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There is a lady in the fountain
Vivian sees her sometimes, outside in the courtyard. She doesn’t take any of the mountains of coins, glittering in the shallow water of the pool. She doesn’t swim in it. Instead the lady folds herself neatly on top of the white plaster boar shooting jets of water from its tusks and sits. Waiting.
Vivian sometimes thinks she looks up to where Vivian watches her, peeking through a crack in the curtains. It’s silly, she knows.
Still.
*
I wish…
Vivian sits on the edge of the fountain, heels in hand, and massages her feet. The subway was an overheated crush of sweaty bodies today, the way it always gets in summer. She forgot her flats at the office and her trusty kitten heels are killing her.
“I love your shoes,” says a voice from the fountain. Vivian turns and there she stands, face mild despite the fact that she’s soaked, and her white dress is doing very little to preserve her modesty. “They look like they hurt though. I‘ve found if soak your feet in here sometimes it helps.”
Vivian looks down at the lady’s bare feet. “Won’t security chase us out?”
“They’d have to catch me first,” she says, a sly grin turning up the corners of her mouth.
Vivian laughs. The water is blessedly cool.
*
I wish…
“I don’t think I gave you my name, or thanked you for the tip,” Vivian tells the lady. “I’m Vivian, I live in apartment 3B.”
Vivian also spent most of the day at the office trying to remember what color her eyes were, what sound she’d made when she laughed.
“I’m Freya,” she says, giving Vivian subtle elevator eyes. Vivian preens a little. She’d cleaned up before coming down today, lipstick firmly water resistant and hair done up, though already curling where it’s damp.
Vivian hikes up her skirt and climbs in. She shivers a little, and produces the bottle of wine she’d kept even after the engagement had broken.
“Fancy adding to your list of misdemeanors?”
“I could think of worse ways to spend and evening,” says Freya and pops the cork.
They pass the bottle between them, talking until the sun sinks and the air turns cold. Vivian’s lying half-in half-out of the water, drunk, drenched and happier than she’s been in months.
“I’ve always wanted to sleep on a huge pile of money,” she murmurs into Freya’s ear as Freya pours her out of the pool.
“It’s not just money, it’s people’s wishes.”
“Wishing doesn’t change shit.” Vivian stumbles to her feet. Freya’s close enough to kiss, if she dared.
She doesn’t.
*
I wish…
Dinner is minute rice and sad chicken, company is the eight o’clock news anchor.
Vivian is going to scream.
The wedding invitation lies untouched on the counter. (Fuck Arthur, fuck all of them, for knowing and saying nothing. But fuck Arthur in particular for sending it anyway.)
The lights in the fountain are on. They cast deep shadows over the figures dancing, so that Freya only resolves out of the darkness when Vivian is standing right at the rim of the pool, shaking.
“Vivian?” Freya puts a cool hand to her elbow, guides Vivian into the water.
The edges of the coins dig into her feet, sharp reminders of the wishes she’s stepping on. The spray curls around them. Welcomes them in.
Freya pulls her into a wet embrace. Vivian leans down and lets her head rest on Freya’s shoulder, breathes hot where she's pressed between cold skin and cold stone. Freya’s tiny enough Vivian could probably wrap her arms around her twice. The white noise of the fountain and the warmth of Freya wrapped around her are like a balm to a wound she didn’t realize was gaping.
Freya kisses Vivian’s hair, her neck. Vivian can feel the soft curves of her body through the practically transparent dress. All Vivian has to say is,“Freya, please, I want-” and Freya’s hands turn from soothing to seeking.
She backs Vivian up against the ugly plaster boar, kissing a wet line down to her breasts, tugging at Vivian’s shirt. Vivian kisses her harder, deeper, Freya’s hands up her skirt to where she’s pulsing and wet. Vivian has water all down her front and the skirt sticks to her skin. Freya peels it off slowly, like she's giving Vivian a chance to run. Vivian kisses the water off her skin, mouths across her cheek, swipes a tongue across Freya's lips to catch the last droplets of water that linger there, the metallic taste of coins heavy on her tongue.
Freya coaxes her thighs apart, wets her with her tongue and goes down on her in the middle of the courtyard until she’s burning in the water, stars blooming behind her eyelids.
*
I wish…
There are two ladies in the fountain.