Hey guys! I'm very sorry for the weeks I took this time to update. After chapter 19 it took me like a week and a half to adjust to this quarantine thing but I finally feel like I'm on track again. I truly hope you guys like this one, and that you haven't given up on me! Please stay at home as much as you can, and stay safe. Take care of yourselves, always. I love you all.
There is something about a nearly empty campus that Elsa has always secretly enjoyed.
She has never been able to pinpoint what it is. It might be the comforting stillness, or the way people seem to slow down their very actions against a silent backdrop. Perhaps it is the quietude in an otherwise chaotic environment where students go back and forth running late for class or sharing a rambunctious conversation by the entrance of the cafeteria. Maybe it is that she has always relished solitude so much more than being surrounded by strangers, even though the campus isn't exactly an angsty-ridden pack of sardines. Or maybe it just is that she gets to walk around in leisure without the thought of having to be studying at the library or on her way to a classroom.
Regardless of the reason, Elsa has chosen to take advantage of it as much as she can—while she still can. Because tomorrow will mark the official countdown both in her mind and in Anna's made up calendar: Seven days until she boards a plane bound to London.
The thought ignites an elation that is soon reflected in the way that she walks across the lawn, purposefully and lightly. Classes won't be starting in another month and the few people that are scattered around campus barely give her a second glance. The calm all around her gives her the opportunity to indulge in her quiet excitement without the stains of self-consciousness. Elsa can't recall the last time she was excited at the prospect of doing something for herself and sure, the research trip had never been her idea to begin with and she knows she wouldn't have applied had she not been invited, but the thought of having accepted for her own sake; for the sake of doing something she loves to do, is something she rarely ever did. It was refreshing and satisfying, and a good reminder that she should be doing it more often.
She looks up to the sky and thinks briefly of how proud her parents would have been. Rapunzel's parents had been ecstatic when she'd told them about the trip months ago but then again, they have the tendency of getting excited at many things—just last week they had been thrilled to announce that they had redecorated the entire living room.
Elsa thinks her parents would have enveloped her in a hug, and if she searches hard enough inside the confines of her memory, she will be able to imagine it just so. Her dad would have been the one to constantly ask for pictures of London while she was there, and her mom would have asked for as many details as she could give about the research progress.
Maybe, even, they would have visited her. They could have gone on a touristy rampage, she muses. Elsa could have taken them to the London Eye even though her dad was weary of heights—he would have insisted on it anyway—, before going to the Buckingham Palace to wait around for the Queen just like the hundreds of other tourists who think she lives there when she really doesn't. Her mom would have been right at home with how much she loved rainy days, and Elsa could have taken them to the café she would choose as a favorite—because that's what Anna had told her: "Find a favorite café in every city you go to, Elsa. It's a rule"—and they could have ended the trip with three tickets to the Royal Albert Hall, because dad used to be a classical music aficionado, and she and her mom used to giggle at the antics of the orchestra's conductor just to rile him up.
As she crosses the freshly mowed lawn (so green it looks artificial) Elsa allows this nostalgia to wash over her like a deep breath reaching into the farthest corners of her chest, before she lets it go. She's been finding it just a little bit easier to do this lately and she thinks it might be because the good seems to finally be outweighing the bad; like rays amongst dark, heavy skies. She knows her parents are not here anymore, but there can't be any harm in creating memories she'll never get to live if they still manage to bring a soft smile to her face.
The Student Service center stands hidden in one of the corners of the campus. It looms over Elsa with its red, decadent bricks and its unfriendly, ancient facade and as she walks through its doors she can't keep herself from thinking just what on earth drove an entire team of architects to put Greek Doric look-alike columns on every entrance of every building in Columbia.
She steps inside the elevator and presses four.
The smooth ride up gives her some time to psych herself; to recall Anna's words and remember that not everything has to be about control, and not everything has to be run on impulsive reactions that will only end up leaving her with a bitter taste in her mouth. They'd spent almost the entirety of their breakfast discussing the pros of being more... open. Although open wasn't quite the word and not even Anna—a writer—could manage to find the exact definition. But Elsa got the gist, while the fact that she could now talk to Anna about it more openly was something she kept berating herself over not only because they would have been able to skip the drama, but because she also wouldn't have bottled things up... as usual. The whole point was not to react like a hissing cat every time Tracy uttered a word; a comparison Elsa had not appreciated at the time but one she could not refute. She knew it was true.
So today she would be trying on a different approach. An aloof one—too cool for school. She would fake it til she made it.
She runs into Tracy almost as soon as she's out of the elevator. Not entirely an unexpected sight but one that still causes Elsa to falter in her steps.
"Hey," the brunette says, smirking. No 'Ice Queen' this time and for that she is mildly relieved. "I wasn't expecting to see you until later today."
Elsa takes in the relaxed confidence of her posture and for a moment she wonders if it is all too real or if the girl's just that good at pretending. She chooses not to dwell, however, because Tracy is raising an eyebrow at her, waiting for a response.
"I like to get things done sooner rather than later," she states.
The girl nods, impressed, before her attention shifts to a notification coming in from her phone. She types something on it while simultaneously taking a sip of her coffee. It takes no more than a few seconds but Elsa is bewildered by the seemingly lack of interest. She glances around but sees no one else who can help her. Wasn't Tracy the one who's supposed to give her the documents she needs for the trip?
