February Kisses

by Hildred Billings

  She had to say, though, that if she were going to have sex with another woman… shrieks of raucous pleasure and the squeaking of one old bed were exactly what she wanted. Heaven had all the confidence in the world if her lover was clearly enjoying herself. Salama spared no energy when it came to throwing back her head, arching her back, and screaming Heaven’s name.

  Heaven may have done some screaming herself. She wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she had her first G-spot orgasm while on the other end of a gal’s fingers. Hell, she didn’t even know she had one of those things until that fair Tuesday night in the middle of February.

  It sure was nice to know what the fuss was about.

  Chapter 15

  SALAMA

  The rustling of a tree against the bedroom window roused Salama from her early morning slumber. After an endless round in bed, a quick dinner of reheated casserole, and a shower, Salama and Heaven collapsed back into bed with only one thing on their minds. I can’t believe we had sex all night! All right, so it wasn’t all night, but it might as well have been from how hungover Salama was at six in the morning. The scraping tree may have awoken her, but Heaven’s alarm ringing on the nightstand kept her awake.

  “Shit, I’ve gotta get to work.” Heaven’s head of curly hair was a riot of tangles as she forced herself up, moving as if she were hungover instead of merely wasted on sex. “You can stay here if you want. Make sure you lock the door on your way out.”

  Salama was barely awake when she heard that. As nice as it would be to stay in Heaven’s bed for a few more hours, she’d feel awkward when they still barely knew one another in so many ways. So while Heaven was in front of her vanity, combing the tangles out of her hair, Salama helped herself to the bathroom and hoped that splashing some water on her face would be enough to wake her up. Until she got home, anyway.

  Heaven was in such a flurry to get ready for work that she didn’t have much time to tell Salama goodbye. Yet by the time Salama was dressed in her outfit from the day before and hovering near the bedroom doorway, Heaven came over with her half-brushed hair and offered an awkward farewell.

  “So… I’ll see you around, huh?”

  Did that mean they were now dating? Or that it had been a one-time thing? “You mean you still want to see me after last night? What a loaded question. Whatever Heaven said would make or break Salama’s morning. It was also a trap. A carefully laid trap Salama put out there in the hopes Heaven would say the right thing.

  “Why in the world wouldn’t I want to see you?”

  “I didn’t know if this was…” Salama cleared her throat. She was a big girl. She could speak for herself and get her point across. “I wasn’t sure if this was a one-time thing. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

  Heaven hesitated before saying anything else. “It’s a bit early for me to know exactly what I’m thinking. Why don’t you swing by the café later? I’ll need a break by then.”

  “You don’t get a break until the afternoon?”

  “Depends how slammed we are. Wednesdays can go either way. Cribbage night, you know. People take it very seriously.”

  “I’ve never played cribbage before.”

  “No, I don’t expect it to be popular in the city. It’s gotta be the most well-kept secret in small town America. Makes us feel smart for a little while.”

  Was that an early-morning wink that… almost was? Salama giggled. She had seen cribbage boards in the café and knew that a deck of playing cards were involved, but beyond that? Salama knew how to play Go Fish and Solitaire. That was the extent of her skills with a pack of cards.

  “I’ll see you later.” Salama dared to give Heaven a kiss on the cheek. She still had that musky scent of sleep and sweat about her. Maybe others would be offended. Yet Salama couldn’t help but smile. It was a scent that would follow her for the rest of the morning. Like it had comforted her for most of the night.

  Please, please don’t break my heart. She let a wan smile fall from her lips as she forced herself out of Heaven’s house. I really hope I don’t regret this.

  The sun finally peeked through the trees by the time Salama made her way back to her apartment. While on the other side of town, it still only took her about fifteen minutes to make it there at a leisurely pace. Yet how could she feel leisurely when one of her greatest dreams had come true?

  She hadn’t only gone out with Heaven for a day. She had… changed.

  It wasn’t until she made it across town, with only one pickup truck and a jogger to see her without her hijab, that she realized she wasn’t wearing it. In fact, she had left it behind at Heaven’s, hadn’t she? Before Salama could panic, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She had more at home. She had plenty of time to get there while enjoying the fresh morning air after a long, arduous night.

  Or was it an ardorous night? No. Sounded too much like “odorous.” A writer like Salama needed to be more careful with her words.

  Speaking of writing… she walked across her threshold, out from the cold and into the stale air of an apartment that hadn’t been heated in a day, and realized she had the real topic for her next article.

  Her original plan was to put on some pajamas and collapse into her bed. Yet as she stood in her apartment, old clothes still on and a mug of tea calling to her as the sun rose, Salama decided to open her MacBook by the window and start typing.

  Chapter 16

  HEAVEN

  The day wasn’t as busy as Heaven hoped it would be. She needed the distraction. The reassurance that life went on as normal outside of her hectic world. It didn’t help that there had been a million examples of Salama’s existence in her house. From the empty tea mugs, to the mussed bed, from the footprints in the mud outside…

  To the seafoam headscarf left on the back of a dining chair.

