#once at a streetcar stop after the screening of one of her short films at the Regent Park Film Festival and we got to chat a bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skeletonannie · 7 years

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interlude: the law of falling bodies .

i stg this motherfucknugget took nine years all because i am dreading writing act iii. sry.

(act 1) / (act 2)

indie au interlude: ya gotta start somewhere.

‘you could drown in those eyes, i said, / so it’s summer, so it’s suicide, / so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.’ - richard siken, ‘little beast.’

TIFF is super stressful. Like, super stressful. Lola’s film is premiering on a Thursday, and you had to get all your homework from your teachers at the beginning of the week because so far, since Mattie told you about the film festival qualifying, you have been shuttling back and forth between interviews and cast meetings and dress fittings. And truly? You just wanna nap with your girlfriend, but Elle is even worse than Mattie.

‘baby, we haven’t even discussed your make-up. They say you’re magnetic we will make you magnetic.’ Elle’s got that manic look in her eye that precedes a Big Idea so you try to steer her off course very fast.

‘elle, please don’t stick magnets anywhere on me, okay?’

she looks offended. ‘why in the hell would I stick magnets on you.’

‘I—you just—I mean—Elle, you are such a creative mind, I’m just making—making sure you’re also, like, not…not getting…not getting weird.’

‘By putting magnets on your face.’ She flips her hair and spins away from you with a huff. ‘As if I would put magnets on your face! For one, I’m not about to dick up my contouring by applying aggressive adhesive to your dumb cheeks. Secondly, why are you like this.’

‘I’m so tired.’

She softens at that, turning away from the vanity to give you a small smile. ‘I bet; you’ve been so busy I almost forget what you look like.’ Her arms wrap you up in a big hug and she presses her nose under your ear, and you feel your whole body relax immediately.

‘I’ll send you a selfie a day.’

‘Yeah? On your Nokia?’

‘Shut up; if it isn’t broken I’m not about to spend a bunch of money on that weird blueberry thing you have.’

Elle laughs and you feel it against your cheek. ‘Whatever, bitch. Just—just think about what you want for make-up, okay? And I will work with that.’

You nod into her chest, then, ‘can we nap now? I’m sleeps.’

Elle hefts you up into her arms like a baby and dumps you on her bed.

mattie ends up dressing you in this soft black sleeveless dress that touches the floor and makes you look kind of like a ghost of someone that died like 300 years ago. Elle says its because you’re so pale, but she also said the ‘contrast is striking and will surely drop some jaws you slut,’ so. Elle does your make-up—and Lola’s, and Danny’s, and Kirsch’s—and she makes you look much older and much sharper. Your dad says you look like a regal monarch on a coin, all sharp lines and soft edges; Mattie smacks the back of his head and says ‘I thought we agreed you would stick to the list of appropriate compliments, dad,’ but you appreciate the sentiment.

You’d been prepped for the red carpet by Mattie and Lola, but you still weren’t prepared for how the flashing bright lights and loud shouts would shuttle you back to Kosovo. Suddenly you’re eight again, and your papa is rubbing your back as bangs echo through your open window. You’re frozen on the beginning of the carpet in front of a stupid background promoting the cbc with sweaty palms and your chest really hurts. You miss your papa.

You hear Mattie whisper-shouting at you, ‘come on kitten, you gotta work this carpet and you certainly are not right now,’ but then Elle’s hand is at the small of your back and she is humming ‘first day of my life’ into your ear very quietly. You start walking.

you hate red carpets. And you hate watching yourself on screen. And you hate forced social interaction. This whole TIFF thing has been an exercise in tolerance and you cannot wait to go home, but apparently you have to sit through awards now. When Lola explained this event, she did not explain how tedious it would be.

The film wins Short Cuts Award for Best Canadian Film. You win Best New Actress in a Short Film.

You cannot wait to go home.

going back to school is such a relief, because—while people are pretty jazzed about going to school with an award-winning actress—everything is totally normal. You go back to Coraline’s classes, and you are still struggling with whatever the hell you’re learning in math, and Elle is still so lovely. Her hormone therapy is going swimmingly, and she has a date for her top surgery—July 2010, right after graduation. She still has another year and a half, but she says it’s good for her.