"Here," Tracy says, putting her cellphone away in the pocket of her dark blue jeans. "Follow me."
She complies silently up until they reach the door that leads to the backside offices with a sign that says FACULTY AND STAFF ONLY.
"I'm not sure I'm supposed to go in," Elsa mutters.
The brunette chuckles. She props herself against the door, smiling at her as she says: "What's life without a little bit of rule breaking?"
Elsa raises an eyebrow at her while the arms that have been crossed over her midriff since running into Tracy tighten in a stance of defiance.
Tracy rolls her eyes. "Jesus, relax. Half of the staff is still on vacation—nobody's gonna stop you with a taser. I'll just give you the papers and you can go."
Although still unsure and unappreciative towards the sarcasm, Elsa follows her. Tracy wasn't lying when she said that half of the staff was out. Only a handful of cubicles are occupied, and about half of those people are actually getting any work done. Two ladies by the corner seem to be knee-deep in gossip, and Elsa could swear a third lady is reading Fifty Shades of Grey. There goes our tuition, she thinks with mild amusement.
They pass by a guy leaning back on his chair and playing Candy Crush on his phone. Tracy loudly hits the panel of the cubicle before he slams his phone face down on his desk in a startle and nearly falls off his chair.
"Jesus fuck, Tracy," he whispers harshly.
The brunette laughs out loud, tells him to get back to work, and Elsa flashes him an apologetic smile that looks more like a grimace.
"You want coffee?" She asks the blonde as they resume their walking. "It's shit but it's still coffee."
The bluntness surprises her. "No, thanks."
She flashes her a lopsided smile. "How's little miss redhead?"
Of all things she and Anna had discussed this morning Tracy asking about Anna was not one of them. In reality, they had not discussed any possibility other than her usual self-absorbed comments, of which she had not said anything yet. Was that surprising? A little. But would Elsa be willing to admit that this alleviated some of her own tension at having to interact with her? Only to herself—and to Anna, later in the day.
"Anna is good," she finally responds before feeling the need to add: "She's my girlfriend."
As they reach Tracy's cubicle the girl turns to look at her with an arched eyebrow. "Nothing surprising there," she mutters and reaches for the drawer.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she shrugs.
Elsa suddenly feels impatient to go. She accepts the manila folder that Tracy hands over to her and mumbles a 'Thank you.' She stalls for a second, unsure if she should say anything else and deciding against it before she begins to make a leave.
"Elsa."
She sighs sharply, but turns back around.
Hazel eyes gaze directly into her own but this time Elsa doesn't falter. She stares back at her, sensing some control over her own emotions; and what an irony that is, she'll think later, that she gained control by letting go of the death grip she tried to have on it all this time.
"Look, all joking aside," Tracy begins, "there's no reason for this to be so awkward all the time."
Her eyes narrow for a second. "It's not awkward, Tracy. The problem seems to be that you can't take no for an answer."
And there it is: the smugness behind her sharp gaze. "When was the last time I actually hit on you?" She asks her.
Elsa stays silent.
"Right." Her smirk grows before it falls into seriousness again. "Well, I'm looking forward to going to London with you, too," she states, taking another sip of her coffee and nodding at the blonde. "Let me walk you out, I don't want you getting lost in this maze."
Elsa takes a sharp intake of breath for the sake of patience. Fake it til you make it, Anna said. "It's just straight down and to the right."
"I insist," she says with her hand over her heart.
The blonde rolls her eyes. She makes a leave without turning back to see if Tracy's followed, which, of course, she has.
"You know, Park mentioned your essay the other day," she tells her. They pass by Candy Crush guy, who is back at it with a vengeance but whom Tracy chooses to ignore this time. "Apparently it was rather impressive—the whole being humane thing while still keeping your doctor morale..."
What do you know? Elsa wants to say but bites her tongue.
"So I gave it a read."
Halfway through reaching for the exit's door she pauses and whips her head back around. "Why?"
"Why not? I know how to read, Elsa," she says sarcastically.
She regards her with sudden incredulity. "Are you always this sarcastic?"
The brunette stands her ground. Elsa can see her stopping herself from uttering what is probably another sarcastic remark. "I am not," she says, reaching past her for the handle of the door. Elsa catches a whiff of her perfume; subtle yet blunt; sandalwood with a hint of nicotine. "You just don't know me."
"Neither do you," she states softly, and steps away.
There is a chuckle from somewhere behind her. "See you next week, then..."
"Sure," Elsa responds as she keeps on walking, not turning her head around until she gets to the elevator.
It is Anna's last day at work today. She told Elsa three times this morning. The first one as a reminder to herself, because she had woken up all groggy and crazy-haired until her eyes had widened at the realization; the second one after she'd stepped out of the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around her head and her cheeky banana panties, because she could not believe it was her last day—not after three years of arranging books that she'll now get to probably, maybe, read before the general public—, and the third one, directed straight at Elsa, because the plan was to pick her up at the bookstore and she could not be late and oh my gosh... the last. Freaking. Day.
So there Elsa goes, treading across the crowded subway station after having spent most of the day helping her cousin arrange a portfolio for her submission to one of New York's most popular amateur art shows. With good luck and enough talent—which she firmly believed her cousin had—Rapunzel could get a spot in October. The only downside of this is that Elsa would not be able to attend it.
