“I’ve never been to this town before.” Salama gazed out the window as old, kitschy shops and restaurants passed. “I bet it’s absolutely gorgeous in the summer.”
“Wait until you see what they have at the thrift shops. People clean out their folks’ attics and you can get some really nice antiques. Also some totally ‘what the fuck’ stuff.”
“That’s my favorite right there.”
“Here we go.” Heaven turned into a major thrift store’s parking lot.
The place was packed, even on a Tuesday, but that didn’t surprise Heaven. Places with furniture, clothes, and home goods all in the same place were often bursting at the seams in these small towns. This one was five times bigger than Paradise Valley, so it wasn’t surprising to see half the county shopping for cheap clothes and new dishes. Nor was it surprising to see people getting a jump on spring cleaning and dumping old stuff into the donation centers.
As the saying went… one person’s junk was another person’s treasure! Heaven was all about scouting for treasures, both for her personal fun and for her café.
“I’m warning you right now,” she told Salama when they got out of the car, “I am going to spend most of my time in the dishware section. That’s where all the super nice frilly teacups and mugs are.”
“I always had a feeling your stuff came from thrift shops.”
“Problem with that?”
“Absolutely not,” Salama said with a grin. “I kinda love that about indie cafes. They do the same thing in Portland.”
“Who knew I was so trendy?”
“This is Oregon. Everyone is all about recycling and repurposing.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Hey, mind if I turn your water bottle in for the deposit?”
They spent most of the early afternoon perusing the thrift shops Heaven already deemed worth her time. I may come here a lot. Like once a month, or at least every other month. Most of her household items came from thrift shops. Some were so cheap yet useful that all they required was minor cleanup. Meanwhile, she got to help other small businesses stay afloat.
Salama was lost to the clothing department. Heaven pushed her cart straight back to dishware and immersed herself in a world of sturdy yet adorable teatime items.
There was the usual mix of CorningWare, Fiestaware, and those little hand-painted, gold-leaf lined plates Heaven’s grandmother used to keep in her kitchen. What’s the point of buying Fiestaware if you don’t get a whole set? Heaven wanted that for her own kitchen… forget the café! Those butterfingers would break the good stuff in ten minutes. There may have been no use crying over broken Fiestaware, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
She wanted the one dollar cups and saucers. Maybe some new teapots, since two of the ones she used now in the café often proved cumbersome to wash. Unfortunately, so many of the items in that back corner were a little too delicate for big thumbs and thirsty lips. Patrons were accustomed to squeezing mugs and smacking them back down on tables. Even the tea people like Salama were often too distracted to notice how badly they chipped teacups.
Heaven picked up a cup that was part of a small set. They had been relegated to the back of the shelf, but some gold cursive writing around the edges had attracted her discerning eye.
“Oh, that’s cute.” Hand-painted camels and their robed attendants trekked across an invisible desert. A few little marks indicated a starry night. The writing beneath the images must have been Arabic. Recognizing it was as far as Heaven got when it came to understanding it.
She took one of the cups with her up to the clothing racks, where she found Salama holding up a pullover for inspection.
“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything, but…” She handed Salama the cup. “Can you read this? Or did I embarrass myself by asking you that?”
It took Salama a few seconds to realize what she had been asked. “Kinda?” she said. “I grew up speaking Arabic at home, but my reading isn’t great since I stopped doing it in elementary school.”
“Oh, never mind then…”
“I think it’s a prayer. I’d read it out loud, but I don’t want people in here looking at me any funnier than they already are.”
Heaven took back the cup with warmth in her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Why?”
“Just… ‘cause.” Shit. Heaven was good at this, huh? She can really tell I grew up in a tiny town where everyone is more or less the same.
Yet Salama shrugged and returned to her browsing. Heaven took her teacup back to its set and wondered what kind of family had it stored in their china cabinet.
She ultimately bought two tea sets, a few mugs, and a cheap but decent sweatshirt advertising a place in Washington she once visited as a child. Salama made out like a bandit on boots in her size and a few blouses that would look nice once winter went on its way. She passed on the furniture, and Heaven wondered if Salama would have come with her even if they weren’t going thrifting.
The thought sent a chill through Heaven’s body, but it was nothing like the chills she got when she pulled up to the beach and gestured for them to get out.
While the wind didn’t whip like it was often wont to do all year long, it was still colder than it looked from the warm car. The tide was out. Dog tracks remained in the sand, although there were no dogs to be seen for miles up and down the beach. Seagulls screamed from above and in the creek leading to the ocean. The rolling waves thundered, choppy enough to deter fishing boats from going out for the day. The only other soul on the beach was a man with a walking stick. He was bundled up and searching for agates. Good luck with that. On such publicly trekked lands, he’d be lucky to find a single one.
And yet…
“Hey, look at this!” Salama bent down and picked up a small agate. “What do I win?”
