Fire and Water

by Amanda Kayhart

  Nearing nine o’clock, the festival drew to a close, with a grand finale of fire dancers and a local rock band. Diane hung back, as Michelle and Shawn packed up their tent and loaded their equipment into the rental van, and watched the festival’s final act. The drums pulsed. Dancers pirouetted to the sounds, twirling and spinning batons of fire in the milky darkness. Diane swayed her hips pleasantly to the beats, waiting for Michelle, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the temperature fell and the music rose around her.

  “Are you ready?” Michelle asked, sneaking behind Diane with a husky whisper. “Or would you like to stay until the show ends?”

  Diane’s lips curled up in a smile, and she turned her face towards Michelle’s, as she lingered close to her ear. “Let’s go,” Diane answered. “I’m rather curious about what you’ve got up your sleeve.”

  “A little walk for starters,” Michelle said, peeling away and escorting Diane through the crowd. “If that’s okay?”

  “Of course,” Diane said, glancing at her charming guide by her side. “Lead the way.”

  Away from the festival, Burlington was quiet. The sound of light traffic followed them down the sidewalk, as Diane and Michelle weaved their way through the city. Splashes of lamppost lights guided their way, the path mottled with fallen leaves, and the scent of wood smoke, sweet like molasses, sugarcoated the air. It was a perfect autumn night, refreshing and lively—and unquestionably romantic. Especially as their hands brushed together as they walked contentedly in silence, each time giving Diane a jolt of excitement feeling Michelle beside her. Her skin was soft and warm, and acutely inviting in contrast to the prickly cool night.

  After hitting the main road, passing the strip of closed shops and restaurants, Diane was still clueless where Michelle was taking her, but she didn’t have to wait too long. Michelle stopped abruptly in front of a stubby brick building, its interior cloaked in darkness.

  “Queen City Bagels?” Diane read the sign hanging haphazardly in the window. “This is where you’re taking me?”

  “Not a bagel joint,” Michelle said, luring Diane off the sidewalk across the small parking lot. “As of today.”

  Diane’s forehead pinched in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see.” Michelle grinned and reached in her puffy vest pocket, fetching a cluster of keys. She unlocked the entrance and pushed the glass door open. “I’ll explain everything. Come on in. Check it out.”

  Flicking on the lights, Michelle invited Diane inside. Diane walked in cautiously and confused, trying to put the pieces together. The space was small, but cozy—marinated in a faint dusty smell, mixed with a fresh lemon cleaner—and well-loved from its appearance, the checkered floor tiles blemished with nicks and scrapes. A cluster of wooden tables with upturned chairs were pushed carelessly off to the side. Shuffling around, Diane studied the vacant restaurant, eyeing the chalkboard menu hanging blankly above the counter. A few outdated photographs of Burlington and pictures of bagels hung on the walls.

  “I still don’t understand why we’re here,” Diane said, studying Michelle. “Am I missing something?”

  “First, what do you think?” Michelle asked, a knowing smirk lingering on her face as she locked the entrance behind them. She crept her way closer, inspecting the space.

  “Not sure. It’s an empty bakery.”

  “It is. For now,” Michelle spoke over her shoulder as she wandered towards the selling counter, tracing her fingers along the worn wood. “But hopefully not for long.”

  Diane’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you own this?”

  “I do. For a little while at least. Until I transfer the title over.”

  “To whom?” Diane walked closer.

  “This is why I’ve been MIA the last couple of weeks,” Michelle said, taking off her beanie and hopping up on the counter. “I had meetings with my realtor and the bank, along with the final inspection. I closed on it yesterday. Spruced it up a bit in the afternoon so I could feel confident showing it to someone.”

  “Who?”

  Michelle bit her bottom lip. “You,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Diane was speechless. She stared at Michelle for a long moment. “Are you moving your studio here?”

  “I’m not moving anywhere.”

  Diane frowned. “Then what’s all this?”