As she exits, Elsa is welcomed by an expected reality. Union Square is currently undergoing its afternoon peak, which makes her suddenly recall how disturbed she had been the first time she was here some four years ago. She remembers being excited at the prospect of sitting down for some quality time with her book, but the park had been... odd. It went against most concepts she once had of a suburban park. Against its ubiquitous tranquility, its peaceful leisure. Union Square felt more like a park on steroids with its Hare Krishna chanting at the sky and at the ongoing flow of commuters that came and went (some joined) from one of the park's six underground exits. Elsa recalls the street artist creating intricate patterns on the ground with colored chalk, as well as the skaters getting in everyone's way, and the people protesting against yet another bill passed. She recalls the bearded man with awful detail, dancing around the park wearing a rainbow leotard and climbing boots, and how he had proclaimed that love was all around if only people would open their eyes. That same man had once gone inside the clothing store across from the park while Elsa thought it was hilarious that no one, not even the employees, seemed to mind because he was doing no harm to anyone, everyone here knew him and this was New York—welcome to the city.
All in all, an interactive 3D experience more so than a park. But it was thanks to Anna that she eventually came to appreciate its quirkiness after spending a few afternoons this summer sitting on a bench while Anna fired story snippets at her based on the people they saw walking by. It was something that made her laugh immensely, as well as feel empathy for strangers she would otherwise pass by without a second glance. And that was something that she had come to love so profoundly about Anna; her ability to see more in people, to delve in deeper into a person's character and the possibilities of their own lives. Sure, she'd felt like that was an act of invasion at the beginning, but the way Anna made everything sound so free of judgement, and so detached yet so closely knit to the little gestures and quirks of every person they encountered was rather... like magic. She had no other way of describing it. How Anna managed to create something out of nothing; if that wasn't magic, then Elsa chose not to believe in it.
The security guard at the entrance of the bookstore is now a face she is familiar with, and Elsa greets him with a shy wave of her hand that he returns with a broad smile and a courteous nod of his head. He is an immigrant from Nigeria, Anna had told her once, so he spoke very little because his English wasn't very good, but kindness was a universal language, and Azi spoke it fluently.
She spots Anna almost immediately, standing a few stacks of books over between the newly released cook books and the stationery. When her girlfriend's eyes connect with her own she flashes her a soft smile and indicates that she'll be waiting where she is to give Anna the chance to finish talking to two of her coworkers.
Meanwhile, Elsa eyes a few books but refrains from taking a proper look at any of them because she knows the temptation would be far too great for her to ever win against. There is no point in buying books that she'll leave sitting in her shelf for five months. Besides, she's already chosen the ones she'll be taking with her—a grand total of two, much to her dismay—because Anna, of all people, had told her that she should pack rationally and two books were a good start. If she runs out of stuff to read, she'd said, London isn't exactly a medieval city; she can just go out and buy more.
"Come here often?"
Elsa smirks down at the books before turning to the source of her favorite voice. "I usually come to check out a girl," she says.
The redhead looks at her suggestively as she leans against the table with her arms crossed, miscalculating the distance and losing her balance for a second. Elsa tries not to laugh by covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers.
"And has this girl noticed you?" Anna still asks nonchalantly.
She takes a step closer and purrs, "I'd like to think that she has." She reaches for the girl's hand and tugs. "Although she has the attention span of a squirrel so she's probably forgotten about me already."
This earns her a not so playful smack on the arm. "Not appreciated."
"But I love you," she pouts, or tries. She's never been good at pouting.
A tongue sticking out at her is the first response she gets before Anna grumbles: "I love you too," and "Let's go, I'm hungry."
"Did you say goodbye to everyone already?"
"Pretty much." She shows Elsa the new tote bag she's carrying. "I'll show you all the goodies I got," she whispers. And if Elsa didn't know better she would think her girlfriend had stole them with the way she's whispering things.
When they reach the entrance Anna lets go of her hand to approach the man who is currently trying to explain to a customer how to get to Times Square from where they are. It comes out a bit butchered and with much hesitation, but he seems to manage well on his own after the woman thanks him and he nods sheepishly.
He welcomes the hug that Anna gives him, and for some reason the sight makes Elsa smile. The girl is never shy when it comes to physical affection and this, too, seems like magic to her; it is something she has never been able to learn on her own.
"Bye, Azi," the girl says. "I'll visit but make sure you borrow all the books Luke offers you, your English is getting better already."
"Thank you, miss Anna," he responds warmly; his accent made heavier by the raspiness of his voice. "We will miss you here and very good luck on your adventures."
Anna giggles. "It's just a new job, Azi."
"A new job is—" he pauses, looks for the word, finds it with a successful smile, "—always a new adventure."
And on that they can all agree.
They walk out of the bookstore hand in hand just as Elsa hears her girlfriend sigh heavily before resting the side of her head against her shoulder. She allows her this moment of quiet contemplation. The recapitulation of all the memories she got to make in that bookstore. The reminder that not everything is permanent, no matter how much they may seem to be, and how things transform themselves; sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better.
"Where are we going?" Anna asks her after some time.
Elsa looks at the street they're about to cross: it is the 10th. "I have no clue."
The redhead hums and makes a sudden turn to the right, pulling her along. "I guess now we know?" She laughs.
"Let's go to Reggio. I miss that place."