They remained mostly silent as they walked half a mile away from town. The sand was looser and less disturbed out that way, but civilization still surrounded them up on the cliffs overlooking the sea. A lighthouse stood proudly in the distance. The telling scent of a mammal that had washed up on shore, its carcass now belonging to the beach, kept Heaven and Salama from progressing much farther. They found a large chunk of old driftwood that had made itself at home near the cliffs. The perfect spot to sit down and gaze out at the waters. The surf may have been too cold and disagreeable for playing in, but there was something hypnotically calm about watching the waves crash onto the beach and slowly slip away again.
“Thanks for bringing me out here,” Salama said. “You were right. I really needed this.”
“We can all use a little surf and sand now and then. Clears the head and reminds you that the world is bigger than whatever problems you’ve got going on in your life.”
“Yes, that’s true. Although our problems may not mean much to the rest of the world, they still rock our own.”
Boy, wasn’t that the truth.
“I don’t know if this is weird to tell you,” Heaven began, voice heavy, “but I mostly came here today because there were too many reminders of my old life back home. I needed a reset.”
“Your old life?”
“With my husband. Well, my ex-husband. I don’t think you’ve ever met him. Rob Pritchett. Real country name, huh?”
“Your high school sweetheart?” Salama asked.
“Oh, yeah. Big time. We went together like peas and carrots, you might say.” Heaven picked up a stick and pressed it into the soft sand. The cut of the breeze began to annoy her, but she was so fixated on her issues that she didn’t think any more about it. “We got married a year after graduating high school. You know, when it became apparent that we weren’t leaving town and my dad became invested in helping Rob get a job in construction. Neither of us had a mind for college.” Heaven had wanted to go… for about two minutes. Then she thought about taking a few community college classes through the annex on the outskirts of Paradise Valley. Neither happened. She couldn’t say she regretted not going. “Seemed like the thing to do.
Why wait any longer?”
“What happened? If I may ask.”
“I got tired of the bastard after I grew up a little bit!” The stick dug deep into the sand. Heaven almost couldn’t get out again. “Technically that’s true. I got tired of his shit.”
“I see.”
Salama looked between her legs, jeans stretching to accommodate her wide stance. Heaven studied the lines, the grooves of the stick currently putting a splinter into her hand.
“He was an alcoholic. Took forever before I realized what had happened to him. By then, he got… nasty. Tale as old as time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry for dumping that on you,” Heaven said.
“Oh, it’s all right. I consider it an honor that you might want to share that with me. I try not to make other people’s personal stuff my business.”
“Don’t worry about it. All of town knows about what happened between me and Rob. We were the biggest round of gossip for about a year. Everyone heard our fights some nights. Got to the point my mother went out with a story at the ready, because people asked her about it wherever she went.”
Salama gasped. “That’s terrible.”
“Sure is, but that’s trouble in a small town for you. Especially when…” Heaven closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ah, he hit me once. That was the final straw. Couldn’t hide from how bad he had gotten when I was in the ER getting stitches and sporting a big ol’ bruise on my face. No matter what story I came up with, people figured out the truth real quick. Didn’t help Rob was getting kicked out of the bars for starting up fights. We may not have a great school system, but most people can still put two and two together.”
The look on Salama’s face implied she had never guessed something as bad as that had happened to Heaven. It was long before you came to town. By the time Salama met her, Heaven had a business and had officially moved on. Rob no longer lived in town. The town fixated on other couples’ problems.
“I’ve been out of sorts lately because he came back to town for work for a little while. He’s still sober, which is good and all, but… he was asking me out and shit. Acting like we could start over again. Pick up where we left off. Whatever.” Heaven tossed her hands into the air. “The audacity. I’ve moved on. It’s a different phase of my life. I don’t need no man…” She was going to continue, but left it there. The sentiment worked nicely.
Salama picked up the stick Heaven had let drop to the sand. She drew a small heart – then a line slashing through it. “I never went through something like that,” she admitted. “But I know what it feels like to lose something that was a huge part of your life. Even though it’s best for you… people got so many opinions about it. All you wanna do is move on and do what’s good for you. Except you can’t stop thinking about it. You see and hear reminders everywhere. You might even move to a town where people don’t care you’re gay, but you still can’t escape your past and the pressures everyone puts on you.”
“Guess life ain’t so different no matter who you are.”
“There are certainly some experiences that seem to be a human thing.” Salama sighed. “I think it’s natural for the people who love you to want you to be more like them. It’s comfortable and reassuring. They know you’ve got their back if you have the same viewpoints on most things. They trust you with their problems. The farther apart you grow, the less they think they know you.” She bunched up her shoulders, each one grazing against the bumps that were her ears beneath her headscarf. “When in reality, they’re the ones who are changing, as much if not more than you! Do you know how crazy it makes you when everyone around you is changing and you’re still trying to decide what you want to do? Then they give you shit for not changing as quickly as they do. Or for not changing in the ways they like. Who freakin’ cares? As long as we’re good people who try to do good things… how we express ourselves, our spirituality or lack thereof… why does it have to matter so much?”
Heaven had a feeling Salama was talking about something else. That didn’t mean she stopped her from ranting. Sometimes, a gal needed a good rant to purge the shit from her system.
