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It was early summer—blue sky, fresh blossom in the air, a gentle breeze—and yet Sally spent more than half her day sitting behind a dust-tinted window in her office cubicle where the air was so stale she lost oxygen each time she drew a breath and the steady ticking of the clock kept her in a 9 to 5 trance until the hour finally struck and she was free to go home. Home to her wife, Rita.
Each day, Sally bought her flowers from the tiny shop at the corner; always a different kind. Rita could tell them all apart by their scent, no matter how hard Sally tried to find a kind she hadn't smelled before. She chose peonies today, white and blush-coloured and forwent the banter with the elderly florist since she was in a hurry to get home. Today was special; she had a surprise for Rita and no time to lose—it was already half past five.
Sally ran up the stairs, rusty metal wailing under her harsh steps, and barged into the room with the energy she was barely able to contain—but she had to; Rita was clever and she didn't want her to figure out right away that she was up to something. "Honey, I'm home," Sally sang as she closed the door behind her, hung up her coat and went to find Rita in the kitchen. Flowers in hand, she slipped her arms around her waist from behind and nuzzled the hinge of her jaw, peppering kisses up to her cheek.
"You're in an awfully good mood today," Rita said, soft-spoken as ever, a faint giggle in her words. She stirred the pot on the stove with a wooden spoon and Sally spied chopped potatoes and carrots swimming in circles—one of Rita's famous stews.
"How could I not be? Summer in my lungs, a beautiful wife in my bed who cooks me meals every day…"
"You silly," Rita chuckled as Sally released her, put the flowers on the counter and picked up the plates and cutlery instead. "Put the peonies in a vase, will you?"
Of course she'd already noticed; Sally smiled. "I will, I will."
She set the table and arranged the flowers in the centre on the crochet doily Rita had made last winter, then she went back to the kitchen to fetch the steaming pot. Rita followed her with a hand in the small of her back and sat in her chair at the little round dining table.
"They smell lovely."
"So does your stew," Sally said, filling their plates with the ladle.
Rita smiled timidly. "You don't have to buy me flowers every day, you know. We need the money."
"It's an investment I'm willing to make."
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Rita and her wife relocated to the couch for a much-needed nap after dinner. Sally had stretched out; Rita splayed half atop her, her head nuzzled against her chest. She fell asleep within seconds to the steady beats of her heart. Soft puffs of breath caressed her skin; light snores, her fingers still in Rita's curls after caressing her to sleep. Sally wondered what she looked like in her dreams—if she dreamed of her, that was; she hoped she did sometimes—since Rita had never seen her.
After a few minutes of lying awake, Sally traced the bridge of Rita's nose down to the tip and kissed her forehead just where it met her hairline. She stirred, murmured something inaudible that had Sally chuckling. "Sleepyhead... Had a good nap?"
Rita hummed affirmatively and lifted her head, still groggy, just enough for Sally to brush her lips against hers and steal a few dozy kisses. Rita's smile spread against her mouth, spanning wide, but still tender. Sally rubbed up and down her back, following the curve of her spine and the fibres of her muscles, palpable through the thin fabric of her floral house dress.
"I was thinking we could go to the park?" she proposed.
Rita blinked her eyes open. "Hmmm, is it still sunny?"
"… and an ice cream stand popped up just at the gates."
"Must be waiting for us."
"Definitely."
"Go grab your coat then, we're going out, Mrs. Lang," Rita said, ending in that cute lip bite she did whenever she was excited, and untangled herself from her Sally.
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Rita wore the pale blue trench coat Sally had gifted her for her birthday to the Lincoln Park since it still got chilly in the evenings. She liked the feel of the lining and the deep pockets she could sink her hands into when they got too cold. It even fit both their hands, entwined, when they walked next to each other, her arm looped through Sally's. It wasn't too cold for ice cream though.
