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“Yes, I’m sure,” she insists breathlessly, plunging us into leaden silence and possibly making this the most awkward social interaction I've ever experienced, which would be uncomfortable if I weren’t quite so mesmerized by the warm blush of red seeping into her cheeks as she loses her sang froid.
I study her eyes for a moment, realizing I hadn’t conjured them up in my mind, and that they were in fact bottomless wells of deep green which shimmer as she glares at you. My gaze trails over the freckles of her button of a nose and down onto the delicious mouth of hers, swathed tonight in a dark orange lipstain. As her date shifts, I lift my gaze to him, my eye contact softer than I thought possible, not least seeing as he’s being so courteous.
“I’m gay, by the way,” he announces, rendering me unable to suppress the short blast of air that leaves my lips, a purling wave of relief which rolls through my entire tense body. My lips widen into a smile which I suppress instantly at the sight of the increasing irritation scribbled into the soft curves of Indigo’s oval face.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to him,” she reponds, seemingly unsure who to direct the bulk of her ire at—him or me. “Also, remind me to kill you later,” she mutters under her breath as her friend throws me a sneaky smile which he dissimulates, smushing his lips together as she shakes her head moodily.
“I… I certainly wouldn’t want to intrude on a birthday party,” I say, “but… I’d… very much like to meet her.”
“Well, I’m not sure my mothers want to meetyou,” she retorts, though as she says it, her features soften as if wondering if the barbs she’s shooting are too sharp.
I raise a brow. “Mothers?”
“Yes,” she declares with purpose. “Mothers. I havetwomothers. They’re lesbian life partners. And they live with each other. Isthata problem?”
“I like them already,” I respond, a smile creeping into the shadows of my face as she tries to calm her breathing down.
She peers up at her friend who shoots her a slightly frightened but still hopeful look.
I've heard a lot about you…
Well, if that’s true and he doesn’t want to kill me, I guess maybe what she told him couldn’t have beenallbad.
“Fine,” she breathes out roughly after some time, her body quivering a little. “But if they throw you out, I won’t be stopping them. And you’ve only got yourself to blame, so…”
I bow my head slowly, not wanting to say too much when in moments of candor that her aggrieved demeanor hides, I think I see shards of pain in her face which disappear into the night as quickly as they appeared.
She turns on the heels of her brown ankle-length boots, gripping her friend’s arm while muttering something about hoping he has life insurance which makes me smile.
Taking it that we’re walking to wherever it is we’re going, I come to walk on the other side of her, careful not to brush up against her as our shoes click on the dirty sidewalk, our faces bathed in a dance of light and shadows from the intermittent streetlamps.
It’s Yoshi who takes the lead, making light small talk about the weather as Indigo remains silent, her eyes fixed straight ahead, not looking at me once as my gaze wanders occasionally to her profile.
A few minutes later, we stop outside a building, the façade a little dilapidated and bearing a weather-worn sign in wood, the painted letters faded.
The Wolf and the Wildflower
“Well, here we are,” announces Yoshi, his tone half cheery and half nervous as Indie inhales audibly, leading us down the steps and to the front door of the bar.
33
Greyson
Ihear and smell the place before I make it through the interior doors. Raucous laughter, loud guffaws, animatedly sung sentences and the clink of glasses fill my ears a few seconds before the smell of ale hits my nostrils.
I walk in behind Indigo and her friend only to be enveloped by warmth which melts away the unseasonably cool September air which whipped my skin outside.
And as I enter further, the darkness from out there is replaced by a soothing bath of fiery light. I scan the room: the entire place is constructed in glossy varnished wood in a cherry color, from the floors to the walls, to the booths to the bar behind which stand two scruffily dressed and tattooed barmen bearing wide grins.
The place is in the style of an old Irish pub, the likes of which I haven’t been to in a very long time, frequenting as I do the more exclusive bars in the city, their lines angular, filled with tones of black and gray, the textures and materials modern—steel, glass, concrete.
This feels like stepping into another world—familiar, and so congenial that it knocks me off balance for a moment.
A few feet ahead, I see Indie warmly embracing a tall woman, and then another. Both women turn to Yoshi and wrap him in a hug as Indigo whispers something into the tall woman’s ear. Her shrewd eyes immediately flit to me, observing me most keenly, not the hint of a smile in sight.
Indie speaks something quietly into the second woman’s ear, who in turn pivots to look at me, her large brown eyes piercing as I realize that the welcome from them may not be quite as warm as from Yoshi.
I certainly don’t want to ruin anyone’s birthday party, and for a second, I contemplate leaving, waiting in the car until it’s over in the hopes that she’ll talk to me then. But I watch as the tall woman approaches in cautious strides.
