#furie

L’oued et ses galets   Seuls les galets restent Au creux de la rivière Et nul ne conteste L’adage populaire   Oued de mon enfance J’écris sur tes galets Assis en silence Sur ton lit, mon palais   Tes pierres toujours là Polies par l’érosion Fidèles, les voilà En toutes occasions   J’aime te voir en furie Et j’aime te voir calme Ta beauté éblouit Elle remplit l’âme   Ton sort, semblable au…

Selma Miriam and Noel Furie were unhappy housewives, as they put it, when they met at a gathering of the National Organization for Women in Connecticut in 1972. Soon after, they divorced their husbands, came out as lesbians and set about creating a place for women to congregate. Ms. Miriam was a talented and adventurous cook, and at first they held dinners at her house, charging $8 for a weekly…

To say Nunnally got used to Furie around her was an overstatement. She didn’t. But how could she? Ever since she had remembered, people around her were coming and going, and the fact they would leave one day (sooner than later) was one unchangeable fact in her life. She was made to remain alone. Of that was she was sure. So, Nunnally was expecting Furie to l e a v e. To disappear in the same way he found his way to her. And yet, he didn’t for such a long time. He was there: clearly an element that didn’t fit.

And as much as Nunnally didn’t want to, she did grow attached to that white-haired man. In fact, she was starting to feel uneasy, when he disappeared for too long. She couldn’t understand why. She truly didn’t. She wasn’t even sure what her feelings towards him were. But Nunnally wasn’t indifferent about him. She couldn't deny it. She cared. And she cared more than she should have and that made her frightened.

They didn’t talk much when they were together. Furie seemed not to be a talker, and she was too concerned that her speaking might disturb him. So, there was mainly some (awkward) silence between them; but the silence Nunnally had learnt to enjoy. To miss.

This time was no different. He might have said, where they were heading, but it probably slipped her mind just a few moments after he had named the place. It was not important to her. She just enjoyed being close to another being. Or rather to Furie. She didn’t want to lie to herself. It wasn’t about just anyone. It WAS about Furie.

She didn’t expect his arm to snake around her waist. She didn’t expect to end up so c l o s e to Furie. The proximity, and the intimacy it caused, immediately flustered her; staining her cheeks in faint pink, but Nunnally did nothing to avoid Furie’s touch and that closeness between them. Quite opposite, indeed. She moved herself closer to him, almost pressing her slender figurine onto him. It was WHAT she wanted. It was WHERE she wanted to be. In his embrace?

The world around her ceased to exist. Nunnally seemed not to notice the nightfolks, their chatters, lights, noises and scents. She could only feel Furie’s arm around her, his breath, her breath, theirs…

Getting on the other side of the crowd brought her back to reality. But it wasn’t a pleasant wake up. Nunnally expected he would now let her go; after all why would Furie keep her close now, where there was no (objective) need to do so? But he didn’t.

(“Furie…”); she said his name. Silently though as no sound left her lips. Nunnally didn’t want it to end. She wanted this moment to last. But she wasn’t able to find the right words to say that to him. To explain it to Furie. Instead, she moved even closer to him (but was closer even possible?) and laid her head on his shoulder; he was taller than she was, but still not tall enough that she couldn’t do it comfortably especially when wearing her heels.

(“Can we stay like that for a few moments?”); she wanted to ask, but yet Nunnally didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable with such a direct request. He’d understand; she hoped.

(“Though we must look weird…”); she thought; (“Though why should we care?”)