"Two scoops each, vanilla and cinnamon apple for me, pistachio and chocolate chip for the lady who's with me, please," Rita ordered, bouncing on her tiptoes and back down as she stood at the ice cream stand. A bit taller, Sally kept a steadying hand at her waist as she pushed a few dollar notes over the counter and received the ice cream cones in return. They found a bench nearby, looking over the small pond in the heart of the park. A duck family swam into the beginning sunset, quack-quacking happily in the distance.
"I love it here," Rita said after a few licks of her ice cream. "Makes you forget you live in a concrete jungle for a while."
"If it weren't so hard for me to find work elsewhere I'd have long packed my bags and moved to the countryside," Sally agreed, gaze drifting gently over the scenery.
"But then we might not have met."
"True…"
They chuckled, Sally pecked Rita's cheek, and then they turned their attention back to their ice cream cones. It was the perfect blend of flavour and sweetness, like Rita. Just the right treat for a gentle, mild day like this.
"Still, I'd like to get away one day," Rita said after a moment, nose up in the air where the breeze could brush over it. "Do you think we'll make it?"
"Oh honey, I'm sure of it, I've got a feeling," Sally answered with too much certainty.
Enough that Rita turned her head towards the sound of her voice.
"What?" Sally asked, failing to disguise that she'd been caught red-handed.
"You've got that mischief in your voice, like when you say you want an early night but then get all naughty the moment I take off my day clothes," Rita teased. "So, what's this about?"
"Oh, look! There's ducks," Sally said stupidly, pointing at the little family that was nearing them.
"Very funny," Rita deadpanned, swatting her arm.
"Sorry. But wait, I've still got some crumbs from the sandwich I had on the way home in my pocket!" She produced the crumpled paper bag from the bakery, fished out a handful of crumbs and put them in Rita's palm. "There you go. They're right here, come."
Sally guided Rita up to the edge of the pond, making sure she stood safely as to not fall in, and gathered the remaining crumbs in her own hand. The distraction succeeded. Rita forgot all about her suspicions and tossed the first few crumbs into the direction of the eager quacking. She laughed hearing the flap of their wings in the water as they fought over the bread, and threw some more. Sally joined and gave them hers too. It was over too quickly, but Rita's giggles had been well worth it.
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The car engine of Sally's old Ford puttered in front of them, sending a faint buzz all the way into the steering wheel. Rita's hand rested on Sally's thigh, warm and soft, as they drove down the road leading out of the city. She had rolled down the window and let the wind ruffle her hair, sun shining golden on her face. "Where are we driving to today?" she asked. "The streets feel different here. More bumpy."
"It's a surprise."
"I knew you were up to something…" she hummed. "Will we be back for dinner though? Because I wanted to make a salad and need—"
"Don't you worry about dinner, hon. I've got something far better planned, I promise."
"If this is you making advances again, Miss—"
"It's not!" Sally exclaimed, laugh breaking through her faux offence. "My intentions are of the purest nature, thank you very much."
"Alright, alright…" Rita chuckled, hiding the smirk in her knuckles as she propped her elbow up on the open car window. "Makes me nervous when you're being secretive… Charlie does it too."
"Except I'm not hiding any mortal sins from you, just surprises."
"Hm… that better be true."
Rita let it go after that but kept shifting around in her seat the rest of the way, nibbled at her nails, played with her hair or the hem of her dress. Sally was relieved when she saw the name of the village she was heading for written on a sign, she neither wanted Rita to worry much longer nor ruin the surprise. They passed a meadow where a herd of cows was grazing in the sunset.
"Dear me, we must be in the middle of nowhere for me to be smelling cow dunk."
Sally chuckled. "We are, actually. There's cattle everywhere."
"Devons or Herefords?"
"I wouldn't know, sweetheart. You tell me."
Rita liked to put on nature documentaries while Sally was at work; it calmed her when she grew anxious being on her own—she'd gained a considerable amount of knowledge that way. It often became the topic of conversation at the dinner table. "Well, what colour are their coats and faces? Are they lean or fat?"
Sally glanced outside, then shifted her focus back on the road. "Red coat, white faces mostly. Couldn't tell you about their size. Just cattle-sized, I guess."
