The Fig Tree Magazine

EXT. OUTSIDE A BUSY BAR – NIGHT

HER fishes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out from her coat pocket. Shaking one free, she lights up quickly with a short breath and releases a small, forced stream from her lips. She anxiously flicks the ash off the butt and lets her hand drop to her side, the other arm catching the elbow, and watches nothing happen across the street.

ME pushes the door open out of the busy bar to get some air, or maybe to find HER. They both knew the other was going to be here, but haven’t been in the same room, alone together all night. Or in a long time. Their eyes catch almost immediately and hold for a beat, wondering who will be the first to break eye contact. ME’s eyes fall to HER cigarette.

Can I bum one?

HER takes a long, almost performative drag and holds the smoke in her chest. She lets it bloom there a moment too long, suffering silently to really look at ME. To search for something, someone she once knew. ME’s gaze is unflinching and obedient, waiting like she used to, for her next move.

HER

(talking while exhaling) You don’t smoke.

I don’t. But neither do you.

HER’s eyebrows rise in agreement. ME cautiously walks over to HER and takes the single cigarette from her reluctant fingers. ME puts the cigarette between her lips and cups her hands around HER lighter. The body of the sky blue BIC lighter waxes shine against the night. It looks new: ME knows HER used to smoke, but

never did during their time together. She wonders if it’s a new development, or rather a relapse into who HER was before ME.

HER clicks the lighter a few times yet no flames rise. HER takes ME’s hands around the ember of her cigarette, forcing ME to shuffle closer to HER. With the cigarettes between their lips, HER frots the two cylinders tip-to-tip and inhales deeply. ME looks up through her lashes and sees HER’s furrowed brow and intense concentration to do this once, and once only.

The ember transfers, and HER returns to her previous stance, letting go of ME’s hands and shoving the lighter and pack back into her pocket, like that didn’t just happen. That immediate, physical rejection and reversion of their shared intimacy pains ME, but she can’t let it show. She takes a drag and says “thank you” only with her eyes, and too takes a step back into a more comfortable space between them – not too distant, not too close.

ME and HER sit smoking in a comfortable yet weighted silence, taking turns stealing glances at one another. The rest of the world fades out and now it’s only them two.

Their reunions are few and far between these days, typically surrounded by mutual friends; for which they maintain a semblance of friendship for the sake of evading awkward questions they rather not answer themselves, or on behalf of the other. But in this moment, outside of the bar and their unspoken, mutually-agreed diplomacy, it feels exactly like it did but at the same time so different.

HER stubs her cigarette out prematurely against her boot. ME expects HER to walk back inside, brushing past their shared moment to rejoin the outside world, inside the bar. But HER leans back against the wall, hands positioned in the small of her back. HER stares at ME smoking, forgetting to soften her face.

ME feels HER staring, turns to meet her gaze, and blows a friendly puff of smoke upwards and at HER – an invitation to start. That was their dynamic: HER led and ME followed.

HER

This is nice.

(lazily) What is?

HER

I don’t know: this. I miss it.

ME looks at HER, her stare sharpens. She can’t conceal her surprise by this admission of vulnerability.

HER

(continuing) It’s always easy to be with you. Like, just existing beside you.

(body relaxes from this additional admission) Yeah, I felt that way about you too.

HER

(confused) Felt?

Well yeah, just because something feels easy or nice doesn’t always mean it’s good. Whenever I remember how you make me feel, I–

HER

You what?

(beat) I have to tell myself we’re not friends anymore.

It’s unclear if ME registers the curtness in her tone, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by HER; who reacts with a sharp inhale. HER pushes herself off the wall and walks to the other side of ME, circling her slowly and closely like a predator with its prey. ME finishes her cigarette and braces for impact.

HER

(coyly, says while circling ME) Twist the knife, won’t you? I forgot you were such a masochist.

HER assumes the same position on the opposite side of ME, all but her eyes: those grew dark and stared straight ahead.

This isn’t new information. I’m just saying how it is, and has been for a while.

If it’s any consolation, it’s more me reminding myself. You know – setting a boundary, drawing a line in the sand – trying to make sense of what happened between us. For myself.

