[Pride 2021 Short Story] The Sun's Coming Up

Agnes had fallen asleep on the couch again. The television, which previously was playing a Saturday Night Live rerun, now had on an infomercial for a product that looked like shit. 

“Buy now,” the announcer cheered from the television, “or you’ll miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Agnes was caught off guard with just how loud the television was. She must have rolled over onto it at some point. No wonder her arm felt a little sore.

Speaking of the remote, it was nowhere to be seen. Agnes sighed and started searching for the remote. It must have fallen in her sleep at some point, as it was not on the tabletop like it normally was.

“God, dammit,” she said as she leaned down from her perch to look further for the remote. Finally, she spotted it sticking out from underneath the couch.

“Bingo,” Agnes muttered as her fingers touched the buttons. She inched forward, getting closer and closer to her intended target.

Then, a crash of thunder ran through the sky. Everything seemingly stood still. For a moment, it was even as if the television paused. She had not felt cold in years, but at that moment she felt a chill run through her body. It was as if she was struck by lightning; she should have died, but somehow she felt more alive than ever. 

Agnes was never afraid of thunder and lightning before everything happened. She had her first kill in the pouring rain. The poor chap was a farmhand for a feudal lord, and unfortunately, he looked terribly overworked. She felt an overwhelming need to just put him out of his misery, and he did not object. In fact, as she drained the life and blood from his body, he looked like he was at peace. She’s always wondered how long he had been full of pain. Was he always looking for a moment like this to finally pass on?

At this moment, she thought she understood a little bit of that pain. The thunder felt like it was completely taking over Agnes’ body. The sound of the rolling echoed in her head, sounding far too much like-

“The low, low price of $19.95!” The television announcer said in a cheery salesman voice. He held up the product, something called The Onion Ring, like it was a newly-recovered treasure. “The only tears you’ll be shedding will be tears of joy!”

For the first time in her long life, Agnes was thankful for these types of commercials. She thinks that the downfall of man began with these infomercials, but the way this guy was really going for the sale was weirdly comforting. It was a reminder that life, her life, is still here.

She grabbed the remote from under the couch and turned off the television. As she was, she caught a glimpse of the time. 4:15 A.M. Agnes rubbed her eyes and sighed. After the television was completely turned off, she gathered her blanket and got up from the couch.

For the past week, Agnes has formed a habit of falling asleep on the couch, waking up in the middle of the night, then joining Marion in bed. They did not mind, at least she didn’t think so. The two of them have been talking less and less the past few days. 

The problem was not Marion, nor was it really Agnes. It was what had happened those past few nights.

Agnes could not remember the exact day or time it had all happened. It could have been yesterday, but it could also have been three months ago, maybe longer or shorter. It didn’t matter. What matters is that it happened and there is nothing neither of them could do about it.

The door handle seemed colder than usual this morning as she went to enter her and Marion’s bedroom. Maybe it was the fact that the apartment was set at a chill 50 degrees, or perhaps it was the fact that the door is just barely underneath an air conditioning vent. Either way, Agnes slowly turned the handle and entered the room.

“You heard it too?” A voice said in the darkness. Marion was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over with their head in their hands. Their partner muttered a soft “Yeah” as they entered the room. As she climbed onto the bed, Marion stayed still.

When she did not feel their usual comforting touch on her body, Agnes sat up. “Are you going to join me?” She asked her partner.

Marion sighed. “I’m trying to get my thoughts together,” they replied, “is that not allowed?”

“Yes,” Agnes replied, “but we might be able to hash things out together. Remember what the therapist said?”

“That we need to talk about our feelings?” Marion shot back, “I understand, but there are just some things that I’m not sure you really get.” She rolled her eyes at this.

Suddenly, Marion turned to face Agnes in the dark. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for and I shouldn’t have said that,” they said as they rubbed their eyes. They got up from the edge of the bed and climbed back next to their lover.

“It’s fine,” said Agnes. Her tone was slightly agitated, and to say that she wasn’t would be a lie. The first time that they attended trauma therapy, Marion had gotten upset at the therapist for even suggesting sharing feelings with each other. Agnes had thought that centuries of being with each other would lead to them being able to do just that, but apparently, she thought wrong.

The two laid in bed in silence, neither of them even close to falling asleep. Agnes stared at the ceiling while Marion squeezed their eyes shut. It was now unlikely that the two would be able to fall asleep again. The tension was like a thick fog above them.

Finally, Agnes got up. “Fuck it,” she muttered, “do you want a drink?” She threw on a robe that was laying on the floor and began walking out of the room.

“Sure,” Marion replied. They sat up again from the edge of the bed. Agnes shot them a lopsided smile and left the room.

Sometimes, their partner really got on their nerves. It’s strange, because before everything happened, Marion had never felt this sort of underlying resentment before. On one hand, they felt like Agnes dropped the ball during that fateful night, but on the other hand, they know that she was just as traumatized from the attack.

