Today
West Palm,
Florida – Winter
FIVE, THREE, THREE, seven, nine,
four. This month’s gate code lay crumpled on her dashboard. Her blue hybrid
hatchback rolled lazily past the gate, only to stop a few buildings down.
Stepping away from her car, Vala
blinked. The drapes weren’t hers. She hesitated, double-checking her own house
number. This neighborhood was familiar in the same manner as a vivid dream.
Every mental retreat to this place brought tiny revisions, until her memories
were to these walls what a composite sketch was to a fugitive.
Four, three, five, six. This was her
house. Rebekkah must have changed the drapes since Christmas. She stalled,
fidgeting with her coat—it was entirely too warm down here to wear one, but she
hadn’t yet bothered to take it off.
Eventually, she took a deep breath.
Ahead of her lay the first step of the rest of her life; behind her, the best
and the worst of her most irrevocable decisions.
Her foot eased forward and touched the
walkway.
She paused at the doorway. This
would be the longest time she’d spent in her own home since buying it. Eight
weeks. Rebekkah, bless her, would want to drag her out to this place and that,
to do every conceivable couples-type of activity possible within those weeks.
Right now, she just wanted to savor
having a real bed. Quiet company. A kiss. A touch.
As she stepped inside, a voice rang
out from across the house, one she would know from any distance. She cringed.
“Vala!”
For a split second, she could not
remember the face behind it. Features and facts, to be certain. Dimpled cheeks.
Dark eyes. The mess of curly black hair she loved so much. Yet the subtle
complexities that bound these things together into something more, something
uniquely her, were absent.
“Vala, hold on, I’m—okay, there!
Coming!”
Twenty-three years old. Five-foot-eight.
Size four waist; 34-B bra. Vala smiled softly.
Rebekkah’s bubbly smile rushed into
view.
Vala opened her arms as the taller
woman crashed into her, grasping her tight.
Four months since her last visit.
Four years of patience.
Five years of encouragement.
Six years of intimacy.
Vala buried her face in Rebekkah’s
neck. A collection of facts and concepts ebbed and blurred, giving way to the flesh
and blood that she had longed for months to hold. Her shoulders began to quiver.
Her face contorted, her chest tightening as she choked down the first quiet
tears.
In truth, she had dearly missed this
woman. This crazy, insufferably energetic, eccentric woman.
For a time, they stood still. Rebekkah
cupped Vala’s head; Vala squeezed her tighter. When the latter finally glanced
up, she’d left tear stains on Rebekkah’s blouse in a shape not unlike blots of
ink.
Vala smirked, dabbing her eyes. Her
cheeks were crimson. She poked the taller woman in the shoulder, yawning
heavily. “What do you see?”
Rebekkah smiled, caressing Vala’s
cheek and planting a kiss on her forehead. “A very tired, very hard-working
girl. A girl who is going to sit down, and—”
She lifted her hands, objecting. “I’m
fine, I—”
“A girl who is going to sit down and relax,” she insisted, pointing toward the couch in the next room. “I
know what they put you through. Sit.”
Vala sighed, rolling her eyes
playfully as she consented. It was an act, in part, pushed clumsily through
exhaustion to hide her pressing need for sleep. Sleep which, she knew, she
would not be allowed to have any time soon. Rebekkah’s best intentions never
failed to be exhausting, though in part, that was part of her irresistible
charm.
Stepping into the den, she glanced around.
Familiar, but not. She wasn’t sure how much was her and how much was her
partner’s ceaseless fidgeting with the décor. At least the couch was in the
same place. She settled into the cool leather, glancing back toward the door to
catch a glimpse of black curls disappearing into the kitchen.
Her favorite curls.
Rebekkah returned shortly. In each
hand she was carrying a boxy dinner tray, red with Oriental trim, carefully
compartmentalized and sized for just the right portions. She kicked at the
ottomon, cursing under her breath as a small handful of rice spilled onto the
floor.
Vala leaned forward with a genuine
smirk, pulled over the ottoman, and took a tray. Her eyes widened as she peered
in. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had neglected to eat for the
majority of this trip. Something her partner had doubtlessly seen coming. “Rebutter,
you—”
“Yep. Finally learned how to sushi.”
Setting down her own tray, Rebekkah held up a finger and rushed off again.
