Adonis Borges (’24) majored in Philosophy at Duke. This is his second short story for The Lemur.
This serialized short story is the first entry in a new series of fiction-in-installments at The Lemur. In the spirit of the great 19th century novels (think Dickens, Dostoevsky, and Tolstoy) which were first published chapter by chapter in periodical magazines, we are experimenting with a new way of reading fiction in the age of the Internet. Instead of condensing the entire piece itself to bite-size, as the attention-economy pressures of writing for the public now demand, we hope you enjoy Adonis’ full story bite by bite. The next morsel will be coming soon.
The first installment can be found here.
A loud buzzing came through the open elevator doors—forced laughs on first dates, men shouting, women whispering—a vibrating mass of sound hovering above the rooftop, absorbing large and small voices from the crowd around the bar. Chris and Kayla snaked through the thicket of standing parties, trying to find somewhere to sit, when they came upon an opening at its marble countertop, illuminated from above by hanging fire lanterns whose light stained the marble red. The bartender was a tall woman with curly, raven black hair that framed her green eyes. Behind her, bourbon and whiskey bottles glowed auburn like incandescent autumn leaves.
Chris ordered an old-fashioned, and Kayla, watching the exchange closely, didn’t like how the woman looked at Chris; she thought her top was too revealing; there were more decent ways to get attention from men. Then Kayla remembered the bartender’s job was to be flirtatious and hospitable. She was interested in her tip—not Chris’.
“Can I borrow your jacket, baby? I’m getting cold.”
“What would you like, love?” the bartender asked Kayla.
“I need more time with the menu.”
Kayla couldn’t tell if Chris was playing her; her uncertainty grew when they were apart. Alone at night, in her bedroom, hugging a pillow instead of him, a pillow that still smelled like him, she waited for his text or call, excited by every phone vibration, disappointed when his name didn’t appear on the screen. Just as the moon’s pull on the tides is greater when it’s new and invisible, Chris, when he disappeared for days or sometimes weeks, subjected Kayla to powerful waves of melancholy, hatred, hope, and joy—as she revisited and reinterpreted all their shared moments . . .