Attack. God, that was a heavy word. They would be the first to admit that they were in denial of it being an actual attack until a few days after. The two of them had been around for years and years, and have encountered their fair share of troubles. Why was this particular instance so damning for either of them?

Marion’s thoughts were interrupted by Agnes returning to their room, two cups of red liquid in her hands. “Iced,” she said as she handed her lover their glass, “just the way you like it.” The two held up their glasses in the air.

“To insomnia,” Marion forcefully said with a smile.

“To insomnia,” Agnes repeated.

Their glasses clinked and they drank. Marion took a sip of their iced blood, savoring in the flavor. Agnes drank it all in just a few gulps. She smiled.

“That hit the fucking spot,” she said. Her partner winced. Agnes turned to them.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’ve been worried about you drinking that much lately,” Marion said as they continued sipping. It was true. Agnes had been drinking more and more blood ever since the incident. She would grab a bottle from the fridge at even the most peculiar of hours, usually leaving her to crash and burn when she’s had too much. Despite being the one who told Marion to open up the most, she was the one who decided to drown her feelings in blood the most.

Agnes groaned. “Oh my God,” she said, “so now you’re going to police my drinking? What’s next, you’re going to tell me to eat less? You want me to become anorexic?”

“How the fuck did you get to that conclusion?” Marion asked, their voice slightly rising.

Their partner shook her empty glass. “Because you want to control this entire relationship,” she replied, “and I’m trying to get it back to equal. To the way it used to be.”

Marion put down their half-drunk glass on the bedside table. “Maybe if I could trust you to fight off a man trying to stake me in the fucking chest, I’d trust you enough to not drink yourself to sleep,” they muttered.

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattered above their head.

They felt tiny glass shards just barely miss their head. 

Marion looked up to see Agnes standing with balled fists and fury in her eyes.

“What did you just say?” Agnes said, chest rising and falling at an increasingly rapid pace.

Her partner looked down at the bed, now covered in glass pieces. They began picking them up one by one, not caring if they got pricked.

“You froze,” Marion eventually managed to squeak out, “you saw me pinned against a wall with a stake above my chest and you froze.”

Agnes unclenched her fists, stretching them as she slowly approached Marion. Her partner continued, “Do you know how fucked up that is? Seriously? I could have fucking died, Agnes, and I had to bite him just to escape.”

“I froze because I couldn’t understand what I was seeing,” Agnes replied, “and I’m sorry, but you have to understand what I was experiencing at that moment too.”

“Like what?” They replied, “what were you experiencing exactly? Relief?”

“Do you really think that low of me? After everything we’ve done and seen?” She said, “after all the people we’ve helped and shit we somehow survived?”

Marion finally turned around to look Agnes in the eyes. “When you see that your lover is just standing there doing nothing as you’re about to die,” they said as steady as their voice would allow them, “the question of whether or not you love them starts to change a little bit.”

At that, Agnes’ eyes started to water. Her breath hitched. How could the person she has loved for so many centuries accuse her of not loving them? She was the one who drained the corpses of their attackers and bottled their blood, the same blood that her partner was just drinking. She was the one who suggested they go to therapy afterward. She was the one who convinced the cops that their deceased attackers were some petty criminals that got away. She did that for them, and they treat her like this?

“How could you say that, you piece of shit?” Agnes eventually asked, “did you even care that I was the one who cleaned the entire case up?”

“You would’ve done that either way,” Marion replied. With that, they turned around and collected the last of the glass shards.

The tension between the two of them had begun to reach a breaking point. The silence that followed when Marion threw the glass shards away was uncomfortable and invasive. One waited for the other to speak, and they refused. One climbed back into bed, while the other stood still at the edge.

Finally, it was Agnes that broke the silence. “I’m sorry for not saving you,” she finally said, “I was in shock, I had just killed my first human in years, and seeing you like that was almost unreal.”

Marion looked down at their slightly-cut hands. “Thank you,” they replied solemnly, “that was all I ever wanted, not excuses.” Agnes cringed at the wording but climbed back into bed anyway. The two embraced like two pieces of a puzzle. 

They had done so much together over the five centuries they’ve known one another. They explored the European countryside, adopted new American accents, killed terrible people, and saw the world change into the place it is today. The atrocities they have seen over the years never swayed them or broke them to their core, but somehow, this small and relatively insignificant event has. Neither knew why, but they knew nonetheless that things will never be the same.

After a while, Marion asked, “Do you still love me?”

Agnes sighed deeply. “I don’t know,” she replied.

Suddenly, a small light began to shine against their bedroom wall.

“The sun’s coming up,” Marion said.

“I suppose it is,” Agnes replied.

They pulled the covers over their heads and fell back asleep, the other in their arms and the same feeling of uncertainty hanging over them. Neither knew how the other would feel when they woke up, but just as the hundreds of years they spent together, they were content with not knowing.