Pink City

Chapter 22

"Neptune, you are not hearing me. I promise everything will be okay." Frankie said, her right arm wrapped around Neptune's back. She was back in Neptune's house gathered by the couch, "I love Lucy" streaming on their thick TV that they hadn't bothered to replace since they moved to the house. Frankie decided to come to their house an hour after going to the mall, but given their current state, she regretted not coming sooner.

"No... things aren't okay... my friend is gone." Neptune replied, their words jumbled and slurred. When Frankie leaned over to smell their breath, she felt the sharp scent of Jack Daniel's hit her nose.

"Neptune... have you been drinking?"

"Whaddafuck do you think, Frankie?" They responded despondently.

"Neptune, I know you're upset over Lily, but you can't use that language with me. I'm your girlfriend."

Neptune chuckled, the edges of their voice sour with anger. "So now, you're my girlfriend?"

"I..."

"Stop talking, Frankie. You made it very, very clear that I mean shit to you. You make me feel like that ninety five percent of the time." Neptune interrupted. "You screamed at me... because I brought my pet over, trying to have fun with your daughter."

"Neptune, I have OCD." Frankie huffed. "I didn't mean to-"

"I don't give two fucks whatever you have or not. I have BPD, suicidal tendencies, and now, PTSD. Doesn't mean I make it someone else's problem."

"Wait. What's that on your arm?"

"What?" Neptune tried to pull their arm out of Frankie's view, but their sleeve had already slid down. When Frankie pulled Neptune's wrist towards her, she discovered that it was full of cuts.

"Neptune... did you cut yourself?"

"LET GO OF ME!" Neptune screeched, jerking their arm away.

"Why would you do such a... stupid thing?"

"I had to punish myself... for losing such a great person. The only person who wasn't... ashamed to do anything with me."

"What the fuck is wrong with you..." Frankie muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

"So what, I get a little drunk, and suddenly something's the matter with me? When you adopted Eliza, you were cut up like a Virginia ham."

Neptune's eyes widened, realizing they had gone too far. "I- Frankie, I'm so sorry..." Neptune's body lurched forward as rivers of tears streamed down their eyes, and Frankie briefly thought they were sobbing until she heard retching.

"Come with me." Frankie crooned, and held Neptune's hair back as she led them to the bathroom. The vomit was watery and yellow with bile; a result of Neptune's copious drinking. When they had emptied out, Neptune rested their head against Frankie's chest and whimpered, now too tired out to cry.

"I'm sorry for being a pig." Neptune mumbled under their breath. "Please, Frankie, don't leave me."

"I won't," Frankie responded. Neptune, satisfied with her response, closed their eyes and rested their head against Frankie's belly.

"Daphne, why are you hogging the computer like that?"

In Lily's apartment, Daphne had already made herself at home, her dresses back in the drawers and her makeup behind the mirror in the sink. Occasionally Lily thought about Aiko, but her girlfriend was back, and this is what made her the happiest.

"Eh, just writing something." Daphne giggled. "I've been interested in writing stories and essays since fourth grade." This was a lie; Daphne hadn't bothered to write a single paragraph of self-driven work since she had finished college.

"Good to know..." Lily said. "Can I take a look at what you're writing?"

"No, I can't disclose this yet... let's call it... a work in progress." Daphne replied, her slender fingers typing away.

"This is the first time you mention writing." Lily murmured sensually. "Your parents are French, right? Does that mean you write poems in French?"

Daphne chuckled. "No, only my mom is French. My dad is Russian."

"My question still stands."

Daphne shrugged, giggling. "Truth is, I've never even written a haiku in French, but maybe someday, I can try. If you really want."

"Well, I would love it if you wrote a poem for me."

Daphne paused. "Qui court deux lièvres à la fois, n'en prend aucun," She responded.

"What does that mean?"

Daphne sighed, exasperated. "One who runs after two hares catches none. I'm already all cooped up on this project, Lily."

"So... you're not gonna... write me a poem?" Lily simpered.

"Lily, I'm in a good mood, so I'll be able to handle your annoying personality for a little longer. Don't push it."

"Okay..." Lily muttered, disappointed, then walked away. Five minutes later, Daphne had finally completed her piece, submitting the link to her work on Twitter for the world to see.

"Alicia Anderson, 14 years later; A report by Daphne Birkman."