Summer of '09
She had lied to her sister.
She wasn't back in Stanford, spending the summer preparing for her first semester of law school. She wasn't spending hours at the library like Elsa told her she would, or attending lectures that probably didn't even exist. She was, in fact, a hundred miles away from where she was supposed to be.
She stood leaning against the car's door, aviators on, slurping a smoothie: waiting. She could hear the music coming from the dance studio she'd parked outside of, a song she'd heard so many times on the radio that she could mouth its lyrics without meaning to. Through one of the windows Elsa could see a handful of people following a choreography, a girl standing in front of them shouting words of encouragement, clapping, pointing out movement enhancements—let loose, move the hips, FEEL IT!
Elsa watched, with keen interest, the person she came here to see. Every move, every confident step tugged at the corners of her lips until she was unknowingly smiling; her chest swelling with pride; her heart fluttering with adoration.
The song ended and the choreography stopped, and suddenly everyone was clapping and cheering for another dance lesson completed. The room, Elsa knew from experience, smelled of sweat and a concoction of cleaning supplies that did nothing to convey it. The sprung wood floor glinted with droplets of sweat while the edges were lined up with backpacks and tote bags, bottles of water, sweatshirts, and one or two headphone chords peeking through—all of it discarded and forgotten for 60 minutes straight.
The first girl to come out of the studio was one Elsa did not recognize. Two more girls followed, then a guy; a swarm of kids. She ignored them all as she continued to watch the exit with a rush of excitement pumping through her veins. Out of anticipation, she pushed herself away from the car. A group of familiar faces burst out the door high on serotonin. Elsa began to grin as her eyes landed on her sister and quickly registered the black sweats, the yellow crop top, the disheveled braids.
"Hey, loser," she said, loud enough to turn the heads of a few.
Anna stopped talking, and turned as well. Surprise gave way to shock and shock gave way to elation. She let her duffel bag drop to the floor as the first of her squeals escaped her. And suddenly she was running in Elsa's direction, and suddenly she was throwing herself into her arms.
Elsa caught her with a laugh, feeling her sister's legs wrap around her body as she did the same with her arms around her waist. Her heart beat hard and steady as she relished the sensation of having Anna so close to her again, encompassing every one of her senses while the rest of the world faded away.
"You said you were in Stanford," Anna gushed when she was back on the ground.
Elsa shrugged, pushed the aviators up to the top of her head. "I wanted to surprise you."
Anna fell into her open arms again, this time at a much slower, tender pace. The whole of her lower back was damp with sweat, and her scent, albeit still slightly sweet, had the undeniable tinge of saltiness that came after each dance class. Elsa had grown familiar with it by now.
"I missed you," Anna whispered into her neck.
"I missed you too," she responded. Five months had been too long.
She took a step back. "Are you here for the whole summer or..?"
"The whole summer."
Anna gasped. "No."
"Yes."
"I was so scared you were gonna say a day." She began moving away to pick up her duffel bag that lay neglected in the middle of the sidewalk. Elsa chuckled before she noticed that only three people remained outside of the studio. She wondered if Anna's friends had tried to say goodbye or if they'd just disappeared. If the latter, then so much for friends, she thought as she made a mental note to ask for names later today.
"It's okay, I know you can't live without me," she told her sister when she came back.
"You know I can't," Anna said, so easy yet so meaningful a statement that Elsa had no way of responding to it with the shallowness that words sometimes held.
She opened the door for her, simply because she was the one standing closer to it. "By the way you stink," she threw Anna's way, catching sight of her sister's middle finger before she closed the door.
"Is this smoothie mine?" came the question once Elsa was sitting behind the wheel.
"Yup."
"Apple and greens?"
"You know it."
Anna grinned. "You're the best."
"I know," she said, chuckling when she caught her sister rolling her eyes.
Once on the road, Anna noted: "Kai finally let you drive his car, huh?"