"Likely Herefords then. Is there a farm somewhere?"
She was too clever for her own good; Sally had to think about her answer, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth and releasing it after a moment. "There is, actually. That's where we're going, honey."
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Until the very second Sally stopped the car in the driveway of the Wilson farm, Rita had not ceased her interrogation, wanting to know the whys and hows of today's excursion. Sally could've burst with the urge to tell her everything, but she stayed strong to the very end and appeased her wife with vague words. She helped Rita out of the car, took her by the hand and led her straight into the field surrounding the farm until the wheat brushed Rita's bare calves.
"Sally, where are we? What are we doing here? Tell me. You gotta!"
Stepping up behind Rita, Sally circled her arms around her waist and pressed her back into her front. "We're at the Wilson farm, so far away from Chicago that the city's disappeared beyond the horizon, and this… will be our new home, if you want to."
"Our… what? You're messing with me. Sally, you are!"
"I'm not, honey." "See, there's this nice old lady called Mary-Ann, whose daughter and her girlfriend have just moved out. She could use some help around here. Taking care of the animals, paperwork, heavy lifting, all that."
"And you…?"
"Well, I said I'd discuss it with my wife and if she'd like it, we'd be her new tenants."
"The money?"
"Mary-Ann agreed to give us a fair price if we take some work off her hands. We can afford it, I did the math."
A long pause followed. The setting sun was bright in their faces, painting everything orange-soft, and Sally pulled Rita closer, feeling how her chest moved with each breath.
"Can we sit down? I…"
"Of course, there's a swing on the porch of our house."
Crossing the farmstead, they nearly tripped over free-running chicken that flapped their wings hysterically when they came too close, dispersing in all directions with loud, protesting buk-buk-ba-gawks. Startled, Rita clutched Sally's arm, who led her up the porch and out of the chickens' way. "Sorry about that, I saw them too late."
"The chicken—they're ours too?" Rita asked as they sat down on the swing cushions; the chains holding it squeaked quietly.
"Mary-Ann owns them, but we'll be taking care of them as well and have fresh eggs for breakfast every single morning. Isn't that great?"
"It is. I mean, it's too good to be true, right?" Rita said, breathless, and grasped Sally's hands in her lap, steadying herself. "It's—my dream."
"I know," Sally said with a smile. "That's why I found it for us. Do you want it?"
"Yes! Of course, I do, silly!"
Sally pecked her flushed cheek and pulled her into a hug, just bursting with joy and excitement for their new life here, far away from the smell of concrete sizzling in the summer heat and the exhaust fumes burning their lungs.
"Mrs. Lang?"
"Mary-Ann over here!" Sally waved to the elderly woman in dungarees and wellies, who joined them on the porch. Only when she came closer did Sally notice the orange cat she carried on her arm.
"And this lovely woman must be your wife?" Mary-Ann asked before shaking Rita's hand.
"Yes, this is my Rita." She turned to Rita. "And this is Mary-Ann Wilson, our new landlady and what appears to be the farm cat."
"Indeed, his name is Karl, didn't choose the name. It's great to finally meet you. I take it you already decided then?"
"We have," Rita answered with a sureness she seldom possessed. "It's beautiful here."
"It is…" Mary-Ann agreed. "I put on fresh sheets for you in my daughters former house as requested. It needs a little work but I'm sure as death and taxes you two'll make a home out of it again."
"Sheets?"
"It's part of the surprise. I brought a suitcase so we can stay over the weekend if you want?"
"You really thought of everything, hm?"
"She's a keeper, that one" Mary-Ann said, winking at Rita. Sally had mentioned her blindness when they'd spoken before but it was understandably still new to her. "I've made a nice meatloaf for dinner. Join me?"
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Their new friend Karl had curled up on Rita's lap during dinner with Mary-Ann. She was a pleasant woman, chatty and open and likely just looking for company now that her daughter and girlfriend had moved out. Despite Rita seemingly wanting to adopt Karl on the spot, they managed to tear themselves away a few hours later and returned to their prospective house in the pitch-black dark. Dark in a way it never got in the city, where one couldn't sleep without drawn curtains.