  Heaven had carefully folded it as she had seen Salama do and placed it on the edge of her sofa. Hopefully, it would be safe there, and she would remember to take it to work with her. Nope. Left it on the couch like an idiot. Just as well. She may have told Salama to come by later, but she’d be okay with no reminders of what happened between them until her work day was over and she could obsess in peace.

  Yet for every person who came in to have a quick chat and to grab a coffee, there was someone else who didn’t stay at all. The tables were mostly empty outside of patrons waiting for their hot drinks. Not even the other laptop workers of Paradise Valley came in. Didn’t help that every time a queer friend walked through the doors with a hello on their lips, Heaven couldn’t help but think, “Oh my God, am I one of you now?”

  That was the reason she was in no hurry to see Salama. Not because it was personal. Well, not toward Salama. She was fine! No, what Heaven hated was how confused she was. More confused than she was before.

  Am I gay? Am I bi? Being with Salama had felt as natural as being with her ex-husband. The differences were only marked by mere biology and the warm, fuzzy feeling that she was in the presence of a feminine entity. Soft curves, long hair, and giggles on the lips were so far from Heaven’s previous experiences that she obsessed over them. To the point she made a wondrous mess out of coffee and snacks alike.

  “Uh, Heav…” Ariana gently placed her to-go cup back on the counter. “This ain’t hazelnut.”

  “Huh?” Heaven popped over from the cold case. She picked up the cup and gave it a hearty sniff. Sure enough, that was strawberry, not hazelnut gracing Ari’s usual latte. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I’ll fix this right away.” She needed a latte for herself. Maybe she’d hold on to this one, although she wasn’t the biggest fan of strawberry.

  Then again, neither was Ari! So here they were!

  “Everything okay today?” Ari was the only patron in the whole café. Was that why she didn’t feel bad letting her voice carry across the counter? The Ramones played on the satellite radio. The fact Heaven could hear them meant there wasn’t enough conversation and dish clattering in her café. I can hear my own heart thu
mping. What a mess.

  “I’m fine,” Heaven said.

  “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with that ex of yours crawlin’ around town, huh?”

  Heaven bristled. “He’s gone, hon. Although he did his best to have a reason to stick around.”

  “Good for you. Far be it from me to tell you who to get with, but I know an ex worth getting back with when I see one.”

  “He’s barking up the wrong tree these days.” Heaven placed the new latte on the counter. She didn’t blame Ari for sniffing it before giving her approval. “I think I’ve been living in this town too long. It’s rubbing off on me, if you catch my drift.”

  Ari looked up from her latte. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, hon, do I really have to spell it out?” Exasperated, Heaven smacked both hands against the counter and braced herself for what she might say. There were a dozen women in town she could talk to about her recent revelations. Ariana might be the one most likely to keep her secret – and to be the only one to understand where she was coming from. Unlike some other women, Ari wasn’t defensive by nature. Not like… some girlfriends she might have…

  High school softball sneaking up on my again. Like other ghosts from high schools past had snuck up on her before.

  “You’re not saying you’re…”

  Heaven was so red that she no longer worried about her apron washing out her skin. She could do it herself! “I may be having a thing with a girl. Don’t know where it’s going.”

  “Wow, Heav. Guess it’s never too late to get on board.”

  “You’re laughing, but I’m serious. I don’t know how I feel. Don’t wanna string her poor little gay heart along. She’s got enough problems without me breaking her heart.”

  “Do you think you’re gonna break her heart or something?” Ariana asked. “Because if that’s not your game, then don’t worry about it. Have your fun and see where it takes you. Stressing out about it ain’t gonna help.”

  “Easy for you to say, huh? You figured this all out when you were a kid.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got adult hindsight to tell me that it wasn’t worth the drama I gave it. Nobody’s gonna look at you funny if you’re suddenly dating a lady. Not around here. They might be a little jealous, ‘cause some gals been crushin’ on you since high school.”

  “Name one person.”

  “Hell, no. If they found out I told you, they’d kill me.” Ari stepped back from the counter. “I gotta get back to work. Try to enjoy yourself, Heav. A hundred kisses that later don’t mean anything is better than a hundred lashes you’ll give yourself for the rest of your life.”

  Heaven raised her eyebrows. “Where the hell did you get a line like that? Stephen King book club?”

  “My roommate reads philosophers. Bad ones.”

  “So why are you repeating them to me?”

  Ari waved at Heaven on her way out the door. The bell jangled and the wooden Open/Close sign bounced against the handle. Heaven was left alone with nothing but her thoughts and her beating heart.

  Eventually, more people trickled in for a late-afternoon coffee and snack. Sally Greenhill and her four kids ambled in after school let out, each one getting their own cookie while mom guzzled coffee. The brood was so loud that Heaven didn’t have the opportunity to think about anything but finding the mop after the Greenhill baby spit up on the floor.