"I begged him for a demoralizing amount of time, but yes." It was an Audi after all, pretty and somewhat new. But it wasn't like Elsa was a reckless driver. In fact, she'd gotten a perfect score on both written and practical exam when she took the driving test. Uncle Kai just liked being a bit of a pompous dick sometimes.
"What time did you get here?" Anna asked.
"Two hours ago. But I begged for a week if that's why you're asking."
"I was home two hours ago. Did you just... hide outside until I left?"
Elsa shook her head. "There are things called coffee shops? Not sure if you've heard of them. People go there to kill time and stuff."
"Oh yeah, you're right. I forget you know what those are."
She laughed and, without taking her eyes off the road, she reached to her right, searching for Anna's face so that she could vex her even further. Anna caught it, gave it a bite that had Elsa struggling to pull it back before she kissed it and let it go. "You keep doing that and failing miserably," she said.
"One of these days I'm going to succeed," Elsa retorted as she pushed the turn signal lever up.
Soon enough she was driving on Scenic Road, in the opposite direction of where the two of them had lived for the past six years.
"Where are we going?" her sister asked.
She looked at the time on the stereo. "I say we have about an hour to spare before Kai starts calling to ask where we are." Stealing a glance at Anna, she caught the beginnings of a smirk.
"That sounds fine by me," she said, turning up the radio until the music drowned out the rushing sound of the wind coming in from the rolled down windows.
Elsa felt herself relax against the seat, and grinned when she noticed Anna begin to dance playfully as the chorus of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance came on. They sang together at the top of their lungs as Elsa sped down the empty road, with the Pacific ocean to their left and the waves lapping at the rocks. It was liberating in a way she would never be able to explain; not in that moment and not in the years to come. There was simply nothing that made her happier than this. And as one song gave way to another, and Anna sang to her as if she were the sole focus of her life, and Elsa kept on driving as if they were escaping from everything and everyone except each other, a hunch began to settle deep inside her heart that this would be nothing short of a memorable summer.
She was not wrong.
.
Winter of '18
Anna's eyes bore into her own and for a long and excruciating moment, that is all she did. She did not speak Elsa's name. She did not react. She remained exactly where she sat with Elsa's arm still wrapped around her waist.
In the angry red darkness of the room Elsa could not read the hardened features of her sister's face. She could not decipher what lay behind her eyes, what hid below her silence. But she did not need to. Nine years did not seem to have obliterated the emotional attunement between them; the coiling in her stomach was enough for her to know what came next.
She quickly got up in order to chase after her. "Anna," she said again, but her sister did not turn around. Blood was rushing to her ears, too loud for her to realize that the song had come to an end.
Just as Anna began to pull at the black curtain she'd come out of Elsa managed to grab her wrist. "Anna—"
"No!" she bellowed, pulling her arm away from Elsa's hold. Her eyes flashed with unfamiliar fury before they were clouded over by pain. "Don't," she breathed. And with that, she was gone.
Elsa hesitated as the door behind her opened.
"M'am, your time's up," came the deep voice of a man.
She ignored this, pushed the black curtain to the side. "Anna!"
Her sister continued to walk through the brightly lit hallway just as a burly arm wrapped itself around Elsa's waist. "Anna!" she screamed louder. She struggled in the relentlessly tight grip as she watched her open a door at the end of the hall before disappearing behind it. "Anna!"
"You're not allowed in here," the man grunted, "I'm going to have to take you outside."
In a sudden burst of rage, Elsa gripped his forearm and pushed herself as hard as she could away from him. "Don't fucking touch me," she seethed as she refused the next attempt he made at grabbing her arm. With a sharp last glare she walked herself away from the hallway and out of the red room.
Kristoff was too busy tucking a bill into the cup of a girl's bra to notice Elsa fuming. She walked right past him, and ignored the first two times he called out to her. She felt as though she couldn't breathe. Anger was gripping tightly around her throat, frustration was beginning to boil at its base. Her eyes were burning, and she did not pay attention to the tears rolling down her cheeks until she had burst out of the strip club and the cold air of late December was striking her face.