The streets they navigate through are partially crowded with people from all walks of life—a group of rowdy teenagers who will most likely fail at getting into a proper bar tonight; a single lady pushing her folding grocery cart filled almost to the top with cat food bags; a white-collar man having a heated conversation through an old-school Bluetooth headset; somewhere in the far distance, a saxophone—while the hues up in the sky rapidly morph from bright, neon orange to an ocean deep blue. For the duration of the walk, Anna tells her everything about her last day. She tells her about the chocolate cupcake one of her coworkers had brought her and which Anna admits to having eaten in three bites. She explains how they were helping Azi improve his English by lending him ESL books from the basement and how good he was at remembering the quirkiest of words, like commensalism or pumpernickel. There is mention of the goodies again, but when she starts pulling them out of her bag Elsa stops her and tells her it's best that they do that when they get to the café. Her girlfriend was all but ready to show her everything right there in the middle of the street but Elsa knows she'd only end up getting too distracted to even walk.
Ten minutes later, they arrive at Reggio.
She had only been here once before, having loved it with a highly subdued, Elsa-like passion that only her girlfriend was capable of noticing. But it was the fact that Elsa got to share this space with her that she had loved the most, because there was something about Reggio that was both casual and intimate, with its dimmed hues and hushed tones.
They sit in the corner farthest from the entrance with Anna's back to the wall, right below a Caravaggio—three men, one supper. Its shadows dark; its lights veiled.
Neglecting the menus for the time being, the blonde sits and leans on the small, marbled table. "You can show me the goodies now," she tells Anna.
Her girlfriend mirrors the position until their faces are inches away from each other, drawing a grin out of Elsa. God bless these tables.
"You have to tell me how today went first."
Her grin falls, turns into a pout. She shrugs. "It was okay, I guess. I didn't feel so much like clawing her eyes out so that's progress, right?"
"Right," Anna nods solemnly. "Was she her usual bitchy self?"
Elsa thinks about this for a moment. Tracy had not been bitchy, nor had she really practiced any of her usual flirtatious remarks on her. In fact, she had been... nice. Borderline, at least. She got annoying towards the end but then again, there had been a shift in her personality that only after Elsa had left was she able to notice. Tracy had acted a bit closer to a normal human being; not entirely a fabrication of every character trait Elsa abhorred in a person.
"She wasn't," she admits quietly.
A young man comes to take their orders. Anna jumps at the opportunity to ask for a glass of red wine and Elsa follows suit. "Do you want a bottle instead?" He asks. Why not? They both nod. The occasion calls for it; the night is young.
As he walks away, Elsa is brought back to a specific memory. "She asked about you, too."
Anna is taken aback, a finger pointing at herself. "Me? Why me?"
She shakes her head slowly. "I don't know. She asked how you were and called you little miss redhead or something like that."
The girl narrows her eyes. "Conniving."
"It was strange," she concedes and goes on telling her everything about their exchange. From the guy playing Candy Crush to the odd truce offered by the brunette. On this, she dwells for a moment, watching as the waiter comes back with a bottle of Cabernet and opens it before pouring the red wine into a pair of Bordeaux. "She asked me when was the last time she'd flirted with me," she mutters after he leaves.
The wine goes untouched.
"And what did you tell her?"
"Nothing."
Anna tilts her head. "Why?"
"Because I really can't remember the last time she did."
She watches as the redhead considers this. It gives her the time to tune her senses to the rest of the place. It is starting to fill up. Another Friday night.
"You say she didn't flirt with you during the week that you guys were preparing for the trip, right?"
Elsa goes over her memories. "She didn't." In reality, the girl had barely talked to her which was refreshing, but Elsa had only attributed it to the fact that they had all been busy doing actual work.
"Well... I think... I'm glad."
She taps the back of her girlfriend's hand with her index finger. The action makes Anna's hand connect loosely with hers. "Words, baby."
A heavy sigh escapes through Anna's nose before she leans on the table again. Her gaze focuses on the glass of red wine in front of her. "I mean, her not flirting with you doesn't exactly make me trust her, but I do feel glad that you might not have to put up with that anymore... especially cause I know how much it gets to you when she does."
Elsa grimaces. "I'm still working on that, I promise..."
Anna gives her an affectionate look. She knows. "Do you want us to talk more about it?"
There is a difference between forcing a thought out of her mind and allowing it to fade out on its own, like the natural course of things. Elsa shakes her head slowly but surely, because this time, she can tell the difference.
The redhead grins, pushing up the freckles on her cheeks and making her teal eyes light up in the dimness of the room. "I'll show you my goodies then."
Elsa turns her attention to the glasses of wine standing on the table. She reaches for her own and lifts it up. "But first, a toast."
"To..."
"New adventures," she declares.
A transformation. Sometimes for the better; sometimes for the worse.
The food arrives soon after this, and Anna finally gets to show off her parting gifts over red wine and ravioli. Her hair is swept up in a messy bun, missing a few tresses of red hair that freely frame her face. Between her looks and the delightful mood she's in, Elsa feels enamored.
"So Luke gave me a book of Sappho's poems which is highly stereotypical in my opinion—but I freaking love it."
Elsa accepts the item, feeling its weight before she opens it at random.
You came. And you did well to come.
I was waiting for you; your fire burns my heart,
it flames.
I forgive you all the endless
hours that you were away.
"One of the finest lady lovers out there," Anna declares.
