* * * *
“I can’t imagine what your parents would think of me,” Hailey said as she kicked off her shoes and strode into the kitchen.
“Are you kidding?” Sashi laughed. “They’d love you! My dad would call you hijra and throw you—”
“Out the window?”
“Throw you a party, I was going to say.”
“Oh,” Hailey replied. “I was thinking about spaghetti for supper.”
“Sounds good.”
Hailey opened the fridge. “Meatballs or meat sauce—pick your poison.”
“I would love to wrap my teeth around a juicy pair of meatballs,” Sashi said, salaciously.
Hailey looked uncomfortable, but smiled gently. She laughed, but it was obviously put on.
“No laughing,” Sashi said, trying to raise to mood. “We don’t take kindly ‘round these parts to folks what laugh at sek-tual overtures.” Yanking the blue gingham dishcloth from the oven handle, she swung it in the air like a lasso before tossing it over Hailey’s head.
“Don’t!” Hailey cried. “If you mess up my hair, I swear to God...”
Tugging the dishcloth from her head, Hailey spun it into a makeshift whip before snapping out. The towel landed with a smarting thwack against Sashi’s thigh and every muscle in her lower body clenched. Sashi struggled to find a comeback, wholly distracted by that beautiful face, those lips she wanted so badly to kiss.
If only Hailey would let her...
“You’re really sexy,” Shashi said. “Have I ever told you that?”
She sounded like one of her students, but she often felt adolescent with Hailey.
With a sigh, Hailey tucked the dishtowel back into its home. Her face had fallen three storeys in five seconds. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Like what? That you’re sexy?”
Hailey nodded solemnly, biting her bottom lip.
“What did I do?” Sashi asked. When Hailey fled to the dining room, she followed. “I always seem to be upsetting you and I never know what I’ve done.”
“What’s a hijra?”
“Huh?”
Hailey said, “You told me your dad would call me a hijra, but I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh, well, never mind. It’s not important.” Sashi wanted to know why she shouldn’t call her girlfriend sexy, and this hijra thing was just Hailey’s way of distracting her.
Hailey stood her ground, folding her arms in front of her chest. “No, there’s no ‘never mind’ out of it. I don’t want to ‘never mind.’ I want you to tell me what a hijra is and why your father would call me one.”
Now they were both deep in teenager mode. It was a terrible thing when the teachers started acting like the students. Sashi was a little embarrassed, because she knew the comparison was less than apt. She rubbed her chin.
“Are you planning on answering me, or do I need to get out the encyclopaedia?”
“It’s nothing,” Sashi said. “Hijra is the third gender, where I come from. That’s all.”
“I’m not a third gender,” Hailey shot back. “I’m a woman.”
“I know you are.”
“So don’t call me hijra!”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good!”
“Now, what were we talking about?”
“I don’t know. Spaghetti!”
“Meatballs,” Sashi said. “And sex.”
It wasn’t just Hailey’s expression that fell, this time. All of her did, like a pile of laundry onto the dining chair. She made a nest of her arms and collapsed with her head on top of them. When she spoke this time, it wasn’t her teenager voice. It was a voice that sounded distant and resigned that said, “I don’t want to talk about sex.”
“That’s okay,” Sashi said, not knowing why it was such a big deal. “We don’t have to. Just spaghetti. No meatballs.”
Hailey turned her head and looked up at Sashi. “This isn’t a joke.”
Sashi wasn’t sure what was happening. “I know it’s not. I’m sorry.”
“Good.”
Sashi waited a moment before asking, “What isn’t a joke?”
Hailey straightened in her chair. “I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks, and it never... I mean, we’re always having such a good time and it’s so nice when we’re out. It’s so romantic. I don’t want to ruin the moment.”
“Ruin it how?”
“By telling you I’m...”
“You’re...?”
“I’m...”
“Straight?”
“No!” Hailey laughed. “You’re silly.”
“What, then?”
