Fallout

Fallout

It was to be a room for every occasion. Together they built the basement, pouring all time that was free into it. No outside help was used, so it wasn't perfect. Nothing fancy was required, old furniture would be enough. It was small, it was dark, but it was theirs. When it was finished, he took her down for its grand unveiling. It would be a good memory among the ruins.

"Darling I can't see anything," she laughed, reaching out for him.

"It's around here somewhere," he said as he fumbled around in the dark for the light-switch.

He found it and flipped it up. Light entered the room. They could now see each other and what they had made. He put his hands on his hips and nodded his head satisfactorily. She laughed again. He loved the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed.

"This will do just fine," she whispered, giving him a long kiss on the lips.

He pulled away, blushing. She loved the way he rubbed his nose when he was nervous. "Hey Darling," she said, tilting her head. 

"Yeah Babe?" he asked.

"Never change alright?" she pressed him. "This is who I fell in love with." He cracked a smile. "I wouldn't think of it for a second." 

They embraced for a long time, glued to the spot. He felt her arms on his back and she felt his heart on her neck. She trusted it was in the right place. She knew what they had was overwhelming, and he thought they had no other choice.

******

Like any big storm, they could feel it coming. The air became heavy, everything was tense. There were no sirens for warning, just a feeling. No one knew what caused the storms or if it would ever end, but for now all anyone could do was wait it out. They locked themselves in the basement they had built every time to avoid the ever-looming disaster. It was a reoccurring cage match that never seemed to have a winner. The basement was a perfect place for there were no windows to display the passage of time or let the outside world in. It only seemed to serve one purpose now. DVDs that the couple had watched endlessly until every word had been memorized lay strewn across the stained carpet. The Road, I Am Legend, Sunshine, Wall-E, 12 Monkeys. Relics. They stood across the room from one another, eyes locked, nothing but static filling the air.

"What're you getting so angry for huh?" he asked, his arms crossed. "We've had this argument before and we'll have it again, what's the big deal? You can't go out there, how many times do you want to go over this?"

She paced back and forth between the four corners of the room listlessly. She saw the same walls over and over again. She had tried running out again during the storm and he had dragged her back down into the basement. He just couldn't let her go. She had said that she 'felt like a god damn prisoner in the fucking basement' and he had asked her 'if she really thought it was going to be any better outside.' He asked her if 'she really wanted to die.' She had been silent for a while and then finally said that she 'didn't know anymore.'

There was something between them now, something that made every scrape require stitches. You could see their scars just by looking at them. The clothes they wore, the way they looked, it was all inconsequential. It was all a mess.

"Seriously, what the fuck's the problem here?" he asked again. "Everything's the same as it ever was."

"Yeah that's what I've been telling you the problem is," she snapped. "Nothing I say ever seems to get through to you. You know what, I'm done. I'm walking away from this. I'm through, you're through, it's over."

He stared at her, but his eyes were wrong. She could tell he was becoming unsettled. She hated the way he picked at his nose when he was nervous. She looked away, over to a framed picture of the two of them on the table, holding hands together on a beach, the sun setting behind them. They had smiles on their faces. But this was outside the picture where there was no sun anymore.

"How can you just say that like it's nothing?" he sighed. "How can you tell it's over?"

"You can just feel when something is working," she shrugged, still focused on the picture. "This isn't it Darling."

"How am I supposed to know if it's working?" he pleaded.

She scoffed at him. He hated the way she scrunched her face into wrinkles when she laughed. He picked up a musty glass cup that had been sitting on the table and threw it against the wall, its shattered pieces littering the floor. Now something in the dingy basement was just as he felt. He had her attention back.

"I'm afraid the other side of me is no longer you," she replied.

"People change," he sobbed, "but I can do better. Babe I can change, I swear I can. Things can go back to the way they were before. You name it, I'll do it. Anything, I promise, just give me another chance and I'll change."

What a dreadful sight, she thought, and almost turned away as he laid his pride down. He just didn't get it, but neither did she. He sat down on the couch, resigned. Despite its age and worn appearance, the couch was comfortable.

"If this ends right now then what has it all been for?" he asked.

She didn't answer, she couldn't. The question was too large. She looked at the empty space on the couch beside him and could see the light layering of dust blanketing its surface. It frightened her.

"There's still love here," he muttered, "I can feel it."

She felt it too. Or maybe that was just their love of fights they felt. The room was stifling. He pulled at the neck of his shirt. She was lingering and the stillness frustrated him.

"Well if you want to waste your time getting back to tonight with a different guy," he spat, "the door's over there. Good luck out there."

She advanced on him, his words ripping the tears right from her eyes. "You don't own me," she shot at him. 

"I own seven years of you," he shot back at her.

A tree fell over and crashed to the ground outside, but the noise never made it to the basement. It was too deep underground. It was bad outside and it probably always would be, she thought. She slumped into her seat down next to him, the couch creaking under the weight. The pair sat in silence, together.

"Seven years huh," she said finally, nodding her head.

There was distance in her voice. There was lethargy in his heartbeat.

"Does it get better?"

By: Christopher Compton