"Ripe," drawing, Emily Wood
“Azure Eyes” by Jack Brodsky
I still remember her azure eyes. The blue orbs that ensnared my life. Leyla was always too good for me. I remember how her brown hair curled around her ears, perfectly framing the amber earrings she got from her late mother. Her eyebrows were thick, her favorite reason as to why she wasn’t “good enough,” but I only thought it enhanced her beauty. Her style of fashion always had me awestruck. The frilly black skirts that matched with her lacey black corset, always managing to find a shade of black that matched with ease. Her eyeliner was pristine while I always managed to get it in my eye or on my nose. The way she held me so tightly in her slightly toned arms made me feel safe, even if they were a little short. Leyla was perfect, and she loved me.
Leyla died one year ago, she t-boned a car while driving back from a party drunk and paid the ultimate price. I don’t know why she did it, I thought she knew better than that. In my shock all I could do was sit and lay down in my bed, not letting the world watch me in sorrow. I stared at her eyes in the picture of us at the blueberry farm. Leyla to my right holding my hand proudly as she displayed her haul of blueberries we promptly ate within a day. Her azure eyes always reassured me everything would be okay, even if they remained imprisoned within cardstock. I put the picture back on our- my nightstand and got up to get my food delivery. Her step-mom set me up with a Blue Apron subscription after she passed but I only ever ate the food inside raw (no point in cooking what was only for one). I kept every bit of clothing she had, keeping it enshrined in the closet once shared between the both of us. I left the closet door open at all times and went to sleep. If I slept this would all be over soon.
I had a wonderful dream that night, one in which I met with Leyla again. She stood in a field of bluebells entangling me once more with her azure eyes. I approached her in this valley, slowly making my way through vibrant cerulean plants that tickle the hairs on my legs like small bugs frockling on my ankles. I faced Leyla once more and began to quietly sob. Not before she put her mouth on mine and comforted me in the silent expanse of well grown foliage. It was the perfect moment to forget everything that happened. My Leyla was here, and we’d be okay.
But I woke up. And I woke up again, and I kept waking up everyday for another year. However everyday I also wake up in a peaceful field of bluebells, surrounded by the one I love in perfect recreation and comfort. During the day I’m not sad, I’m not happy, I’m just me. The 52nd Blue Apron box piled up in the corner of my room. The slight smell of rotten food radiates from the corner, undoubtedly meat that’s gone bad and blue. I can make out a stray cockroach going to feast on it, at least someone enjoys it. I grab the red Gatorade next to me and take a swig of the tasteless beverage. Being awake is nauseating. I look around at the dump of the room we once called ours, with the gorgeous shade of blue falling into nothing more than a suffocating ouroboros of cyan. The Empire Strikes Back poster has fallen to the floor and is now covered with cups of ramen noodles and clothes shoved to the side to cover the stained old yellow styrofoam. But I never let the closet get cluttered, not even for a second. A safe haven for the gorgeous blue dresses, her concise collection of corsets, her jewelry box, her shoes, her favorite fork, the last bowl she ate with, her last used makeup wipes. All of it in dedication to Leyla. The closet is safe, that's all that matters. I can clean more in the morning. I just need sleep.
It’s calm in the field of bluebells. The breeze is guided through the soft velvet of petals spreading pollen throughout the endless meadow, sustaining the population for the future visits. I took towards Leyla, her brown curly hair pulled straight and revealing the ruby earrings she always wore with pride. I glided over to her and kissed her as the weight of life drifted off my shoulders. Within the embrace of the figment I felt safe, protected. I looked out upon the meadow of bluebells and really began to take in the landscape. The field of downtrodden flowers spread like a vein throughout the horizon. Looking off into the distance, the world begins to warp like a watercolor painting, with my brain desperately trying to fill in the blanks. It feels like I should see something, like a face I barely recognize, but it contorts into a liminal void I cannot quite comprehend. My brain feels as if it’s twisting and shaking trying to make sense out of the non-Euclidean throughs of green and blue all while I feel a buzzing that grows and grows and-
The phone buzzes. The rough movement shakes me out of the stew of unconsciousness. I pick up the phone and recoil at the harsh blind of bluelight that attacks the eyes. After adjusting I begin to read the message. “Hey, how’re you doing? Were the meals good this week?” The monthly check in from Leyla’s step-mom, gone unanswered for the 4th month in a row. I set my phone down and stare at the dresser to prepare to change into the same thing I wear everyday. Underwear, black socks, t-shirt, black pants, and the worn sweater of Boba Fett I got when we went to Disneyland. Leyla used to wear it all the time. Called it the “girlfriend tax” as if I, her girlfriend, didn't deserve her clothes as well, but let’s be honest; I didn’t deserve her clothes. I get up to change 3 hours later. Grabbing the sweater I put it on but figure that it should go in the closet as well, next to the too small sweater she forgot to return before… and the black and white crop top. I quickly step away from the closet and return to my bed. It’s a little colder but nothing I can’t sleep off.
