Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  “Santana or 8-Tracks?”

  “Santana.”

  “Yeah,” Prairie answered with mild enthusiasm. She listened for a few moments. “Oh, I remember this album,” Prairie said as she continued to change for bed. “Nice.” She pulled on the boxers. “Hey, you were really great today.”

  Em smiled, almost embarrassed. “I am kind of getting the hang of it, huh?” Em’s walking was far from perfect, but each day she was getting more comfortable with the walker. “It’s just that…” Em scowled as she shifted her body.

  Prairie pulled the faded t-shirt over her head. “What?” she asked.

  Em hated to admit it, but she was certain she overdid it by trying to do more walking than she should. Gwen had picked her up from the hospital and brought her home early, giving her the opportunity to practice her walking without anyone looking at her. Now she was so sore she could hardly move. “I think I practiced too much today when I got home,” she confessed.

  Prairie cocked her head, “Practiced…?”

  “Walking,” Em said. “I’m really sore,” she admitted sheepishly. “I may need some help changing.” Em had been proudly dressing herself without assistance for nearly a month, and hated the idea of Prairie having to help her again. Em was sore enough, however, to know she probably didn’t have a choice.

  “Uh oh. What hurts?”

  “Everything… practically,” Em confessed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no. You’re trying to make up in one day what will take months to achieve,” Prairie admonished gently. Prairie sighed. “Of course I’ll help you change, no big. Just… be easy on yourself, okay? It’s not a race, all right?.”

  “I just want to… I want to walk again,” Em said with urgency.

  “You are walking,” Prairie said with encouragement.

  Em scoffed. “Like a normal person—not like an old lady with her walker.”

  “I know. I know.” Prairie stood and looked at Em sitting on the side of her bed, forlorn. Prairie’s heart filled to bursting with love for her. “Do you want me to give you a massage?” Prairie asked tenderly.

  “No…” Yes. “You’re tired, and I just want to go to bed,” Em pouted.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  It had been weeks since Prairie’s confession of her feelings for Em, but they never discussed it again, though it was continuously on both women’s minds. Prairie’s love for Em had only grown. It was nearly unbearable for her, but she could only hope that someday Em would feel the same way, or that her own feelings would eventually dissipate.

  Prairie had never before experienced such deep feelings for anyone else, except Fiona. After that unhappy ending, she made it a point to shield herself from love, always keeping just the right amount of distance to protect her heart. For several years she held on to the belief that Fiona was the one, and no one else could ever take her place. It was a type of self-imposed exile prompting Prairie to adapt herself to a loveless lifestyle. For several years it worked beautifully to her advantage—she had unlimited sexual encounters, and not an ounce of entanglement or heartbreak.

  While Prairie was falling deeper in love with Em, Em was dealing with her own internal struggle. She couldn’t be sure why she was drawn to Prairie. Was it because of their friendship or Prairie’s work with her as a physical therapist? Whatever the reason, she ultimately held herself back because of Alice. Alice was always there in the back of her mind, tangling her up with what ifs, regrets and fear. Em had only ever been with Alice, which was such a wonderful surprise in itself; but they had made promises to each other. Loving another woman would break Em’s promise to never love anyone else, ever. It didn’t matter that Alice was gone. Em just couldn’t reconcile her feelings to her promises, and it was eating her up inside. More than anything else, Em just wanted Alice—and no one else. Didn’t she?

  Prairie gently helped Em take her long-sleeved shirt off. “Ouch,” Em winced. “Dang, why do my shoulders hurt so bad?”

  “You’re putting too much weight on your hands with the walker, stressing your shoulders,” Prairie replied. “You’re just not used to all this activity. Here,” Prairie climbed behind Em on her bed. “Let me rub your shoulders a little,” she said as she began to firmly massaging Em’s shoulders and upper arms. “You’re probably going to have to take some Ibuprofen before you go to sleep.”

  “Okay. Mmmm… that feels great, Prairie. You really missed your calling.” Em snickered.

  “Funny girl.”

