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Girl Meets Girl Meets Boy #5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Girl Meets Girl Meets Boy
Part V
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Rob pushed open the door cautiously, unsure of his reception.
The last time he'd ventured into the bleak white room, Angie had
grabbed a glass from the night stand and hurled it at his head. He'd
quickly ducked out into the pale green corridor, pulling the door
closed and listening to the thump as the glass, amazingly, didn't
break. He'd spent the next two hours walking the newly washed floors
and badgering every doctor and nurse who walked past the intensive
care ward. Elaine's chart was smudged with fingerprints from all the
times he'd picked it up, skimming past the unintelligible medicalese
to the large block letters printed in black at the bottom: Prognosis
Uncertain. It was almost dawn now, as he stepped into the sterile
room, and the gradually ligtening sky was the only illumination, aside
from the small glowing red and green lights of the myriad of
instruments connected to Elaine's still body.
This time, Angie didn't look up as he walked towards her. She
sat huddled in a chair pulled close to the bed. Elaine's lim brown
hand was firmly clasped in two of her own freckled palms. She'd finally
stopped crying, though the marks of almost a full day of tears had
ravaged her face. Tears still hovered somewhere behind
preternaturally bright green eyes. Rob was suddenly shaken with the
memory of how they had laughed two nights ago at how easily she cried.
Laughed softly as they sank into sleep, waiting for Elaine to come
home. Slept until almost five, when the shattering call from the
hospital had woken them both.
He pulled out an apple from his jacket pocket and silently
offered it to Angie. She finally looked up at him and shook her head.
"I'll eat when she does."
"She's on intravenous food. She'll be fine. And she'll eat
solid food when she wakes up. You'll starve if you keep this up,
Angel; you haven't eaten in days."
"I'm not hungry. And she'll never wake up." Angie said, in a
despairing monotone totally unlike her usual vibrant voice. Rob was
tempted to grab those pale shoulders and shake her until she came to
her senses. She shivered in the air-conditioned chill. Rob took off
his jacket and roughly draped it over her thin black tank top. She
was even paler and smaller than usual, a startling contrast to the
enveloping blue jean jacket. Even her hair seemed dulled after this long
vigil, the color of dried autumn leaves instead of a crackling fire.
Rob reached out to lose his fingers in the tangle, bending down to
her, hoping perhaps to drown out the antiseptic hospital smell in the
scent of her hair.
Angie jerked away sharply, her left hand rising quickly to slap
him away. Rob caught it in his right, suddenly furious with
frustration and fear, and squeezed tightly until she gasped with
startled pain.
"Let go of me!" she shouted.
"We're supposed to be quiet. Remember?" he asked coldly.
"And I'll let go once you tell me what that was all about."
"Just don't touch me." she whispered, tears welling up again,
and her hand becoming limp in his. Limp and cold, 'like Elaine's' he
couldn't help thinking. Rob suddenly stepped closer, dropping her
hand so he could cradle her freckled face in his two tanned hadns.
"Hey, I'm sorry, Angel. I'm just so tense, so tired of sitting
here and waiting, not able to do anything to help her." He stared
into her gray-green eyes, willing her to believe him, to forgive him.
She stared back, her eyes empty.
"It's our fault, you know." she said, tonelessly.
"What?" Rob asked, dreading the words that he was sure would
echo his own guilty thoughts.
"It's our fault." Angie's voice began rising dangerously.
"If we hadn't been...fucking..." she spat out, "We would have gone out
and found her and she wouldn't have gotten raped, and she wouldn't have
been beaten, and she wouldn't be lying here in a coma and about to die
and it's all our fault!" Angie's voice trailed off into muted sobs,
almost inaudible under the hum of the machines.
Rob pulled her up into his arms. She went, unresisting,
uncaring. He began to stroke her hair, trying to find the words to
absolve her, and absolve himself of their communal guilt.
"We couldn't have known, Angel. We didn't know she'd been
gone so long; we didn't know she'd been stupid enough to walk alone on
the beach. Elaine usually has too much sense for that sort of thing.
We'll yell at her for it when she wakes up. And I'm sure she'll yell
back." he finished, trying to cheer her with the image of their
normally sedate Elaine irritated enough to yell.
Angie tilted her head bck and looked up at him, the tears
falling now in a continuous stream. Her pale face was luminescent in
in the light of awakening dawn streaming through the window. She shivered
like a ghost, a pale waif, a silent wailing banshee. Angie shook her head,
staring at him as if begging for reassurance. Rob leaned down and
gently kissed her forehead, lifting his hand and smoothing back her
bedraggled hair with shaking fingers. "It'll be all right." he
murmured as he bent to kiss Angie's flushed lips, unsure whether he was
reassuring her or himself. She trembled in his arms, almost pulling
her lips away for one endless second before surrendering to his offer
of comfort and losing herself in his embrace.
His hands slid under the still-cold jacket and roamed across her
back, kneading the rigid muscles through the thin fabric of her top.
Angie's palms were pressed flat against his chest, her fingernails
digging through the cloth, into the roughened skin above the grimy
bandages. She kissed him fiercely, thrusting her tongue against his
mouth, pressing her hips against his. Rob pushed the jacket off her
shoulders, to fall heavily onto the floor. His hands slipped under
her tank top, pushing her bra up over her breasts, freeing them to
slide loose and heavy into his cold hands. Angie moaned in his mouth
as his fingers reached up to caress her nipples, arching herself
against his hard length.
Rob broke the kiss to bend down to her breasts, pulling the
tank and bra off quickly. His tongue circled her left nipple gently,
once, before he took it in his mouth and began sucking hard. Angie
moaned again at that, curling her hands in his tangled hair and
pulling him towards her. He slid a hand down her right hip, reaching
to unbutton her jeans. Angie's body was curved against his, her face
buried in his bedraggled blond hair. Rob lifted his head to switch
to the other nipple. It was then that he looked across the room and
met Elaine's wide-open eyes.
He quickly broke away from Angie...and then stood still, once
more uncertain of what to say or do. Angie still faced away from
Elaine's bed, almost blinded by the morning light as she looked up
at him, blinking in confusion.
"Rob, what..." she started, before the sound of a hoarse cough
behind her sent her spinning around to face her lover.
Elaine coughed again, and then reached out a faltering hand.
Rob wasn't sure whom Elaine was reaching towards. Neither he nor
Angie moved in that second. Then Elaine said "Ang..." in a voice
hoarse with disuse, and Angie rushed to her, tears falling like rain
as she tried to hug Elaine oh-so-carefully.
Rob tried to suppress the sharb stab of hurt. What else had
he expected, after all? And after what Elaine must have just seen, he
was sure he wasn't welcome anymore. He'd just stay long enough to
apologize, and then be on his way.
So he stood there watching them. They looked like characters
from a myth: Elaine, newly risen from the dead, yet joyous in the
arms of her love. And the healing angel, wearing a mantle of hair
touched with flame in the shaft of sunlight.
*****
End of Part V
M.A. Mohanraj
September 28, 1993
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