mumbles. "it's not you. i just," she pauses. "fuck." derek gets up. he pulls on his clothing and leaves the apartment, tripping over florence's jewelry box on the floor. florence sits up. she scratches at her skin. "he's still alive," she says. she stands up on the bed and walks to the edge. she steps off the bed and tiptoes across the room to the bathroom. she closes the door and her fingers reach up to her mouth. florence's nails are long and colored dark purple. they match the nails on her toes. her hair is a black bob and her eyebrows are dyed from red to black. her nails claw up to her cheek bones and they sit there. her fingers dig into the skin and mesh it.

"he'll like how i look today," florence says. she repeats it again and again while she glosses burgundy lipstick over a pale mouth. the tube of lipstick is set down on the sink before she powders her cheek bones and adds volume to those eyes. but they aren't the right eyes. her eyes are brown; 'shit colored,' she thinks 'they'll do until i can afford new eyes.' a dark pair of sunglasses go over them. florence picks up clothes in the bathroom and slips them onto herself. the shirt is too large but hides her meat well. the tights over her thighs reverse the effect. dereks sneakers don't fit her properly. this will do, she thinks but she knows it won't. florence kisses the mirror goodbye and picks up her purse and the black book on the coffee table. she leaves the apartment without locking it.

a lady called who has twelve cats says hello to florence. florence wants to steal them but doesn't and won't until she is dead. florence smiles back and leaves her apartment building. the rain has stopped for a week but the sun stays hidden by clouds. florence takes her time getting to the book shop. she doesn't know the time but she's sure she's not late as the store's door bell jingles open and she adjusts her glasses. the man behind the counter says hello and florence ignores him. she sits down in the back of the store. she sets down her sunglasses on the table and lies the book in the middle.

i can't look. it's private, she tells herself while her fingers glaze the blank cover. she won't. she knows there will be a punishment if she does. the shops door bell rings again. florence is joined at the table and she must smile.

"i thought you weren't going to come!" she says.
ashley grabs the black book and flips it toward him. he opens it to the first page and uses his fingers to prop it open.
"i," florence starts. "i wrote things on the pages you told me to."
ashley looks up from his book. "thank you," he breathes.
"so," florence places the sunglases over her eyes. "do you want to go somewhere?"
"how long?" he asks.
florence smiles. "well, only for an hour or two but we can do--"
"no," ashley says. he taps the book and pulls out a pen. "how long?"
florence reddens and takes the pen. she leans over the table. a two-digit number is scribbled on the top half of the page.
"thank you, dana," ashley says and grabs his pen from her fingers.
"oh, my name is--"
"dana sounds better," ashley says. "i've always liked denmark."

ashley stands up. florence tries to talk further but he leaves. he thanks her again while he does. florence wants to follow him. she wants to tell him the other one is no good, she wants to have lied in that book. but she does not get up follow him and she neglected to lie. florence walks back home. derek is alive and he smiles when she arrives. they hug and derek kisses her neck.

"i'm sorry," he says.
"it's okay." she doesn't mean it.
"your mom called about an hour ago," derek says. "she wants to know if we need any money. I said no, but--"
"i'll call her," she says. "go take a shower and i'll get something for us to eat."

she walks away, he goes into the bathroom. she waits until she hears the shower turn on and dials her mother.

"mom?"
"florence -- why haven't you called me?"
"momma, i don't want to do this anymore."
"do what?"
"i hate him."
"florence, you don't want to disappoint me, do you?"
"no, momma--"
"you're not a chld anymore, florence. you can't just do what you want. you're thirty-four; you can't do anything else."
"i know, momma but there's this boy--"
"you're too old for boys."
"I know--"
"then you know this conversation is over. now, do you need any money?"
"no, momma. we're managing."
"alright. i'll call you tomorrow to check."
"okay. bye, momma."
"bye, sweetie. i love you."

the phone beeps off. florence prays.