One More |
It was during the full spectrum of her awkward period when they first met. She was a gawky sixteen year old with metal braces and Coke-bottle glasses, using her textbooks as her torso’s armor. Her sight was fixated on her steps hitting the floor tiles as she walked to her Linear Algebra class, which caused the collision to be startling at a minimum. Her textbook shield slipped from her arms and her march was halted. As she concentrated on gathering her books back into their position of protection, a soft, “I’m sorry,” danced through her ears.
The hazel eyes that met hers were hidden behind their own set of Coke-bottles, and skinny arms gathered the other textbooks into the same protective position as Empress’ had been. As Empress outlined the soft curves of her face with her eyes, the smile that had long been hidden since the addition of her braces was triggered.
Camellia’s returned smile showed her a random act of kindness that she had never experienced in past collisions while at school. They proceeded at a slow pace to her Linear Algebra class and discovered mutual interests in trivial things like Scrabble and Grunge music. In that brief instance, Empress displaced years of anxiety that ensued whenever she came into contact with other schoolmates.
Within a few weeks, Camellia was as much of a habit to her as brushing her teeth in the morning. A day never ended without them giggling about something that wasn’t deserving of even a smirk, or sharing details that required the crossing of one’s heart and swearing on the graves of dead relatives. As they exchanged stories during their time together, she learned later that Camellia had also been the favorite target of torment from her schoolmates at her previous school, and those similar, devoid of compassion, experiences drew Empress more so to her.
The following summer had brought the occurrence of their seventeen year birthdays, which by coincidence, fell within weeks of each other. Not much fuss came with the occasions as the two of them knew they could never conjure up enough people, outside of family members, to attend parties in their honor.
As the summer season began to wind down, and preparations for their senior school year started, Camellia and Empress decided to take one last day trip of solitude to Lake Wiley. A few weeks prior they found a spot that provided enough seclusion so that their reading, and mild defiance of sipping wine coolers, would not be disturbed.
When the sun had begun to paint the sky in its setting colors, they both stopped to be awed by the simplicity of its beauty. As their feet made waves for the dragon flies’ amusement, she noticed the sleekness of Camellia’s legs. Empress’ eyes continued to sneak up Camellia’s body until they rested on her face. Earlier that summer they had both retired their Coke-bottle glasses and replaced them with contact lenses, exposing the subtle beauty that had even been hidden from its owners.
Camellia turned to face her. They watched the setting colors coat each other’s eyes with gold and amber hues. With instinct being goaded by curiosity, their heads tilted, and their lips parted as they drew closer to one another. Camellia placed her hand on Empress’ cheek as if to guide her through this foreign territory. For it was only Camellia who had experience in this area, thanks to a brief encounter in the woods with a boy she met at vacation Bible school years prior. Empress felt her insatiable appetite grow with each graze of their tongues. A heat rivaling the earlier temperatures of that summer day swept between her thighs while comfort settled with quietness inside her.
When their lips parted, confusion slipped between the spaces of heat and comfort. “Camellia,” was all that she could think to say.
“Empress,” Camellia responded with the same look of confusion and comfort.
The summer night gave way to the departing day, and in their silence Empress could only think that the one thing more amazing than watching the sun set in Camellia’s eyes was watching the moon rise in her background. A full day had passed with her being in Camellia’s presence, and all she wanted was one more minute, one more hour, one more day, one more lifetime to spend with her.
The Lake Wylie memory prompted her to lift her wine glass. She sniffed the red blend until the vanilla nodes overpowered the bouquet. The vanilla danced through her nostrils and transported her mind back to the secluded shore. She felt the summer sun igniting her skin, and Camellia kindling the flame she never knew how to extinguish.
Her wife witnessed her desertedness, saw the unapologetic reach into nostalgia. Their thirty years granted her unseeking insight. “What are you thinking about,” she asked, though she knew the answer.
Empress’ smile said her reply before her words. “Just enjoying the sunset.”