‘I know I want this, you know?’ she says quietly as you’re sitting on your floor studying for finals in late November. ‘But like, having to wait for another year is probably good, because it gives me a better point of view to be thinking about, like, you know…full surgery, you know?’

You don’t know, because your body fits you, but you kiss her quietly anyway. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ you whisper against her lips.

She kisses you back, before, ‘and like, I don’t think I want the full surgery.’ You must look confused, because she smiles a little. ‘I mean…I like my dick. Truly, I love her. She’s my bro. And I know you like her, so…’

You smack her arm and she laughs, wrapping her arms around your tummy. ‘I just want you to be happy,’ you say into the gentle quiet. She nods, and suddenly you feel wetness on your neck. ‘Baby?’

‘I’m just so happy to know you,’ and she kisses your ear. ‘You’re so little and cute and kind. You’re a tiny elf with a very warm heart.’

You turn in her lap, ‘stop calling me an elf.’

‘No. I can’t.’

‘Ani ohevet otach, but you’re a bitch.’

‘Hani ochvey orlach too, love.’

You laugh so hard you snort, and Elle joins you, until you’re laughing into her mouth as she guides your hips into hers.

‘You’re right,’ you whisper into her collarbone, lying on your carpet and nursing some serious rug burn.

‘About what?’ she is still out of breath and you laugh before answering.

‘I do like her. A lot.’

She looks at you with that stupid smirk, the one that makes you breathless, and says ‘well, you do agree with her a lot, so.’

‘Fuck off,’ but she’s already laughing too hard at her own joke to hear you.

you ring in 2009 with a small party at your house. Elle, Danny, Kirsch, Mattie, Lola, and LaFontaine are all there, in your living room drinking your dad’s nice wine and playing Cards Against Humanity while Karla, Santi, Kirsch’s mom, and your dad all go to an event at the ROM. It’s nice, and quiet, and you are once again struck by the gentle softness of a love you forged with a family you got to make. Elle kisses you at midnight, and you laugh into her mouth when you see Kirsch give Danny a shy kiss on the cheek and Danny huffs and drags his mouth to hers.

‘Finally!’ you hear Mattie trill, before twirling through the room to kiss everyone succinctly on the mouth. Lola looks distinctly flustered, and LaFontaine gives Mattie a sharp glare as they chug the rest of their wine. Mattie gets to you and blows a raspberry on your cheek, before dragging you into a wonderfully choreographed twist.

A throat clearing gets your attention, and you all look toward Lola, still flushed after Mattie’s kiss, holding her glass up in front of the fire place. ‘If you all wouldn’t mind, I would like to say a few words,’ she says in that soft commanding voice of hers. Mattie raises her glass and chants ‘hear hear!’ so Lola begins.

‘This time last year, I was a lost, lonely home-schooled freak trying to make it work in university. And I never thought I would manage to find a—a family, like this, that supports me and loves me for me, instead of this vision they have of me. So, to all of you: thank you, for loving me, for supporting me, and for allowing me to create, among such brilliant, gentle souls. Thank you.’ She turns to Mattie, her bright blue eyes quite teary, before, ‘and Matska: thank you. For everything; for your friendship, for your inspired trust in me, for your loud and obnoxious laugh, and for allowing me to grow while still keeping me grounded. Without you, I’m sure I would still be that quiet strange girl in your screenwriting class writing weird Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants fanfiction on Friday nights.’

Mattie has a soft smile on her face, and instead of responding, simply raises her glass and drinks, smiling at Lola the whole time.

february is fucking cold. Kirsch decides that skating in Nathan Phillips Square with you is a tradition now, so he drags you out there in mid-February. When you get there, tripping hard on the curb getting off the streetcar, Kirsch is waiting for you with a knit toque.

‘Here, bro,’ he hands the toque to you, in all its lumpy glory. You take it with a look, and he laughs his big belly laugh. ’It’s for you, bud! You’re always so cold, so I got my grandma to help me knit you a toque!’