  Michelle sat up straight and drew in a deep breath. “When Sawyer was nineteen, he came home, raving how he bought this busted up rig and how he was going to open up a food truck in Grand Isle. I thought he was out of his mind,” Michelle laughed. “My aunt and uncle thought so too. He dropped out of college, spent his tuition money, and came home with that busted-up piece of crap. They were not pleased.”

  “Was it really that awful?” Diane asked.

  “Oh, it was bad,” Michelle said. “If you could have seen my aunt and uncle’s faces. They were livid. Supportive eventually. But still pissed.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “To be honest,” Michelle said, an amused looked arriving on her face, “they gave me the same reaction when I told them I wanted to play with fire for a living.”

  Diane chuckled.

  “It’s their own fault really,” Michelle said defensively. “They brought me to one of those Renaissance fairs when I was a teenager. Where they have those big turkey legs? It was the first time I saw how glass was made. I was hooked.”

  Diane smiled softly. “You found your calling.”

  “Perhaps. It didn’t come easy. It took a lot of work and a lot of shattered glass to get where I am today. And all through it, Sawyer encouraged me,” she said. “He always had the best reactions when I’d shoot him a pic of a new piece I’d been working on.”

  Diane walked closer. “Seems both of you have a skill in creating something extraordinary from something small.”

  Michelle pushed a lock of stray hair from her face, her bun disheveled after being trapped under the hat all day. “I suppose we do. The thing about Sawyer is, he’s got a knack for setting his mind to things and making it happen. It’s admirable.” A soft smile fell on Michelle’s lips. “Impressive, really. He’s proved himself with his business, it’s one the most popular places on the island without question.”

  Diane titled her head. “But…”

  “He deserves more. Bigger. Something…permanent.”

  Diane’s mouth dropped open. “You bought this for him?”

  Michelle shrugged. “He says he’s happy where he is,” she said. “And I’m sure that’s true. But I swear to God, if I have to watch him smack his tall, dumb head on the back entrance of that food truck one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

  Diane covered her mouth and laughed.

  “Since he’s got a wedding coming up, I thought a new, old restaurant might make a good present.”

  “Um—yes.” Diane nodded, still in disbelief. “I believe it will.”

  “He’ll like it? Won’t he?” she asked nervously, her lips pressing tightly together. “I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this. You’re the first one, actually. Please tell me this isn’t stupid and he’ll hate me for it.”

  Diane laughed quietly to herself, shaking her head as she closed the space between them. There wasn’t a single aspect of this woman that didn’t astonish Diane. How far her opinion of her snarky neighbor evolved since that first encounter. It left Diane flummoxed—and so completely enraptured by her. Michelle locked eyes with Diane. A soft, vulnerable expression captivated Michelle’s look. Michelle really had no clue how wonderful and kind she was, and Diane never felt so happy to be so entirely wrong about anyone ever before.

  “If he does hate it,” Michelle rambled nervously, rubbing her neck tensely, and glancing off into the distance, “I guess I’m stuck with it.”

  “He won’t hate it,” Diane said gently. She settled at Michelle’s knees and set her hands on her thighs, squeezing them reassuringly. “He will most certainly love it.”

  “Unless, maybe, y
ou have a desire to sell your pies out of a dingy, used bagel shop in Vermont?” Michelle snickered, steamrolling Diane’s assurances with her nervous chatter. “Then I know a place.”

  Diane laughed softly. “You are a ridiculous person sometimes,” she said, her voice sweetened with a teasing tone. “Are you aware of that?”

  Michelle turned her eyes back to Diane and smirked. “I’ve been told that a few times in my life. Yes.”

  Pushing Michelle’s knees apart, Diane slid between them and settled tightly between her legs. Michelle was startled by Diane’s intimate positioning, but she didn’t protest. Cradling Michelle’s face, Diane ran her fingers along her jawline—idling her thumb on an endearing cluster of freckles adorning her cheek—and kissed her. Eagerly. Diane took her time tasting those lips she couldn’t get enough of. Everything about Michelle felt so damn good. And she was certain Michelle felt the same, wrapping her legs around Diane, deepening their kiss with a submissive whimper.

