The air left my body like someone had poleaxed me. In one huge breath, my lungs emptied as I stared at Marcy. Her words bounced off of the walls of my fertile imagination in a very fast paced Wimbledon tennis game. Match, set, point.
How closely this woman's thoughts and words mirrored my own once again astounded me. Of course, her wish was a far site different than being prepared to forego male companionship...cock...in favor of a lesbian love. But if over the space of the past few weeks, I could get there, maybe Marcy could too? I did know that this was a unique opportunity to bring the idea up, one that I might not get again, one I could not afford to pass up.
I was thankful though that it was dark, that only the golden glow of the camp fire and the stars lit this hot summer night. I was certain that I was blushing. I knew I would stammer to get the words out. But I knew I had to take the chance. Life is not always fair. And fate does not usually give you second chances. So you had damned well better make the most of the first ones that you get. Even when you have no idea what the fuck you are doing or saying.
I giggled softly, "Yeah, something along those lines has been in my head for a couple of weeks actually."
She turned towards me then...and the world tilted on its axis. I lie not, it was as ridiculous as all those crappy, sappy romance novels I had read. The cheesiest one of my life. But damn was she beautiful. Her soft brown eyes were huge as the yellow and red flames danced in them. "Really?" she whispered as she clutched her chest like a little girl holding tightly to her special doll. "You too?" I heard the pleading for understanding in her voice.
I tried very hard not to read too much into things, not to let my imagination get too far ahead of me. But hope is a funny thing. Sort of like that campfire. It can look dead, cold, nothing but gray ash. But the least little breeze and coals buried deep beneath will rage to life, glowing red and providing heat that you thought long since dead. And once those flames are reignited it is a hard thing to push down. It was that kind of hope I was feeling in that moment. Like the birth of a new baby, a dream.
I foraged through my thoughts, my memories, everything I had learned about this amazing, beautiful, sexy, young woman. I tired to think of the right words. Words that would not instantly frighten her away.
"You know neither of us have to be men for us to love one another," I whispered like a prayer into the calm, cool, silent night air. And I held my breath.
She shook her head and chuckled, "It would sure help."
I could have taken those words at face value. I could have allowed them to be a bucket of water thrown upon the newly ignited fires of hope. I could have allowed them to extinguish it. Forever. Most people would have, right?
But not me, I could not. I had been alone too long. I had seen too much, fought too many fucking battles in this life. I was not going to give up that easily. "Close your eyes and just relax, Marcy," I entreated.
"Relax? Do you even remember what that is?" she asked as more tears cascaded down that beautiful face. My heart broke for her pain, our shared pain.
I knew in that moment that this was right. We were right. And the whole fucking world be damned, I would find a way somehow to show her that too. "Try," I said as I moved to sit behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders and began to massage the tight muscles beneath my fingers.
Just touching her, even in this non-sexual way felt so right, so damned right. How could religious bigots think this was sin? Sin was a man that failed to see this woman's strength, dignity and beauty. Sin was a society that condemned her for being a single mother, that without even asking made assumptions about her. Sin was her facing all of those prejudices, stresses and life alone.
She needed me...and I needed her. What's more, my logical brain argued, our children needed us and each other. We truly were one of those blended families were together we are stronger than the one. I just had to convince this woman that a penis was not necessary to make that dream come true.
I put my heart into working the tensions from that tired and achy muscles. I took my time. There truly was no rush. I found each knot and worked it beneath my fingers until I felt it loosen and disappear. Only then did I move onto the next one. One by one I took on those knots. I met their challenge and conquered them as I stared into the dying flames of that campfire. Of hope.
"Hmmm, that feels amazing," she whispered as she leaned back against me, leaned into my touch.
I have played that moment over and over again like the climax of some bad science fiction movie. That one moment in a time travel story upon which the fate of the whole fucking world rests. If I had been a lesser woman, a more insecure one, or even a younger me, I could have stopped. just let the opportunity slip me by. Rationalized that I did not want to push her too hard, scare her off. Promised myself there would be another chance.
But I was not and I did not. I recognized that moment for what it was...a once in a lifetime chance. And as the saying goes...'I boldly went where no man had gone before.'
I leaned forward, tilting my head just enough that we were face to face. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in slow even breaths. She might have even been drifting into sleep. But our bodies had been asleep long enough.
I brushed my lips across hers then. Lightly. Almost like the whisper of butterfly wings. One thing that I have always known from that first fumbling girl-on-girl experience in college is that kissing another woman is totally different from kissing a man. For one thing, they are so fucking soft. And sweet.
They elicit in you this need to cherish, to savor, to taste, to enjoy. Kissing another woman is an end unto itself, not just a prelude to the main event to be gotten through as quickly as possible. It is like the half time show at the Super Bowl...a show unto itself.
My hands began to run slowly up and down her arms as if warming her where even the fire could not. In the end, I had to lace my fingers through hers to keep from grapping for her breast. I did not want to be like him. Like other men. I wanted to show her that this could work. We could work. And I just knew that the first step...and the only one that night...was a kiss.
But not just any kiss. I poured my all into that kiss. And it did not end with butterfly whispers either. But I took my time getting there. I tasted her surprised gasp of shock for a long moment. That sweet exhalation of surprise. Then I charged the fortress. My tongue swept into her mouth. Like some fucking knight in shining armor I charged across her lowered drawer bridge and I demanded her surrender. I tasted her fears and shock. I felt the tiny tremble that began at her lips and consumed her whole body.
Then as was our life then...and is still, "Mommy, I want some water." Crystal choose that exact moment to stop being the quiet one. I smiled...at fate. But somehow it felt right. As right as we were. I brushed a finger down her face, capturing some of the remaining moisture from her earlier tears, "My turn now," we laughed as I got up to get my daughter her water and settle her back in bed before she woke the others up...oh, please not that.
By the time I had accomplished what should have been an easy task but never ever is with an autistic child, Marcy had retreated to the safety of her sleeping bag. She had positioned it so that she was facing away from me. She was breathing softly, perhaps too softly, trying to vane sleep, maybe. But this night I let her. I figured I had shocked her, given her enough to think about on a cool, crisp starlight summer's night.
The next couple of days were busy for all of us. We hiked, although Crystal's whining that her legs were tired after only twenty minutes of walking meant that she and I stayed behind with baby Sadie while Marcy took Mandy and Josh the rest of the way up the mountain. We swam. The dirty pond water sent Josh practically into paranoia...algae, bacteria, fish, sharks. Yes, fresh water sharks in the mountain. Never let an autistic child watch the sci-fi or horror channels. Reality is scary enough for them, forget science fiction.
We laughed and yes, we loved. Not like that you dirty fuckers. We cared for one another. In fact, there was never another moment like that one by the camp fire. I think Marcy made certain of that. Carefully avoiding being alone with me again during the whole trip. In fact, it was not until the last day, as we packed my SUV after what for us was a successful trip that anything else was even mentioned.
Marcy and I were dropping the tent. Now I am sure that we could have played the whole damsels in distress card and gotten one of the men around there to help out. But one thing about being the single parent of a special needs child, it makes your fiercely independent. You do not want to have to ask anything from anyone.
The kids were running and playing nearby, enjoying their final moments of freedom before facing the long car ride back to the city. Marcy was working the tie downs and wires from the outside and I was working the poles from the inside. We got it wrong. I ended up wearing the tent.