Vala tilted her head, confused, only
to shrug and pick up her chopsticks. After failing four times to pick up a
roll, she finally managed. A fork would be so much easier, but she wasn’t about
to rob Rebekkah of the satisfaction of crafting such a genuine ethnic meal. She
held up the roll, inspecting the contents—salmon, cream cheese, avocado, and a
handful of vegetables she knew only as ‘tasty’.
Lifting the roll to the light, she
gave it a close look. The rice had been lightly fried in what she knew as ‘tasty-crunchy
flakes’. In its honor, she would call this a ‘tasty-crunchy roll’. Lifting it
to her mouth, she closed her eyes and began to chew.
As quickly as that, she was intimately
familiar every facet of this food. The creamy texture of the salmon. The tang
of cream cheese. Avacado, being… avocado, however one might possibly describe
such a taste. Even the nameless vegetables and topping seemed personal. It was
a simple truth, so honestly evident in the food Rebekkah made. Every ingredient
was distinct, known. There were no questions. No unknowns. No guesses.
If only life were so simple.
She swallowed, then smiled. She had
named it well.
Three years in culinary arts.
Rebekkah came rushing back in some
four rolls later, this time holding a plastic bag. “Sorry, I bought this months
ago and couldn’t—” she paused, glancing over as she sat down. She tongued her
incisor, nervous. “How’d I do? Like, on a scale from ‘I’m only eating this
because I prefer the bed’ to ‘I creamed myself just now’?”
Vala arched an eye brow, only to
smirk. At least all the excitement was coming to her. She wasn’t sure she could
leave the couch at all, at this point, even if she really wanted to. “Can’t tell
if it’s you or the food, really.”
Rebekkah grinned impishly, only to
eye the food again. “No, but really. Tongue-barf? Mouth-gasm?”
Vala pinched at another roll,
succeeding on her second try. Chewing it slowly, she gave her partner a tired
smile and spoke with a full mouth. “It’s the best food I’ve had since last time
I came home.” She paused, allowing that to sink in.
“Yeah, but you—”
“That includes the restaurants, before you start that shit.”
Rebekkah turned a bit red, fingers
fidgeting with the plastic above them.
Swallowing, Vala reached up to touch
her partner’s face. Such soft skin. “Thank you. You know, I hadn’t planned on
coming home to this. Suspicions, yes, but no plans.”
Smiling softly, Rebekkah took Vala’s
hand in her own and kissed the ends of her fingers.
She shivered, closing her eyes a
moment.
“I’m proud of you, you know. My mother
asked me the other day, how I could stay with someone who is never here.”
Vala’s smile ebbed slightly. She
looked on, waiting.
“You, uhh… you don’t want to know what
I said. I’ll sound like a stupid fangirl.”
“Oh, please. Tell me.”
“I… okay. Well. I told her, ‘She’s
always here. If it wasn’t for Vala, I wouldn’t ever have had the courage to
enter Culinary.’” Rebekkah paused, fidgeting. “…’I wouldn’t live in this
beautiful house. I wouldn’t wake up every morning, happy, because the… the
first thing I smell is her scent on the pillow next to mine.’”
The shorter woman’s cheeks went
crimson. She looked down at her food for a moment with a quiet chuckle, even as
she wondered quietly whether she’d lose her appetite. She gave Rebekkah a
half-forced smile, caught between genuine flattery and the automatic revulsion
she always felt whenever anyone confessed
their dependence on her strength. “Ohhh, you.” After a moment’s silence, she
looked back up, as if remembering something. “Oh, Louis asked about you, after
the dance.”
Rebekkah paused. “How was that,
anyway?”
“Mm. Louis made sure it wasn’t a
disaster. I would have fallen on my face, without his help.”
The taller woman smirked. “All fight,
no grace. You’re such a boy.”
Vala scoffed, only to slowly exhale. Bad
news. She had wanted to wait until tomorrow. “Jerry’s dad is gonna go, soon. I…
don’t know what to do for them. I want to help, but…”
Rebekkah shrank down. “How… How long
does William have?”
“Two months.”
“Just… two?” Nibbling her lip,
Rebekkah looked down at her dinner. After a long silence, she tugged at Vala’s
sleeve. “Hey. We have a couple months before you go anywhere, right? Let’s go
to Dallas. “
Vala blinked, only to shake her head.
