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Elsa was surprised to find that she liked the sound of the city at night. All of the stories seemed to say that it was noisy, smelly, dirty, and perhaps it was compared to the quiet village where she had grown up, but there was something liberating about it, as well.
And at night, when the glow of the city reflected on the clouds, and even the warm spring air gave way to a cooler breeze, there was something oddly beautiful about it.
She sat on her windowsill, one leg dangling outside, a bottle of water held against her chest. It had been a long time since she’d slept much, and she had long since grown used to the shadows beneath her eyes and the occasional weight in her limbs. It gave her much more time, in return; often she read, or worked, and when she had been in school she had studied. Moments like this, just watching the world, were rarer; this was one of those occasional moments.
She sipped at her water, the air cool on her bare arms and legs. It was nice to be able to sit around, as well, in a strappy top and shorts for pyjamas, without her father looking critically at her arms or her mother looking pained at her narrow hips.
They had meant well. She knew that, although it had been harder to understand at fourteen, at twelve, at eight. Then they had seemed to hate her, hate everything that she wanted. Now she understood that they had been scared as well, more scared than her really, and that had been what had driven them.
They had been terrified that living on her own would let her get worse. She did not speak to them much any more; they could not believe that it was, slowly, getting better for her.
Elsa breathed in the air, feeling the city at night, letting it surround her and letting herself enjoy that surrounding. A new place, and she felt free .
There was a grating sound behind her, and she turned to look, wobbling in place. Grabbing at the sill with one hand. Elsa swung her leg down so that she was astride the sill, and looked properly as the window of the next apartment along scraped open and a woman leant on the sill. She had messily loose brown hair, and wore a long-sleeved purple shirt as she produced a cigarette.
It felt strange to be sitting in silence. A little creepy, if truth be told. Elsa cleared her throat. The woman stopped, cigarette between her lips but unlit, and looked down at the ground below.
“To your right,” Elsa said.
The woman looked round, laughed a sharp bark of a laugh to herself, and took the cigarette out of her mouth again. “Sorry. Didn’t think someone else would be up.”
The makeup around her eyes looked like it might have been yesterday’s, but somehow it suited her. Her eyes were so blue they looked almost lilac in the seeping light from her room.
“It can’t be far from dawn,” said Elsa, with a shrug. She was struck that perhaps she should have covered herself up, but the woman didn’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to do that second glance that so many people did when they realised how skinny she was. “Not sure there’s that many people up.”
The woman chuckled, a low, throaty sound. It managed to be warm and sardonic at the same time. “Figures. So you’re the new neighbour, huh?”
“Elsa.”
“Megara. My friends call me Meg.” She smirked to herself as she readied the cigarette and lighter again. “Well, they would, if I had any friends.”
“I’ve never really earned much in the way of nicknames,” said Elsa. It was a little bit of a lie; she knew full well that kids back in school had called her the snow queen behind her back. It was their way of getting away with saying frigid bitch without the teachers catching on. “Megara’s a nice name. I don’t think I’ve met any Megaras before.”
“Probably a good thing,” said Megara, in the same self-deprecating tone of voice. “Don’t want to have to deal with too many like me.”
Elsa huffed a laugh. “I suspect some said the same about me.”
“New to the city?” she continued, putting the cigarette between her lips and lighting it, still talking around it as Elsa cocked her head curiously. “Accent gives it away. And the sense of optimism and hope of fulfilling your dreams, of course,” she added just as dryly, before taking a drag and blowing out a stream of smoke into the air. “The city wears that away sooner or later. You here for college?”
“Yes.”
“Good idea. Stay there.” She took another drag.
Elsa tucked her hair back behind her ear. “You’re not?”
Megara shrugged, with one shoulder more than the other, and looked out over the city. As she tapped ash from her cigarette, her sleeve shifted, to reveal dark pink scars on her wrist. Elsa saw them, noted them, and did not much mind. It was not much different from her own battles that she had with her body.
“Not any more,” said Megara.
“You could always go back.”
She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m never going back.”
Elsa’s lips twitched towards a smile, and she leant against the windowframe in such a way that she could more easily look in Meg’s direction. “I like the sound of that,” she said. “The past is in the past.”
“And the future is the future.” Meg flicked more ash off her cigarette.
She had a suspicion that, in other stories, they might have been the damsels in distress. But as Elsa took another sip of her water, telling herself firmly that it did not make her lesser to feel something in her stomach, she thought that perhaps they had other tales to tell instead. Megara had not looked at her with any judgement, a strange and new and refreshing feeling that made Elsa feel just a little bit more real somehow.
“Are you often up this late?” Megara continued.
Elsa shrugged. “Fairly often. It can be easier to think at this time of night.”
With one last drag, Megara tossed her cigarette away into the night, like a tiny comet into the darkness. “Glad to hear I’m not the only one. Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”
“Maybe,” said Elsa, and thought, I hope so .