The piqued urgency she expelled must have been obvious because the valet all but scrambled to his feet. Elsa shivered as she waited, curled her hands into fists.
She was snatching the keys off the young man's hands when Kristoff caught up to her.
"Yo, Elsa. What the fuck?"
She stepped into the car before she glanced his way. He was standing by the entrance with their coats draped over his arm. "Get a cab," she mumbled, and slammed the door shut.
Elsa did not look back. She drove out of the lot and kept on going until she found herself deep in the hills of Los Angeles. She sped through the narrow curves; the darkened, looming landscape that surrounded them. The image of Anna had seared itself into her mind and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her guilt nauseated her. Her regret stabbed at her chest. Her hands clutched the wheel every time she felt another wave of it threaten to overcome her. And she could have screamed. She could have howled at the empty road before her if it weren't because the first thing that escaped through her lips was a sob.
.
The next morning came with the courtesy of a headache.
Sleep had come in fragments, little traces of rest granted to her troubled mind. Elsa kept being haunted by her own memories as she chased after a plan—to talk, to get back what was lost, to mend what was broken. She spent half of the night tossing, sitting up in bed so that she could wrap her arms around her knees and shield herself off the world. One moment she would be convinced that it had all been for the best and the next she would shut her eyes as she realized it had been the greatest mistake of her life. She missed Anna—longed for her; every day a quiet simmering just below the surface.
To see her again, at last, had felt like a dream and a nightmare all at once.
But she would go back, she told herself while the darkness of the night still crept in from the window of her bedroom. She would go back because she refused to make the same decision twice.
Back in her office, the knock on the door was unobtrusive: barely there. Kristoff entered without waiting for an answer.
"You owe me an explanation," he stated.
"I don't owe you shit," she muttered, nursing her head in her hands. Half aware of the venom in her voice, Elsa knew that she should be uttering an apology instead. The problem was, the throbbing in her head was making it hard for her to shape one into existence.
Kristoff threw her coat at the unoccupied chair across from her. "What the hell happened last night?"
"We had a drink, I had a lap dance, and then I left while you were salivating over a half-naked woman."
When no response came she moved one of her hands to steal a glance at Kristoff. He was standing across from her, arms crossed and a 'no bullshit' attitude on his face. She covered her vision again, and sighed. She really should apologize.
She had not always been this way. Actively reserved, Elsa learned to protect herself from others. She did not like people knowing about her private life—she did not hide it, she simply did not speak about it. When asked, she gave little. When called out on it, she stared and coldly asked, "What's so wrong about privacy?" But people had a knack for jokes, gossip and assumptions that only managed to thicken her outer walls. The jokes, she responded to with sarcasm. The gossip, she chose to ignore. The assumptions, she turned down with a few quick, sharp-edged words.
So yes, it was true that she might have become a bit of a jerk throughout the years. It'd become an instinct; a habit hard to die. But the thing that turned Kristoff into a more or less friend was his ability to take no shit from her. It was nowhere near a real virtue. It was barely even a thing. Yet, throughout the years, it was one of the few qualities that had managed to scratch at the surface. Elsa had a hard time hiding it. Despite her standoffish attitude, she did care about him.
Enough, at least, to muster an apology.
"Sorry," she grumbled.
"For what? For telling me to take a cab or for getting kicked out of the club?"
She lifted her head up and grimaced at the sharp pain that drilled into her skull. "Who said I got kicked out?"
Kristoff went around the desk before he leaned against it. There was less of an edge to his voice when he said, "Johnny told me you had some... problems. With the dancer."
"Fuck Johnny."
"So is that a yes or..."
Elsa closed her eyes for a moment. Define problems, she wanted to say. Because yes, but also no. "I didn't get kicked out," she opted for saying, "I walked myself out."
Kristoff stared at her. "That doesn't answer my question," he remarked.
Slowly, so as not to disrupt the pressure building over her temples, she leaned back against the chair. She fixed her eyes on him, impassive regardless of the turmoil going on inside of her. "What kind of problems did he say we had?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Why do you always deviate with another question? It's annoying."