“I… I don’t know, it’s kind of… private, you know? William knows I—”
“Does he?” Rebekkah interrupted. “I
mean, we’d hope so, but…”
Vala stiffened. “Look, I know you—”
“No, no, listen.” Sitting up straight
and wiping her eyes, Rebekkah set her tray beside herself on the couch. “This
isn’t about my dad. It’s just… William always said, he didn’t want a big
shin-dig at his funeral. He wanted to know what people thought while he was
still around.”
Vala fell quiet, eyeing her food. She
thought about William, stuck in bed for the past year. She saw Jerry’s eyes,
hearing the news about his father.
She saw her best friend’s face,
hearing she would be there, too.
After a long quiet, she looked up,
smiled softly, and nodded. So much for her house. “I… yeah. Okay. Yeah, let’s…
I’ll call Louis, in the morning. He leaves in two days.”
Rebekkah leaned in, planting a kiss on
her partner’s forehead. “Good. When we get there, I am making William some of
that puttanesca he always loved. And some tiramisu.”
Her smile grew, and she picked up another
roll. Chewing, she was quiet for a while before she pointed her utensils at the
bag Rebekkah had been holding. “¿Qué es?”
“Oh! Uhh… qué es a… presen..to?” Smiling
excitedly, Rebekkah pulled a small white box from the bag, visibly wrapped in a
hurry. Sliding across the couch until her side smushed against Vala’s, she took
away her partner’s food and handed her the box. “Es… el oldo keya. Last momento
wrappido, when you walked in the door.”
Vala arched an eyebrow, feigning
surprise. “I thought you were supposed to be Cuban.”
Rebekkah puffed up, looking cross.
“And I took you for Gestapo, but you still haven’t fixed the goddamned oven!”
Vala’s face screwed up, her best attempt at
stoicism failing miserably. She burst out laughing, blushing again. “Fuck you!
You’re a bitch!”
Grinning triumphantly, Rebekkah
gestured at the box. “And you’re a butch. Open it.”
Taking a deep breath, Vala steadied
herself, fingertips finding the lip of the box. It was a fairly nondescript
package—try as she might to imagine what might be inside, she was drawing
blanks. Probably something sentimental, knowing Rebekkah. Lifting gingerly, she
peered inside and frowned. “I’m keeping all this tissue. It’s enough for all my
presents. Ever.”
Rebekkah wriggled in place. “Stop
teasing! Open it!” She quivered almost imperceptibly, leaning forward and
chewing on her lip.
With a tired smile, Vala sunk her
fingers in the tissue, only to strike something cold. Raising an eyebrow, she
paused. Jewelry? Her stomach tightened. What was she…?
It was a key, though it was entirely
too large to open any lock not made by hand. It was fashioned from a metal she
was unfamiliar with, its tone somewhere between silver and chrome. The top half
had been worked to bear the face of a wolf of sorts, though it seemed vaguely
human, with features so broad and strong that if it were a real creature, it
could easily crush bone. Its eyes, set with gemstones, were the same deep-sea
blue as her own. Fixed to the back of its head was a chain just long enough to
fit over her head.
Vala held it in the flat of her
hand, lifting it up and down. Her insides relaxed. “It’s… gorgeous. And heavy.
Heavier than it looks.” She smiled, her
eyes fixed on the wolf’s.
Rebekkah tilted her head. “Seemed
about right to me. Here.” Grasping the chain, she hung it over Vala’s neck.
Leaning back, she smiled gently. She was quiet for a moment, until the edge of
her mouth quivered. “I… want you to keep it on. When you deploy, I mean.”
Vala’s stomach sank. “Not… not if I…
I mean, it’s so beautiful, I don’t want to—”
“Keep it on. Please. For me.”
Nibbling her lip, Vala nodded. Her
fingers wrapped around the wolf again. Something about it felt… right. Safe.
“I’m… okay. You win.”
Rebekkah smiled somberly. “Good.
Turn it over.”
Vala tilted her head, curious. Flipping over
the cold metal, she noticed some markings, engraved behind the wolf’s eyes.
They looked like tally marks.
Seven.
She glanced up at Rebekkah, curious.
“The… shopkeeper told me it’s interesting,
because tally marks are the earliest counting system.” Rebekkah poked at the
key, as if this would somehow emphasize her point. “Like, before people
invented the zero, or even written language. You could count days or sticks or
the number of women you’d clubbed on the head.”
