It was a blue period for the love-laid-waste girl. Sequestered in a blue-shaded room with a dark sea of quilt drowning her vulnerable body , til the shallow covers lapped at the shores of her china-doll feet, she clutches a hot mug of tea and stares wanly at the murmuring television. It is Casablanca. Did he leave her for Bogart's reasons?
The door opens, casting a ray of warm light onto her face, briefly. She still feels cold to the touch, but no-one touches her. Ann stays at the room's edge, holding the door closed out of kindness.
"Hey Popuri," she begins, uncertainly. There is no response.
"You watching Casablanca?" Still no reply.
Ann coughs nervously, "I don't like black-and-white films. Can't see the blood." She chuckles half-heartedly at her lame joke. Silence.
"...I think you want to be alone," Ann whispers. She opens the door and the light shines on the ghost-like girl. Her face is streaked with tears. Ann withdraws and closes the door, leaving Popuri alone with her dreams and regrets.
Ann walks along the landing, stops. A miniscule ball of fire holds her heart in the gripping heat of rage. Her face twists into a snarl and she smashes her fist against the wall and mutters, "Bastard."
--
Rick rants constantly, claiming that he saw this all coming and that Popuri shouldn't have been taken in by his charms. Ann ignores him. She comes around every morning and every evening now, trying to pull her dreaming friend from the false, frozen world she now desperately clings to. It is never successful. And every time the barmaid leaves, the red-hot ball of flame inside her grows a little more.
--
His ship has gone from the harbour. She has withdrawn from the town. He is somewhere out there, riding on the blue. She is somewhere in here, hiding within the blue.
--
"I've brought you some soup, Pop," Ann says jovially, placing the steaming bowl on the bedside desk. Popuri merely turns the page in her book.
"Eat it whilst it's still piping," Ann advised, trying to keep up the facade of careless gregarity.
Nothing.
Ann leaves again. This time, her fist shakes the whole house.
--
Popuri eats, but not enough to sustain herself. She slowly grows weaker. Rick's diatribates grow louder. Ann's fury deepens.
--
It has been too long now. The pony-tailed redhead sits at her desk in the cool dead of night and ponders sleeplessly. Why won't she get over him? she wonders. Why won't she realise that this isn't the end of the world? No answers. Ann feels the bite of her heart and suddenly there is an epiphany that breaks through the confusion in her soul.
It's extreme, but it's the only way.
--
"Hi Popuri."
Silence, as usual. Ann did not expect otherwise. But the crumpled letter that the visitor holds in her sweating hand may yet bring forth life. She walks across to Popuri and hands her the note, muttering quickly and quietly, "Read this."
Popuri reads the note. She looks up at Ann with questioning eyes. Ann betrays no emotion. Popuri reads it again. A prolonged silence continues. Ann feels as though the whole world has stopped in its futile race around the sun. For if Popuri does not respond to this, then life really is futile for both of them.
Popuri reads it one final time and then whispers, "You know, Ann, I'm really hungry."
Love reborn is truly a wonderful thing.
--
She is healthy. She is happy. She is in love.
Popuri giggles as she runs through the heavenly-lit grove, being chased by Ann, who is wielding a heap of freshly-cut grass trimmings. The flame-haired girl catches up to her and throws the pile all over her. Popuri screams with laughter as she tumbles to the ground. She lies there, smirking, as she pulls the grass off her face. Ann stands above her with a smile on her face, but still awkward. Popuri sits up with a twinkle in her eye, grabs the straps of Ann's overalls and pulls her down, kissing her sensuously. Her partner reciprocates, but coldly, with only the tiniest flicker of passion.
She doesn't want to do this...but what are friends for?
--
There are moments when Ann really regrets her letter.
It's true that Popuri is better, but Ann feels as though she is the one fading away now, trapped in a relationship which has spiralled out of control. People don't say anything; perhaps in this archaic town, they cannot bring themselves to believe it. Hell, perhaps some of them don't even know it could exist. That's one bonus. Ann feels a little embarassed.
And - and yet...
Popuri is juggling potatoes. Yes, potatoes. She's singing as well. She's singing a strange little song about all the different things one can make with a potato. And Ann can't stop laughing. Then the song and the juggling ends and Popuri's eyes narrow lovingly. She takes Ann's hand and holds it in her own. A tiny flame springs up inside Ann's heart and begins to spread slowly and warmly throughout her body.
She has to admit, there are moments when Ann doesn't regret her actions. And these moments are growing all the time.
--
The summer breeze is cool on Ann's bare flesh as she runs a finger carefully through a long, curly strand of Popuri's hair. Beneath the crisp, white sheets, Ann stares at the morning sun and ponders the road ahead.
It is four months now since the letter was written and the can of beans spilled. It has been four months of strong passions and mixed emotions. It has been the longest rebound that Ann has ever known.
Ann guesses the reasons why Popuri "loves" her. She is slim and strong, carved with lithe, feminine muscles and has quite a boyish physique. She curses, swims, and serves food in a little bar. Popuri was fragile, but she wouldn't have rebounded on just anyone. No, she picked the person who resembled her lost love. Popuri had chosen a female Kai. And one day, she would learn to accept that Ann was not Kai. And she would recover.
The Ann of four months ago would have said, Great. Mission accomplished. Let her get back on track and live her life. She'll stop clinging to the past and I can give up this goddamn charade.
But that was four months ago. Now, Ann can't bear to let go of Popuri. She loves her.
She can already feel Popuri slipping from her grasp, both physically and metaphorically. She doesn't resist. Strong as her feelings are, she knows that this love affair is just a small, yet wonderful blip in two long lives of love. She shouldn't try and alter fate. She loves Popuri too much to keep loving her. A bitter paradox.
The birds in the distance begin singing and Popuri shifts in the bed. Murmuring soft words of nothingness, she turns over and sleepily pulls Ann towards her. The redhead swallows back a potential tear and holds Popuri tight in her arms. She hears, or is it just a wild fancy?, Popuri whisper sleepily:
"I love you."
Perhaps it is for Kai. Perhaps it is for a future love? Or maybe it is for the girl whose love, yes, perhaps even from the start in one small way, meant that she could be there, when Popuri most needed it.
Ann smiles. Popuri still loves her. One day, she acknowledges, she won't any more, and the flames of passion will die away into ashes of sadness and regret. But that is all in the future. Ann is ready. She will not die away like Popuri. She will grow from her experiences. She will not be blue.
That's one point of view at least.