HER

(retorted) I’m well aware of your boundaries, that’s what got us here.

Here. Still here. But not gone.

HER glares at ME, then stares back out onto the street. ME, regretting starting this conversation, rummages through the bag on her person to fish out a lip liner and gloss. An exit strategy, ME thinks. Keep busy with this. Reapply. Head back inside. Or home. They won’t care. She won’t care.

She turns around to face the window they’re standing in front of, using the reflection as a mirror to reapply her lips. HER sees ME repurposing the window and prays, Look at me, look at me. Please. Any excuse for me to look at you again once more. She worries ME can hear how loud, and how desperate, her inner thoughts are. And then:

HER

Look at me.

ME stops with the lip liner pressed against the contour of her bottom lip, unsure if she heard what she just heard. Her eyes move from staring at her reflection to HER, looking at HER through the window.

What?

HER

You look at someone’s lips to reapply your lipstick if you don’t have a mirror. And you’ll do it perfectly – like, no overlining or going outside the lines.

ME waits, unsure of her next move. She knows this trick, and is almost positive that she told HER about it offhandedly in a conversation that happened eons ago.

HER

(nonchalantly) Old theatre trick.

(chalantly) Please.

(compliantly) Okay but come into the light, I can’t see shit right now.

ME steps into the light and gestures HER to follow. ME grabs HER shoulders delicately, adjusting her stance. HER’s jaw tightens at ME’s soft touch. She presses her lips into a line, over-exaggerating the action to offset her involuntary reaction, before they settle back into their natural shape.

ME finishes lining her lips with slight concentration staring at HER’s lips. HER tries to keep her eyes straight ahead with an intensity of staring through ME. But HER eyes keep falling back down, softly following the traces of the barely-there colour the lip liner leaves on her lips. ME switches from her lip liner to her lip gloss and takes a deliberate breath, rolling her shoulders back on the exhale. HER subconsciously mimics her. ME swipes the gloss, letting the colours bleed together. After all that effort, HER thought.

ME finishes applying the gloss and runs her tongue against her teeth with her mouth closed. Realising how close they are, ME steps back slightly and touches her hair to keep her hands busy.

(sheepishly) Thanks. Do I look insane?

HER

No, never.

A soft smile grows on ME’s lips as she puts her things back into her purse, her gaze following. With what seems like newfound confidence, ME resets, stepping back into their shared space, tugs on the front of HER coat leaning in, and slowly fishes the cigarette pack and lighter out from her coat pocket. HER breath hitches at the tug, but relents since ME has HER in her clutches. ME retrieves a single cigarette from the

carton, their proximity not shifting. With the cigarette between her freshly done lips, ME brings the lighter up, not before saying:

You brought THEM here.

HER blinks out of the trance, the name knocking the wind out from her. The lighter clicks and a flame shoots upward, catching the head of the cigarette.

I didn’t realise you needed an emotional support person for every time we were going to be in the same place together.

A beat.

HER

(incredulously) You think I brought THEM here to make you jealous?

ME shrugs apathetically, like a child who doesn’t want to know the answer of the question they just asked. HER feels a wave of shame ride across her face.

Well I don’t think it’s a coincidence that every time we’re here, they’re here as well. Who’s babysitting THEM now so you could stand out here and talk to me?

HER

(through clenched teeth) They can fend for themselves just fine.

ME steps away from HER, not before handing back the cigarette pack and lighter. HER palms her things and puts them into her pocket. ME paces while taking methodical drags of her cigarette, HER watching.

And yes, I am jealous. It reminds me of how I felt like the most important person to you in every room we walked into. I felt so special when you gave me all your attention, like I was all yours. And seeing you act with THEM in the way we did, I can’t say it doesn’t suck.

HER

What do you mean we? It was never a we thing; only a me thing. I let you into my life, my thoughts, my– Did you think everything I did was to satisfy you? No, this is all for me.

(scoffing) God, you’re so selfish.

HER

(exacerbated) Selfish? Maybe, but so are you. Listen to me when I say this: you are not special. There were, are, and will be, a million more of you that will come in and out of my life. It’s just who I attract, and who you’re attracted to. Just think of me as your first real heartbreak.

