An Old Fashioned Story

Valeria never thought she would fall in love with a woman.

She'd always sought out men – or did men seek her out first? Either way, she loved their rough hands, their strong backs, scruffy cheeks. You get the picture.

Which is why getting her heart broken by someone who had boobs (fantastic ones, at that.) was simply – surreal. Like she stepped inside one of those Dali paintings where time stopped, and the clocks were melting. She slowly, desperately, tried to claw her way out of bed. But with each movement, the ghost of Dahlia's lips would caress her skin like a cruel wind, and Valeria would slump back under the covers. Paralyzed and defeated.

She met Dahlia at an elevator. They were both on their way to work. On the first day, Valeria silently admired her tanned, curvy Amazonian figure. It made Valeria shudder in her booties and immediately book a CrossFit session.

The next day, Valeria crawled to the office, sore and with limited mobility. When the elevator doors opened, she was once again faced with Dahlia, who sported a beige midi dress that hugged her in all the right places. This time, Valeria couldn't help but to be vocal about her outrage. Did she realize the suffering Valeria had to endure? Was Dahlia taunting her with genetics? And why was her hair so shiny?

In retrospect, Dahlia told her that was the moment she was hooked. She said Valeria's irreverence made her highly kissable.

At that moment though, Valeria felt her cheeks flush. Suddenly ashamed and half-ready to quit her job just to spare the poor woman, when Dahlia smiled and promised to tell her all about the homemade hair mask she uses over drinks.

I mean who would say no to that?

They met up after work, at a cocktail bar that offered drinks that were way too small for their price. But Valeria didn't care, she couldn't stop laughing.

"So," Dahlia asked, swishing her glass casually, "Are you dating anyone?"

"Nah," Valeria groaned, taking the last gulp of her drink. "The last guy I dated – total narcissist. I swear to god, he thought the world revolved around him. No!" She banged the table lightly, for dramatic effect. "That bastard thought he was the sun!" she exclaimed. Satisfied with the imagery she conjured.

"I'm so sorry you had to endure that." Dahlia said with wide eyes, but not a drop of sarcasm. "People who don't know how to give are the worst."

Valeria nodded emphatically, signaling the waiter for another round of drinks.

"What about women?" Dahlia asked, her kind eyes holding Valeria's gaze.

"What about them?" Valeria asked, confused.

"Have you ever dated a woman?"

"Have you?"

"Yes."

She let that settle. The waiter came over and left two fresh drinks on the table. Dahlia was drinking an old fashioned. Valeria reckoned that should've been a sign.

"Is this a date?" Valeria blurted and immediately regretted it. Just because Dahlia might be gay didn’t automatically mean she was after her.

Dahlia cocked her head ever so slightly, as Valeria, mesmerized, instinctively mirrored the gesture.

"Only if you would like it to be." Dahlia said, with an infuriating calm.

Valeria felt her stomach flip. Was this happening? She wasn't sure. But the glint in Dahlia’s eyes, was enough to tilt her world off-axis.

Valeria licked her lips nervously. "If this was a date," She started cautiously, "What would we be doing?"

Dahlia's full lips broke into a smile that nearly blinded Valeria. The game was on. They both knew it now.

And it’s not that she never thought about it. Valeria tried to explain haltingly, it's just that she never really felt compelled to experiment, and after college it seemed like she was too old for that kind of stuff, and –

"Stop looking at me like that" She muttered.

"Like what?" Dahlia asked, trying to mask her own amusement.

Valeria furrowed her brows, and mumbled, "Like you're actually listening to me. It's very distracting."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dahlia examined her nails with feigned disinterest. "What was your name again?"

"Much better." Valeria smiled, before they both broke into laughter.

They kissed that night, just before Valeria got into her Uber. She could blame the alcohol, but any amount of liquid courage evaporated as soon as Dahlia stroked her cheek and leaned in. Valeria froze in awe, and then Dahlia's lips landed on hers. It was a kiss that started out soft but was no less coaxing. A kiss that made Valeria feel at home.

If Valeria's exes were the sun, then Dahlia was the earth itself – rich and nurturing and endless. Her touch was grounding, her jokes were earnest. Also, she had that rare quality of quiet assertiveness that all so-called millennial girl bosses could only hope for.

She didn't have outbursts; she wasn't forgiving enough for that.

As a woman, Valeria respected her. But as her woman – she worshipped her.

Maybe that was the problem.

Nah, Dahlia loved to be loved. Valeria tutted to herself – still under the covers. That couldn't be it.

She opened Dahlia's Instagram page (for the fourth time that morning) and wondered if there was any way to prove that the story Dahlia posted of a Matcha latte was in fact, a direct attack aimed at Valeria. A hateful jab at the fact that Valeria was an avid coffee drinker, and therefore, an inferior species.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? She just wasn't enough. Not queer enough, not mature enough, not ambitious enough.

Dahlia never said anything about it explicitly. She wouldn't stoop so low. Instead, she left.

Valeria was just a messy 28-year-old who fell in love to prove she wasn’t scared of anything.

It's been a week now since they last spoke, and Valeria felt the inevitable thicken and crystalize around her. As the days went on, Dahlia drifted further away.

Valeria knew, eventually she would get out of bed. She would brush her hair. Go to work. Take the elevator.

She might run into Dahlia, who maybe will already be dating someone else. They would give each other a polite smile. Wordless. Because words can hurt. Then they would walk out to their separate floors.

Like strangers.

With that terrifying thought in mind, Valeria closed her eyes, trying to commit to memory the safety of being in Dahlia's arms.

It was all she had now.