Face Of The Monster

***4***

Phoebe Kim should not answer the phone and she knows it.

She is trapped between Chloe's arms and the kitchen counter, the edge of the counter forming an indent on her back. Her face is flushed and her hands are under Chloe's shirt. Chloe's lips are bothered and pink, her eyes closed. Her skin is soft and warm and Phoebe wants to float away into it.

Phoebe Kim should not answer the phone, but she is already pulling away from her girlfriend. They only made up about half an hour ago; they agreed to forget that anything had happened at all. They talked for a little while, then turned to a quieter language.

"I have to take that," Phoebe says.

Chloe groans in protest. "Don't," she says.

Chloe is almost three inches taller than Phoebe. She has long, toned legs and curvy hips that lead to a thin middle and a pair of ample breasts. Phoebe loves her body, especially her hands. They are thin and smooth with long fingers, shiny pink nails, and palms soft as down.

Now, Phoebe takes one of those hands and holds it to her cheek. "I'll just be a minute. Promise."

Sighing, Chloe lets go of her. She has a soft face, slightly unfocused hazel eyes above a rounded nose and plump lips. Her long, auburn hair is often pinned up at the base of her neck when she arrives home, but she has unwound it and now it spills over her shoulders like honey from a spoon. "Okay."

Phoebe leans in and kisses the side of Chloe's nose before grabbing the phone and escaping the room like a shadow dissolving into darkness. She is still warm from her girlfriend's embrace when she hits Talk.

"Hello?" she says although she knows who it is. It's 4:03.

"Hi," Emma says. Background noise bombards Phoebe's ears. "Sorry about all the noise. I'm on the road."

Phoebe nods. "Picking up your sister-in-law?"

"Yep." Emma grunts with distaste. "Can't wait to see her."

Phoebe moves farther away from the kitchen where she can hear Chloe humming quietly to herself as she rifles through her cookbooks for a good dinner plan. She finds herself in the sunroom and stretches out across one of their threadbare, faded couches. "Just remember, you're doing this for Enrique."

"I'll try." She lets out a long sigh which is cut off by the bleating tone of a car horn. "What the hell!" she shouts. "Yeah, that's right, you just get off my goddamn highway!" Phoebe can hear Emma rolling down her window. She shouts something else and then closes it again.

Emma doesn't say anything. "Road rage?" Phoebe asks.

"Guess so. I just threw a penny at that car. It felt good."

"You're kidding."

"No, I did." Emma doesn't sound at all remorseful about this. "Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, right. Isabel. So, I actually ended up having to rent a whole new car for her and the brats. It's a minivan."

"Wow. Are they going to pay for it?"

"They had better!"

Emma seems to be a danger to others on the road right now, so Phoebe decides they should talk about something else. "Well, in other news, I read your chapter."

"Cool."

"I found the legend to be rather interesting."

"Well, good."

Phoebe regrets taking this call on her cell phone because now she has no way to reread the chapter and seek out her questions once more. Ah, well. She remembers it well enough. "I was wondering if it was based off something or if you made it up?"

"I made it up." Phoebe can hear Emma tapping something, probably her wedding band against the steering wheel. She can imagine her in the car, blinking at the red light as though by some sort of sorcery she might turn it green. "I know it's a little far fetched. I might edit it later."

"Mm. Well, there was one detail I did find especially interesting. The knight. His death, specifically."

She can hear the road rushing by again. Emma honks her horn again, releasing a few profanities. Phoebe wonders if she should hang up so as not to distract her even more from this already hazardous drive. "What about it?"

"I was just wondering, since Gabriel is the equivalent of the king, would that make Lillian the equivalent of the knight?" And would that make you equivalent to one who would sacrifice their own health to end another's pain?

"Yep." From Emma's clipped tone, Phoebe can tell she has already thought this through. "That's pretty much the main plot point."

"Okay." Phoebe hears pots and pans clanging from the kitchen. Chloe must have decided on something for dinner. "Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember what you were telling me yesterday? About your past?"

" 'Course I do."

"Well, do you suppose you'd like to continue now?" Emma is silent for a moment. Phoebe adds, "If not, we can always wait--"

"No," Emma sighs. "I've been thinking about it all day, actually. I think I just want to tell you, you know? I don't want to see your face, either."

Phoebe feels a little pang of disappointment in herself. Does Emma find her so judgmental and intimidating that she doesn't want to talk about her past in person? "Emma, you know I would never judge you based on your past, right? Trust me, I've heard it all. And you're a good, hard working person. That's what you are right now. Nothing you did in the past can change that."

"Thanks." A spell of silence passes between them, broken only by the scratch of tires against road and the clank of spoon against pot. Then, without warning, Emma launches into a long, rambling story that Phoebe will remember every time she looks at Emma from now on.