  Prairie struggled to keep her intentions professional, but it was a difficult battle. The feel of Em’s supple skin in her hands was a temptation laced aphrodisiac. Prairie gritted her teeth and tried to think of other things, such as what she had for lunch, or how Macie’s cousin got pie in his hair, or whether she needed to fill up her car this weekend or wait until Monday, how many pairs of socks she owned—anything to distract her—but nothing was working.

  Santana’s Samba Pa Ti began playing, stopping Prairie cold.

  “Ahhh…” she sighed, her posture slumping a little, barely able to contain herself. Her hands on Em’s bare skin, and this song comes on? Oh God. Prairie’s insides began to heat up. When the album first came out, Prairie had just turned twenty-one, but didn’t hear the entire album until the following year. The first time she heard Samba Pa Ti it completely turned her on. It had to be the sexiest, all-time make out song ever, though at the time, Prairie was still mourning her breakup with Fiona, which only heightened the longing she felt for intimacy. Now, her heart and every other part of her body were yearning for Em.

  “What is it?” Em asked, feeling an instantaneous change in Prairie’s touch.

  “This song,” Prairie purred. “Gah… It’s gotta be the sexiest song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  Em listened more carefully. “Oh… I… think I know… what you… mean.” Between the song and Prairie’s massaging, Em couldn’t tell which was doing it, but something had started a fire in her groin.

  Instantly intoxicated by the song, Prairie made a decision. She was going to throw caution to the wind. Let the chips fall where they may. Hell be damned. All systems go. She had reached a point of no return. Nothing could stop her, not even herself.

  Prairie gently pulled Em’s hair away from her neck, leaned over and softly pressed her lips against Em’s skin, just below her hairline. Em caught her breath as a bolt of electricity shot straight down from her neck to her nether regions.

  “Prairie,” she gasped under her breath, but didn’t pull away. Em held her breath and didn’t move at all.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Prairie asked seductively, her warm breath sending a chill through Em’s entire body.

  Em didn’t decide. Her brain had no part in the decision making process. At that moment all she knew was that she wanted Prairie more than anything she’d ever wanted. Ever.

  “No.” Em quickly turned her head and sought out Prairie’s mouth. They kissed, with hesitance, but soon their kisses were deep and slow, passionate, as the rhythm of the samba playing coursed through their bodies. Em pulled Prairie from behind her and laid back onto her bed so Prairie could climb on top of her. Not a word was spoken between them. Quietly, hungrily, slowly, Prairie kissed and caressed Em’s body, certain she’d died and gone to heaven. Not only was Em so beautiful in every conceivable way—probably the most beautiful woman she’d ever been with or known—but Prairie also loved Em with all her heart. Not since Fiona had she ever been in love with a woman while making love. It was rare and amazing to her, sending her into a near euphoric state of passion, and she loved it.

  Em was lost in a place made up of the past and present. It had been so long since she had been touched in a sexual way—not since Alice, and long before the accident. She had been touched, but not in any way similar to this. Since the accident she had been poked, prodded, stretched, pulled, pushed, cut open, sewed up, bathed, dressed, undressed, transferred from bed to chair, from chair to car and everywhere in-between. After enduring mo
nths of it, she almost felt as if she’d rather never be touched again.

  Prairie had always been gentle with her, but her touch was as a professional, then later, that of a friend. As the months wore on, Em’s last intimate moments with Alice had become a blur, and had nearly disappeared from her memory completely. For a long while, Em had been longing to remember Alice’s touch, her lovemaking, but little by little, time was erasing her precious memories, which saddened her. Prairie’s kiss, and her touch, while different, were bringing up vivid memories of Alice, confusing Em’s emotions. But she didn’t care. Her body was practically vibrating with intense yearning and aching need. Whatever Prairie wanted from her, Em was willing to give.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  The lights in the room remained on while Santana continued to play on the stereo, looping one track to the next, over and over again as Em and Prairie made love for the first time, the second and third. When Samba Pa Ti looped back around, their lovemaking only intensified. Nothing mattered but them. They were on a deserted island. Macie, Barbie and Gwen slept on the second floor on the other side of the house from Em and Prairie’s makeshift room. Prairie’s old room, where most of her things still were, was directly above them and empty. Chip and Deedee were far away, down the hill, above the garage, leaving Em and Prairie completely alone, oblivious to the world, and the world to them.