You know it’s a hideous toque, but its such a kind gesture you get a little teary. Kirsch notices but doesn’t say anything, instead dragging you into one of his bear hugs and kissing the top of your head. You stay there for a while, pressing your cheek into the soft wool of his sweater. You listen to his heartbeat.

‘Hvala vam, beefcake,’ you sniffle, so he hugs you harder.

‘No worries, little hottie. It’s just—I know you lost that other toque, and I know you’re a stubborn bitch, so I thought I could make you one instead.’

‘I—yeah. Yeah. Thank you.’

He laughs, says, ‘I know you mean it when you say it in Serbian and English, so again: no worries, my dude.’ He pats your head, then, ‘let’s go skate, bro. I can see Danny tearing it up and I wanna school her with my sweet moves.’ You give him a look and he shrugs, says, ‘I’ve been watching a lot of figure skating—those dudes can skate, man!’

You laugh and follow him onto the ice after allowing Kirsch to lace up your skates for you—‘it’s tradition, man!’—and Elle skates up to you with a huge smile.

‘Nice toque, darling,’ she laughs, tugging on a loose thread.

‘Thanks,’ you say back quietly, blushing, so Elle stops teasing and kisses your cheek.

’Skate with me, bitch.’

February is fucking cold, but it’s not so bad.

you all still attend all of Kirsch’s rugby games, but now with the added bonus of Danny writing cheesy encouraging signs to hold up every time Kirsch touches the ball. And every time he scores a try or makes an exceptional tackle, he turns to the stands and flexes.

in early may, your dad throws a party for Elle. You don’t have to ask why; Elle has been on hormones for a whole year now, and you know better than anyone that is a cause for celebration. He orders a comical amount of pizza, and buys a nice bottle of prosecco—‘so we can pop them bottles, kid!’ dad had said, which you had ignored—and everyone in your little mismatched family comes over dressed to the nines. Mattie had insisted it was going to be a formal occasion, and Elle had been thrilled.

‘I love dressing up. I love it. And,’ she wrapped her arms around your waist, bit your ear, ‘I love seeing you dressed up.’

You were flustered and blushing, because Mattie was still in the room, so you looked at the ground and pushed her chest, muttered ‘shut up,’ and shook your head when Elle kissed your neck hotly and twirled away.

‘So, Matska: what are we thinking here? Long, elegant gown paired with a dashing suit…maybe charcoal grey? A little pop of colour in the tie?’

Mattie clapped her hands together. ‘Fantastic, Elle! And maybe some dark make-up, subtle but still noticeable? A nice winged eyeliner, some deep red lipstick to match that pop?’

You were completely lost and still very turned on, so you huffed and headed downstairs to complain to dad.

It turns out they were talking about you, so on the day of the party you are bombarded by the two of them and forced to sit through an hour of make-up before you are shoved into a suit—which you love but refuse to admit—and then handed a deep red tie and told to ‘go downstairs and get dad to help, kitten,’ being effectively banished from the room while Elle and Mattie get ready. Dad only smiles and guides your hands when you ask him for help, kissing your forehead when you get it right.

You’re sitting on the couch with Kirsch, sipping soda water and laughing at his recounting of the figure skating he had been watching earlier when suddenly your jaw goes slack and soda water dribbles out of your mouth.

‘Dude!’ Kirsch laughs, grabbing his pocket square and dabbing at your chest, before, ‘oh…shit! Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to like, get all up on your tits, yikes!’

You ignore him, instead handing him your drink and standing to watch Elle descend the stairs. She meets your eyes and blushes, looking demure as she reaches the bottom.

‘Hi,’ she whispers, and it takes you a moment to respond.

‘Izgledaš kao san,’ and she laughs and rolls her eyes, says ‘not again with the code,’ kisses your cheek.

You laugh and grab her hand, pulling her down to kiss you properly, entirely forgetting your dad is there, and Elle kisses you back for a moment before pulling away.

