It Pours

by C D Cain

  The raindrops beat faster and trickled down the glass. I felt her in my hands again. The way I knew who I truly was from the moment I was inside of her. Thunder rose. Her body had risen into me…had rolled into my life. An impending storm that would not be denied. Lightning flashed. As dark as the room was the night before, it didn’t have enough strength to keep the light from me when Mo gave herself to me. Her release within my touch unshackled my darkness. Lightning flashed. The darkness forever changed by the feel of our bodies held tightly in the night.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I took the cup from her hands, set mine beside hers next to the bed, and tucked my finger under the collar of her shirt as I pulled her toward me.

  “This,” I whispered against her lips. I took her in my arms and relived the awakening of my own storm the night before as the rain pattered against the roof. The swing flowed in the breeze of us.

  Chapter 17

  “So…what’s next? I mean, I’ve never done this before.”

  “This?” Mo looked up over her menu. “Generally, you look at the menu and pick out something that looks good to you.”

  “You know that isn’t what I mean.” I leaned across the table to whisper. “A one night stand.”

  She met me as she leaned forward too. “A one night stand?” she whispered with a smile, more like an almost laugh at my hushed tone. “By my count it was one night, one morning, and one very long afternoon.”

  Some how I foolishly thought maybe my ability to blush would be lessened after the night she and I had experienced. I was wrong. I felt it take over my cheeks. Carefully I leaned back away from her before she noticed. Although the small padded stools we sat on didn’t give much leeway in leaning back too far. At least they were only a couple of feet off of the floor so it wouldn’t be a high fall.

  “You are so adorable.” She poured us a glass of white wine from the bottle she had ordered for our dinner. “Here sip on this. It’ll calm some of those nerves you seem to have found now that you’ve clothes on.”

  The blush returned full fold and Mo laughed. Reflexively, I glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation or noticing two women who had spent the last day wrapped passionately in one another’s arms.

  What the hell did it matter anyway?

  I became angry with myself…with the inbred fear of wondering what those around me thought of my actions—even if they were complete strangers to me.

  She held her glass up. “To our weekend of new experiences.” She clinked it against mine. “For both of us.”

  The taste of the Riesling caught me off guard. It wasn’t as sweet as I remembered and I was quite sure I flinched or made a face as I swallowed it.

  Mo chuckled. “What? You don’t like it?”

  “No. It isn’t that. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought this wine was sweeter than this.”

  “Not all Rieslings are sweet.”

  I brought the glass up to my nose. There was a weird scent of petrol. “It sort of smells like diesel fuel. Maybe it’s bad…like spoiled or something?”

  Mo laughed sort of loudly. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. You’re just so damn cute. I remember what it was like when Jaz and I first started drinking wine. Let’s try it again and if you don’t like it we’ll order another bottle or a beer. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Although I would have agreed to anything at that moment. She could have said, “Hey, let’s go rob a bank after dinner,” and I most likely would have shaken my head in agreement. She was absolutely stunning. The restaurant’s backdrop brought out the green of her eyes brilliantly. They nearly sparkled as she looked at me.

  Her expression turned serious. Perhaps she read something in mine as I watched her. She slowly brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her thumbnail. She took in a deep breath.

  “Has anyone ever told you how dangerous those eyes of yours are?” she asked around the thumb resting against her bottom lip.

  I couldn’t speak so I simply shook my head.

  “Well, they are. I swear I can read them sometimes. I can tell what it is you’re thinking.” She looked around the restaurant before fixating on the stone pillar at the end of our table. “If this had given us four walls instead of this one column, I fear I would have to take you right here…right now. No wonder we haven’t eaten. All I want to do is take you back to bed.”

  Butterflies swarmed my belly and refused to let go. “We could get it to go.” My voice was shaky and soft.

  “Or we could eat the fabulous meal I’ve ordered. Finish off a bottle of wine. All the while your eyes will continue to drive me crazy so that the moment we step into Jaz’s apartment all I will be able to do is rip your clothes off and hold you until the sun comes up.”

  “Or, yes…there’s that option.” Did I say my voice was shaky before?

  Mo shifted on the stool. “Now let’s see what we can do with this wine.” She brought her glass up to her nose and inhaled. “Try to smell past the diesel fuel. What do you smell beyond that?”

  I brought the glass to my nose and breathed in its scent. I blocked the thought of petrol from my senses and inhaled deeper. “Hmmmm…citrus? Sort of smells like citrus.” I smelled the wine again. “Oh and honey. I smell honey.”

  A smile spread across her face. “Perfect. Okay so this time after you breathe in to get the aroma past the noxious, I want you to take a sip. Swish it in your mouth until you can no longer detect the smell and then swallow.”

  I did as she had asked.

  She followed my movements. “Now, what do you taste?”

  “Mostly pineapple but with a hint of lime and apricot.”

  “Perfect.” She smiled even broader. “That is why it’s such a good choice with Indian food. It’s an interaction you go for. The wine must complement the food, not take away from it. This wine doesn’t take away from the complexities of spices in the food.” She stopped and leaned back away from the table. “What? What’s that look for?”