Sally retrieved their suitcase from the trunk and led Rita up the few steps of the porch. It was the first time they set foot in the house, only having been on the porch before, and once they switched on the lights, which were merely bulbs for now, an old yet charismatic house welcomed them. The tapestry had seen better days, but the intricate flower pattern was still intact in some places and mirrored the blooming nature outside the dusty windows. Mary-Ann seemed to at least have dusted the shelves and swept the wooden floors for them, but they couldn't expect a woman who was likely over sixty to clean this many windows; she'd already made such an effort.
"It smells like the oak trees in the park our father used to take me and Charlie to play," Rita said, feeling along the walls and its cracks, exploring the textures and details. "We'd lie in their shade for hours…"
"I see the potential in this place," Sally said, wandering through the other rooms—small kitchen with a stove, living room with a bear rug in front of the sofa, bath with a tub, bedroom. "It feels lived in."
"It does…" Rita agreed, tracing the carved lines on the doorframe that likely marked Mary-Ann's daughter's growth once. "It has a soul. I can feel it."
"I think it's perfect," Sally said, putting her arm around Rita's shoulders, "and I can't wait to fall into this bed with you."
"Yes, I'm quite tired myself. We can go get ready right away."
When Rita made an effort to turn and find her way into the bathroom, Sally stopped her with a gentle yet firm hand on her hip and shifted her against the wall. A soft thud, a breathy sigh, and she brushed her lips against Rita's, who let herself fall easily into the familiar affection. Her smile grew as they kissed; their tongues teased the other's lip, but never more, never enough. Later.
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"You can stretch out properly on this bed, it's a lot bigger than ours," Sally said as they returned from the bathroom in their respective nightgowns. Rita's was thick white cotton and lace trims, long-sleeved since she was always freezing, Sally's was not, since she was always hot.
"Oh, I like that," Rita said, patting the mattress before lowering herself on the bedside. She tested the firmness, bounced a few times so that the springs rattled, and threw herself on her back, spreading out square across it. "It's a dream." She sighed happily. "You found our dream."
"A bit squeaky, this dream, but," —Sally followed Rita into bed, crawling up from her feet, hands brushing along her ankles and calves, dragging the nightgown up and up to her knees, — "it's ours. This house, this bed, this little piece of happiness…"
Rita had caught her lip between her teeth again. Her smile spread despite it, goosebumps ran all the way up her legs following the path Sally's hands had paved, quickening pulse under Sally's fingertips pressing into the backside of her knee.
"Come here," Rita whispered, threading her fingers into Sally's dark blonde curls and pulling her up between her legs. Once Sally's warm breath caressed Rita's cheek, she unwound her fingers from her hair and moved to her face, retraced her eyebrows, cheekbone, nose and lips, from the tip of her nose to her cupid's bow. "I love you," she said softly once done studying her wife as she did every night.
Sally kissed her again, with unmistakable certainty. Mumbled a messy, "I love you too," into the tug and pull of their lips, and sank deeper into everything Rita gave. She nosed along her cheekbone, tickled her with breath and kisses under her jaw, trailed her fingertips down the side of her neck to her collarbones and left Rita breathless.
She cradled Sally to her chest, guided her mouth wherever she wanted it until she met the inevitable limitation of the high neckline of her nightgown that sat just an inch beneath her collarbones.
"Make love to me, Sally, please…" Rita whined softly, right next to her wife's ear.
"That badly?" Sally husked, tucking a lock of Rita's hair away.
"Don't tease."
Kissing her pouty lips, Sally descended with a chuckle, hiked up Rita's nightgown and—
"Oh!"
“I remember one morning getting up at dawn. There was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling. And I... I remember thinking to myself: So this is the beginning of happiness, this is where it starts. And of course there will always be more...never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment, right then.”
― The Hours