Love Story

[Catherine Madden]

Clara came round to tell me that she had a dependant attachment style.

            “What does that mean, then?”

I mean for me, what does that mean for me?

            “It means that I chase what I can’t have and then when I get it I don’t want it.”

“Well, at least you get it.”

Her eyelashes are heavy on her dark eyes. I envy that, it’s classic. When we lie down facing each other they look rounder and now lazy in a sexy way.

            “Do you think you might be a little bit gay?”

She asks and I think, “You tell me, am I doing it right?” but instead get up to put the kettle on.

Next time she comes round I tuck her up in bed but she rages.

            “I’m supposed to do that, I’m the experienced one.”

I let myself get tucked. She lifts up my top and pops my boob out, kisses it. I decide we need some tea. She is laughing on hands and knees, like an unseated cat. I’m wet.

I ignore her for a week until she comes to my helpdesk, earnest in a flat cap.

            “Clara, there’s no computers free!”

She hadn’t come for that and her eyes look like they did in bed. “Nice friend,” the old ladies say with beads and questions behind their brows.

In her bed I am gasping for one. “OK,” she says, “OK” and lays back so I can touch her thinking, help! But the next day I am heady, full of her legs open, her head turned like a why. I look at other women safely, I almost wink.

When she does have tea she sips, her eyelids silk, her nose twitchy.

            “No,” she says. “No”

The rage is gone.

            “I just don’t know what it is.”

Catherine Madden is from Birkenhead and lives in London. She writes fiction and poetry. She is a founding co-editor of literary zine, The Grapevine. Her work has been published in such places as SPAM zine, 3:AM, Oh Comely, EntropySeverine Lit, and with The Aleph Press.

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