Hailey’s expression softened, and she said, “I’m not into sex. I’m not a... sexual being. I’m sorry. You can leave now, if you want.”
When Hailey rose from her chair, Sashi pulled her back down. “No, no, no. You’re not running away from me that easily. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
Looking Sashi plain in the face, Hailey said, “I’m asexual. I don’t have... sexual... feelings.”
“Oh.” Sashi touched her fingers lightly and asked, “Were you... did someone hurt you? Like, abuse-wise...?”
“No!”
“Sorry, I just thought maybe...”
“I wasn’t abused. I wasn’t raped. Nobody stole my innocence, and it has nothing to do with being trans. Okay?”
Boy, she was really getting up in arms. Sashi had never seen her so angry or defensive. “Have you ever talked to someone about this? I mean, like a therapist, maybe?”
“I don’t need to talk to someone about it!” Hailey shouted. Rolling her eyes hard, she said, “This isn’t a deficiency, Sashi. There’s nothing wrong from me. It’s just the way I am. Some people are sexual and some people are asexual, and I’m asexual. So what?”
“So nothing!” Sashi said, in somewhat a hasher tone than she’d intended. “I’m just trying to be supportive. Holy Mackerel, d’you have to be so difficult?”
Hailey’s eyes blazed like a building on fire. Sashi fully expected her to explode, but she cracked up instead. “Holy Mackerel?” she said. “Are you eighty?”
“Yes,” Sashi teased.
“You look good for your age.”
Sashi vogued, then struck a pose.
Hailey laughed some more. Holding her head in her hands, she laughed until she cried. Sashi rushed to grab a box of tissues, then sat down beside her at the table. “I’m sorry. Was it something I said?”
“Yes and no.” Hailey took a tissue. “Of course I’ve talked to someone. You feel like an alien, sometimes, like there’s something missing inside you.”
“There’s nothing missing,” Sashi said. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Hailey shot her a dubious glance. “I’m not perfect.”
“Okay, not perfect...”
“I should have told you before,” Hailey said. “Before we got serious. I should have told you when... when I first fell in love with you. I should have told you then.”
Sashi had to admit, she felt a bit hurt, but not for the reasons Hailey would probably think.
“In the car, when you were joking about marriage, I thought, ‘Gee, I’d love to marry this girl,’ but I can’t ask for a commitment. You obviously want more than I can give you.” Bowing her head, Hailey said, “Sex is off the table. That means I’m off the table.”
“No you’re not,” Sashi said, smacking it for emphasis. “You’re very much on the table.”
“But you’re a very sexual person, Sash. I’m not. It’s stressing me out.”
“Wait, is this why you haven’t been sleeping?” Sashi asked. “You were afraid to tell this secret?”
Hailey nodded.
“Oh, hayseed!” Sashi leaned across the table to take Hailey in her arms, then stopped abruptly. “Sorry. Is this okay?”
Hailey smiled. “A hug is okay. A hug is great. And holding hands, stuff like that. A kiss on the cheek. On the lips, even, if it’s jus
t a peck. But I’m not into making out or sexual touching or anything more than that. I’m just... not. If that’s not okay, then we’re not okay.”
“Then that’ll have to be okay,” Sashi said. “Because I can’t imagine a life without you.”
Hailey blushed, but said, “You’re only saying that because you haven’t had a chance to think about it. Once it really sinks in what your life would be like with no sex, you’ll change your mind for sure.”
“It would be just like my life right now,” Sashi said.
“Yeah, but you’re frustrated now.”
“I was frustrated,” Sashi confessed. “But that’s because I didn’t know what was going on. You seemed like maybe you liked me, but maybe not... like you were hiding something. Now I know what, so it’s cool.”
Hailey cocked her head dubiously.
“It’s cool.” Sashi vogued again, just to make Hailey smile.
Smacking Sashi’s hand, Hailey said, “It’s not that easy. It’s not something we can gloss over. If you really want to make this work, we’ll need to really talk about how.”