Vala furrowed her brow, looking back down at
the key. “But, that doesn’t make sense. This is metallurgy. The work is
impeccable. I’ve… never really seen anything this beautiful.”
Rebekkah’s cheeks flushed pink, her concern
clearly more centered on Vala’s appreciation than on the line of thought she
was carving.
“I mean, anyone this skilled had to live in…
in society, with—”
“Hey, hey, Vala…” the taller girl cut in,
starting to frown. “I was… I was trying to tell you something…”
The shorter woman paused, deflating a bit.
This was too interesting. She was enthralled, but her reasons, she was
realizing, were entirely different from those of the sweet woman who had sought
it for her. “I… sorry. I guess I like it too much.” She smiled. “Go ahead. Tell
me why you picked it out.”
Rebekkah returned a shy smirk. “I, umm… it
was…” she trailed off, only to reach up and stroke Vala’s cheek. “It… reminded
me of you. It has your eyes. That’s what caught my attention. But picking it
up, it felt… strong. Wise, unshakeable. Like it’s been around forever, but no
one could… could ever…” she paused, eyes beginning to water. “…bring it harm.”
Vala’s gut sank and her heart skipped a beat.
Guilt, devotion, and duty turned her stomach in unison. She could never think
of something that affectionate, that devoted, to say to anyone. Her idea of
romance was paying for Rebekkah’s movie tickets. Did she really deserve those
words, herself?
Rebekkah
leaned in, brushing her cheek against her partner’s, leaving moisture in her
wake. She nestled in, lips to Vala’s ear. “Seven. We’re coming up on seven
years, you know. I’m… not going to make you promise to stay safe. I know
that’s… it’s just… it isn’t fair. To you. But… promise me you’ll do your best
to come home to me, okay?”
Five, three, three, seven, nine, four.
Four, three,
five, six.
Four,
Five,
Six, and
Seven.
Vala paused. She loved Rebekkah.
Truly loved her. Yet every fitful night this week, as her mind had trudged
through its deepest fears, her face was not the one she could never do without.
Her face was not the one she stood
to lose. An ambush. A road bomb. A mechanical failure. Anything could happen
any moment and just…
She bit her lip, forcing her
thoughts to here and now. This face was still one she loved. One she would give
her life to protect. With a somber smile, she nodded to Rebekkah. She would do
her best. This much, she knew.
A treasured collection of traits and facets
sniffled in Vala’s ear. Kissed her cheek. Whispered to her. “Good. Now, let’s
get drunk and watch some Disney.”
Vala smiled. That sounded like an excellent
idea.
* * *
A single blue eye cracked open. The
sun was in her face, searing her retinas despite her eyelids’ best attempts at
guarding her sleep.
Vala blinked, rolling over with a
quiet grumble. A moment later, she shot upright in bed, eyes searching for a
clock. Finding it, she began to stand up, only to realize that she was nine
hundred miles from her military bunk.
Eight-thirty in the morning. Close
by, a muted Winnie the Pooh was dancing happily across a television screen,
sing-along words dotted by a happy bouncing ball.
When
I up, down, touch the ground, puts me in the mood…
She didn’t remember the last time
she slept this late. Her head hurt, and her blurry vision sought out the floor,
trying in vain to count the empty bottles. As she took count, vague
recollections of the night before suggested that their viewing schedule had
consisted of The Last Unicorn, hardcore pornography, Sesame Street, and sing-along
Disney, in that order. How the latter became looped was a question she would
pose Rebekkah only after her hangover subsided.
Six, seven, eight… nine!
Nine bottles of alcohol! Ah Ah Ah!!
Grinning to herself, she sighed
heavily, glancing again at the clock, then down at her sleeping Rebutter’s
face. Her lips were parted, drool soaking the pillow beneath, sweat-caked hair
strewn all over her face in a mess that promised hours of painful brushing.
Something in her gut said the night
before had started off badly. The drive home was an especially sour thought.
Right now, with this headache, she could hardly be assed to remember why.
Vala settled back into the bed,
drawing the covers back over herself and curling up against Rebekkah’s sleeping
form. Something hard and metallic poked her left breast, and her fingers found
a necklace she didn’t recall putting on.
A… key?
…Oh, right.
Her beautiful, beautiful gift.
Fingers wrapping around the heavy
metal, she smiled.