  “I think, you’re amazing,” Diane said, after they came up for air. She placed her hands on Michelle’s face again, stroking her cheeks.

  Michelle dropped her head bashfully.

  “I’m serious,” Diane said, lifting her chin. “This is an incredible gesture, Michelle. He’ll love it and he’s lucky to have someone this supportive in his life.”

  “You sure?” Michelle cringed, “It’s not…pushy?”

  Diane’s heart warmed seeing a flash of insecurity in Michelle’s eyes, and the desire to make someone she loved so happy.

  “No, it’s wonderful. Honestly.” Diane kissed her again, and slid from her legs, hopping up beside Michelle on the counter. Diane admired the space. “If I had someone like you in my life, believing in me, the way you believe in Sawyer. The way he believes in you. I don’t know. Things would have been a lot different.”

  Michelle leaned away. “How do you mean?”

  Diane wasn’t the type to be swept up in what-could-have-beens. She lived her life looking forward, not looking back, searching for regrets. But recently, she’d put a lot of thought into her marriage, her divorce, her life the last twenty years. It was hard not thinking how different her marriage would have been if she’d had a supportive wife. A wife who didn’t nitpick and scrutinize, and belittle her aspirations, holding her back from her full creative potential.

  “I’ve wanted to be an author my whole life,” Diane said, crossing her feet at her ankles and watching the streak of headlights blur past the large front window. “It was always with me, even as I built my career in higher education, this desire to write. I kept putting it off and putting it off, not putting any real stock into such a fruitless dream. Until one day, I’d had enough and I told my ex-wife I wanted to starting moving towards a career change. You know what her response was?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Diane pursed her lips and nodded. “She said nothing, and only laughed. It took a long time to overcome the humiliation I felt. Here’s this person, my spouse, who should have supported me, been by my side, in my corner, through thick and thin…” Diane sighed heavily. “Glad that’s over with.”

  Michelle snorted. “She’s an idiot, Diane. And an asshole.”

  Diane laughed, wiping the tears that had surprisingly formed. “Or I’m the idiot who put up with it for too long.”

  “She was your wife,” Michelle said, a flare of disgust in her tone, “her shortcomings in that regard are all on her. You deserved someone better. Someone supportive, no matter what you wanted to do with your life.”

  “Nora, my ex,” Diane said, sniffling and picking some lint off her dress mindlessly, “she was very established in her career and her personal investments when we got together. She was ruthlessly headstrong in her convictions and expectations and standards of living. I guess I felt guilty, desiring more for myself, since she’d provided me with so much? I know that sounds pathetic—”

  “No.” Michelle stopped Diane’s mindless prodding of her dress and her took her hand warmly into her own. “It doesn’t.”

  “It’s hard not to feel pathetic, letting her control me the way she had,” Diane admitted.

  “A lot of people might see glass blowing as frivolous work,” Michelle said. “It’s definitely not the most lucrative business to be in. But that didn’t stop me. And people who belittle anyone’s aspirations, no matter what they are, or how much monetary or social value they offer, are only scared to chase their own dreams themselves.”

  Diane smiled. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

  “Look at you,” Michelle said, nudging Diane with her shoulder. “You’re writing a book now. You’re almost done? Right?”

  “That doesn’t make me an author,” Diane said with a sharp chuckle. “It doesn’t mean what I’ve written is any good. Or that someone will publish it. This could be all for nothing.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Michelle said. “I was just kidding before about having bad taste you know. You clearly have good taste.”

  Diane eyed Michelle. “Do I?”

  “I mean you like me. Don’t you?” Michelle said slyly. “Obviously, you have good taste.”

  Diane chuckled.

  “I’m sure your book is amazing. Don’t doubt yourself now. You just need a little confidence boost after living with that stuck-up twat for so long.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Diane said, blushing at Nora’s flattering sentiment Michelle handed to her. “I think now that I’m closer to finishing my novel, the panic is settling in.”