“Okay,” Sashi said, getting serious. “Then we’ll talk about it. We’ll figure things out.” Sliding out of her chair, she kneeled on the floor at Hailey’s side. “I don’t have a ring, but I want you to marry me. So I’m asking you now. Will you marry me, Hailey?”
Tears filled her eyes. She nodded. Her voice cracked as she said, “I’ll cook some spaghetti and we can twist it around each other’s fingers. How’s that for a ring?”
“Perfect,” Sashi teased. “Exactly what I had in mind. Would you believe most fine jewellers don’t carry pasta rings?”
Hailey grinned through happy tears. “That’s a damn shame.”
“These would just be engagement rings, of course. When they turn mouldy, then we know it’s time to get hitched.”
“Gross!”
“It’s only gross if you eat it.”
“Eww! Sashi!” Hailey pressed on her face, but she didn’t budge. She held Hailey’s hand tight, and Hailey squeezed back.
“Is it okay if I kiss you here?” Sashi asked, bowing to Hailey’s fingers.
Hailey nodded in all seriousness, and Sashi gently kissed her knuckles.
With the other hand, Hailey cupped Sashi’s cheek and said, “I love you, Sash.”
“You too, hayseed.”
“We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“But all the time in the world.”
7
Going to the Chapel
When they burst into church half an hour late for their own wedding, their knees were streaked with mud. Yvonne’s gorgeous gown, the one she’d spent three months selecting, had grass stains all down the front. She’d paid more for that white dress than she’d paid for her first car, and look at it now: damaged beyond repair.
And Deva? Well, her retro turquoise suit hadn’t fared much better. The left sleeve was muddied from the cuff to the elbow, and don’t even start about the pant legs!
They hadn’t planned it—honestly, they hadn’t—but when their families and friends turned to find them surrounded by big bouquets of blue carnations, they both cried out, “It’s not what you think!”
* * * *
“You’re not supposed to see the bride on the day of the wedding,” Yvonne teased.
Deva raised a churlish brow. “Neither are you.”
Their gazes locked as mothers and aunts rushed around the apartment. The brides were the still point in the chaos. They weren’t giving in to their families’ anxiety.
Why get worked up about a wedding?
Taking one step closer, Deva grabbed Yvonne’s hand. “Don’t you wish we could ditch everyone and just... you know...?”
Yvonne glanced toward the bed and bit her lip, trying not to smile too widely. “Get your mind out of the gutter. You’ll shock your virgin bride.”
“Ha!” Deva wrapped both arms around Yvonne and held her close, whispering into her ear. “I can’t wait to get you home after the wedding.”
“Mmm...”
Deva’s hot breath warmed more than just Yvonne’s ear. She’d have given anything to surrender, but her mother’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Girls! It’s time to get to get a move on. You don’t want to be late for your own wedding.”
Yvonne stepped away from Deva, covering the blush in her cheeks with both hands. “We’re on our way.”
Deva’s mother appeared in the doorway, behind Yvonne’s, and said, “I don’t understand why you’re walking. Who walks to the church on her wedding day?”
“That’s how we met,” Deva said. She leaned against the dresser while Yvonne sat on the bed. “Or, not how we met, but how we got to know each other.”
“I only started going to that church because there was a rainbow flag on the sign,” Yvonne added. “I’ve never been a churchy person, but it’s hard to find community when you move to a new place. I figured if they were queer-friendly, that could be a start.”
Her mother smiled. “Yes, I don’t remember you wanting to go to church when you were little.”
Yvonne shrugged. “Everyone’s really nice at this one down the street. And it didn’t hurt that there was a built, butch Indian chick sitting in the front pew every week—legs spread, an elbow on either knee, too cool for school. Kept me coming back for more.”
“Deva!” said Yvonne’s soon-to-be mother-in-law. “You shouldn’t sit that way in church. Keep your knees together.”
Deva bowed her head, obviously trying not to laugh. “Yes, mother.”
