Tag Archives: Gay

A Surprise Visit

Below is the eighth segment of my new short story—’A Surprise Visit’—never published before.

filmsufi.com

Soon, a song by a men duo—the same slow, lingering tune she’d heard earlier in her head while in the bathroom—filled the room. Next, Noa turned the overhead light off.
“Pretend it’s your old shack there, years ago,” she said and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Beni stayed put, stiff and pale. He glanced at his wristwatch, and then zipped up his bomber jacket. He collected his cigarettes and matches and shoved them into his pocket. He looked at the small, single record still spinning, resisting the pull of the song. The flame of the candle was gaining strength, just as he looked at the red wall behind the bed. And again, what he saw there was not the dance of the candle’s flame, but a black and white photograph: An open gravesite, with two soldiers standing close by, their heads bowing down; the arm of the tall, blond soldier resting loosely on Beni’s shoulder.

At the same time, by her mirror, what Noa saw—listening to the song, praising old places, old times and old folks—was a bed with two naked bodies lying still, entangled in a lovemaking embrace. Expansive moonlight was pouring down on them through the wide-open window, covering their bodies with a blanket of silvery glow.
“Get undressed, Beni,” she called loudly. “I won’t kill you.”

But when she opened the bathroom door—white naked, only the black sweater tied loosely around her waist—she found her room empty. And empty of music, too, just the sound of the needle could be heard, hitting the end of the record repeatedly.

“Bastard…” she cried and ran to the door. She opened it wide into the dark city night. “Why did you bother me?” she shouted into the wind. A chilly wind that forced her to close the door. She looked at the bed, at the empty wine cups and coffee cups, at the remnants of the cake, at the book he’d brought her. Her eyes were shiny red; her face was dead pale; blue veins bulged in her neck.

She moved slowly, unsteadily into the center of the room. And suddenly, with much force, she kicked one of the coffee cups. It hit the wall directly and was shattered into pieces, splashing muddy coffee on the red wall. She looked at it for a moment but didn’t care one bit; she was about to collapse on the bed, feeling the tears shooting into her eyes.

But then her look fell on the easel, and on the unfinished painting of the young woman sleeping. Or dreaming. Her eyes caught something and she kneeled down by the easel. Her sweater fell off as she picked up a thin brush and dipped it lightly in water first, then in color. She began to paint, adding some brown into the mostly red background. She soon stopped and examined what she had just done. She liked it. So she continued to paint, both she and her subject stark naked.

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A Surprise Visit

Below is the second segment of my new short story—’A Surprise Visit’—never before published.

filmsufi.com

In the dimly lit doorway stood a young woman, wearing a flowing, flowery dress that fell all the way down to her bare feet. She held the door ajar with one hand, while the other fixed her black hair in place, even though it was already collected nicely in a ponytail. She lowered her eyeglasses, as her pale blue eyes were flooded with the light of memories, coming from a corner deep in her soul.

“Beni…” she whispered.
“That’s me, Noa.”
“You just fell from the skies, or what?” He smiled. “You haven’t changed much, you know,” he said and handed her the book. “Happy birthday.”

She took it from him hesitantly, while her cheeks heated up. Her tight lips opened in spite of herself, allowing a childish smile to escape.
“Come on in,” she said, opening the door wide.
“Better not,” he said and took a step back. “I…”
“You what… don’t be stupid.”
She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind her.

She stepped ahead and, giving him no chance of retreat, introduced him to another man who was sitting on a straw mat on the floor. It was unavoidable: the room was so small, with the ceiling bearing down over their heads.
“Dovik, a friend from work,” said Noa to Beni. “And this is Beni, from the kibbutz.”

Without getting up, the bespectacled Dovik, with thinning brown hair crowning his head, reluctantly offered his hand to Beni.
Beside him on a paper plate a partly eaten chocolate cake, with a layer of creamy frosting on top, attracted Beni’s attention. An open bottle of cheap Carmel red wine was there too, with two plastic cups, half-full, guarding it on both sides.

Noa tossed the book Beni brought her on the single bed, with its mattress almost touching the floor, then put her eyeglasses aside and turned to face Beni. She found it embarrassingly difficult to take her eyes away from him, as he brought with him so many smells and sights she yearned so much to breathe and see again.

“Sit down,” she ordered Beni, and pointed at one of the small cushions thrown randomly on the floor. “I’ll pour you some wine.”
She turned to the tiny kitchenette, which occupied only an alcove in the small room, and looked for another cup. The walls surrounding her were colored in deep red, decorated with paintings and drawings, hanging loosely here and there.

Soon she was back at the center of the room, after finding another plastic cup. She poured wine for Beni and refilled the other cups.
“L’chaim,” said Beni and raised his cup. “Mazal Tov.”
“Thanks… you sure knew when to come.”
Her gentle, lovely face grew paler, with beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

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