As they left the Exploratorium, both thrumming from such close contact with no resolution, Cosima looked away from the taller woman, out to the traffic in the slowly dimming light and spoke wistfully.
"So, like, there is this one last thing you need to see on the water before you leave tonight. Should we go?"
The blonde could already feel the strange pull within her, wanting to experience Cosima longer but knowing she needed to be back in Paris for a Board meeting the next evening, She was counting the hours, the minutes she had left with the brunette, wondering how many memories she could squeeze out of them.
"You tell me. You are my guide, are you not?"
"Okay, okay," she said as she laughed, "so I'm gonna dork out on you again if that's cool?"
"Oui, Cosima, I have always enjoyed these 'dork outs." It was true during their first encounter, and it had been confirmed time and again in recent months as she watched hours of Cosima explain the fundamentals of biology online.
"Alright, well, like the Bay Bridge isn't nearly as picturesque as the Golden Gate Bridge, but in terms of engineering it is no less a feat. But what I want to show you tonight is this totally cool living light sculpture."
Her hands were dancing again, drawing tendrils with her hands from a few feet above her shoulders down to her hips, waving as she went.
"So, like as soon as we get there and the light fades, you'll see it, but there are 25,000 individual little bulbs strewn throughout the cables on the entire bridge. And as night fades in, the lights turn on. But every single night the patterns of the lights is different, making a different impression, a different sort of ephemeral image every time. It's like a symphony, no progression is ever quite the same."
"Who is the artist? Is she like your engineers and Greek scholars from the other bridge?"
"No, unfortunately, the guy that came up with this was a PR representative. But art can come from anywhere right? Doesn't make it any less spectacular."
Cosima led them up the short walk to Pier 7 boasting the perfect view of the Bay Bridge as sunset neared. They both settled into an easy silence, lost in thought .
Delphine had shed the anxious woman she had been earlier in the day, wondering how her speech would be received compounded by the shock of seeing Cosima again. She felt oddly at peace now despite the vague sense of uncertainty.
Their banter, the easy exchange of details – personal, professional, philosophical – was beyond her expectations of what might happen if she ever saw the dreadlocked American again.
Perhaps it wasn't quite living up to the fantasies and dreams she drifted into those first few years, but this reality was beyond her wildest imaginings in that it reforged a broken connection, made more meaningful with the realization that it was still strong after all this time.
She felt understood and accepted and appreciated in a way she had not in years.
And yet. It felt dangerous.
Like sitting at the top of a bend in a roller coaster, on the edge, tilting and scared, but excited, nervous of her own reaction, but willing the fall - now, now, now - before she can change her mind. Being around Cosima seemed to make her want to rush headlong. Into what, she couldn't say. But she knew she was going to be powerless to stop it.
Cosima was feeling a similar rush, and in comparing her expectations and fears with the reality of the day, she felt light, unguarded. She had expected to see a self-confident, self-possessed, successful woman, someone beyond her. She had needed to put the vision of the girl she knew to rest so she could move on. What she found was the woman she imagined her to be, but more. A woman, it seemed, still very much caught up in that night in Barcelona who retained that curious, passionate girl at her core.
She couldn't be sure whether to trust this, to give in to the pull, but she was certain now there was no guile in the blonde. Her words, her actions, her intentions were pure. But they'd had all of that honesty before, and it hadn't been enough. Did she need more assurance? Her younger self had been fearless, but there were only so many times you can lose before you refuse to give again.
They were both quiet as they walked down the pier, passing strangers as they made their way to the dark benches at the end. They saw a few remaining sails trundling out of the bay underneath the long, lean lines of the Bay Bridge as the sun sunk lower and the sky lit up in deep orange.
It had a weird symmetry, this day, Delphine thought, to the one where they met all those years ago. Wandering through a city, strangers, and yet not, talking about their innermost concerns and feelings, and steadfastly ignoring their connection until it broke open between them, refusing to be ignored any longer.
They had both been lost in their thoughts, near each other under the setting sun, but separate, wrestling with the intervening years. They were both shocked by the jostle of a stranger moving between them, enough space now for someone to move easily through.
"Ohh," Delphine said as she looked to the passerby, eyes then locked with Cosima.
They shared a brief glance, heavy and knowing, as Cosima broke the silence. "Let's take that bench?" She said as she pointed to one closest to the edge, facing the bridge. "It has the best view at sunset, and we can see the lightshow."
"Oui, Cosima, that would be nice."
It was all too formal, too charged, too much left unsaid, and the weight of it hung between them as they sat on opposite sides of the bench, their bodies, knees shifted to face each other.
Delphine was looking to her hands, clutching at each other in her lap, a sort of passive, distant look on her face.
"Hey," Cosima ducked her head to catch the other woman's gaze, "what are you thinking?"
She paused a long moment, eyes squinting as she thought about whether to speak. "I am thinking about all these years, Cosima. All these years. It seems unfair somehow. Like you said, something just felt off that we didn't meet again."
"Yeah. I have been wondering …" She trailed off, not sure she wanted to hear the story.
