Luna - a short story for Queer.lu

 Luna 

very proud Leni holding a copy of the beautiful magazine ft her broken finger

This summer, I had the immense pleasure and privilege of writing a short story for queer.lu, a Luxembourgish magazine that centres around queer topics, as well as current social issues and art. I was overjoyed when I received the opportunity to submit something and immediately started brainstorming. 

It was my final year of secondary school and I had just survived (barely!) 2 atrociously toxic breakups. I felt like they fed off the toxicity from each other and used it to bring me down in the most cruel and humiliating ways. 

Apart from that, the worst thing from the situation was that I had still loved both of them, in very different ways. The person I wrote this text about is one of the 2 people, and it's something I never thought I'd have to write. They knew me from the inside out, reaching levels far beyond anyone could and would ever reach. It was a lot for me to deal with and overcome, so this text was in some form a catharsis to me. A way of taking the first step to a new beginning. 

Some part of me still loves that person and would always forgive them, however the older me (aka the one who got to "talk" to them and receive "closure") knows that some things are just better abandoned and remain unforgivable. 

I thought I was sneaky with the name, but it's rather obvious isn't it?

 I hope you will have read it. You know who you are.

All the rights to this story belong to queer.lu, so please make sure to grab a FREE copy of the magazine at the Rainbow Centre in Luxembourg City and give them as much support as you can. Bisous! 

 

Luna

The moon’s halo smiling over Jess’s head almost makes me laugh. I look at the strands of hair sticking out and creating little slits in the white perfection. The stars, those little pilgrims, have settled down around the crown of her presence. She has placed herself in the centre——no, I have. Dangerously blasphemous, my universe. She is above me, looking down. 

Her breathing falters, the pale skin gleaming under the light, her heart beats twice as fast as mine. I hear it approaching, like wild horses or seconds running out on the clock. Those you can never catch again, the ones you regret losing, escaping the dreadful hours that remain. She hasn’t said anything, neither have I, as a matter of fact—but I expected her to. I wanted her to talk. Jess is looking for something in my flickering eyes, something we know that I cannot give to her. A word of explanation, distress, weakness.

She reminds me of my first love in that light. Not the actual one, but the one you wanted it to be, the one that always comes after. Luna, how ironic. Normally I would have laughed, told her how the joke had written itself, typical for my “lore”, but our heartbeats were racing each other, and I seemed to be losing myself in the past. 

Luna was a wildfire, turning heads wherever she went and leaving freezing lovers begging for more. I used to crawl after her spark and prayed to get burnt. She consumed me, and only when she left, did I understand how long I’d been holding my breath. 

• I want you to know that I’m thinking of ending things. 

• What?

• I think we need to end things. 

Luna and I had been sitting side by side in a small café when we broke up. The tiny table pushing our legs together made us forget the melting ice in the drinks. We lost each other in the warmth of our bodies pressing against each other. The large window in front of us gave the exhilarating rush of voyeurism. Our love was public, and so its end. The absurdity of Luna’s long legs folding into the tiny space still makes me chuckle. She was always taller, stronger, older. 

• You’re simply too young. 

I didn’t respond when she said those words, did it really matter? I had been young all my life; how would childish begging change that fact? A lie. I did beg, however, I whined and pleaded. Luna had been my executioner, my punisher for my infantile and idealistic foolishness. But the words came out wrong and were slowly replaced by sobs. And snot. A lot of it. 

• But I was younger when we first met, wasn’t I? 

I still cringe when I remember my futile argument, but I had meant it. Truly. How could Luna not see this? Not understand me? She had after all been my first confidante, a whispered promise of a kindred spirit. Luna had sworn to hold me. She was the one demanding respect, speaking for herself, proudly presenting her queerness. I had so much to learn.

• Nell, please, you’re being ridiculous. 

• But you’re not being fair. 

Again, another blood-stained confirmation of naïve yearning, the one of a child. How could Luna not be right? 

• I know you’re mad. I know I’m wrong. You’re too good but you’re so young, Nell. Look, you can hit me if you like. Scream at me if you need to. Anything so that you’re not mad.

• What? What are you even talking about? Why? 

I remember furrowing my brows at her ridiculous demand. I should have held her hand, I should have listened, I should have said, why would I even want to hurt the person I love the most?  I could never have been this mad at her, but Luna couldn’t see this. And I didn’t tell her that, I just stayed silent. A habit I’ve never outgrown, a poison meddling with my roots. I used to believe silence meant respect, but to her it was lack of care. 

But Luna wasn’t right either. She had run away, promising passion and emotion, but fleeing from reality. She was a people-watcher, living vicariously through others. She was wrong about me and our love. She was not Jess. 

She was not Jess, and here she is haunting my past, shining over Jess’s head and making me wonder, what if? 

But she was not Jess, and here Jess is, piercing me with her unrelenting eyes, searching, asking, pleading. Say something. I know I should. The freezing grass tickles my elbows, I feel its dampness, the droplets running down my arms. I feel it all when Jess looks at me, the little flies circling above her head, the ants exploring my legs, running up and down. I feel it all. 

Has the wind always been this loud? It seems to be whistling my name. The twinkling stars are winking at me, urging me to move, talk, love. But the moon’s warning light is blinding me, it wants me to stay. I can’t, I need to leave it, her, behind. Is it a sign? Did the moon miss me? Did she? No, it doesn’t. She never did. And here is Jess, towering over me, not with force, not with dominating authority, but with concern. 

• I don’t know what to say. 

I bite down on my lips until I taste the blood that reminds me that I’m alive, that I spoke, that I’m here. Jess opens her mouth, and her whispering is so hard to grasp, I almost miss out on it. 

• It’s okay. 

• What do I say now? 

• I don’t know. You’re bleeding, Nell. 

• It doesn’t even hurt. 

• Let me take a look. 

I know what I wanted to say, scream and demand to know what is going on. But when she moved her soft fingers to touch my face, I forgot how to speak or perhaps swallowed my tongue. I must have, because I remained calm. I let her hold me. 

I could feel Jess’s warm breath on my cheek, but I didn’t dare to move. The moon seemed less bright now, I almost let myself be carried away by the silence, directly into the past to Luna. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Not anymore, not when I had Jess. 

I looked up again, this time a cloud had covered up the moon. I was alone with Jess.

• We need to talk about what happened in the car. Tell me what you saw, Nell. Where did you go?