  “Hey.” Prairie pushed a strand of hair from Em’s face.

  “Hey.” Em smiled shyly.

  “You alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m… good.” Em took a deep breath and smiled. She was great. “You?”

  “Oh,” Prairie chuckled softly, “I’m a-okay.” Prairie looked around the room. “I should kill the lights. I didn’t realize how bright it is in here.”

  “Yeah. But I need to…” Em started to push herself up.

  “Oh, sure, let me help you,” Prairie leapt off the bed and grabbed Em’s robe that was draped over the footboard of the bed. She helped Em put it on, kissing her on the shoulders as she did, and then helped her with her walker. “You okay? You need me to help you put your brace on?”

  Em smiled, “I’m alright, Prair. I’ll be right back.” Em shuffled off to the bathroom.

  Prairie stood by Em’s bed, nude, barely able to breathe as she watched Em leave the room. Em was practically glowing. Her hair was tousled, giving her that authentic, satisfied, just-been-fucked look Prairie had only seen a few times in her sexual history. It was a look that had made Prairie want to get busy all over again—this time was no exception.

  “Whoooo!” Prairie exhaled under her breath. “What the hell just happened here?” She shivered with glee. She turned all the lights off and pulled the 8-track from the player. Prairie kissed the tape cartridge. “Thank you, Chipper and Santana! Woof!” She giggled and then leapt onto Em’s bed to wait for her return.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  Their room was still. Light from a waxing moon filtered into the room from the northern facing windows, illuminating it enough to see outlines of the room’s contents. Their breathing, almost in sync, and the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen permeating the quiet of the night were the only sounds. The rest of the occupants of the house were fast asleep, unaware of the monumental event that had occurred below them on the first floor.

  Laying in Prairie’s arms, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Em was still wide awake, unable to sleep as she tried to process the entire event. She wasn’t as experienced as Prairie—Alice was her first and only—and didn’t really know what to expect. Prairie’s lovemaking prowess was evident and quite satisfactory, but Em felt there was something missing—something she had experienced with Alice. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was exactly, but she almost felt incomplete, which she had never felt with Alice. Not that Prairie hadn’t satisfied her sexually, because that was not an issue at all. Prairie gave Em orgasms she didn’t know she had in her, but it was almost as if Prairie was too good, too experienced. She was an expert technician; whereas, Alice was Em’s first lover, filled with just the right combination of passion and naivety. Was that it? Or was it Em that was different? She wondered if it even mattered.

  Their lovemaking, much to Em’s chagrin, was unequal as Em was confined in movement by her leg, despite the recent gains made with rehab. Her recently acquired soreness severely hindered Em’s mobility even further. It didn’t stop her from satisfying Prairie. It just required a lot more effort and creativity. Prairie helped her along the way, letting her know what pleased her, which was different from Alice. Em closed her eyes, remembering Prairie climaxing, again and again and again. Em smiled as a wave of warmth overwhelmed her body. It made her feel good and even more turned on that she could reciprocate given her physical restrictions and lack of experience.

  Em loved Prairie, she knew that, but she had been in love with Alice, which was probably the distinction she was feeling. At that moment, it probably didn’t matter, and Em hoped Prairie didn’t notice her doubts.

  Prairie had noticed something, but wasn’t sure what it was. Em wasn’t saying much, which was normal, expected, but Prairie felt as if she needed feedback of some sort. She didn’t want Em to feel as if she owed anything to Prairie because of their patient/therapist relationship. Ecstatic and regretful at the same time, Prairie pondered if she should just come right out and ask, but couldn’t and knew she wouldn’t. Prairie hated it when lovers asked how they performed. It sounded needy and pathetic, and just annoying. Now that the excitement had died down, she could once again think rationally, and worried that she had not only crossed a line, but had obliterated it.

