Before the Rapture


Hanne Steen

15 September, 2022

Fiction


Hanne Steen is a writer, therapist, and mother based in Los Angeles. She is a PEN Emerging Voices Fiction Fellow, and her work has been published in PANK and Corium, among others.

Before the rapture I was always cold.

You called me back as I was folding up my apron and heading to my car and you were smoking outside and you said come back and have a drink with us and I said I might and you said what? I said I might! And you said what?! And I waved my hand at you like oh stop it and I ran to my car to get a sweater from the trunk and put some lipstick on and when I came back you were laughing at your table with your friends and you stood up when you saw me and I thought yeah I will. I will come back. 

Before the rapture I drove the car with my eyes closed and smashed into things, maybe on purpose. Before the rapture I had bad dreams, cracked sleep. Before the rapture I was dry and my tears were dry. 

I was walking to my car in the dark aloneness of the empty street and you called from behind me where you were smoking a cigarette and you said come back. I said I might and I did. 

Later we laughed and said it was because of the rapture. 

Before the rapture I was walking with my eyes shut, falling into holes. Maybe by accident. Before the rapture I hid from spiders. I was afraid there was nothing left to want. Before the rapture I was really afraid. 

We sat in my car in the night and you told me about your hometown and you meant it. You brought me into your house. I saw the tidy rows of everything but saw through their tidiness too. We got high off the glass table and sat together in a pool of silence. I licked your lips in the kitchen. You pulled my dress up and I led you to your bed. We slept mostly and I was warm beside your warm body. 

The rapture never came. 

Maybe it was because I never had a hometown. Maybe it was the tidy rows or the silence. But after a while I started falling into holes again. I started hiding from spiders, got tangled in their webs. You drove with your eyes closed and smashed into me and you meant it. I cracked your sleep and dried your tears. We pulled each other’s dresses up and gave each other bad dreams. I forgot there was anything left to want. I wanted everything. I waited for you in the bar and you forgot to say come back. I came back anyway but you were already gone.