  What look? Damn, do my eyes really give me away? “I don’t know…it’s just sometimes you surprise me with things you say.”

  “Like what? Why?”

  “Well, you’re a Harley-riding, leather-wearing deejay who just taught me how to appreciate the combination of wine and food pairings. Doesn’t actually add up, you know?”

  “Don’t we all have layers, Rayne? Don’t we all have sides to ourselves that we don’t share with everyone? Sides we only share with a few?”

  I thought of the past day in her arms. I thought of Sam. She was the first outside of Meems that I had shown myself to. Yet hadn’t I hidden some from her as well. Wasn’t it true, I felt I couldn’t share everything with her? I didn’t share my insecurities of what being a lesbian would mean for fear I would hurt her or push her away. I didn’t share my fears of what a life with her would do to my future. Well, I didn’t until the end—until the night I tried to see her through the tears blinding my eyes. The night I broke as I watched the mascara smear down her face. And then there was Meems. Hadn’t I hidden from her too? The one woman I felt loved me above and beyond every single wrong or right I could have ever done. Yet, I hid even from her.

  The waiter brought our food to the table and broke my memories before the pain crept in. I finally noticed the colors surrounding me. My focus on Mo had prevented me from appreciating the pop of red in the restaurants light fixtures, cloth table coverings, and wall decorations. Other than those key elements, the majority of the setting was made up of different tones of brown from a light beige of the stone walls to a rich dark chocolate in the molding and decorative clay pottery.

  “I know we said we wouldn’t, but do you want to talk about her?” Mo picked up my plate and filled it with the chickpea dish the waiter had set down alongside the Tandoori Chicken. The smell of curry took over my senses as she spooned the chickpeas onto my plate.

  “Which her?”

  Mo raised her head up and gazed at me. “There’s
more than one her? And that’s why you don’t assume. Sorry, I always thought there was only one.”

  “There was only one like you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What you see…what you see sometimes when you look at me. The sadness? It’s because of two women in my life. My grandmother and Sam.”

  “Aw, I get it now.” She reached into the basket on the far side of the table. “Here try this with it. It’s called naan, a type of bread.” She handed me the round brown-spotted white bread. “Do you want to talk about them?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “To get to know you better? Yes, that’s what I want if you’ll let me in. But you have to eat while you talk because we have not had food since yesterday.” She pointed her fork at my plate before taking a bite herself.

  I felt the heat again rush to my cheeks with the flashback of pulling Mo’s body against mine as tight as I could. I hadn’t seemed to be able to pull her close enough to me. A part of me already feared the next day—the day we would say goodbye. Oh, I knew I would see her again but in what capacity I had no idea.

  Yet tonight I did have her. Here was this gorgeous creature sitting across from me, sharing an experience of a new food and wishing to know more about me. A woman whose attention was desired by so many lesbians and here she was with me. Smiling at me. Wanting to know me—all of me, not just the parts I picked out so they don’t cause distance between us, but actually all of me. It was a freedom I didn’t have with Sam. No matter what I told Mo, she wouldn’t change the way she felt about me…about what she wanted from me. She didn’t want the whole pie like Sam did. She didn’t want the sunset. She wanted the moment.

  “The first part of eating is to actually pick up a utensil.”

  I blinked several times and looked down at the plate she had put in front of me. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered away for a minute.”

  “Yeah, I see that. I think my head is going to spin right off of me if you ever start taking me on the journeys in your mind. Damn, girl, does that brain of yours ever stop?”

  “Not too often, no.”

  “We’re going to have to see what we can do to slow it down one day.” She motioned her fork at me before taking a bite of food. “It’s a little spicy but I think a Cajun girl like you can take it.” She winked as she took a healthy swallow of the white wine.

  I grinned, amused. “Let’s see what you call spicy.” The curry and cayenne seasoning of the chickpeas warmed my tongue but didn’t send the sometimes searing hurried need for cooling after I tasted foods back home. Nonetheless, I took a swallow of the wine Mo had selected to pair with dinner. She had done well. “You’re right. The wine does complement the spices of the food. It’s like it enhances it.”

  Her smile was wide as she popped a piece of naan into her mouth. “Thank you. It’s much like the company sitting across from me.”

  I let the matching smile reach my heart and calm my nerves of opening up to her—of remembering. “I would say there are two women who’ve changed my life. One I’ve always known and one I knew for only a short while. Both of them are gone now.”

  “Gone?”

  “Yes. Memaw passed away last November.”

  She covered my hand with her own. “I’m so sorry.”

  I didn’t flinch away from her touch even with all eyes to see. In fact, I rolled my hand over and basked in the comfort of her touch.

  “Thank you.” I squeezed her hand, letting her know I liked it within mine, especially as I continued to talk. “I’d never really considered life without her. It wasn’t factored into my plans. For as long as I can remember, I was going to go to medical school and go back home to live. She and I were going to set up my practice. I’d spend my days working and my weekends with her. I’d finally do what I wanted to do, living under my own roof. Not having to answer to Charlie Grace. But now…now she’s gone and I feel utterly lost.”