  Students filed in to chat with friends and to quickly do some homework before going home. People got off work early from manual labor jobs and needed a quick pick-me-up. Soon, Heaven was swamped enough that she regretted not calling in backup that day. Sometimes one of the high school students dropped by to do part time work after school, but not on Wednesdays. That was a day when Heaven had the whole place to herself. Usually, she could handle it.

  Then Salama walked through the door.

  “Hey.” She left a small smile on her face as she approached the counter. She hadn’t brought her bag of writing supplies, however. Only the simple cross-body bag she brought to the coast the day before. The demure black of the bag contrasted with her lemon yellow headcovering. Heaven had to look away before she thought about where her fingers had been the night before. So this is it. We pretend nothing happened, because the public demands a little propriety. “Only wanted to drop by. You asked me to, I guess so we could talk, but…”

  “Yeah,” Heaven interrupted. “You want anything to drink? I can’t really take a break right now, but…”

  This time Salama did the interrupting. “I’m afraid I can’t stick around. My brother had the afternoon off and came by to visit, so we’re going out to dinner. I’d introduce you, but he refuses to get out of his car because it’s warm in there.” She continued to grin. Was that for her, or for her brother? “But I wanted to give you something. It’s my most recent article. I just submitted it to my editor.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a folded stack of printed paper and handing it to Heaven. “I think you might like it.”

  Heaven was too shocked to deny anything. She looked around the café, wondering if anyone saw them exchanging pieces of paper, as if they were passing elaborate notes in class. “Uh, okay. You want me to read it?”

  “Please do. Let me know what you think the next time we see each other.”

  Salama didn’t stick around long after that, nor did Heaven have the time to chase after her. Not when she had a café filling with people for cribbage night.

  Yet there was a half hour lull between the after work rush and cribbage night. Heaven stacked the dirty dishes in the industrial sink, yet instead of getting ahead on them, she retreated to the corner seat in her café and stared at the top piece of paper on the stack.

  “Becoming One With Who I Am: A Small-Town Lesbian’s Take.”

  This was either going to be way too much or fly over Heaven’s head. Maybe she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to read this. Maybe she should wait until…

  “As most of you know, I am a lesbian. I am also a former Muslim who still wears hijab and follows other cultural practices that many people do not understand. Neither do I, most days. Naturally, the most common question I receive is how much my sexuality influenced my desire to leave the faith of my family.”

  Heaven cringed. Calling her out, huh? I knew I sounded like an ignoramus when I asked that. Yet Salama had said she’d rather be asked genuine questions than have people pretend the differences between them didn’t exist.

  She read on, skimming a few sentences until she found something of particular interest.

  “I was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. I still live here, although most of my family has left the country. This is my home, whether I live in the city or travel to the countryside for a few months. Each brings their unique challenges, especially since I am a woman who doesn’t quite look like everyone else in small town Oregon. And I still wear my hijab, because it’s such a part of me that going without it ironically feels like I’ve shaved my hair.

  “Well-meaning people pull me in different directions. I’m either too traditional or too modern. Too religious or too heathenistic. Too gay or not gay enough. I’m used to living on a spectrum of other people’s expectations. So much so that I don’t think twice about it anymore. I simply brush opinions off, even if they get to me. Meeting other women who aren’t used to existing on this maddening spectrum of not being extreme enough has opened my eyes to how different they are from me. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over how I’m different from everyone else, that I never considered that they might be different as well.

  “I’ve met someone. I don’t know if it’s going anywhere, and it’s so hard to say in a small town where everyone knows everyone and you may never feel like you truly fit in. But meeting this special someone helped me realize that I’m not alone in these feelings, even if hers manifest in different ways. Nor should I feel like I never do enough to “pick a side.” This person accepts me for who I am. She listens to me. She asks questions that makes me think. ‘Who am I
doing this for? Isn’t it for myself, first and foremost?’ Maybe that’s a selfish, Americanized way to think about it, but I can only live my life as is best for me. I can’t let other people dictate what I should do, or how I should feel about someone else. As long as I’m a good person… isn’t that the only thing that matters?

  “I will continue to dress and eat as I see fit. I’m the type who transitions slowly. I can’t go cold turkey. Maybe I’ll never completely take off my hijab. Maybe I’ll never stop looking to the east and saying a silent, meditative prayer. I’ll never stop loving the people who find strength in God and their culture. Nor will I ever resent the people who have found renewed strength in a completely different way of life. I want to learn from everyone. I want to share my own strength with the people I love. I will change in many ways before I die. So will they. We’re all a work in progress and a journey of self-discovery. No one should feel pigeonholed into one way of life. You have to do what’s best for you, whether you believe God is leading the way or you’re the master of your own universe.”

  The door jangled open. In came the early arrivals for cribbage night, the people who liked to get their snacks in their stomachs before they were expected to shuffle cards and handle pegs with crumbs falling everywhere. Heaven appreciated it. She hated picking little crumbs out of the cribbage boards.

  Heaven hid the papers with her items behind the counter and prepared herself to play hostess to a bunch of gamers. Yet before she could turn away from her bag, she saw her phone, and the urge to make a fool of herself overcame her.