  “If you can cook up a novel half as good as those pies of yours, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Diane smiled and placed a soft kiss on Michelle’s lips, lingering for a long, delicate moment. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

  “I’m only stating the obvious,” Michelle said. “But you’re welcome. And thank you for letting me test Sawyer’s wedding present on you. You’re right. He’s going to love it.”

  “He most certainly will.”

  “But we’re not done yet,” Michelle said quickly, hopping down from the counter. She yanked Diane off with her and pulled her into her arms. “I haven’t even shown you everything.”

  “Really?’ Diane arched a brow as Michelle tugged her across the restaurant. “You haven’t?”

  “Nope,” Michelle said, winking. “I always save the best for last.”

  The spiral staircase, tucked narrowly in the corner of the restaurant, went unnoticed until Michelle brought Diane to its base and started climbing. A wave of crisp air rolled in when Michelle shoved open the door at the other end. The rooftop patio was an unexpected touch. Smiling widely at the surprise, Diane crossed the private space, glancing up at the autumn night sky, bursting with clear, sparkling starlight. Michelle closed the door softly and walked beside Diane, watching her reaction. The space wasn’t overly large, but Diane envisioned a scatter of small café tables and chairs, and colorful string lights hung up, adding a lovely romantic touch.

  “This is phenomenal,” Diane said. She spun towards Michelle and shook her head in disbelief. “I can picture a crowd up here on a summer’s evening, enjoying good food and conversation. It’s the perfect spot.”

  “This is where I fell in love with this place,” Michelle said. She tucked her hands into her vest pockets and strolled to the edge of the patio, admiring the sleepy city below. The steady wind teased her soft hair about her face as she stared off in quiet admiration. “In daylight, you get a perfect view of the mountains and lake. It’s really amazing.”

  Diane scanned the city landscape, envisioning the earthy picture Michelle painted for her in its place. She joined Michelle at the edge, placing her hands on the metal railing, running along the rooftop.

  Michelle sighed. “I’m not naïve. I know it needs a lot of work, and I’ll help Sawyer as much as I can. With a little TLC, I think he could turn this into a place he loves.”

  “Are you aware,” Diane began, admiring
Michelle’s profile for a moment, her eyes gazing off into the distance, glistering in the faint city light, “you have an uncanny ability of surprising me.”

  A smile slowly arrived on Michelle face. She looked at Diane. “Do I?”

  “Mm,” Diane nodded, sweeping Michelle’s unruly locks behind her ear. “I kind of like it.”

  “That’s good,” Michelle said smoothly, turning herself fully towards Diane and walking two playful fingers up her arm, “because I kind of like you.”

  Diane smiled. “I kind of like you, too.”

  This kiss was nothing like the others. It was soft. Tender and affectionate. Diane’s lips parted, her palm finding the smooth nape of Michelle’s neck, and drew her closer. Their innocent kiss quickly melted into a pool of desire and need. A need to have Michelle closer. A need to know every part of her, intimately. Michelle wrapped her arms around Diane and drew their bodies together. It was overwhelming, how easily they fit, how effortlessly their lips found a satisfying tempo and blended together. Their chemistry stirred up sexual feelings Diane thought were long buried, along with her passionless marriage. Perhaps Diane was getting carried away. In the moment. In the romantic rooftop setting. Or maybe, Diane was simply getting carried away in Michelle, and how alive she’d felt wrapped up in her arms.

  Opening her eyes, Diane peeled her lips away reluctantly. When her vision came into focus, Michelle’s eyes were locked on hers, a satisfied smile on her lips.

  “I promise I didn’t bring you here only to make-out with you.” Michelle grinned, holding onto Diane’s hips.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Diane said, surprised by her own seductive tone slipping off her tongue.

  Michelle’s hands slid off Diane and she turned away. A serious expression fell on her face, as she eased herself to the ground. “I mainly wanted your opinion of the restaurant,” she said, curling her knees to her chest, “but I also wanted to share something else with you.”