“We started walking home together when we realized we lived in the same apartment complex,” Yvonne went on. “And soon she started picking me up and walking me there, too.”
“Yeah, and I just kept getting here earlier and earlier,” Deva said. “Soon I was picking her up on Saturday night for church on Sunday morning.”
When Deva chuckled, her mother smacked her hip, aiming for her bottom. “Naughty child! You don’t talk that way.”
“Sure I do,” Deva said, still laughing as her mother spanked her.
“If you weren’t as big as your brothers I would take you over my knee.”
Yvonne and her mother cracked matching smiles as Deva and hers teased one another. And then Yvonne’s high-strung mom looked at her watch and said, “We really should leave for the church. It’s getting to be that time. Don’t want your guests thinking you’ve come down with a case of cold feet.”
“You guys head out,” Deva said, shuffling her mom and Yvonne’s toward the front door. “We’re gonna stroll hand in hand, just like we did when we first started walking together.”
“Aww,” said one of Deva’s aunts, who’d been hiding in the living room. “There’s nothing like young love.”
Yvonne laughed. “We’re not exactly young.”
“Well, you were when you met,” the aunt said. “How long ago was that? Five years?”
“Almost,” Deva said, then winked at Yvonne. “Feels like yesterday.”
Yvonne nodded. “I know what you mean.”
The honeymoon never ended. They were still loopy in love, and so sizzling hot for each other they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Hopefully the wedding wouldn’t change all that. But why would it? A marriage is only a commitment, and they were already committed to each other.
Nevertheless, as their mothers and aunts filtered out the door, a feeling of apprehension came over Yvonne. This was it. Today was the day. No going back.
“What’s wrong?” Deva asked when everyone was gone.
“Hmm?” Yvonne plastered a smile across her lips. “Nothing. I’m fine. How ‘bout you?”
Deva cocked her head, not buying it.
There was something about Deva, like she could look into Yvonne’s eyes and see right straight through to her soul. Made her nervous and fidgety. She walked to the window, waiting to see their family members filter out the lobby door.
Deva took her from behind, wrapping bot
h arms around her waist. “Tell me what you’re thinking, babe.”
Yvonne pressed her forehead to the window. “Nothing. Just... do you think we’re really ready for this?”
“For what?”
Yvonne laughed. “For marriage. For me.”
Deva hugged her harder. “We already live together. If I couldn’t stand you, I think I’d know it by now.”
“I guess so.”
“Why?” Deva asked. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Yvonne watched her mother and Deva’s and all their aunts spill from the front door like an ocean wave. “No,” she said, decidedly. “I want to marry you.”
She turned around, and Deva kissed her, softly, on the lips. “I want to marry you, too.”
Why did that embarrass her so much? She felt an inexplicable blush coming on as she slipped away from the window, away from Deva. “My mom was right. We should get a move on or people will wonder.”
“I’m starting to wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
Deva shook her head. “Nothing.”
Yvonne grabbed her phone off the coffee table and shoved it down the side of her wedding dress.
Deva cracked up. “What are you doing?”
With a shrug, Yvonne said, “I’m not bringing a purse and you never know when you might need a phone. In case of emergencies. You know?”
This time, Deva shrugged. “I’m not bringing mine.”
“But you’ve got the house keys?”
Deva plucked them out of her pocket. “Sure you don’t want a quickie before we head to the chapel?”
“When have I ever wanted a quickie?” Yvonne laughed as she opened the door. “I want you all... night... long.”
When Deva raced at her, she leapt into the hall like a matador teasing a bull. They locked up and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. Their neighbours would think they were crazy—not that they actually knew many people in the neighbourhood, aside from fellow churchgoers.
And Mr. Rosetti.
Yvonne groaned as they stepped into the lobby.
“What’s wrong?” Deva took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m worried about you.”
“No, it’s nothing. I just hope Mr. Rosetti isn’t out gardening when we walk by. He’s the last person I need to deal with today.”
Sweet Lesbian Love Stories Page 7
