Demon Stories

Saya: The Man I love, 1968, New York City

Saya

The Man I Love

1968, New York City

As I made the long trek up to Crystal's apartment, I began to think in a melancholy way. The smell of Crystal's Chanel no.5 and French bath salts drifting down the staircase made me remember France. Dear France. Dear his lovely hands, the pale pink nails a slight blush as his fingertips touched my face in love. Then the tears came as I remembered as his same nails, blood red, scratched down my same cheek. But on to blinking them away as I reached the final landing and walked down the long, dimly lit bottle green hall with peeling paint. My special love. The only man I will ever love. No matter his faults, no matter anything of that, I will always love him. Even if he did disappear into the night, into the darkness like an enveloping shadow of pain, leaving me all alone in despair and desperate questions unanswered, even then I will always love him. Even though I had given up my search long ago. He still lives. He is still in my heart, right here, beating.

Standing outside the old door, I steadied myself and breathed deeply once. The old door reminded me of the old door in our old house. How he would make me wait outside first before entering. But that is all past now. It is all gone now. Finally steady enough, I knocked politely on the green painted oak.

The door whipped open suddenly as a beaming Crystal received me at last for our weekly card tournament. Our other two friends were already there, smoking something which I dared not ask about. "Say-ah!" Crystal beamed like sunshine, mispronouncing my name as always, but as always I forgave her without saying anything. The American accent can be taxing on my ears sometimes, but I have learned to forgive it. They are not meaning to be harsh. They just don't know any better, so it is best to not let it bother me anymore. Crystal gave me a big hug and lead me to the card table set up in the small living room with her hand on my back in a friendly way. 

Immediately upon seeing me, Clark stood up from his seat and slammed his two hands square on the table in a huff. "Saya!" he said in a blur of rage, "they arrested Bettie!" Seated next to him, Rosie started laughing. "What?!" he yelled in a desperate voice, "what could be so funny about them arresting my Bettie?" 

Rosie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and breathed in deeply before grinning at him. "That queen. Coming up here from Alabama thinking we're the freedom at the top of the world! Haha! She thinks she can march right into any placed dressed like that? She puts on her ruby red lipstick and her matching high heels and walks, sashay sashay, any place. She needed to learn she can't do that, Clark. They're not gonna hurt her. One night in jail with the other queens. She'll have a good time, and you'll hear plenty of fun stories in the morning. Take her out for french toast or something, hahaha!" she laughed.

"Clark," Crystal sighed, smiling gently as she put down a plate of crackers and cheese dip on the middle of the table before us, "being arrested for the first time is practically a right of passage in our circle. She'll be fine." She rubbed him on the back and began shuffling cards as she settled down into her seat. 

"That woman of your's," Rosie continued, sweeping her cards towards her and picking them up, "I will never understand how you could fall in love with such an airhead. Is it because she's blonde? Do you like the blondes?" 

"No," Clark snapped, still defensive, "do you really want to know? Do you actually care?" He sounded wounded.