"Oui, and I owe you that explanation." She sighed and looked out at the waves before beginning.
"After we left Barcelona, within the week, I had accepted that position with MSF we discussed. Our conversations, your confidence that I could do it, that I should follow whatever felt right really changed the way I had been thinking about my decision. That someone from outside my small circle – someone whose opinion I immediately valued - would confirm what so many others had been telling me. Well, by the beginning of October, I was in Jordan, working at a clinic they had set up there outside one of the refugee camps."
She closed her eyes at the memories and the frustration she felt. "We were so naïve and idealistic. To not exchange any information! I wanted to speak to you so badly and talk to you about these new experiences, and I had no way of contacting you." She looked at Cosima, shook her head forcefully, and then let her gaze wonder to the sea, the bridge.
"I know, I know. We said we thought that long distance never worked and we'd kill the connection we had if we talked and wrote and stuff. So stupid. I was torn up about that for months. I even looked for you, called around to your school, but they wouldn't give me any information."
"Est-ce vrai? I should have thought of that then! I did think of it later, but by then, my heart was broken," her voice trailed off briefly, still looking away. It felt safer, somehow. "Anyway, by February, I had already booked my flight back to Barcelona. I was taking home leave early to make our date, but you may remember at that time the refugee situation out of Syria was very intense and getting worse."
"We had an influx in the camp near us and outside the next city and they needed more clinicians. I was stuck there. I spoke with Thomas, and he was supposed to deliver a letter to you at the platform, to explain to you where I was. I wanted to come see you in Minnesota or make some other plan."
She looked back from the waves to meet the brunette's gaze, the soft glow of the sunset bathed the smaller woman's features putting a finer point on the remembrance of loss she felt in the camp. She reached out to take Cosima's hand, wanting to assure the brunette that she had wanted to be there - beyond any wish but one in her short life.
"He swore to me, even to this day, that he went to the platform and looked for you, that you were not there. I was never quite sure what happened, he was struggling with an addiction at the time and for a long while after. That was the reason for his dramatic parting from Barcelona. Initially I thought perhaps he had not gone. But he was so insistent, and I became convinced you must not have shown up, that we had shared a moment lost to time. It was easier than thinking it was something we could have had and it was fouled by bad logistics. I did not do well those next few months, but I also did not search for you. That is my regret now. All these years …"
"Oh, Delphine, look, I want to give Thomas a piece of my mind, because there's no way he missed my signs in that train station, but you couldn't have known. I didn't look for you either. God, my heart was broken too, I felt like a fool, just assumed you'd moved on. And that what we shared, was, I dunno, just a fling. I am sure you felt the same way?"
"Oui, the idea of you not showing up confirmed all my anxieties about that night, all my concerns. That I had felt too strongly, acted childishly, been caught up because of all the stress and emotion of that week. Even saying it now, I can feel that feeling of shame, embarrassment."
The story was streaming out her now, earnestly. But she was faltering, hearing Cosima's words from only an hour before, tripping up the feelings she wanted to share.
"But, but, you said this too. You said you felt what we shared was only. Was only." She wasn't gasping outwardly, but she could feel the ebb more than the flow from her lungs, desperate and unsure.
"Only a moment in time, not real. Is that how you feel, Cosima? Was it just a beautiful moment during your travels?"
"Oh, god, Delphine. Listen, like, what I described was how I felt immediately after everything happened, how and why Shay and I got together. I don't blame either of us for any of that, and I don't hold onto it. I came to see you today because I wanted to see you. Because I knew you would have moved on and become someone incredible." She was smiling reassurance at the blonde, but Delphine's gaze was dark and conflicted.
"I tried to move on, Cosima." The pause was pregnant, but Cosima knew to remain silent. "I met a photographer from Belgium. Bastian."
Her body grew slightly rigid and she leaned almost imperceptibly away from the blonde.
"He was assigned to our team, to profile us while I was there. He approached me first, saying he couldn't help but notice I looked … lovesick. That was his word. Honestly, I was always thinking of you, and I had a soft spot for these photojournalists …" Her brow quirked briefly upward, but her story was too laden for much mirth.
"My colleagues noted it immediately, and when I didn't defend or explain myself, they came up with these fantastical backstories on their own. I found out … much later … that they steered him to me."
"He had been interested, and they joked that I could never turn down a photographer. I had not been with anyone, mind you, I was simply friends with all of the photographers near camp."
"Anyway, we became attached, spending our evenings smoking together, talking. I spoke of you, and he didn't respond like many of the other photojournalists I had known, not … um, macho … but very tender."
Cosima nearly flinched at that word, biting the inside of her cheek to steady herself.
"I finished my first tour, took a second in Turkey where he was shooting. I was ready for immunology by that point, ready for that next chapter. I moved back to Paris for my studies."
Cosima's gaze grew serious, still attentive, but darker somehow. She was expecting some detail, some revelation that would crush the daydreams that had been building in her mind all day.
"He moved in after some time, and then he proposed. A very sweet man."