And how many of “me” stayed? Or, how many have you decided were worth keeping? The reason why we didn’t work is because you couldn’t, and still can’t, relinquish any control. Because that makes you vulnerable and you’ve been burned before. I don’t blame you, especially after what I did. But I gave you so many chances to prove me wrong, because I thought you were worth it.

I’m so excited for the day I wake up completely over you. That I feign total indifference.

ME hoped that last line would evoke a reaction, but all she got was a flash of hurt in HER eyes before they reverted back to steel. It didn’t give the satisfaction ME wanted, so she appealed to HER senses: a new approach. ME lets the ash burn up what’s left of her cigarette, lets it fall from her hand, and stomps it out with her shoe.

I tried to let it go.

HER

Let what go?

Everything I’ve felt about you, about us. I thought once I atoned for the guilt I felt about my part in the fallout of our friendship, I would be clean of you. But you left shit on me that no amount of physical, emotional, or spiritual cleansing can absolve me. You didn’t break my heart, you imprinted on me.

ME stares at HER unflinchingly, letting her words ruminate. She waits for HER to do something to tell her to stop, to tell her this is too much, that she overstepped that line in the sand. HER doesn’t do anything.

No seriously, I feel like I can trace my body and feel the indentation of where your hands once laid on me; or the outline of your cruelest and kindest works etched at the back of my throat. All of these marks but no bites: you never took any of me for you. Why?

Why?

HER

I couldn’t do that to you.

Why?

HER

(thinks for a moment) Because I didn’t want you to chase after me seeking reparation for the piece of you I stole. That if you came back, it’s because you wanted me back.

Maybe, but you would’ve been too proud to take me back.

HER

(half joking) Only if you begged.

(not joking) And I would’ve.

A beat, then:

But like I said, that would never happen. So instead, you made it so you would never really be gone from me. That I’m yours. I don’t mind it, I think I like it. It’s arousing to be at your mercy. And you can’t take something like that back, I wouldn’t let you anyways.

HER feels ME’s energy darken in that promise.

HER

That’s so fucked up.

Oh come on, I’m only saying everything you want to hear.

HER

(flustered) Yeah, you’re saying it now, why couldn’t you say it then?

(genuinely) Because despite everything, I want you to be happy. You were my friend, and that means something to me. You’ll always mean something to me.

I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I lacked judgment in both of us. And knowing that if I let us walk away without asking for what we deserve, for what’s best for both of us I’d never forgive myself.

Even if it couldn’t be each other.

HER leans back, letting her head fall against the wall, harder than she means to; hoping the sharp pain relieves some of the pressure of ME’s last confession. HER looks up feeling tears well in her eyes, refusing them to fall in front of ME. HER closes her eyes, takes a slow inhale and lets it all out, controlled.

HER

Fuck, ME. This is some fucked-up-Freudian-shit, you know that right?

HER feels her pulse quicken. Her words are moving faster than she wants.

Oh my God – how can you look me in the eyes, and tell me this? How can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re what, aroused by the pain I caused you? That, that, it’s what you want? That it’d make you happy?

HER presses her lips into a line, biting back what she wants to say, to regain control. ME stands listening, relaxed against the wall on her side, one foot crossed in front of the other. This bitch is feigning nonchalance, you’re not slick.

And what about me? You think I got away, scot-free, with no scars from you? You didn’t give me new wounds, just picked at my scabs and drew blood. You said I can’t give up control, that I couldn’t be vulnerable, but that’s all I ever gave you. You act like I have the power between us, but you know that’s not true. You never gave into us fully. So you spill your devilish, whorish thoughts out to me, and you rationalise to yourself thinking it’s your emotional maturity?

And how do you expect me to feel nothing for you when all I want to do is fall down at your feet?

(seething) How could I have known you still want whatever-the-fuck-this is if I wasn’t constantly pouring myself out to you?

ME pushes herself off the wall to stand in front of HER, like she’s taking centre stage.

You didn’t see me as a friend, you saw me as an extension of yourself, something to idolise and mythologise. When I finally saw what I meant to you, I tried to cut that down. But I didn’t draw blood, I only singed your ego: you felt exposed and didn’t like that you thought people could maybe see that...

