Afterglow
by Nyssa Jayne
I coined a term for the presence someone has in the morning of a one-night stand. The way the sun shines through the window, highlights all the immorality, yet often the curtains step in and create a disguise, bathing them in a personal spotlight of warmth and beauty, giving them some sort of afterglow. I called it the "just been fucked afterglow". My brothers had giggled wickedly at the idea and then checked for the afterglow in their partners.
I wearily woke up first. I'm not sure if my bedmate was awake and pretending to sleep, or actually asleep, but the first thing I noticed was the afterglow. Her L'Oreal highlights glistened in the stream of light tinted by the lace curtains. A sheet was casually draped over her figure, disguising imperfections and just portraying an estranged form innocence in its humility. A smile was on her face. Without open eyes, it was hard to tell if the smile was out of lust or happiness.
I considered waking her, ordering her breakfast and towels for the shower, which was usually a cue to leave, because I often darted around quickly for effect, to act as if I was too busy for them right now. Today, I let her sleep, enjoying the moment.
A phone ringing pierced the atmosphere, as my bedmate groaned, and I raced to
answer it. It was my brother Taylor:
"It just struck me. We really don't have a record label anymore."
"I know, Taylor."
"No more music, Zac! What do I tell her?"
"Tell her you lost your job, but that they laid off your two brothers too."
"That's no help."
"Invite her to the official announcement to family with management. Then
you won't have to tell her."
"It'll do. See you soon."
"Ciao, Tay."
She looked at me across the room as I set my phone down.
"Who was that?" they asked.
"Taylor," I said, knowing that she'd know who I meant.
"What did you mean by saying you'd been laid off?" I titled my head and
looked at her. She'd pulled the sheet up under their chin, sitting up
and leaning against the headboard.
"The party you gatecrashed last night? It was our farewell party.
Our record label dumped us."
"Was it fair?"
"No, but they found enough loopholes to cover their tracks."
"Will you still make music? Or are you fucked?" I shrugged, as
she
quickly pulled on their clothes. She came over and kissed me on the
cheek.
"Don't worry. Something similar happened to me once before."
Then, she left, leaving me staring at the messed up bed, not having to wonder who fucked her over.