Chapter 13: The Powers of Weather
Thanks to everyone who read to the end, reviewers or not.
And thanks to When-A-Sprite-Meets-Unicorn, Verarose19, Ms S, Johanna002 for your lovely comments. This story was a real challenge for me, because I broach difficult subjects sometimes. You have left positive reviews on every chapter, and I am grateful for that.
Good reading too you.
XXX
Bogota, 9:30 a.m., 16 degrees Fahrenheit, cloudy weather
That night, Flaca woke up in Juliana's bed. She had fallen asleep telling her a story. Eyes barely open, a great weariness had invaded her, because of life here, the fear about future, the impossibility of solving anything despite the hours spent to think. Before Litchfield, such a feeling would have scared her away, she would immediately have tried to change her life. Instead, she got up, walked over to the window, and scrawled a bit on her phone, in the moonlight. "Welcome to the adult world," she had thought.
Now, she wakes up in her bed. The wind blowing behind the window carries the clouds responsible for the humidity that has enveloped the city since two days to an other place. She thinks she still has things to learn about Colombia, a country with almost scorching autumns and hazy summers. When she tells her about it, Maritza distractedly replies that it's not always like that.
This morning, she's the one scrawling, watching Instagrame videos showing happy girls, sharing pieces of their lives on catchy music. Their joy is contagious:
"What is this thing?" Flaca asks, looking at a brunette who is rubbing her eyes with her thumbs.
"A new series of makeup tutorials," Maritza replies in her pop star voice, which Flaca loves to listen to. "I'm sure I can do better."
"Yea," she replies. "You could do some tutorials on skin hygiene. Women in this city have too large pores. It's ugly !"
"Clearly. Their faces are so oily. Sometimes I'm embarrassed looking at them."
Flaca grabs her phone, tries several word combinations on Google. She thinks of one of their last conversation at camp. She had told Maritza that they might never become YouTuber. She thinks the time has come now. Just to have fun.
XXX
Litchfield, 9:40 a.m., 25 degrees Fahrenheit, stormy weather
Vanessa's eyes jump from her book to the garden. She watches it from the bench infront of the window. She stops in the middle of a sentence every time a lightning sends a flood of light into the living room. She silently counts the seconds until the thunderclap that always comes. Then, she returns to the adventures of Harry Potter. She can't wait for Karla to pick her up, to go to the coffee shop to help Gloria with the housework after the party last night.
She reads a few lines, slips her bookmark into the novel, closes it. She listens to Joe and Natalie's conversation, the sounds of their breakfast: coffee cups, sliding plates and bowls.
They talk about the weather, say that yesterday it was too hot, that this morning there will be a thunderstorm. Natalie says that "now they're an old couple, they have nothing more to say to each other, because they talk about the weather." But, Joe laughs, and she does too. So Vanessa knows that's wrong. This is again another of their weird adult jokes.
Vanessa wonders if one day she will be able to call them mom and dad. Sometimes she tries, when she asks them a question. But, she can't do it. At times, she wonders why? Days like this, she thinks that it doesn't matter, because the three of them are happy anyway.
XXX
Litchfield 10:00 am, 24 degrees Fahrenheit, stormy weather
The smell of morning coffee and sweet sleep in her apartment is one of Cecilia's favorite things in the world. As she sbreathes it, she thinks that all the successes of her life lie there, in a scent so light that it evaporates as soon as she enters the living room or the kitchen.
Coming back from the grocery store, she stars at Ingrid, sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in her right hand, her eyes turned to her phone, in her left hand.
"Do you have something for me?" She asks.
"Bagles."
"Ah, cool. I'm hungry."
"Me too."
Ingrid puts down her phone, grabs one of the pastry, and puts half of it in her mouth.
"Is it because it's going to rain that you put socks in your ballerinas?" She laughs.
"Yea. I know what you think about it, but I have sensitive feet."
"It's awful, it makes you look ten years older. Don't ever do it again, please."
"I do what I want with my feets."
"At least juste stop it for my eyes, ." Ingrid smiles, she runs her fingers through her tangled hair.
"I think I prefer your hair," says Cecilia thoughtfully. She puts her hand on the lower part of her belly, surprised by the rising desire that assails her.
"Your mother is waiting for us," Ingrid observes, blushing. She comes back to her phone.
"Is that why you watch the weather, to have something to tell my mom?"
Her girlfriend's forehead creases, she remains silent for a few seconds: "No need to prepare conversations with your mother, she is nice."
Ceci takes an empty cup from the table, walks over to the coffee machine. "How nice she is to you it's all that matters to me."
"She does it for you", Ingrid answers . "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive her for everything that's happened between the both of you, I know you have good reason to blame her. But this is a second chance."
"Is your mother, I mean, your biological mother ... is she homophobic?"
Ingrid puts her own cup on the table, crosses her hands. She is surprised by the question. Ceci realizes, that they never really spoke about this woman, before. She is suddenly afraid of having taken Ingrid somewhere she didn't want to go.
"No. But, she isn't connected enough to this world to know I'm a lesbian," she finally declares. I haven't spoken to her for ten years, maybe that's for this reason, too. But this is another story."
"Are you mad at her?"
"Yes. Even so, not everything that happened was really her fault."
Ingrid gets up, facing the bathroom door. Cecilia knows she won't know more.
XXX
Litchfield, 11:00 a.m., 23 degrees fahrenheit, rainy weather
"This spring festival was a good idea. My kids loved it, and my wife sold a lot of jewelry at her booth."
"Great," Gloria answers evasively. She wonders if the man in front of her is aware that the rain has started to fall. She looks at the notebook and the pencil he holds in his hand, and thinks that soon they will be soaked. Beside her, Ingrid and Cecilia put down the trash bags in which they collected waste. Karla keeps hers open with one hand. She stars at the dark sky. The children laugh, absorbed by the complex rules of a game they invented.
"It wasn't you that I saw yesterday, to write the article about the festival", Gloria remarks.
"No, but I was there to help my wife."
"And, because you were very impressed, you're here to write an article to explain how to clean up after a festival?" Ingrid asks. Gloria sees The flash of mischief passing through her eyes
"No, actually, I'm here to write about the weather. It's Sunday, and people like to read stuff like that on Monday."
"The powers of the weather," Karla says, grinning. "Great for starting a conversation in the office."
"Exactly!" The reporter exclaims. "Besides, can I take a picture of you?"
"Under the rain, with our trash bags?" Now Gloria laughs.
"Yes, that will make a great story for our readers."
"It's a dream, I'm sure it's a dream, and I'll be waking up soon," Ceci mumbles. Ingrid chuckles.
There is something touching about the guy's look, full of hope. Gloria looks at the others. They nodd to her silent question.
"Good ... if you want.", She concludes.
They come closer, grab their trash bags. Hot rain drops leave long wet streaks there.
"Once upon a time, four women, and 3 trash bags ..." As she says this, Gloria thinks that tomorrow morning she will buy the Litchfield Gazette.
The end.
XXX
Now, I will try to update "The beginning of a new day", I don't know what I will write next. I have several ideas but nothing concrete. Thanks again for reading.
