Cleopatra and Frankenstein

by Coco Mellors

When the darkest part of you meets the darkest part of me, it creates light.

Cleo was the first woman who could actually turn him on by criticizing him. She was smart about it, insightful in a way that made him feel defenseless but seen, really considered, for the first time in his life.

Her mother would have loved the architecture of the cathedral. She always said that a building should be two parts contentment, one part desire. Cleo had never understood what that meant, but now the phrase returned to her like a prophesy. Two parts contentment, one part desire. It seemed a good formula for living, though one she had not mastered yet.

It struck her that adult life was endlessly harsh and exciting, something to be overwhelmed by again and again, like a wave beating her down as she tried to stand.

Fondness was warm but not tepid, the color of amber, more affectionate than friendship but less complicated than love.

I guess that’s what life should feel like; setting off on a long car ride with all your worries and hopes strapped around you, the people who love you most frantically waving you off as you go.