It’s the same dream once more. Thousands of beautiful bluebells shine throughout a picturesque canvas with Leyla sitting in the middle. I try not to look at the colors on the horizon for too long and focus on my Leyla. I start to notice details about her that weren’t there before. Her thin arms allowed them to wrap around me fully. I thought she used to struggle with holding me sometimes, but I was wrong. I feel at peace in her arms and play with the ruby necklace she got from her stepmom. Her thin eyebrows looked down at me in conjunction to her azure eyes that softened when they lay upon me. The bluebells felt extra ticklish today, like there were small cats scampering through them searching for spare beetles to feast on. But it was relaxing and fulfilling, and that’s all that matters.
I awoke to my legs covered in beetles. They walk up and down me searching for food on the naturally oiled surface of my legs. I shake them off and began frantically searching through the closet to see if anything was contaminated. Everything is safe. Turning around I see a hoard of beetles encompass the surface of the Blue Apron boxes. They crawl over the surface, scampering over the cardboard and breaking into the bank of nutrients. I run to grab the box as the beetles began to crawl up and down my arms as I toss the box out the window. I hit my arm against the wall to shake off the beetles, undoubtedly leaving a bruise. I frantically search the room for any remaining beetles and begin to vigorously scrub the filth that’s infected me off my arms. After I’m clean, I scrub every surface of Leyla's things with a half used cleaning product I got at Lush, only the best for her. I think I deserve a rest, I can call an exterminator in the morning. I just need some sleep.
Leyla is perfect as always. Her straight blonde hair drifts around her ruby earrings as her thin eyebrows perk up when they see me. I move towards her encapsulated by her yellow sundress and beautiful orbs of deep azure. Just as we rehearsed I kissed her within a field of bluebells swaying in the wind. It’s the same serene moment I look forward to time and time again. I remove my lips from hers as she begins to cough. She struggles against the assaulting gags as her body recoils into itself. A spattering of blood falls over my chest as she begins to vomit a black beetle. It crawls itself out of her throat and breaks out of her mouth onto my throat as I begin to vigorously gag on the beetle trying to crawl within me as Leyla falls to the ground shattering her head.
I awake with a start and hit the Gatorade on my nightstand. The red liquid splashes over the picture of my beloved Leyla. The cardstock begins to soak in tropical punch as her orbs of azure get dyed with the lingering red of regret. I pick up the photo and stare at it. The cardstock wilts with artificial sugars as the deep blue eyes turn a sickening shade of red. I robotically take the picture and place it in the closet as a ward of protection. I glance around at the room around me struggling to even see where to attempt to clean. I can’t keep going like this, I know it’s not what Leyla would’ve wanted. Then again, maybe I deserve this. I soiled the only photo I had left of her and I can’t even move on. I pick up my phone and stare at the dull blue light. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to someone. Leyla’s stepmom's text has gone unanswered for the 7th consecutive month and my friends gave up trying a long time ago. Sleep is what I need. It’ll all be better in the morning.
I wake up in a valley of bluebells. I walk through the cerulean flowers that tickle my legs in an all too familiar way. I approach the blonde haired figure suffocating in the sea of flowers to once again reunite with my lover. She turns around as her scarlet eyes hone in on me. An uneasy feeling grows in my chest as I approach the one I love so dearly. I go in to kiss her but she bats my hand away and begins to convulse violently. I see a leg break itself out of her mouth and begin to run. The infinite valley of roses cuts my legs as I dash by their prickly thorns and thistles. They grab at me like chains and pull me to the ground. The figure in the red dress approaches me with a sinister grin and the red orbs of luster gleam in a way I have never seen before. Her cheek stretches wide and snaps with the breaking tendons of flesh as the jaws of a beetle emerge from her mouth. Her forehead is torn apart as a horn triumphantly poaches its way through her skin. The sound of struggling gags intensifies as blood slowly begins to pool in her mouth as the beetle hatches from within the moist incubation of the mucous membrane and tears my lovers face apart. The creature lands on my chest with a large pair of mandibles and horn soaked in the red of remorse. The mandibles dig into me and tear out my heart victoriously. My vision begins to fade as I roll onto my side.
I wake up by falling off my bed and into the crunchy cushion of crusted over pillows. The nauseating color of the room is a relief for once. I stare at the popcorn ceiling that oppresses down upon me and suffocates. But I have to persist, it’ll all be over soon. I stand up and go over to the closet in all its captivating comfort, reminding me of when life was perfect. It beckons me to lay down within it and join the quiet compilation of life as I give up mine for Leyla one last time.
But instead I close the door. I look towards the door of my room and leave it to enter the hall. My legs ache with uneasiness as I walk down the liminal space. I haven't walked alone since Leyla was here. The window at the end of the hallway beckons me as I take slow deliberate steps towards the window and open it up. I take a deep breath and ready myself for what comes next. I carefully walk onto the fire escape and take in the fresh air. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I swipe away a picture of Leyla and open up the dial screen, and call Leyla’s step-mom.