“A Tulip And The Switchblade”
By Gwen Lombard
A Tulip And The Switchblade
An arm wrapped around her waist, and a sinking feeling grew in the pits of her stomach. Evelyn bit back a sigh as Laura’s lips found the crook of her neck and her arm pulled her closer. The sinking feeling gnawed at her insides as the warmth of Laura’s body radiated through the thin fabric of her dress in a false sense of intimacy, not quite skin on skin. Evelyn tipped her head away as Laura’s lips became insistent; making space for her lips to roam, and away from the feeling. The gnawing feeling was rising into her chest now, threatening to chew whatever heart she might’ve had to pieces. She tried to unclench her jaw as Laura’s kisses moved higher, tried to soften her edges.
That warmth of false intimacy engulfed her as Laura straddled her waist. It was burning her calloused hands as they rested on those perfect thighs. Everything about Laura was perfect in every way, smothering those around her. Evelyn was a human paper cut, all sharp edges and razor words. A tulip pressed against a switchblade. It was a scene from a movie: the high school dropout with a minor drug addiction who sang and played guitar in a band down the street, and the community college nursing major with a savings account full of dollar bills from the strip club the next town over. But Laura believed. A child born in the sun who begged for a taste of the starlight; she chased the darkness. Evelyn waited for the implosion. For the moment the sun’s rays would burn away the moon’s shadows, when Laura would recognize her own perfection and burn away the memory of Evelyn’s shadows.
“You’re tense. Relax, Ev, I’ve got you.” The words flowed across Evelyn’s skin, carried on breath that said those lips would taste like cheap grocery store boxed wine. The sinking was still in her chest. It was a black hole in her sternum, threatening to swallow everything. The razor’s edge hidden behind her pursed lips didn’t respond, she simply connected their lips, searing heat burning her away bit by bit, tearing her down. Despite the pain, if Evelyn could bottle these moments, could capture these feelings of being face to face, hips to hips with this embodiment of perfection, she’d never have to be out back of the strip mall, her pocket stuffed with money that wasn’t hers and waiting for a stash that cost too much for too little. It was just as painful and left her reeling all the same.
“Ev, just lay back. I’ve got you.” Laura’s hands dipped into the waistband of Evelyn’s track pants, a smile on her face that promised a moment of clarity. A promise she’d chased so many times but never reached. The gnawing reached her throat and she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t make a sound. All she could do was lay back, let herself chase that unattainable promise, and burn in the perfection in this hell they called love.
Gwen Lombard is currently attaining her BFA at the University of Maine Farmington. She finds her inspiration in unorthodox storytelling methods and the landscapes around her. Seeking joy in the strange and behind-the-scenes parts of life, she believes the world is to be experienced, not understood.
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