"Because it's part of my coping mechanism," she deadpanned. "Can you tell me now what he said allegedly happened?"
"No." He pushed himself away from the desk and began to leave.
"What—where are you going?"
"I'm getting myself a coffee. It's exhausting watching you brood." Over his shoulder, he added, "I'll be right back."
Elsa heaved a sigh as he closed the door behind him. There were a million things she should be doing instead of nursing a headache and regretting the things she did nine years ago. But Anna was infiltrating her mind, just like she'd done that one glorious summer, unapologetically and without any sign of ceding.
She stood up, as if by moving away from her chair she could escape her thoughts as well. A cold, gray sky loomed over the city. Down below, cars could be seen moving through the streets like ants in a colony. And life went on. And she was finally thirty. And the earth still made its way around the sun.
It occurred to her that her sister was somewhere out there right now, living a life she was no longer a part of. How long had she been living in Los Angeles? Elsa wondered. How long had she been living here without the desire to reach back out? All those messages she'd crafted. All those stupid old-school letters she'd sent. That, Elsa realized, was part of what hurt the most. The long radio silence combined with the fact that they had been in the same city all along.
Elsa closed her eyes. A fresh wave of pain coursed through her head. She couldn't pretend that she didn't get what she deserved.
Behind her, the door opened again. She did not bother turning around just yet.
Kristoff said: "I forgot to offer you a coffee so I didn't get you one."
"How kind of you." She caught through the reflection of the window a to-go cup being placed on her desk. A smirk tugged briefly at the corner of her lips.
He let out a loud sigh. He was most likely plopping himself down on the chair like he always did. "Where were we?"
Elsa finally gave her back to her office view. "Your friend said I had a problem with... the girl."
He paused. "Why do you care so much?"
Elsa sat down, opened a drawer, glanced at its contents. "Because I care what people say about me," she said distractedly.
"No you don't."
She opened the drawer below. Still nothing. Did she really run out of Advil? "I care when they're lies, which they most likely are."
"Still not true, but okay." Nonchalantly, he took a sip of his coffee. "He just told me the bouncer found you going after the dancer and that he had to take you outside. Is that true?"
Elsa pursed her lips. She stared at the white to-go cup on her desk, glared at it as if all of this were its fault. "Only half of that is true," she mumbled.
"Which part?"
She looked up at him. "He didn't ask me to leave. He said he would take me outside and then he didn't because I left."
He nodded. Elsa could tell he was trying not to show any sign of amusement. "Right... so why were you going after that chick anyway? Was she that hot?"
Her jaw clenched. She exhaled a slow, hot breath through her nose. The first thing that went through her mind was to tell him off. Of course Anna was hot. But he had no say in that. The second thing that occurred to her was that no one seemed to know who Anna was to her, nor she to Anna, and that she wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could. The reason why escaped her the same way her rationality did last night, when Anna was grinding almost naked on top of her lap.
"It doesn't matter why I was going after her," she stated, leaving no room for argument.
His eyes narrowed for a second before he shrugged and said, "Okay." He then checked his watch and got up. He always did that: the brief visits in the morning. Elsa wondered how many people he visited throughout the day. Did he ever get any work done at all?
"Just don't go crazy on me again. That was not cool. I had to take an Uber that smelled like my ex's perfume."
Elsa was rubbing her temples. "Yeah, yeah..."
"And if your head hurts," he said, "why don't you just take a pill? What the fuck are you, a martyr?"
"I don't fucking have any," she called back even as she thought with a hint of reluctance that he might not be too far from the truth.
.
She considered it a slight mistake to have come to Harriet's first. It just wasn't her scene. The overly friendly greetings, the loud conversations, the pictures taken for the sake of status. The pretense of it all, superfluous and redundant. Dinner served with a view.
