Solace And Rosanna

Solace “Sol” Tynan stood, swaying slightly, as she watched her now ex-best friend and lover, Rosanna “Sanna” Romero, stride purposefully across the street. It was a damned good thing she was holding tightly to her mobility cane because she might have made quite a spectacle of herself by crumpling to the sidewalk for no good reason that anyone could discern. Well, she new she would have a good reason, but no one else would. Rosanna neither looked left nor right, only straight ahead—which was probably the course she planned to chart for her life from now on. Nice and easy was how Sanna wanted it, no embarrassment or second glances. She had told Solace that she needed to simplify her life, and that life no longer included someone with a visual impairment—no matter how close they had become. It would just be too difficult. A lump formed in Solace’s throat as she recalled that unbelievable conversation. Rosanna’s short, beautifully styled dark brown hair fanned out behind her in the gentle, warm breeze. Solace smiled to herself remembering how Sanna was always the picture of fashion—her suits impeccably tailored. She looked down at her own clean, but faded jeans and tie-dye T-shirt and sighed. This is probably one of the many reasons we’re not together anymore. She was forever harping on me to do the dress-up thing. Oh forget it! Now I don’t have to worry about that crap anymore! I'll dress up when I have to and not any time sooner. The only item of clothing that Solace and Rosanna could agree upon were shoes. They shared a passion for footwear and favored the same style—comfortable but decent enough to wear to work. To that end, they had prowled many a shoe store in search of the perfect footwear.

Her smile faded as she wondered why Rosanna had requested this meeting. Hadn’t they settled everything? She could have just as easily called or e-mailed her. Couldn’t she? If Sanna was nothing else, she was proper and could be formal to the hilt. No, meeting in person was much kinder, but to whom Solace thought wryly. Perhaps Sanna actually needed to see Solace for one last time before she plunged into her new life—and family. This did not ease the ache in Solace’s soul.

As they approached each other from opposite sides to meet at the corner of 84th street and Fifth Avenue, right across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Solace thought, for one very brief, ecstatic moment that Rosanna had a mind to try to breech the growing chasm and heal the festering wounds by inviting her to talk things over at one of their favorite dining haunts. But, again, Solace was wrong—wrong about so many things she had been so certain of only ten short months previous to this gut-wrenching reunion. She had leaned to simply embrace Rosanna (even a kiss on the cheek had been rebuffed in recent months), but Rosanna had gently fended her off by placing a firm hand on her cane.

“What’s up Sanna?” Solace asked. She hoped Sanna could not see the perspiration stains beginning to form under her arms. Damned deodorant was supposed to keep you dry no matter what. Well, that was another lie told to the American public. Add it to the miles-high pile of rubbish sold to John and Johanna Q. Public every year!

“I don’t have long. I have a dinner reservation.” Rosanna answered curtly.

Well, she was going to dinner anyway. “With whom?” Solaced asked before she could stop herself. Her inquisitiveness was one more aspect of their relationship that had recently begun to annoy Rosanna. She would have to try harder to control herself. But she couldn’t simply turn off her emotions.. Lately, Sanna had become more businesslike in their dealings, seemingly attempting to wring out the last vestiges of feeling between them.

“You’ll never change. You’ll always be nosy.” Rosanna sighed in exasperation.

“There was a time when you knew my nosiness was concern.” Solace reminded her softly, beginning to make circles with her cane over the cobblestones as her agitation grew.

“Well, I’ve changed.” Rosanna said as she ran her fingers through her hair. She stared straight at Solace. “Listen. I can’t do this. I—we can’t be friends anymore. I don’t want you to call or e-mail me. It’s too hard.”

Friends! Wow! That was how she boiled down their relationship—not even best friends. Never mind anything else! Solace watched Rosanna as she began to pace in small circles, a sure sign that she was nervous.