‘I cannot ruin your make-up already, babe. Mattie and I worked hard to create this.’ You nod, and she leans down to whisper, ‘I can fuck it up later, I promise. I think my lipstick would look so hot smeared on the inside of your thighs,’ so you smack her chest and go sit next to Kirsch.

‘Elle’s a bitch,’ you tell him, but he has spotted Danny, dressed in a lovely dark blue dress, and he’s talking himself up to go say hi. ‘Kirsch,’ you tap his shoulder. ‘She’s your girlfriend. You don’t have to practise what you’re gonna say anymore.’

He turns to you with wide eyes. ‘I do when she looks like that! She’s so pretty! Oh my god!!’

You laugh, tell him, ‘dude, if you think I can ever keep my cool in front of Elle, ever, you are sorely mistaken. I don’t think we ever get used to how hot our girlfriends are.’

‘I know! Oh my god! Oh my god look at her! She’s such a strong, beautiful young woman!’

You kiss his cheek and stand up. ‘Want me to go first, give you an in?’ He looks at you with wide, thankful eyes. ‘Yes please,’ he says meekly, so you pat his head and walk over to Danny.

Your dad lets Elle pop the prosecco, on the rooftop. It sprays everywhere and Elle laughs, says, ‘thank god I insisted on that setting spray,’ pours everyone a glass. Lola had come by about an hour into the party, dressed in a strange grey and red dress that had made Mattie very soft around the eyes, and had brought another bottle of prosecco. Mattie insisted on popping that one herself.

‘If only this was the first christening this roof had had,’ she says wistfully, and you choke on your prosecco when your dad looks confused and Elle squeezes your ass.

later, when you all are still on the roof, Karla starts crying while trying to make a speech, so Santi has to say it for her. Grabbing the crumpled paper from her hand, Santi clears his throat and promptly starts crying too, so Kirsch takes the speech, squints at the blurry writing, and tosses it off the roof.

‘Imma wing it,’ he tells you all, ‘but I’m pretty sure I know the gist.’ You laugh, and he sends you his goofy smile. ‘I’m not very good with words, but I can try? So. Here goes.’

‘YEEEAH KIRSCH! SLAM DUNK!’ Danny shouts with a fist pump.

Kirsch blushes and shuffles his feet, mutters a ‘thanks, Dan,’ before, ’Elle: you’re my bro. You’ve always been my bro. And I’m so happy for you, that you get to grow and become who you have always known you were, and that you’ve always known you could be.’ He pauses to take a shaky breath. ‘Dude. You are the dopest, most courageous person I know—no offence mom—and you are so strong and brave and lovely, and I know you’re gonna change the world for the better. Just—just like you’ve changed me. So, like—thanks, bro. And congrats on the lady chemicals; you look so hot.’

You can’t stop laughing, but you’re also crying, and Elle gives Kirsch the sloppiest, wettest high five ever because she is crying, too, and your dad is hugging you, and you feel so full.

summer ends way too fast. You and Elle had continued to work with Coraline on plays all summer, and you had made some really cool friends in the theatre scene because of it. You and Danny worked on a play that premiered in the Fringe Theatre Festival, and you got to meet people from all over Canada that loved theatre as much as you did. There was this one girl, Laura or something from Vancouver, that was incredible in this weird play about a girl on a train that made up little stories about all the people she rode with, and each story was acted out, and each time this girl inserted herself into their story in increasingly desperate ways until finally it ends and the girl just like quietly gets off the train. It was hard to follow at times, but you loved it, and so did Lola. She wouldn’t stop talking about it.

Lola and Mattie go back to university in late August, and you and dad take them to the airport again. Mattie hugs you at security before they both walk through, and you and dad stay long enough to see Mattie take Lola’s hand.

Your dad gives you a high five, says, ‘I knew it!’ and takes you for ice cream in Roncesvalle again.

grade twelve is stressful, but also you are so close to being done that it almost doesn’t matter. Elle is getting so, so excited about her top surgery, and you both are applying to schools. You try to coordinate so you can end up together, but Elle is also very interested in some American schools, as well as a school all the way in BC. You’ve been sticking to mostly local: Dalhousie, U of T, Concordia, McGill—but Elle is Thinking Big.