Elsa chuckles and softly closes the book before handing it back to her. "You're not so bad yourself," she teases.
"Myself notwithstanding. I am the finest. Ask my girlfriend."
The blonde laughs.
"They also gave me this bookmark," Anna continues.
Elsa reads what's written on it out loud: "If you go home with somebody and they don't have books, don't... fuck them..." She gives it back with a straight face.
Anna nods, clearly excited by the crude language and blatant suggestion. "Funny, right? I'm glad you had a bookshelf at home."
Elsa leans closer. "Need I remind you our first time was at your place?"
There is a pause in which the redhead swirls the Cabernet in her glass, feigning aloofness. "I do remember that."
"Of course you do," she smirks and finishes the last of her wine. She reaches for the bottle, serves Anna first, then finishes it off on her own glass. A second bottle appears imminent at this point. "So what's left of your goodies?"
A vintage postcard. Anna shows it to her with quiet pride that seems misplaced until she explains, "They let me choose and I took this one because I wanted to give it to you."
The front of the card has a classic blue skyline against an orange background. The words GREETINGS FROM NEW YORK CITY cover it from one side to the other with famous landmarks fit inside New York City's letters: the Statue of Liberty, the Rockefeller, the Empire State Building. Elsa eyes it with curiosity until she flips it over.
On the back of it, two single sentences: I miss you already, but I love you so much more.
The statement tugs at her heart with a sudden longing for the girl sitting across from her. Elsa lifts her head up in order to see her but decides that this is not enough. She stands up from her chair, stepping around the table to sit next to Anna. In the girl's arms, she is hit with an emotion that sets its roots deep inside her heart. How can she miss her so when she is right here?
"I love you," she whispers.
Anna kisses her deeply and unreservedly, and amongst the resonance of the café Elsa's senses zero in on the sensation of her soft lips against her own.
"I've decided to send you postcards," she tells her when they part. "Is that okay?"
Elsa smiles, cradles her freckled face in her hands, and kisses her nose. "Why wouldn't it be? We could be one of those couples that grows old and shows off the letters they used to write to each other to everyone in the family."
Something flashes across Anna's eyes just as Elsa catches the meaning behind her words.
"You want to grow old with me?"
"For as long as you'll have my wrinkly self," she responds in a low voice.
"You can't say stuff like that and then leave me here for five months, you know?"
The soft laugh that escapes her is bittersweet. Her arms drape over Anna's shoulders once more before she holds on tight and breathes in the scent that she will find herself missing every day. Her heart is pounding softly against her chest, longing with every beat for the girl who has it.
Suddenly, a week doesn't feel like long enough time.
After little resistance on Elsa's part a second bottle of wine arrives at the table. Her coherent thoughts become a bit of a mush after this. She giggles a lot, and most of the things that come out of Anna's mouth become ten times funnier. Her girlfriend turns into a bigger flirt than she already is and Elsa tries an attempt of her own with verbose compliments, lots of eyelash batting and Shakespeare quotes that sound accurate but in reality are abysmally misplaced. It is their last date before Elsa leaves but in their obliviousness lies their delight. They enjoy each other's company without the impediment that is the thought of parting; as though this night could last forever.
In the end, they stumble all the way home, giggling like two teenagers in love.
The air is chilly bright and early on Saturday morning. It enters her lungs deeply and without restraint, lingering for a second before she exhales sharply through her nose. She does this over and over again, falling in tempo with her feet hitting the concrete that delineates the city's edge along the East River. Every time her sneakers connect with the ground she feels tension shooting up her calves and straight to her thighs. The harder she runs, the more exhilarating it starts to feel.
It is this sensation which she has always loved about running. Reaching the point of near exhaustion, only to break through it on a high; to feel her chest burning from exertion as she wills her lungs to keep up with her pace, if only just for a few more minutes.
Her long legs extend far beneath her as she sprints the last few meters back to her starting point. She smiles at the sight of the Brooklyn Bridge in the far distance, then grins at the old gentleman that always sits on a bench with his German Shepherd on Saturday mornings. He responds to this with a tip of his hat. They know each other, but they don't; like two strangers sharing the same routine.
She makes a turn towards 6th Street, walking the rest of the way back home. The streets are quiet, barely occupied by early birds just like herself.
At the bodega below her apartment, Luis is pushing up the coiling door to begin his day. Elsa greets him and asks about his wife. They are both fine, he says, promising to say hi to Marta for her. He then offers her some fresh coffee and Elsa hesitates for a moment before accepting. In the end, she takes three up with her after paying for them despite Luis insisting that it is just coffee—a dollar and ninety for each—not exactly the greatest of losses.
The apartment is not the same serene state that she left it in a little over an hour ago. There is chaos coming from the kitchen at the hands of both her cousin and her girlfriend.
Elsa watches them in silence, suspicious of the way Rapunzel is trying to prepare an omelette and amused by the fact that Anna can't seem to reach the mug she often uses when she stays over.
She places the carrier down on the counter and announces: "I will fear for this kitchen for as long as I'm gone."
Both girls turn around simultaneously before Elsa takes a step back, fearful of the spatula Rapunzel is holding as though it were a weapon. "You scared the shit out of me," the brunette mumbles.
Anna skips around the counter, the mug all but forgotten on the edge of the cabinet. The girl's arms are thrown loosely over her shoulders before she drops a lingering kiss on the blonde's lips.