  Exhausted after a strenuous day—one that didn’t anticipate three hours of impromptu, passionate sex at the end of it— Prairie desperately tried to stay awake. She didn’t want to miss out on one second of this unexpected bliss with Em, but she couldn’t fight it any longer. Without notice, Prairie fell fast asleep.

  “Prairie? Are you awake?” Em asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Prairie was snuggled up to Em’s nude body, her head on Em’s shoulder and her leg and arm draped over her. Prairie’s breathing was deep and rhythmic. “Ah, you are.” Em lightly stroked Prairie’s arm, amazed at the entire evening’s outcome. She wanted to tell Prairie how she felt, right at that moment, but didn’t want to wake her to do so. She knew Prairie was exhausted and couldn’t believe she managed to stay awake as long as she did. Em smiled. She loved Prairie. She really did. It was different than how she loved Alice, but maybe that was a good thing, she thought. Things didn’t work out so well with Alice, she admitted to herself.

  “Prairie,” Em began softly. “I know you’re asleep but I don’t want to wait ’til tomorrow to tell you.” Em closed her eyes, remembering. “Thank you. That was… wonderful. I didn’t expect… I didn’t think…” Em sighed. “Thank you for being in my life. Helping me. Being my friend. Loving me. Goodnight, Prair.” Em kissed Prairie on the top of her head. “I love you,” she whispered.

  20.2—Taxman

  The sound of the Olivetti adding machine whirring and clacking made Prairie nervous. With furrowed brow, Gwen was finishing up the last of the tabulations of Prairie’s tax return. Prairie sat at the kitchen table, gripping the seat of her chair in anticipation. Gwen stopped entering numbers and tore the paper tape from the machine. She entered some numbers onto Prairie’s federal tax return form, then entered more numbers into the machine which again clacked and whirred in response. Gwen peered at the total and entered the number on the form. She grimaced slightly and looked at Prairie over her horn-rimmed glasses.

  “It’s not good news, Prair,” Gwen regretfully admitted.

  Prairie swore under her breath, “Shit.”

  “You made too much money last year, my girl. You don’t have any write-offs to speak of, and you didn’t have enough taken out of your paycheck from the VA.”

  “So… are you saying I’m not getting anything back?” Prairie asked with concern.

  “Prairie, honey, you ow
e the IRS. A lot,” Gwen added.

  Prairie groaned. “Damn. Okay. Um… Define ‘a lot.’”

  Gwen sighed. “Eight hundred and six.”

  “Eight. Hundred?”

  “And six.” Gwen handed the finished return to Prairie.

  “The fuck you say…” Prairie snatched the return from Gwen and quickly scanned to the bottom of the page. “Eight fucking hundred and fucking six fucking dollars, Lovey?” Prairie exclaimed.

  Gwen winced. “When you put it like that…”

  “Gah, I’m sorry…”

  “It’s okay, you’re upset. Cursing is perfectly acceptable in such a circumstance. I’m sorry. I guess we should have looked at your withholding last year after your promotion. But it was the side work you did the first six months that really killed you. It pushed you into a higher bracket. Shoved is more like it. I’m sorry, kiddo.” Gwen looked at the papers strewn on the table and the adding machine. “I didn’t have much to work with to lower it. Travel. Uniforms. Donations. That’s about it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Do you need a loan, Prair?” Gwen asked gently as she began to gather up the papers. “Barbie and I will…”

  “Oh, no, no, Lovey, I’m okay. I have plenty in savings, it’s just…” Prairie huffed. “I feel violated somehow. Robbed. I had plans…”

  Gwen laughed. “Welcome to success in America.”

  “What are my options, Lovey? I mean for this year? You said I don’t have enough write-offs… how do I get those?”

  Gwen sighed. “I hate to say it, but probably the best thing you can do is buy a house. It’s the best write-off. Or start a business, but that’s always a gamble—unless, of course, it’s something you’re passionate about doing.”

  “No.” Prairie thought for a moment. “But then I’d have to move out of here,” she whined. “Away from you guys.”