Chapter Text
“What is this thing, man? Woman? It is a being with the power to disobey. Alone among all the creatures we have free will. We hang suspended between two certainties: the clarity of the angels and the desires of the beasts… we must then Choose the tangled life we live.”
—Disobedience, 2017 dir. Sebastián Lelio
The first time Levi ever sees her, she’s almost naked.
It’s probably just a bit after dawn and she’s sitting at her veranda crisscross-applesauce, pulling her blonde hair into a high ponytail as Levi slides open the living room windows. They lead to the garden space she shares with one other neighbor, her, someone new, someone beautiful, and she can’t stop staring as she steps outside. The front of her beach kimono is wide open, giving Levi a clear view of her sports bra and pregnant belly.
Levi has spent her entire night drinking trying to ignore her—undiagnosed—insomnia. Her head feels heavy but the rest of her body is weightless, buzzing like her heart is pumping electricity into her veins. It makes her a lot bolder; she supposes she wouldn’t be ogling her neighbor like this were she soberer. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to notice her at all as she lowers her hands, rubbing her belly in circles in what looks like a self-soothing move, and Levi thinks about how she would look so peaceful at that moment if her shoulders weren’t shaking, fingers trembling. They’re far away from each other so she can’t see the tears, but Levi realizes she’s crying when one of her hands moves to wipe them away. Levi waits. She watches. It’s obvious she’s intruding on what looks like a pretty private occasion, but the way she tries to even out her breaths, a hand pressing on her cheek as the other’s nails dig into her stomach mesmerizes her somehow, binds her in place, makes her want to see this through.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Levi hopes she’s not lonely—where’s her husband, wife, whatever? It’s a stupid, baseless emotion, and Levi is aware that she knows nothing about her or her relationship to have the right to feel the way she does right now, yet she can’t help the anger starting to bubble up in her chest toward whoever that’s not by her side. Still, Levi stays motionless as she cries silently, on her own, and admires how dignified she manages to look with her spine straight and lips pursed, trying to keep it together even though she must think she’s alone at that moment; it makes Levi break into a small, sad smile. She doesn’t want to bother her, but she so badly wishes to sit beside her and tell her that it will be okay—whatever it is.
She places both of her palms on the ground and pushes herself up to her knees then, knee-walking to the edge of the veranda where she sits with her feet digging into the dirt; Levi wonders if the earth is warm or cold under her feet (she supposes it’s on the colder side since the sun isn’t high up in the sky yet) if she needs any help (she certainly won’t be a creep), and why she’s here now of all times (her villa was bought a few years ago, she remembers, but it’s been unoccupied ever since). A mosquito flies past her ear with an annoyingly loud buzz, and Levi scrunches her nose in distaste as she waves it away.
She hopes to see her again.