Elsa had chased an Advil with wine and ordered the quickest meal on the menu. She sat back as she waited, observing the open skyline to her left. She recalled the first time she was invited to a rooftop in the city, on the day she got promoted to become an associate some years ago. She had been overwhelmed—had felt, at some point, out of place amidst a group of men and a single woman besides herself.
She remembered how she had walked away from the group at one point to allow herself a moment. How she'd looked up at the late afternoon sky and hoped that her parents were proud, wherever they were. How she'd closed her eyes and thought of her sister as well, and wondered if she would be proud too. Wherever she was.
The server came and placed an arugula salad on the table. Elsa thanked him, asked for the bill whenever he got the chance.
As she began to eat she started to wonder what exactly she would tell Anna if ever she accomplished to get her to talk. Thoughts and emotions came stumbling to the forefront of her mind, all of them incomprehensible as she imagined them being spoken out loud. Nothing withstood; everything crumbled the moment she realized that words alone would never be enough to fix this.
Elsa would need more than just a four-minute song to even get started.
.
The strip club was an entirely different scene from the night before. There were more women in tight, revealing outfits and 7-inch platform heels. More men in collared shirts, hoping to grab, to touch; to get more than what they paid for. Neon lights pervaded, flashing across Elsa's eyes as she made her way across the large room and weaved through bodies she did not care to pay close attention to. Up on the stage, a girl bathed in purple was dancing to Prince's When Doves Cry. She hung from the pole upside down, stretching her bikini-clad body while her long, blonde hair grazed the floor. She allured Elsa for perhaps the wrong reasons. Her movements did not ignite a physical reaction. Yet, Elsa stayed for a moment, watching her. She could not help but feel a little intimidated. Women like her... Well...
Elsa shook her head in amazement before she resumed making her way to the bar. Thankfully, finding the person she was searching for ended up being an easy task.
"Hey. You."
Johnny turned around mid smile. He was wearing a gray suit today, just as well-fitted and immaculate as the previous one. "Well look who came back," he greeted.
"Yes. Hi. Is the dancer from yesterday here today?"
Smug, he reclined against the bar. He said something to the girl awaiting next to him before she smiled and left. "Of course Rey is here," he told Elsa.
Rey... REY!?
"Why do you need to know?" Johnny asked.
Elsa tried to tone her hostility down a notch. "Because I would like to see her again," she said with a clear and respectful voice.
He clicked his tongue, feigning an expression of regret. "I'm not sure that's going to be possible."
"Look," she said as she took a step closer. He really was shorter than her by a few inches. "I'm no psycho. I just... got carried away. I can guarantee you it won't happen again, so just let me pay for the lap dance and you can go back to whatever it is you were doing."
Papi crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Now why would I do that?"
"I'll pay you double," she said.
He considered it. "Triple."
She stared at him. He added: "Supply and demand, baby. It's Friday night."
"Fine." She slapped a hundred bill onto his hand. You fucker, she thought, what if I were a psycho?
He snapped his fingers at the bartender, who immediately walked over despite having a full bar. "Get her a Whiskey Sour right away," he ordered. He then turned back to Elsa with a sly smile and added, "It's on me."
She concealed her aversion behind a cold stare before she completely turned away. Pretending to be bored wasn't hard. It came naturally despite the feeling of trepidation beating erratically at her chest. As she watched the girl dancing on the main stage Elsa thought of asking Johnny about her sister, about how long she had been working here, but the thought of discussing any of this with him was rather off-putting. She wanted to hear it all coming from Anna's mouth, not his.
"You must've really liked her," he commented.
You have no idea. "Sure."
When the drink was placed on the bar Johnny took hold of it and handed it to her. He made a show of bowing, which Elsa found unnecessary. She mumbled a thank you in response. She did not drink from it.
"Can I go see her now then?"
Johnny chuckled at her impatience but checked his watch regardless. "I'll let her know she has a customer." He beckoned someone with his middle and index finger, a large golden ring glinting around his pinky. "I'll have one of my girls escort you there," he said, extending an arm towards a brunette who welcomed the half-embrace with a smile that Elsa could not tell whether it was fake or not.