HER’s face contorts into a small smile, her eyes looking in admiration as ME’s harsh words lull her back into a trance. She wants to reject these words, this character assassination, but can’t help but feel truly understood. Probably for the first time ever. ME’s voice picks up volume.

… but that was me being honest about myself with you. And then I spilt my guts again trying to get you back and losing myself in the process. You shut me down, and out, of your life when all I wanted was that same honesty back from you. And here I am again, trying to figure out what I mean to you after all this, if anything has changed.

And it has. We changed, because we were forced to. And you got through it, through me. Hence, THEM being here. And you’ll move on, but I’ll keep pouring myself out to you, eventually tearing the skin off my bones to show you what you meant to me.

The words lay heavy between them. ME sees HER eyes wet and dark, a smirk plastered across her face. It’s quiet for a moment, and ME wants HER to say something. For nothing more than the fear that ME has that if she doesn’t, these words will start to calcify into hard truths she will start to remember about HER and the last time they were together. And she can’t stomach the thought at this outburst eroding what she feels about HER.

Just as she starts to feel the first words start to cluster, ME hears a sound escape HER’s throat.

HER

(clears throat, then quietly) You said you’re waiting for the day you wake up completely over me. The words clear like smoke in ME’s mind.

(sighs deeply) Yep. Which is crazy because why am I telling you all of this when I knew you never considered us friends.

HER

(defensively) That’s not true–

No need to be honest with me now. Maybe you never said it aloud, but you made it abundantly clear. I should’ve believed you then, and maybe we wouldn’t be here.

HER

You know those were my insecurities coming through.

How could I’ve known? You still can’t say it out loud.

So if you can’t now, and couldn’t then, be honest with me: why does what I did hurt you so much?

HER

(declarative, louder than she expected) Because you were more than a friend and you know it.

(smiles) Now who’s admitting the fucked-up shit?

HER feels the blood drain from her heart and redirect itself to her head, ears pounding.

HER

What’s your plan, here? My confession? Your absolution? Our reconciliation? Because I gave all of it to you right now.

Rejection.

HER

(unsure) What?

(coldly) I want you to reject me. To sever us completely. Because there’s a part of me that thinks we can get past this. And I need you to end that.

HER

Need?

Want. I… want… you.. to…

ME steps forward on each word, closer to HER.

(softly begging) Say it… please.

HER

(hesitant in her tone, but unmoving in her body language) I… reject you.

(aroused) Again.

HER

(confidently) I reject you.

ME kisses HER, breathing life back into her. HER freezes: it’s clear they’ve never kissed before. Their friendship crossed a line before, but not this line. HER leans into the kiss, their hands grasping for each other – simultaneously pushing each other away and pulling one another closer.

ME’s head is swimming. Only when she feels herself pressing herself into HER against the wall, as if forcing herself into and through HER, does she realise what she’s done. She doesn’t stop, neither of them do.

This kiss is everything they’ve ever felt for each other: the love and pain; betrayal and devotion; admiration and jealousy. All wrapped up in this one shared moment. Their friendship has never been one about miscommunication, but a fundamental misunderstanding and misuse of power: they’ve only ever wanted to feel dominated by the other.

ME bites HER lip in the kiss, hard. HER is completely unaware that her blood is slowly trickling down the side of her mouth since it’s being replaced by a trail of kisses from ME, down her chin and into the crook of her neck. HER’s head falls back in response. Fuck, ME. HER grabs ME’s face on either side, bringing it back up to meet hers. HER feels ME wanting to crash back into another kiss, but taunts her by leading ME’s face in slowly, pulling her back once to look at ME. The submission in ME’s eyes causes HER to just about lose it before pulling her back in.

Five, four, three, two–

ME breaks the second kiss prematurely and pushes HER back against the wall, one arms-length distance apart. Panting, ME tenderly wipes the blood off HER face and presses her thumb softly to HER lips to stop the bleeding. They share a knowing smile to one another feeling euphoric. Triumphant, even.

Friend u Can Keep (F.u.C.K)