  “Charlie Grace?”

  “My mother.”

  “Aw…you call her by her first name?”

  “It’s become a habit. One I have to watch when I’m around her. She’s another story all together.”

  “Sounds like. And do you still want to go back home?”

  I took in a deep breath to let her question filter in. I tucked my bangs behind my ear but they fell back over my eye. “I do. I truly do. It’s my home. The people there. The culture—it’s the bond I still have with her I suppose.” I took a sip of wine to let the hint of pineapple cool the heat I was sensing on my tongue. “It’ll never be the same without her there.” I looked up at the overhanging light fixture in an attempt to control the looming tears before they fell.

  “And the other?”

  Sam. The pang in my heart returned with vengeance. The night in Mo’s arms had surely intensified the feeling of loss and searching when I thought of Sam. It had solidified her loss to me. What do I say about the woman I considered to be the love of my life? How do I describe her to a woman who had been my first real experience at physical love? One had opened my heart to new experiences and one had opened my body to them. I searched her eyes, focusing on the tiny brown circles mixed among the green of her pupil. The pupil that was now dilated as she studied my face.

  She reached behind her neck to pull her long hair over her shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything. I’ve told you before and I mean it. I’m not one to judge. You won’t hurt me. I see what you feel for her in your eyes. If it’ll help you to speak them then do. If not, then don’t. Nothing you say will change what I feel for you.” I watched her earring dangle against her neck.

  Her eyes held the truth of her words. They held safety—safety to say anything my heart wished. I closed mine briefly to find the words in the darkness. Although there wasn’t much need as the pendant light above us provided only a dim light for the table. The scent of her lingering perfume gifted my nose. The scent I remembered from the pillow we had shared.

  “You’re safe,” she whispered as she leaned over the table.

  Safe.

  “Sam. Her name is Sam…Samantha LeJeune. I met her in medical school.”

  Mo sat back in her chair and pulled her wine glass in front of her as if she was focusing completely on my words.

  “I was…I didn’t know at the time but I was attracted to her instantly. Everything about her excited me. Everything about her made me nervous. Even though I really knew deep down what it meant, I tried to deny it.” I shook my head, remembering the denial of the truth that rested right at my fingertips.

  She took a slow, small sip of her wine. “Rayne…we all did. I did. Jaz did. We all did. What? It was supposed to be easy to identify something about yourself that you weren’t raised to know as a possibility. Give yourself a break.”

  “But I should’ve known. I should’ve known before I lost her. I questioned it too much. I was stronger before Memaw passed but then I let these fears of God and religion overwhelm me. I think I know it wasn’t my fault she died. I tell myself it wasn’t.” I grew angry at the lump building in my throat.

  “How on earth could anything you did cause your grandmother’s death? What burden are you carrying?” She slid my glass of wine in front of me.

  I took her hint and brought it to my lips for a swallow…not a sip, a swallow. “The night she passed—the very night she passed, I had let myself feel free for a split second. I had stopped hiding from what my heart knew. I stopped fighting my attraction to Sam. My love for her. I kissed her. A kiss I felt to the core of my soul. I touched her and felt…I don’t know…home. Does that sound stupid?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “It felt right for the first time ever. For the first time in my life, intimacy felt right. Never with anyone else. Never with.” I looked down at the ring still on my finger.

  Her eyes followed mine. “Rayne?”

  I looked up at her.

  “Don’t look at that ring. Keep telling me about the woman who felt some
thing for the first time. I doubt you’re going to find the answers in the ring. I only care about you. I only care about knowing the woman you are. The woman I’ve shared my body with. The woman I’ve connected with. She’s who I care about right now. Not that ring.”

  “I never felt right with him. I’ve heard about sin, sermon after sermon. The guilt of sin. Do you know the first time I ever didn’t feel the guilt of sin when touching someone else or having them touch me was when I was with Sam? That’s why I was so blown away. How could Meems be taken away from me for something I did when it was the first time it ever felt pure and right?”

  She wiped away a tear from my cheek with her thumb. “Shouldn’t that tell you your answer?”

  “My answer?”

  “Yes. You said it was the first time you didn’t feel guilt or wrong in what you were doing.”

  “Horrendous guilt.”

  “I don’t know what things you were taught as a child. What religious threats you heard. So, I don’t know exactly what you are basing these beliefs on. What I can tell you is I believe in listening to what is being spoken. You can read verses in a bible. You can listen to men shout their beliefs about what those verses mean. Or…” She dipped her head until I looked up into her eyes. “Or you can listen to the whispers in your ears. You can listen to the spiritual voices telling you the direction of your path. Whether you want to believe that voice is God’s, an angel’s, Buddha’s or just the universe itself, it’s up to you. The most important thing is to listen. Being spiritual and following a higher power is everyone’s right to find on their own. It’s their own relationship between them and their whispers. It’s not just some inflated man yelling from a podium.”