"You're salty."
"Sorry," she grimaces. "How are you feeling?"
"Not hungover, but not great either."
She chuckles then asks, "Did you guys make coffee already?"
"We were heating up the water," Rapunzel responds, turning to the stove and turning off the flame. She then looks down with disdain at her creation on the pan. "I think something's wrong with my omelette."
"You put the fillings in too soon," Elsa states before walking over to the fridge and handing the creamer to her girlfriend.
"Dammit!"
She ends up helping them make breakfast because she is too hungry to wait until after her shower to see how well they manage to fare. It is almost two hours later that she finds herself walking to the train station in order to make a trip she is all too familiar with.
Elsa gets lost in the sounds of the train: its steely rhythms, its constant rattle against the reels, its screech to a halt on every stop; the recorded male voice that tells people to stand clear of the closing doors, please. She gets lost far in her memories, recalling the time she and her project group had visited the center for the first time.
It had all been for research purposes. One of her teammates' father knew somebody who knew the director of Castle Senior Center. The thesis had been something or the other, a qualitative study on community based health care, but what Elsa recalls with exactitude is the way Theo had put a halt on their research, right in the middle of them conducting a generic poll. "Don't treat us like lab subjects," she'd blurted out from her usual place by the window. "Y'all will get better results if you treat us like human beings."
And she had been right. They'd soon set out to talk with everyone who lived in the center at the time. For most of the duration of the project, Elsa had been intimidated, because Theo's deep, brown eyes were awfully inquisitive and the way she said things was resolute, and wise, and all too real sometimes. And she had seen right through her, which often caused the two of them to deviate from her research onto things that Elsa would have never thought of discussing with any of her teammates, let alone a person she had barely just met. But Theo, with her warm pats on Elsa's cold hands, and her genuine laugh, and her unwavering presence in a room where life didn't so much feel like a certainty anymore, got through Elsa's walls one by one until their project had ended, and Elsa's excuse to visit was replaced by the wish to spend time with someone she looked up to.
When she arrives, she takes her time greeting everyone she finds in the drawing room. She doesn't see Theo anywhere around and after she's done hugging Margo she asks her if she's seen her.
"I can't see even if I wanted to, sweetie. These glasses are shit."
Elsa bites into her lips. The ladies in this house are feisty little things.
"Sergio, have you seen Theo?" Margo screams over at the man sitting across the table from her reading Tolstoy.
"Ser-gei, woman, how many times do I have to say it?" He says loudly, then more quietly to Elsa: "She's in the garden, malysh."
She thanks both but just as she's about to leave, Margo stops her. "Can you tell Theo that she owes me my apple sauce?"
Elsa giggles. Yes, she will.
The garden is a commodity she didn't know they had until after months of coming to the center. There are large pots on every side of the space with purple, orange and pink flowering plants sprouting over their edges. Dwarf trees stand tall from where they're rooted in beige colored planters, and during summer you can smell the fresh scent of greenery that is undeterred by the polluted air of the city.
She sees Greta talking animatedly with a nurse and near the far end of the garden, under the canopy of a tree, she finds Theo sitting in a chair and immersed in her journal. She approaches her slowly, because she now knows from experience that abruptly interrupting someone who is writing tends to throw them on a loop—a grumpy loop.
Theo lifts her head up when she senses her approach, letting out a quiet gasp at the surprise of seeing her.
"Oh, sugar!" She gets up in a swift but not effortless move. Her arms wrap around the blonde's shoulders before she parts just enough to place her warm hands on Elsa's cheeks; a motherly gesture that she welcomes with a grin.
She joins Theo in the chair next to her, watching as the elder closes her black journal but leaves it on top of her lap, resting both her creased hands over its cover.
"Before I forget," Elsa says, "Margo told me to remind you about her apple sauce."
Theo rolls her eyes like a berated teenager. "I gave her two yesterday."
"You may want to remind her then."
"As if." She waves her hand in dismissal. "She'll forget again, darlin'. I've been owing her apple sauce for a year now."
At this, Elsa laughs.
"Where'd ya leave our sweetheart?" Theo asks her.
"I left her at home this time."
Theo tsks and shakes her head amusedly. "How is she faring with your departure?"
She thinks about this for a moment, realizing that she is not sure if she can give her an answer. "We haven't talked so much about it lately," she says. "I think we've been too caught up in other stuff."
"Tell me then," Theo begins, rearranging herself in the chair and placing her journal next to a cane Elsa hadn't noticed until now. It is the first time she sees her with one but she hesitates for far too long and the moment is gone before she can ask about it. "What have you two been caught up in?"
"Well... not so much me. I've been buried in books—you know me—and I've also been preparing for the trip, but Anna, she got a new job."
Theo bumps her fists halfway up in the air, her gold bracelets clinking against one another, reflecting little glimmers of sunlight. "I knew it! What was it in the end? An agency? A publisher?"
"A literary agency," Elsa tells her, infected with excitement. "She's going to be an agent's assistant for now, but hopefully in the future she'll get to have their representation."
She recalls the memory of Anna showing up at her door, buzzing with energy and beaming from ear to ear. The way she had thrown herself at Elsa's arms had said it all: she had gotten the job. And Elsa had lifted her off the ground right there at the door, and Anna had squealed with delight while Rapunzel came out of her room confused out of her mind until her girlfriend explained everything and Rapunzel had joined in on the squealing. She had gone on a rant about the interview and her new boss who'd seemed nothing but great, and Elsa had been happy because things just felt like finally coming together.