“Too hard for whom--Matilda?” she shot back. She began rummaging in her shoulder-bag for a tissue. Dammit. She never had them when she needed them most. She found an old crumpled dinner napkin and began to dab at her now tearing eyes.

“Leave Matilda out of this, Solace. This has nothing to do with her. It’s just you and me! And for God sakes, stop crying. You’re not being fair. We both agreed to separate. Didn’t we?” Rosanna said through clenched teeth, her Latin accent becoming more pronounced as she became more upset. She moved toward Solace, turned to see if anyone was watching and stepped back, her heels beating a staccato rhythm on the sidewalk.

“First of all, why should I be fair? You’re not! And I never agreed to anything. I was informed and not given one damned chance to protest. And why the hell shouldn’t I cry? I can still feel. You can’t order me around anymore. I don’t work for you. She almost corrected Sanna’s improper sentence, but she thought better of that one. She raised an eyebrow as Sanna advanced, thinking that she really had changed if she had the inclination to strike her. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when she realized that whatever she said would only fan the impending flames of hostility that were rolling off Rosanna in waves. This had been the way for the past six months. Solace would say something she considered fairly innocuous and Rosanna would snap out some nasty retort. It had become quite tiresome and draining. Perhaps this was the right thing. But she couldn’t help wonder what had happened? What had she done? Had she been so horrible in their five years that it should come to this? She couldn’t help the last comeback. “Now, who’s the blind one?” She received nothing but stony silence. Well, what could Sanna say? Once again she cursed her name, for Solace was definitely not in a comforting mood at this moment. Rosanna was saying something. What?

“I’m going to send the movers to get the rest of my stuff. I’ve already packed. I’m not taking much. You can have…” Solace did not give her the chance to finish as she interrupted.

“I don’t want one freaking possession of yours if you can just walk the hell out on me after all this time. Keep your shit!” Her voice became shrill and began to rise in volume. Solace backed away from Rosanna, who in turn moved closer with every step Solace took.

“Solace, please! Don’t make a scene!” Rosanna begged as she attempted to place what she considered a steadying hand on Solace’s shoulders. In her haste to back away from Rosanna, Solace had begun to back up into a tree with low-hanging, pointed, branches and Rosanna could see that she was in danger of falling and possibly injuring herself.

“Take your hands off of me. I never want you to touch me again!” Solace screamed and wrenched herself from Rosanna’s grasp. Her last words came to an abrupt end as her feet became entangled in her cane and she tripped, falling on her butt. She tried to spring back up, but Rosanna reached out and grabbed her by both arms, hauling her up as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Rosanna held her an instant too long and then released her. She was grateful that Solace could not see her glistening eyes or hear her pounding heart. Was she making a mistake? No! Life would be much easier now!

“Are you all right, Sol?” Rosanna whispered.

Why did Sanna have to be so goddamned strong? That was too much of a turn-on and this was certainly no time to be turned on!. Solace cleared her throat before speaking to give herself more time to catch her breath.. “No, but I’m hoping I can survive this.” She answered mournfully. She slung her bag over her shoulder. Dammit! She had bent her cane. This was the second one this month—the first cane having succumbed to a rude pedestrian who had tripped over it and bent it until it resembled a horseshoe. The wretched individual had walked away without even offering to pay for the damage.

“Goodbye, Sol.” Rosanna kissed her softly on the cheek.

No fair! Why did she get to do that and I didn’t? Solace clung to her.

“Sanna, please don’t do this to us.” She begged through her sobs. Rosanna broke the embrace. Solace whispered and watched as much as she could as the only woman she had ever loved walked out of her life forever.

She felt hollow and could barely shamble over to a bench to sit down to collect herself. She hadn’t been sitting for two minutes when she popped up and blurted out. If that witch took Bizarrey, I’ll kill her! Several passersby gave her the eye, which she did not see. And would not have cared if she had been able. She made her way hurriedly to the next bus stop. Bizarrey the Cat, was communal property that belonged to her!