She had always wondered what color the sunset was.
Yellow, some people called it. Brilliant hues of marigold and mango and the heart of a daisy . It seemed to her that The Blessed never remembered what it was like. She bought mangoes at the market every Thursday. She knew their shape. The texture. The aroma of citrus and earth. She brushed her hands over the grass and let her fingers linger. Was every blade of grass the same color? The same shade? She thought they might be, since the scale did not differ much as she look across the valley. Her day would come, she knew. But Lord above, could it take any longer?
"Waverly?" A voice called. She turned and saw Wynonna's beckoning wave from the porch. "We're waiting on you!"
She turned and let her eyes soak in the dimming horizon once more before making her way back to the homestead. Her nose burned with the smell of smoke and she coughed, dropping her hands in exasperation as she turned the corner. "You were supposed to call me when it was time to start the chicken…"
Wynonna proudly held a pan that contained what resembled charcoal more than poultry. "I guess I have to learn this shit at some point, right? Dive in and learn from my mistakes?"
"I guess, or you could let me teach you," Waverley said with a smile. "That way I don't have to eat those mistakes."
Doc made his way down the stairs and plucked a piece from the pan, forcing back a grimace as he chewed. "I've had worse, darling." He paused with a cough. "I think."
Wynonna smacked his arm and they finished setting the table. The group ate in silence. The homestead was peaceful. It was separated from the bustle of the town and away from the repetitive conversations held by The Blessed. Waverly was thankful that Doc and Wynonna weren't like them: arrogant, prideful, egotistic. They remembered what it was like to be part of The Dark, and did not judge Waverly for it. She only went to town on Thursdays and Sundays, once to go to the market and once to church.
She was not religious. She didn't believe in the Messiah's plan for mankind's revival and didn't enjoy the neverending sermons. But if she ever wanted to change, if she ever wanted to see, she needed some chances of meeting her Half. Some days, she wasn't sure if she trusted The Blessed. Was there really another way of sight? They called them colors. Had it not been for Wynonna and Doc, Waverly wasn't sure if it was all a hoax. Something used to pull in donations and bigger congregations.
Then, Wynonna had come home one day with Doc. She had held his hand tightly and babbled on about her new sight, had sobbed into Waverly's shoulder as she talked about the caramel of whiskey and the blue of his eyes. It was that day that Waverly knew it was real. Wynonna had tried to explain colors to her when she returned from her turning ceremony, but it was nearly impossible for one of The Dark to understand. Wynonna and Doc bore their mark and respected Waverly's lack of sight, and Waverly's only job was to patiently wait for her day.
"It makes ya itch, doesn't it?" Doc broke the silence through his mouthful. "Never knowin' when it's gonna come. Not knowin' what the world will become."
Waverly met his eyes, trusting and calm. She nodded and bit her lip. "It isn't supposed to take this long, you know? The national average is seventeen and I just-"
"Come on Waves, I didn't meet Doc until I was twenty-eight. You trying to tell me I'm an underachiever?" Wynonna playfully pushed her shoulder and gave her a lopsided grin. "Your time will come. I know it sucks ass to be patient right now, but that's really all you've got going for you. He'll come to you."
When dinner was finished and Waverly found herself staring at the ceiling above her bed, she thought about Champ Hardy. The poor kid was heartbroken that he wasn't her Half. She had heard that sometimes, it took a couple of days for the sight to change. For some people, the change only occurred when the romantic feelings came. But much to Champ's chagrin, that day never came. She had pushed him off from her life four months ago, and hadn't seen him since then.
He'll come to you.
She rolled on her side and drifted to sleep, dreaming of mangoes and the blades of grass in the valley.
Waverly shifted an avocado in her fingers and, not satisfied with the ripeness, placed it back on the shelf with a frown. The lack of quality in the market today surprised her. She was thinking of both crops...and men. Some new faces mingled in the crowd with people she knew from as far back as kindergarten. She watched each cuff as hands moved, and each time she saw an unmarked wrist, she couldn't help but hold her breath. She didn't consider herself a dreamer, but who could help themselves in a crowd? Each time she went into town, she hoped she would come back with new sight.
But after walking the market for what felt like an eternity, she had given up on that movie moment happening today. It was often very disheartening to see Blessed couples walking together around the town, but she tried to keep her head high. She read testimonial books and listened to stories of people meeting their Half. Hell, there was practically no other kind of romance alive except to hear those tales. With every set of eyes she met, she could see the glimmer of hope she was surely unable to hide in her own. With every polite smile, almost apologetic, she could see that hope die.
She caught the eye of Champ Hardy from across the market. His gaze was soft, and she ducked her head after his curt nod. She turned quickly and was surprised by a sharp bump to the hip from the corner of a mango stand. The pleasant surprise of a tropical import was quickly diminished as the carefully packed tower tumbled down.
"Oh no!" Waverly scrambled to the ground to retrieve the fallen fruit. As the woman at the helm of the stand crouched to help her, she babbled apologies. "I am so, so sorry! I'm such a klutz, I should really start paying attention to where I'm going...don't worry, I'll pay for any of them that can't be eaten anymore and-" Two hands met on top of one fruit. Two pairs of eye swiveled to meet for the first time. Her breath caught and all at once, her entire world shifted.
Beginning from those eyes, a new depth grew. She didn't know how to explain it. Warmth. Depth. A rich darkness growing from the center of her eyes that, to her surprise, remained the same pitch black. A new life glowed from her skin, from her lips. She looked down to their joined hands and the corners of her mouth pulled wide at the sight of the mango beneath them. A strained and joyous laugh fell from her lips and she met the woman's eyes again. Her chest fluttered as the, what she now came to know as colors, bled out to the corners of her vision. The woman's smile was bright. Her hair was vibrant. As Waverly met her deep eyes once again, the realization seemed to set between them at the same time.
My Half is a woman.
"Oh, shit."