"You're proud of her, aren't ya?" The elder grins, bringing her out of her reverie.
"I am."
Relaxing against the back of the chair, Theo lets out a big sigh. "Ah, to be young and in love..."
Elsa smiles. Love is certainly what she feels for Anna. Hopeless at times, to the point where she gets lost in dreams of a future by her side; but vehement, always, because Elsa doesn't think it could ever end.
"You know, sugar," she continues softly. "Of all things I've experienced in my life, a love like yours ain't one of them... And it makes you think just how funny life can be sometimes."
"In what sense?"
Theo looks at her. Brown eyes wise; shimmering with a hint of nostalgia Elsa had never seen before. "Do you think it's possible to have everything in life?"
She hardly thinks of her answer. "No... Not really," she whispers.
There's a warm pat on the back of her hand. "It doesn't stop us from thinking that we do though, does it?"
Elsa looks on at a bee flying about the purple flowers not too far from them. She once read somewhere that bees had an unexplainable preference towards the color purple, and Elsa remembers thinking that bees were not so different from people in that way.
"It makes life easier, I think," she says.
"That it does. Especially when you're young... You can't take anything for granted."
She turns back to Theo. "Easier said than done, right?"
Theo chuckles lowly. "Shit doesn't get harder than that, darlin'. But you got a head full of dreams and a heart full of love, so you better hold onto those things for as long as you can. Cause one day you'll wake up, and you'll look at yourself in the mirror... and you'll realize that you're reaching the far end of your life without a damn thing to do about it."
Something unfamiliar tugs at her heart and Elsa can't tell exactly what it is, but it feels heavy against her chest. It feels like dread.
"Do you... are you scared?"
"Of being old?"
The blonde shakes her head timidly. She shouldn't have opened her mouth but the question is halfway out there now.
"Of death?" Theo asks, the word falling from her lips as easily as if she had said anything else. Gazing into Elsa's eyes, she sees affirmation. "I'll tell you the truth... death starts to enter one's mind more and more the older one gets, but it isn't death what I think of the most. What I think of are all the things I could've done right but didn't."
"But isn't regret inevitable one way or the other?"
"I've found that it is, but I've also found that there are some things you can choose to regret for the rest of your life, and some you can choose to change before it's too late."
Elsa stares into the distance, frowning. Theo catches her expression and laughs softly. "There's no hidden meaning here, darlin'. This ain't a conspiracy theory that'll make your head hurt. You just gotta live your life, and you gotta enjoy it while you're at it. I do want you to promise me one thing, though..."
"Okay..."
"The things you can change, don't waste your time regretting."
She process this before a giggle escapes her despite herself. "You're always being so cryptic, it almost makes me feel like you can read the future."
The elder looks at her with bemusement. "You're confusing me with that freaky woman from Harlem," she jokes. "I ain't reading your future, darlin'. I'm speaking to you from experience. "
She'll take it, Elsa decides, oblivious to the fact that she will look back to this moment with forlorn clarity.
"Elsa, honey, I'm very proud of you," Theo tells her, taking her hand in hers. The familial gesture, the weight of those words; they make her eyes burn with unshed tears. "You better enjoy London as much as you can. Freckles and I, and your quirky sounding cousin will all be here waiting for you when you come back."
The blonde laughs, keeping the tears that had welled on her eyes from falling. She reaches over to hug Theo, holding on tight for a few seconds before she lets go.
Theo's hand goes up to pat her cheek with affection. "You go get 'em, sugar."
The night before leaving is heavy with unspoken words.
Anna has been helping her pack the last of her items with relentless care; folding, unfolding, then folding again. She asks Elsa what she wants to be placed at the very top of her suitcase and Elsa tells her that it doesn't matter. It will all have to come out once she's at the dorm. Her girlfriend nods weakly, getting back to work. She mumbles something about the socks, about how she would have never been able to pack them in matching pairs. The joke falls flat, the attempt barely reaching the humor that none of them feel at the moment.
"I think I read somewhere that if you put the socks on the corners of the suitcase it'll make them receive some of the impact."
"What impact?"
"You know how they throw your suitcases around like they're sacks of potatoes?"
"Oh, right... I guess that could work."
Anna goes back to the suitcase on the floor.
"Did you pack up your toothpaste? Or are you gonna buy some over there? Maybe we should go out to get you one because the flight is like seven hours and you're probably going to want to brush your teeth as soon as you land—I know how freaky you get with your dental cleanliness—and did you pack an extra set of toothbrush? I lost mine once when my parents and I went to Seattle but then again that's me and I was twelve..."
"Anna..." She interrupts softly. "Sweetheart, stop for a second."
Her girlfriend does so reluctantly, stopping halfway through folding the purple NYU shirt Elsa had insisted on bringing with her.
"Come here," she says before extending her arms.
Anna's gaze falls to the floor. "I can't."
Elsa stands up from the bed then. She approaches the redhead slowly, enough to rest her hands on Anna's cheeks. The girl's eyes pierce through her heart. They scream love.
"What is it, baby?"
Anna tilts her head to the side, her lips searching for Elsa's palm. Her bright teal eyes disappear beneath her lids before she whispers, "I feel like if I stop, I'm gonna cry."
