Chapter 9: New World, Old Coffee
When morning dawned, the tangerine sun peered into Jane Lane's bed and found a tangle of pale limbs and sweetly tousled hair. The sleeping artist gently stirred, and soon her royal-blue eyes were at half-mast as she gazed upon her sleeping…oh LORD. Jane's eyelids snapped fully open as she first remembered the events of the night before and then realized her left hand was resting on Daria's waist, which was clad in one of the hostess's beloved pajama t-shirts featuring the obscure indie rock band Crippled Kitty. Daria's long hair had fallen over one eye, outlining her small nose and (as always) naked lips. Jane's shocked expression gave way to a small, private smile and a warm crinkling of the eyes as she observed the sleeping brunette. In this time of great revelations, I would like to enter into the record the truly awe-inspiring number of deep-black eyelashes possessed by one Daria Morgendorffer. How the hell did I miss that? In other revelation news, she has several small freckles on her adorable nose. And I, a life-long dismisser of gooey notions, just used the word "adorable" to describe somebody's sniffer. Freya help me. Jane scooted closer to Daria in the dawn light, slipping her arm fully around her waist.
It was then that the sleepy journalist slowly opened her eyes, and then continued opening them until she somewhat resembled a surprised owl. A delighted Jane suppressed a laugh and murmured, "Good morning, fellow sailor on Sapphic seas."
Unable to help herself, Daria let out a short burst of laughter as she reached out to brush an errant lock of hair away from Jane's eyes. Her hand came to rest on the back of her adored friend's head, and after several seconds of mutual gazing sweet enough to inspire spontaneous diabetes, the pair had their first, delicate good-morning kiss. A dopey-grinned Jane followed it up with a question and an answer: "You know what pairs well with discovering you've been lying to yourself for 23 years? Black coffee."
"Agreed," Daria sternly responded with a curt nod before playfully patting Jane's hip.
Soon the two were standing in the Lane family kitchen in their pajamas as Jane fashioned a makeshift coffee filter from toilet paper. Daria had been silently reading the side of a bright green coffee can when she piped up with, "So, this organic fair-trade coffee that supports Malaysian candlestick-makers has been expired for about six months. But it's coffee, right? How bad can it be?"
Jane donned an overblown Southern accent as she drawled, "I reckon I'd drink coffee filtered through a raccoon's behind right about now, pardner." Daria smiled and handed her the can. A short time later, the slightly-awkward duo stood leaning against the counter as they drank surprisingly good coffee from Amanda Lane's colorful, creatively warped hand-made coffee mugs. Jane stared into the dark liquid and picked out a small bit of toilet paper with her finger. Okaaaay, here's the awkward part. I suppose it was inevitable. After all, we're eventually going to have to figure out what we…are.
The artist's reverie was interrupted by the sudden thunk of Daria's coffee mug on the countertop. She looked up to see her normally sarcastic companion turning toward her with a heartbreakingly sweet hopefulness in her eyes. Jane took in Daria's mussed hair in its ponytail and her small shoulders beneath the Crippled Kitten t-shirt and was overcome with adoration. Despite her fears, she gave the terrified writer her biggest smile as she swiftly closed the small distance between them, wrapped her arms around Daria's waist, and kissed the tip of her nose. A smirk appeared on the brunette's fiercely blushing face as she slipped her arms behind Jane's neck and asked, "When are you leaving for Boston?"
"I was planning to leave by noon, but clearly all of my life choices are in question at this point."
Daria suppressed a chuckle as she glanced at the sorely neglected but miraculously functioning clock over Jane's shoulder. "It's only ten thirty. Considering the tumbleweed-strewn wasteland that is the Lane kitchen, should we walk over to the Morgendorffer stronghold? The admiral and her best swabbie are re-connecting with nature—and god knows what else—on a camping trip with their friends Willow and Coyote."
A cackle from Jane. "Oh lord! I imagine they're sleeping off the effects of the fermented berry juice as we speak."
"I'm not sure," Daria replied thoughtfully. "These days the Yeagers are less granola and more fat-free yogurt parfait. They have iPods, and those iPods are filled with Joni Mitchell albums."
"Huh." Jane smirked at her friend turned…turned what? That was a question for later. "Funny how things change."