a
tale by
. . morning z e p h y r . .
p e r f e c t p o r t r a i t
Not vocalizing a solitary word of welcome and lacking all
salutation gestures, he twisted the worn-out, once lustrous brass doorknob and
pushed open the door. Sauntering to his
bedroom, he left the short-haired brunette to invite herself inside.
Still loitering in the flat's outer corridor, she winced every time the filthy
rubber sole of his shoes met the equally soiled carpet that was beige when it
was still new and the temptation to reprimand him was highly inviting. But she quickly realized that the position to
care about such matters were not hers anymore; she should not and could not be
concerned.
As she meekly tottered into their – no, his
residing quarters, she could not help the nostalgia washing over her as
white-capped waves would over the golden sand of an ocean shore.
She bent down and reached for her shoelaces.
As she came into contact with the course cloth
material, she quickly withdrew her long, slender fingers, reminding herself
that if he did not give a hoot about being immaculate, then why should she who
was only an outsider.
Straightening her posture, she walked slowly into the living room and glanced
around at the furniture. The orientation
of the semi-tidy room had not changed since she left; in fact, she could have
sworn the pair of socks he had taken off after work two months ago still
lingered next to the base of the black leather love seat.
Gazing at the latter, rose-petal soft lips twitched and curled upwards slightly
in a sad fashion. How many times had
they snuggled up against each other on the sofa needing only a thin blanket
because the other's warmth was enough for the two? How many times did she fall asleep within the
soothing safety of his arms while watching late night black-and-white oldies on
the television? Countless.
The tides crashed onto the sandy beach again, bringing in not only more
memories but a questionable feeling as well.
Something about the atmosphere, although it looked the same so far, felt
foreign. She scrutinized each part of
the living room in hopes of pinpointing what was radiating a sense of
unfamiliarity. The corner of her eyes
caught light reflecting off an ornamentation hanging on the wall. Raising her head, she found the culprit: the
picture frame hung empty.
She walked towards it, reaching out to caress the intricate designs impressed
into the rectangular border. After
choosing the best photograph of their skiing trip to Icicle
Village, they stored the picture in
the picture frame before her eyes. In
her mind flashed a vision of him tearing up something into minuscule sections
and throwing them into the garbage can before setting it on fire with his
lighter. The picture was definitely gone
and the casing clung to the wall bare and meaningless like a puzzle missing a
piece.
The bedroom door reopened and she swiftly stepped away from the frame. He emerged with wet, tousled hair with a navy
blue towel around his bony, pale neck.
Still drying his locks, he sat down on the leather couch with his
intense, unparalleled aquamarine gaze on her ethereal heart-shaped face. He had the slightest feeling, though, that
she was trying to avoid eye contact.
Throwing the towel next to him and raking gaunt, pale fingers through his
recalcitrant hair, he asked nonchalantly, "Didja want
anything?"
Did he not welcome her presence at all?
Or was he just being his usual jackass self? Then she remembered Reno's
utterly heartwarming reception and
she went back to being a hermit hiding under its shell, hiding what she truly
felt.
"Yeah. I
stopped by to pick up my things."
Silence stretched on again as if he was actually startled by the reason of her
visit. Surely he did not expect her to
come back groveling on her knees, asking him to accept, to love her. Yeah, he probably
did have that in mind.
Arrogant bastard.
"Oh," he said after finishing another ninja-staring session. He noticed that his ex-girlfriend still
purposely tried not to look in his direction.
"The only thing left is the top drawer of the nightstand. The rest is already packed."
Her façade nearly cracked and slipped, but Yuffie held onto it tightly. Tears wanted to cascade her cheeks, but
Yuffie would not allow herself such a display of weakness. Did he really want her to stay as little as
possible when she came by for her things that he even packaged them ahead of
time?
Knowing that she would not make the initiative to enter the bedroom by herself,
Reno rose from his seat and went to
the closet for a box. Entering the room,
Yuffie followed suit.
Laying the box next to the nightstand, he sat on the bottom edge of the bed
with his back to her while the Wutaiian gathered up
the rest of her belongings.
Upon opening the drawer, she remembered that it once held things most precious
to her. It use to be her favorite for
everything in it was somehow connected to Reno, but now, it held nothing but
the past. And if she was to let go, she
could not carry anything from the nightstand out the door with her – she could
not leave with a piece of her past.
Forgetting that Reno only mentioned
the top portion and not the entire nightstand, she pulled out the bottom drawer
as well. Brownie-colored orbs grew wide
as she stared at the only content visible.
The picture that once served as an embellishment for the living room
wasn't engulfed by flames as she had imagined before. Gingerly she picked up the photograph, making
sure not to leave fingerprints on the glossy cover for fear of ruining its
perfection.
In the image, he stood behind her with his arms around her waist and chin
resting on her head. Smiles – the
genuine ones, not the cheesy ones – graced both faces. The poofy coats
designed for the biting cold weather always reminded her of human-sized
marshmallows. Yuffie smiled down at
it. She knew it was rather a plain
picture with nothing special happening in it, but she always loved this one
more than the rest . . .
. . . but it wasn't hers to keep.
Yuffie swallowed and veiled her blurry vision with her eyelids, pushing two
crystalline tears down both cheeks. Her
lips trembled as did her hands when she placed the one thing she would do
anything to keep back into its rightful place.
No, it was not the rightful place, just the appropriate place.
She gently brushed the tears away and slammed the drawer harder than she
expected. Standing up, she asked Reno
in a tone colder than he had ever heard from her, "My things, where are they?"
He popped one eye open wondering what ate her up the past few minutes. Then he took a closer look – her cheeks were
wet. He wanted to ask if she was all
right but decided anything he said now would anger her further. She was the kind who despised looking weak
and he knew that. Oh
if he only thought otherwise.
Acting oblivious to this new revelation, he pointed a finger towards the closet
behind her.
Yuffie briskly turned around and swooped down to pick up the box lying next to
a heap of unwashed clothes. She planned
to make a swift, clean exit. No longer
did she want to linger at a place where her heart had been born innocent, lived
beautiful, and died corrupted.
One of her two feet stepped into the living room and she stopped in her
tracks. A shimmering gleam caught her
eyes once again. Perhaps it was human
nature's liking for all things sparkly or maybe it was fate pulling another
string here and there, but either way, she traced a step backwards. Looking above the bedroom television, a gasp
fled her parted lips and into the air.
This frame contrasted widely with the one outside. This one actually had a picture in it – a
snapshot of Yuffie standing on top of Wutai's Da-Chao with only one side of her discernible.
And for the first time that day, she looked Reno
straight in the eye and was reminded of the brilliance and obscurity those
uniquely-colored aquamarines held. Like
so many times before, her speech was lost in the depth of his gorgeous
eyes. All she could do was cock an
eyebrow in question.
He just shrugged and simply said, "I wanna keep it."
fin.
author's scribbles –
another random "reffie" from outta
the blue. bah! i think i could have done better, but obviously i
didn't.
©Jennifer, Oct. 6, 2002