The confession pulls the air out of her lungs in a sigh.
So gently, she tugs Anna's hands, guiding her back towards the bed. "Let's forget about the suitcase for a bit," she tells her.
They settle in bed, in the silence that surrounds them, living for a night that doesn't feel long enough anymore.
For months Elsa had known this day would come; like a distant memory, detached and without shape. She had known it was inevitable, simply reminding herself that five months weren't too bad; that five months would go by in a flash just like they had done so before during so many years of living in this world. But love, unlike time, was not relative. Love was constant and in the face of distance, love showed its true depth. And it is tonight, with Anna in her arms, that she finally gets to understand this.
She understands it in the way her fingertips trail across the skin of Anna's arm all the way to her hand, and in the way their fingers intertwine slowly, like an act of reminiscence.
And when they kiss; when their tongues meet. When Elsa undresses Anna with gentle persistence and when she lets Anna do the same; when they make love to each other in between soft murmurs and breathed confessions of love. When Elsa watches Anna arch her back in ecstasy and when she reaches an orgasm amongst tears of yearning. When they hold each other naked, and giggle at their impromptu love making; it is all done for the sake of memory.
Because in the end, with thousands of miles in between, that is all you can hold onto.
John F. Kennedy. 8 a.m.
It is crowded and busy, like every international airport is meant to be. Elsa, Anna and Rapunzel pass by travelers from every corner of the world, looking for the sign that will direct them to British Airway's check-in desk.
Near the start of the line, Elsa spots Professor Park, Tracy and a few of the students she had already met during prep week. She waves in their general direction but stops short from being too close that they will all have to introduce each other.
"So who's Tracy?" Rapunzel asks, sipping on a coffee the size of her face. Her brunette hair barely combed.
"A little bit louder for the people in the back please," Elsa mumbles.
Anna points with her head at the girl in question, who is thankfully oblivious to her cousin's lack of common sense.
"Ah okay, I don't like her already." She sips her coffee again, still staring. "She does have a nice sense of style though, casual but cool, you know? And I like those ear piercings."
Elsa and Anna share a look before the blonde pulls her cousin farther away from the rest of the group.
"So is this gonna be like a casual hate group?" Rapunzel asks them. "Or should we come up with a name and stuff?"
The redhead giggles despite herself. Elsa only shakes her head in disbelief.
"We're not going to hate on anybody," she argues.
The brunette cups her mouth with her free hand and drawls, "Boring."
Elsa isn't sure if she should reprimand Rapunzel's behavior but when she turns to her girlfriend and sees the first broad smile of the day, she can't help but let it go. So she reaches out to ruffle her cousin's hair instead and says, "You're a lost case."
"A lost case you will miss."
"Yeah, yeah."
"But fear not," the girl adds, reaching for Anna's arm to hook with her own. "I'll learn how to cook in the meantime and I'll invite Anna over so that we can prepare a feast for when you come back."
The redhead widens her eyes.
"I'd like to see that happen," Elsa tells them. "But please make sure there's an apartment I can return to."
Professor Park approaches them just as Rapunzel is about to flip her off. She introduces the duo to the professor. Anna is uncharacteristically reserved, and Rapunzel is uncharacteristically formal.
Park greets them both with pleasantry before she turns to the blonde. "The rest of the group is here. We should get going."
An announcement that is expected but not any less similar to a heavy weight on her chest.
Rapunzel hugs her tightly, telling her to please take care of herself, that she loves her, and that she'll behave. When she steps back her green eyes are shimmering, teary. Elsa's eyes sting but she laughs because the girl is full on pouting, and the next thing she asks is nothing but purely Rapunzel: "Can I borrow your clothes while you're gone?"
She nods with a smile and hugs her one last time.
"Okay, imma go sit over there," the girl mumbles and leaves the two alone.
The familiar weight of Anna in her arms is all she can focus on now. The softness of her hair against her cheek, and that floral scent that she will one day realize can never be found in anyone else.
"I miss you already," Anna says against her neck. It is barely heard; only aimed at the person who's meant to hear it.
"I miss you too, sweetheart..."
The redhead parts slightly. "Just five months... They'll go by fast, right?"
"Right." She pecks her forehead. "Faster than we think." Then pecks her nose. "We'll talk every day." And lastly, her lips. "And don't forget about the postcards."
"I won't," Anna smiles, briefly chasing after her lips. "I do want us to be that old couple."
"I love you, Anna."
Her head falls against the blonde's shoulder as she breathes her in one last time. "I love you too, Elsa."
They part ways with slow reluctance; with barely contained tears in their eyes and that constant, tireless love that bounds them together without any regard for physical distance.
Elsa spends the next seven hours day dreaming about images of London blending in with a pair of bright eyes and freckled skin. She looks out the window, thirty-six thousand feet above the ground, the sky blue and plenteous, and thinks of all the possibilities that lay ahead of her. To be young and in love, she recalls with a small smile. But to be in love with a wonderful person... and for Elsa—for the first time—to be in love with life at all.
Heathrow welcomes them with a busy crowd, like a mirrored reflection of New York's airport. They arrive at night, weary eyed and with crampy legs, but Elsa pays little mind to this because the most important thing for her right now is to find a souvenir store.
Once there, she buys a single item:
A postcard.