‘I’m going to be starting my life as Elle, truly, after this surgery. I’m going to finally be me. I want to explore; I want to know what’s out there!’ she tells you as you sit in the snow fort you and Kirsch had built a few days earlier.

You nod, but you also do not want to nod, because you love her but you want her close to you all the time. But you know she’s right: her and Kirsch had started this really cool blog that’s, in Elle’s words, a ‘subversion of the toxic masculinity prevalent in our western culture,’ and it has been getting really popular. She dresses Kirsch up in traditionally feminine clothing, does his make-up, and puts him in demure poses. It was featured in the Huffington Post, which Mattie was excited about, and in Vice, which you were excited about.

She’s got so much potential, and you don’t want to stop her from reaching that, but also? You’re gonna miss the fuck out of her.

college applications are dumb.

new years 2010 is much drunker than past new years, because you’re all ‘old enough to make your own decisions, but dumb enough to make the bad ones anyway, and I would rather you make them in a safe environment,’ as dad had said. So you all wake up wildly hungover, and Danny and Kirsch had clearly had sex on your dad’s leather couch, and Lola vomited in the sink in the morning.

You thought you got away scott-free, but Mattie keeps giving you sly looks all morning, so you are worried. You go to the bathroom around one for a shower and are absolutely appalled to see Elle has taken the liberty of leaving a massive hickey on your collarbone, and later, as you’re all eating pho on your living room floor, Danny clears her throat and says, ‘so what were you two talking about last night? Carmilla, you really seemed to agree with whatever Elle was saying.’

Elle chokes on her pho she’s laughing so hard. You just mutter, ‘jebite se svi vi,’ and dump sriracha into Danny’s pho.

once again, you, Danny, Kirsch, and Elle go skating at Nathan Phillips in mid-february. You wear the lumpy toque Kirsch made you, and—since you are leagues better than you were that first time—Kirsch has elected you as his figure skating partner. He says it’s because you ‘weigh less that a full-grown labrador.’

You don’t argue, because 1) he’s right, you’re little, and 2) you love him and you like making him smile, and an added bonus is it makes Elle laugh.

Elle buys you hot chocolate after, and you are suddenly reminded of that first time, when you couldn’t speak for the recognition you saw in her even then, so when she hands you your hot chocolate you kiss her wrist and you say ‘volim vas,’ and she gets soft and she says ‘Ani ohevet otach, Carm.’

you don’t say anything after that.

elle hears back from colleges in early spring. She comes twirling into Coraline’s with a huge smile, keeps batting her eyelashes and acting coy when people ask her what’s got her in such a good mood.

‘Oh, nothing, the world is just so lovely, isn’t it?’ and ‘It’s so nice to be secure in your future.’

You wait till class is over to ask her what’s going on. It’s just you, Elle, and Coraline, and Elle hums before reaching into her shoulder bag and pulling out an envelope with a dramatic flourish.

‘Oh, this?’ she says, fanning herself with the torn envelope. ‘Oh, nothing, just my acceptance letter, bitches!’

You feel your chest clench, because you and Elle applied to quite a few of the same schools, and you had gotten your acceptance to Dalhousie a week ago, but that envelope looks nothing like yours did.

‘To—to where, neshama?’ you ask quietly. Coraline puts her hand on your knee.

Elle smiles at both of you, blinding and so, so happy. ‘Barnard.’

You’re happy for her, you are, but. Barnard is in New York. Coraline’s hand squeezes your knee.

‘Congratulations, Elle!’ she sings, letting go of you to wrap Elle up in a hug. Elle is laughing, twirling and looking so happy, so you stand up shakily and join their hug.

You can deal with the 1,800 kilometres later.

—

#indie au #interlude #carm x elle #i hate my idiots #here comes the DRAAAAMAAAAAAAAAA #yall been WAITIN FOR #also did u spot laura #herher #read me

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