“I’m tired.” Salama slammed her elbows against her knees and tucked her hands beneath her chin. The breezes fluttered the ends of her headscarf and the one strand of hair poking out from the side. Sand kicked over her tennis shoes. A flock of seagulls circled overhead, squawking and swooping for food. “I’m tired of people trying to make a huge deal out of who I am. You know my friend Fatima from the other day? She thinks I should be more like her. Take off my hijab and at least drink coffee, but that’s always been who she is. I remember when we were kids and she always pushed the boundaries our parents allowed. I always knew she would one day be the person she is today. And my sister… complete opposite! She’s totally into the whole pious living. Very traditional, always wanting to please our family. This is the woman who gets angry about the color of my hijab, let alone if I’m wearing one. When she heard I was agnostic, I think she about shat herself. Meanwhile, Fatima thinks I must still be religious because I’m going about things at my own pace.”
Heaven waited until the rant was over before saying anything. “People are nosy shits.”
“They sure are.”
Snorting, Heaven kicked the sand off her shoes and glanced up at the seagulls. Here was hoping one of their little bombs wouldn’t land on top of Heaven’s frizzy head. “You gotta do things your way. Can’t let anyone in your life tell you how to be or what to do. People might get confused, but… that’s the way we are. I’m sure there are people who think I’m an idiot for letting my sober ex ‘get away’ from me again.” Maybe nobody in Paradise Valley would say it, but a lot of the queer women didn’t hear what happened on the “straight side,” and for good reason. Paradise Valley was a supposed haven from heteronormativity and its big brother, the patriarchy. ‘Course, it never actually worked out that way. There were still plenty of men and women who held to those “traditional country” values, not that Heaven believed they were strictly relegated to the countryside. She heard plenty from her own family. Let alone Rob’s family… yeesh. He may have had a lesbian aunt, but that woman was invested in getting them back together. Granted, she put in a lot of time ensuring Rob went to his meetings and stayed on the wagon those first few months, but Heaven didn’t need her giving relationship advice. From the moment he laid a hand on her, Heaven was dead set on a divorce.
Some things could not be come back from, not even for all the love and history in the world.
Out of the corner of her eye, Heaven saw Salama playing with the edge of her headcovering. She stood, looked up and down the length of the beach, and slowly undid the seafoam green scarf that did not quite match the actual seafoam that day.
Chapter 13
SALAMA
The air was hard and cold against her scalp. Salama sucked her breath through her teeth and prayed that she wouldn’t regret this. Who knew where that sand would go?
Heaven remained sitting on the log, arms crossed and gaze pointed up toward Salama. There was no judgement in her eyes. No encouragement. No discouragement. It was exactly what Salama wanted. I don’t need any more opinions. I don’t need to be told what to do. She could think for herself. If she decided now was a good time to test taking off her hijab in the great outdoors, in the presence of a new friend, then who was anyone to tell her to do it! Or not to do it! Maybe she only wanted some damn silence while she lived her life!
“Jeez, it’s cold!” She held her scarf to her chest and braced herself against the sting of the sea breeze. “Why are we here in the winter?”
Heaven laughed. “It’s a bit chilly, huh?”
Eventually, Salama acclimated to the cold. Not that she liked it, but it was better than sitting there with chattering teeth and seriously thinking about putting her headscarf back on her head. Instead, she wrapped it around her shoulders and approached the surf.
She felt like one
of those women she often saw on TV shows, where the bereft wife or fiancée wandered down to the shoreline and waited for her beloved’s ship to come back into port. The images on TV were always of waifish British or Irish ladies who simply wanted a cozy home life with the men who owned their hearts. Yet even some of the stories Salama’s mother told her late in the evenings included loyal women who appeared by city-state walls, on the perimeters of groves overlooking the vast deserts and, yes, the seas leading to distance lands. Even in the most tragic of stories, the women were awarded for their loyalty. Both Rana and Salama found them terribly romantic, but for vastly different reasons.
Salama always envisioned herself looking across those desolate, empty spaces and becoming a part of them. The unknown called to her. Even if nobody returned, what did that matter? She would swim to the horizon and become one with the setting sun.
She pulled her hair away from her face and allowed the sea mist to kiss her smile. “This feels pretty good!” she called over her shoulder. “You should try it!”
Heaven remained on the log. “I’m good, thanks.”
Salama walked a conservative patch of sand, searching for shells, enjoying the company, wet sand, and listening to the sounds of the waves and screeching gulls. After a while, she no longer thought about the hair in her face or the sand in her shoes. All that mattered was the quiet, peaceful day on the beach.
“You about ready to go?” Heaven asked when Salama returned with a pocket full of broken shells and sandy agates. “We might wanna get back before it’s too dark and the roads start freezing.”
Salama dug for the choicest agate and handed it to Heaven. “It’s not much, but here’s a nice thank you for taking me out today.”
Heaven accepted it without a word. Only her eyes spoke of how grateful she was.
They climbed back into Heaven’s car. Feels weird to no longer have the wind in my face. It was too cold to roll down the windows, but Salama asked if she could turn on the air and point the vents in her direction.
February Kisses Page 9
