honey & the moon (decolletages) wrote in yeux_de_saphir,

you're not a miracle and i'm not a saint

title: you're not a miracle and i'm not a saint.
rating: teen
summary: she talks loudly, drinks often, laughs inappropriately, falls asleep during the maoz tzur, and refuses the plate of latkes during dinner.
notes: written for inrevelations challenge #4 (holidays) & petitesmorts.



Elliott was a nice Jewish boy growing up in New York City. His parents owned a string of family restaurants and he was well-off.

He attended temple twice a week, he had a bar mitzvah, he celebrated Hanukkah and when he turned eighteen, he had the honor of lighting the candles for the eight days.

His parents expected him to meet a nice Jewish girl, take over the restaurants, and live the same life his parents instilled in him.

But then Naomi happened; Naomi painted his small world in crazy hues of vibrant colors.

- - -

Naomi was a statuesque African girl with beautiful olive-colored eyes and a loud, ringing laugh that distinguished itself in the small crowded living room.

Elliott had been staring at her the whole night; he had never felt so attracted to a woman, not even the petite raven-haired girl attached to his hip.

"What are you looking at, honey?"

Elliott shakes his head, "Nothing, must be the whiskey."

Anne Marie smiles and tugs at his hand, "Come on, let's go back to our apartment."

He nods but can't help look over his shoulder as he walks toward the door.

And much to his surprise, the tall ebony beauty is staring at him with a small smile.

- - -

He almost runs her over one morning at the Columbia University library.

He stutters his apology and offers to buy her a new coffee cause it's now spilled on the floor.

She smiles and accepts, "I'm Naomi."

"Elliott."

"I love that name, mainly because of Elliott Smith. Do you know who that is?"

"Oh yeah, I love him, too. Especially that one painting."

She laughs, "Of course, that painting."

That night, he googles Elliott Smith and finds out he was a singer and not a painter.

- - -

They run into each other the next month outside of a coffee shop near Columbia.

"Hey Elliott."

He shyly smiles and walks into the shop.

She analyzes his behavior for days.

- - -

"It's like you're not here anymore," Anne Marie says.

Elliott doesn't hear her because he's too enamored with the thought of Naomi and her eyes.

"Elliott?"

"What?"

"I can't do this anymore, okay? For the past few months, you're not around. It's like, like you don't care anymore. So I'm done. I already packed, so I'll be out before the lease is over."

Elliott's brain cannot register what's being said, so he says nothing but nods and hugs her.

"I'm sorry."

Anne Marie smiles, "I wish that were enough, but a girl knows when their boyfriend sees someone else who isn't her. Take care."

It feels like an open invitation.

- - -

So now it's Naomi and Elliott. Elliott and Naomi.

Everyone comments on how odd they are as a couple: the exotic beauty majoring in art history and the nice Jewish boy majoring in engineering.

Elliott doesn't care, all he cares is that he's the one that climbs in her bed. He's the one that makes her moan, it's his name that's being shouted in the middle of the nights. He's the one at the receiving end of a whispery i love you.

So it's not secret that the only thing he cares about is the opinion of his parents and he's too scared to find it.

- - -

Much to his dismay, sometime in early December the phone rings and rings and rings.

- - -

Elliott, it's your mother. Please call me back and tell me when you're coming back home. Hanukkah's on its way, dear. Oh and are you bringing Naomi? We'd love to meet her. Call me!

Naomi plays the message and looks at Elliott, "Are we going?"

He sighs, "I guess."

She laughs (that beautiful laugh), "Don't worry I won't embarrass you, I mean they can’t be that bad."

- - -

It's the first day of Hanukkah and Elliott's trying to stall, but he knows he has to knock on that door.

"Elliott! You made it, darling," his mother envelopes him in a hug.

His mother looks past his shoulder and sees her.

"Oh you must be, uh, Naomi. Naomi?"

Even though the smile is still plastered on her face, it no longer reaches her eyes.

- - -

Nobody says anything, but it's still there. The tension is so thick and the only one that doesn't feel it is Naomi.

She talks loudly, drinks often, laughs inappropriately, falls asleep during the Maoz Tzur, and refuses the plate of latkes during dinner.

Elliott can see his mother and her anything-but-amused face at his girlfriend's antics. He cringes when he sees that Naomi is telling a very salacious joke to one of his uncles (oy vey).

Nobody says anything, but everybody's thinking the same thing: What is this and what happened to our Elliott?

- - -

It's the seventh night after the celebration, and Naomi and Elliott are upstairs in his childhood bedroom.

She quietly runs her hand down the length of his body, placing attention onto a particular part of his body.

"Naomi, stop it."

She murmurs, "Why? You always seem to like it."

"Not here."

"God, stop being such a fucking little kid, Elliott," she says as she places her hand inside the waistband of his boxers.

He jumps out of bed, "Stop. It."

Naomi silently cries in between his snores.

- - -

It's time for them to leave.

Elliott's mother corners Naomi, "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my boyfriend's family for the holidays."

"No, what are you doing with my son?"

Naomi's heart breaks a little.

"Listen to me, Naomi. You're a phase for him, he's in his rebellious stage, I presume. But that's it, you're just a phase. So end this quick so he can find someone else."

She walks out the door and waits for Elliott in the car, thinking so much she falls asleep.

- - -

"I don't care what my family thinks of us, okay? I love you and I only want you."

She smiles weakly and nods.

"You're coming to my house for Kwanzaa."

- - -

After a long airplane ride from New York to Georgia to Naomi's house by a lake, they arrive.

A big, boisterous African woman runs from the front door to greet them and Naomi laughs.

"This is my mother, Sheila. Mama, this is Elliott."

Sheila kisses Elliott on each cheek, "I already love you like a son."

- - -

The huge waterfront house is decorated in bright colors, just like Naomi.

The women are dressed in colorful dresses with vivid patterns and huge smiles.

Elliott can't help but compare the differences in this acceptance than the one in his own home.

- - -

Naomi's mom and aunts all dote on Elliott.

He's perfect, He's so handsome, He's intelligent, they all say.

One day her mom says, "This is the boy you ought to be marrying!"

Elliott grins so grandly but Naomi lowers her head.

He should've seen something coming.

- - -

The week passes by and it's New Year's Eve.

Naomi and Elliott hold hands and watch the fireworks from the widow's walk on the roof.

Naomi stares at the contrasting difference between both of them: the color of their skin, their morals, their values, their traditions, and their family.

He turns a little and a small velvet box falls from his shirt pocket.

Naomi picks it up and opens it to find a diamond ring.

She puts it in her purse and cries so quietly, it's hard to believe she's even crying.

- - -

You're just a phase.

You're just a phase.

You're just a phase.

Don't expect anything. You’re just a phase.


She believes it now.

- - -

After they get back to the city, she's different.

There aren’t any surprised night visits, no more quiet library sex.

There aren’t any hushed phone calls, no more flirtatious and suggesting text messages.

He doesn't know what he did and he still can't find that ring.

- - -

It's at a graduation party that Elliott finds Naomi, drunk and flirting with another man.

The man smiles and walks away as Elliott walks over.

"What the fuck is this?"

Naomi rolls her eyes, "Elliott, come on. It's over, you should've figured that out."

"You should've told me."

"I'm just a phase. It doesn't matter, right?"

She leaves with the other man and he's confused.

- - -

It's been ten years from that night and Elliott is now married to a nice Jewish girl, much to his parents' approval.

He sticks his hand into the mailbox and is surprised to find a small box.

He opens it and finds the ring he lost so long ago.

He turns the box over and frowns.

No return address.
Tags: (fiction), type: original fiction
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