Just as she began to leave the bar, Johnny stopped her with a gentle but firm grip around her arm. "Do not go after her again," he sternly requested.
Elsa looked him square in the eye; did not nod or shake her head to acknowledge his request. "Don't ever call me baby again," she said instead, giving him a once-over before walking away.
Wave after wave of quiet misgivings washed over her as she began to follow the brunette in the direction of the warm-lit corridor. Elsa allowed her to guide her by the hand, if only because the club was crowded tonight and her attention was elsewhere; out of her grasp already, waiting at the door that led to the red room. She placed the Whiskey Sour on a table, ignored the confused looks of the two men sitting at it. In the hall, the girl still did not let go of her hand.
"You know the rules, yeah?"
"No touching," Elsa said. "Unless they tell you you can," she added as an afterthought.
"Correct." Elsa could feel the girl's fingers twirling, intertwining loosely with her own. "And don't forget to tip either. The more you put in for us, the more we'll put out for you."
She gulped uneasily. Something hot and bitter was building up in her throat. How the hell had Anna gotten herself into this? "Can I ask you something?" she said.
"No questions, babe. We're here."
Before Elsa knew it, she was being led into the room and having the door closed behind her. Everything seemed familiar in a way that felt troubling and almost dreadful. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her palms were sweating. She took the few steps to the leather sofa and sat down, this time resting her elbows on her knees so that she would remain under the spotlight: she had no intention of deceiving Anna.
She tried to calm herself down by focusing on the music coming from the outside. It was hip-hop, some song taken out of the radio. She covered her face, too restless to try to recall its lyrics.
The room darkened.
A thrumming beat began.
Elsa breathed out slowly, as if the air were being pulled out of her lips like a thread. She did not breathe again until she watched her sister stepping through the curtain, this time wearing skimpy black bottoms and a black bra that ended with a choker around her neck. Elsa willed herself to keep her eyes on her sister's partially covered face, and saw the exact moment it fell.
Anna stopped feet away from her. "You again," she uttered, her voice dripping with rancor as her hand pulled the mask off.
Elsa stood up. "Rey?" she asked. "Seriously?"
This time, she saw it coming. Her sister did a quick turn back towards the side exit just as Elsa took the first step forward. She made sure to stay quiet as she followed her, lucky that the song was only getting started, and pushed aside the curtain that Anna had let fall behind her. The lights of the hall were bright, almost blinding in comparison to the darkness of the room they'd just left. Two pairs of heels resonated in the strange silence that suddenly engulfed them.
"Anna," she said lowly.
When no response came, frustration rose up in Elsa's chest. She grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled. In a few quick movements she had her pinned against the wall.
"Stop," she breathed, securing the other wrist as well.
They looked into each other's eyes, saying nothing. Elsa could feel each of her sister's hot breaths coming through her nose. She could feel the quickening pulse beneath her fingertips, the warmth of Anna's body inches away from hers as the walls around her began to shatter. She pleaded in silence, begged her sister for just enough time to talk. But all that left her parted lips was a sigh of impotence. The whole of her life needed an explanation, and she did not know where to begin.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Anna averted her eyes. She clenched her jaw. "Let go of me, Elsa."
She moved her hands to Anna's cheeks. The skin below her palms was blushed, but the freckles were familiar as ever. "We need to talk. Please."
But Anna shook her head. "You've never been good at talking," she murmured and, slowly, pried Elsa's hands away.
She helplessly watched her sister push herself off the wall, take her in one last time, and walk away. The retrieving sound of heels on tiles gave way to an irrevocable statement. The sound of the door shutting closed felt final.
Selfish, Elsa suddenly thought of herself. Selfish and a coward, coming back nine years later with her tail between her legs expecting that Anna would grant her the time or the place. Was an explanation owed at all, or was this the end? Her chest heaved as she rested against the wall and closed her eyes to keep her angry tears at bay. She lowered herself to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and shut herself off the world.
Back in the room, the song played on.