Eli Krauss & the Starry Eyed Girl
WITH GREAT AGONY AND RELUCTANCE
Jake goes to study later that night and when he returns home, Fiona isn’t there. His heart sinks and he knows.
He just knows.
_____
Eli holds Fiona’s hand. She is watching a show in their hotel room with a faint smile on her face. They didn’t have sex. And it was for many reasons.
To Eli, it seemed that at the moment when he made love to another woman, he would officially seal the door that housed Rachel. Fiona, because she was too embarrassed from her actions with Jake and also because she just liked Eli. Eli had big hands that encased hers easily, a bright smile that was hidden under his growing dark beard –but oh when he smiled, it was worth it.
Fiona confessed and Eli forgave her and they still didn’t want to let each other go. “Do you want to go to your place?” Eli asked Fiona over the beers they were sharing in the back room.
She thought of Jake Rhys and shook her head quickly. “No, I can’t. My roommate is there and it’s so small, we’ll all be on top of each other.”
Eli’s brow furrows, “We can’t go to mine,” he states resolutely. Fiona doesn’t ask why because it is clear by the tone of his voice that his place is completely out of the question. Why would Eli take Fiona to his and Rachel’s house? There are pictures of his dead wife all throughout the house, he can not bare to take them down, but he also puts his head down in order to not look at them when he passes by.
So they get into Eli’s and car drive to nearest hotel. It’s nice, golden, and shiny. Just what they needed to wash away the awful greyness that had occurred earlier that day.
Fiona falls asleep next to Eli and he revels in the moment, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closely into him. He buries his face in her bronze hair and breathes her in. This is what he needed, a breath of life into his world that was so tragically touched by death, a glimpse back into the life he once had with Rachel.
He remembers how he met her. She was tall and lanky, just like Fiona and now that he thought about it, they had the same heart shaped face, but Rachel was warm and confident and loving. She was in one of his classes during his junior year of college. She asked him if she could borrow a pen and when he looked at her, he knew that she would matter to him. And she did.
She would wrap her arms around Eli’s waist when he wasn’t expecting it, chuckle when he jumped, and then would trail kisses all the way down his neck until he could bear it no longer.
Fiona was pale, shy, and rarely said things that didn’t need to be said. His Rachel was a talker, a talker that could not stop. Sometimes they argued because Eli would drift off during their long and winded conversations about nothing at all. Eli would roll his eyes and one time he told Rachel to “just shut it already.” But that was when he thought they would be together forever. How could he have known?
He remembers how Rachel looked on their wedding day. She wore a dress that made her look like a ridiculous cupcake, but he liked it anyway, because she was glowing and because they walked out of that church holding hands and beaming at each other. When they were driven to the reception in that cheesy limo, she kissed his nose and his cheeks and said, “No one is ever gonna have your face, just me. It’s mine.” Eli thought this was a silly thing to say. And then he felt the itchy beard that was growing wildly over his face and he wondered if he was protecting it for her, it only belonged to Rachel. Didn’t it?
He feels something grow in him. Or maybe it’s something that started to die, like a seedling that doesn’t know whether to sprout or wither back into the ground. Could he belong to Fiona? Could this be it? Is she his next? He glances at her snowy face. Her eyes are fluttering behind her lavender lids. Her pink lips are parted. He imagines what she would look like in a wedding dress. What kind of dress would she choose? Would she want a big wedding? No, he didn’t think she would.
Another, more logical and wounded, part of him told him to shut up. Shut up because Rachel is dead and she loved you and you loved her. Love is dead. This girl is just a girl. A girl who just fucked her ex-boyfriend. Some guy just touched her, she is not yours.
Then he thinks of this other guy laying a hand on her. He holds her closer and realizes, with great agony and reluctance, that he is willing to care for her. He is willing to see her as more than an echo of Rachel, but Fiona. He fights it, but it is done. He knows it could work; she could become his Fiona.
He just knows.
_____
Eli holds Fiona’s hand. She is watching a show in their hotel room with a faint smile on her face. They didn’t have sex. And it was for many reasons.
To Eli, it seemed that at the moment when he made love to another woman, he would officially seal the door that housed Rachel. Fiona, because she was too embarrassed from her actions with Jake and also because she just liked Eli. Eli had big hands that encased hers easily, a bright smile that was hidden under his growing dark beard –but oh when he smiled, it was worth it.
Fiona confessed and Eli forgave her and they still didn’t want to let each other go. “Do you want to go to your place?” Eli asked Fiona over the beers they were sharing in the back room.
She thought of Jake Rhys and shook her head quickly. “No, I can’t. My roommate is there and it’s so small, we’ll all be on top of each other.”
Eli’s brow furrows, “We can’t go to mine,” he states resolutely. Fiona doesn’t ask why because it is clear by the tone of his voice that his place is completely out of the question. Why would Eli take Fiona to his and Rachel’s house? There are pictures of his dead wife all throughout the house, he can not bare to take them down, but he also puts his head down in order to not look at them when he passes by.
So they get into Eli’s and car drive to nearest hotel. It’s nice, golden, and shiny. Just what they needed to wash away the awful greyness that had occurred earlier that day.
Fiona falls asleep next to Eli and he revels in the moment, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closely into him. He buries his face in her bronze hair and breathes her in. This is what he needed, a breath of life into his world that was so tragically touched by death, a glimpse back into the life he once had with Rachel.
He remembers how he met her. She was tall and lanky, just like Fiona and now that he thought about it, they had the same heart shaped face, but Rachel was warm and confident and loving. She was in one of his classes during his junior year of college. She asked him if she could borrow a pen and when he looked at her, he knew that she would matter to him. And she did.
She would wrap her arms around Eli’s waist when he wasn’t expecting it, chuckle when he jumped, and then would trail kisses all the way down his neck until he could bear it no longer.
Fiona was pale, shy, and rarely said things that didn’t need to be said. His Rachel was a talker, a talker that could not stop. Sometimes they argued because Eli would drift off during their long and winded conversations about nothing at all. Eli would roll his eyes and one time he told Rachel to “just shut it already.” But that was when he thought they would be together forever. How could he have known?
He remembers how Rachel looked on their wedding day. She wore a dress that made her look like a ridiculous cupcake, but he liked it anyway, because she was glowing and because they walked out of that church holding hands and beaming at each other. When they were driven to the reception in that cheesy limo, she kissed his nose and his cheeks and said, “No one is ever gonna have your face, just me. It’s mine.” Eli thought this was a silly thing to say. And then he felt the itchy beard that was growing wildly over his face and he wondered if he was protecting it for her, it only belonged to Rachel. Didn’t it?
He feels something grow in him. Or maybe it’s something that started to die, like a seedling that doesn’t know whether to sprout or wither back into the ground. Could he belong to Fiona? Could this be it? Is she his next? He glances at her snowy face. Her eyes are fluttering behind her lavender lids. Her pink lips are parted. He imagines what she would look like in a wedding dress. What kind of dress would she choose? Would she want a big wedding? No, he didn’t think she would.
Another, more logical and wounded, part of him told him to shut up. Shut up because Rachel is dead and she loved you and you loved her. Love is dead. This girl is just a girl. A girl who just fucked her ex-boyfriend. Some guy just touched her, she is not yours.
Then he thinks of this other guy laying a hand on her. He holds her closer and realizes, with great agony and reluctance, that he is willing to care for her. He is willing to see her as more than an echo of Rachel, but Fiona. He fights it, but it is done. He knows it could work; she could become his Fiona.