"Yes," Cosima blurted out. "I remember seeing an article about you a few years ago when the trials started. They mentioned your fiancé." Her voice trailed off, color rising on her chest and neck as her whole body flushed red. She looked down again at Delphine's left hand, convincing herself she saw no ring. Her gaze was lingering, she knew, and she looked quickly to Delphine's right hand, unsure which was customary.
To deflect, she stumbled out, "Um, your work was pretty hard to ignore. Of course I knew it was you, even before the magazines and monthlies started finding ways to incorporate your photo with every piece." She waved her hand as if explaining, "the story of your mom," her voice became a whisper as she said it. "But I remembered seeing that about your engagement."
"Cosima." Seeing the woman's searching glances, she reached out to lightly cup her hand. "I am not married."
Cosima closed her eyes briefly, couldn't help hearing parallels to that morning when Delphine mumbled, "Ma cherie, I am not sick." . And at once her breath hitched and her heart ached. All this missed time, all these things that happened in between.
She looked up at the blonde blankly, so Delphine continued slowly, cautiously, her hand still on the American. "As we started planning the wedding, I couldn't get you out of my mind. I thought I was simply going mad. It had been almost three years by that time, and I thought that I had moved on. We were looking for venues, and his family is religious, so we were looking at Catholic churches around Paris. We toured this one place, a beautiful 18th century church. And there was a moment where the light came through the stained glass windows and the light fell on him."
"At that moment I remembered La Sagrada Familia. I saw you spinning in those lights and," she paused, her eyes dropped, she continued softly, almost a whisper, "he wasn't you."
She went silent and still. Self-conscious, but feeling oddly liberated, finally able to say to the one person who mattered what happened to her that day, why she had changed her mind so abruptly.
She met Cosima's eyes, whose look suggested disbelief, guarded again at hearing her story, but her eyes softened the longer Delphine held her gaze. Delphine's slow speech was abandoned now, as she spoke, an urgency overtaking her tone.
"I tried to shake it off. But it really was over then. I looked up at the stars at night and thought of Beta Delphini. I happened upon Cosmos from Neil deGrasse Tyson you know? Your favorite – I remembered. And I watched every episode in two days. I cared for Bastian. I did care him, and he was a good man."
She looked away and softly gripped her bottom lip, letting out a long, slow sigh.
"But it wasn't right. And I thought after … I've thought for the past few years, that maybe love was not for me." She looked up at Cosima briefly, her eyes were unsure, pleading again, but there was also a slight edge of hostility. "That I would never be able to feel all these things again that I felt for you that night. That I gave them to you somehow and you took them with you when you left Barcelona."
"I think I accepted the keynote at the Congress in some small way to try to find you. I knew you were here, or I thought you were. And I have been trying to work up the nerve to track you down since I got into town. But I am a coward."
Then Delphine was looking away again, eyes brimming with tears, unsure if this conversation was inappropriate or absolutely essential. Cosima could see tears glinting in the dying light, brightening her hazel eyes.
"Jesus, Delphine."
Her sharp tone and her words made the French woman self-conscious, wilt inwardly. She had gone too far, said too much considering the single night they spent together. Delphine's mind was racing, trying to determine if she'd misread Cosima's words earlier. She had moved on, clearly.
I have made a fool of myself.
As she turned back to speak, Cosima was leaning toward her, fingers outstretched, ghosting over her hair, as if she wanted to pull the blonde into her. As their eyes met, Cosima cupped her cheek, pinky just barely brushing her ear, and she looked her in the eye, searching. She moved in slowly, leaning her forehead to touch Delphine's first, tilting her head to nudge Delphine's nose with her own.
When she saw Delphine's eyes drift closed, felt the air across her own lips as Delphine gasped, she closed the barest of distance between them and kissed her. She wanted to kiss away the years that came between them, the misunderstandings and missed opportunities.
The kiss grew fervent, ignoring the strangers on the pier. Both their hands drifted behind the other, grasping at the back of each other's necks, mutually pulling the other into a deeper kiss, pressing their bodies flush together. As they held each other, the setting sun lit the sky behind them on fire and the dancing lights on the bridge flashed to life. When Cosima's tongue lightly grazed her lips, Delphine welcomed her, pulling her into closer contact as she willed the woman to feel what she was feeling.
With the truth now laid before them, a mutual acknowledgement of their remaining feelings, there was less fear, no more embarrassment. Just a wave of desire finally breaking through walls built by years of denial.
After a long moment, they began to part, arms still clinging to the other, their foreheads touching. Cosima could see now the thin trail of tears Delphine shed as they kissed. She brought her thumb up to lightly brush them away, thought better of it, and kissed instead, at her jaw, up to the corner of her eye.
"I am so glad we found each other again, Delphine, if only to hear from you that what happened that night between us wasn't all in my head."
"No, Cosima, I was there too. I felt it."
Cosima's phone began to vibrant and let out a soft ding. "Oh god, why does this keep happening?" She held up the phone to show the alarm reminding them that Delphine had a plane to catch.