Chapter 6
Vera took her glass and followed Joan out into the heavy night air. The humidity of the night made her thin cotton dress feel heavy and unwanted, and she could see ahead of her that Joan's curves here hugged by her own clothes, clinging with sweat. The heat hung like a wet blanket, but the air was perfumed with flowers as Joan turned to smile at Vera. "I think I may have drank too much. Come, I want to show you something."
Vera let her toes drag through the grass to tickle the bottoms of her feet. It was nice to be out in the night, feeling a little drunk. She took in the beauty of the flora that surrounded her. Fierce Joan had something of a green thumb it seemed.
Joan stood by a flowerbed that held oriental lilies and bent at the waist to pick a large white one. She turned and motioned for Vera to join her.
Joan slipped the flower behind Vera's ear. "This one is called Carte Blanche. There, it suits you." The meaning behind the name of the flower Joan had chosen for her rang out like a bell in her mind. Oh?!
Vera reached up to touch it delicately and then finished the remainder of her wine. She thanked Joan, and they continued in a slow even gait down the hill towards the treeline of Joan's property. Joan took the time to point out the more beautiful flowers and told Vera their latin names like it was nothing.
Joan realized that in describing one of her hobbies, she was opening herself up to Vera in a way she had not done before. She could feel pride that the hands that could do such damage could also be capable of cultivating such beauty.
They walked side by side, the silence expanding to fill the void separating them. It wasn't until they reached the wisteria tree that Joan stopped and reached up to brush her fingers along the hanging branches.
"Did you know that the Japanese have a lovely symbolism for the wisteria?" Joan commented. "They think of them as a portrayal of sensitivity, bliss and tenderness."
"They are very lovely," Vera agreed.
"You're very lovely." Joan whispered into the hot, dark night.
Vera couldn't help but turn her head and smile secretly to herself. Who was this Joan?
Joan had finally reached a state where the wine had loosened her tongue, but her mind was still in control of her actions. It was in this state that she had been aiming, and it was delightful to feel free to say what she liked without a current worry of repercussions.
Vera had the moon reflecting shadows off her face in such a way that Joan wanted to reach down and cup her cheek, but she kept her hands to herself. Vera had given her touch, her thanks and kind words but Joan still could not read if the feelings she held inside could be thrown into the ring with the guarantee of acceptance. It was in that moment that she felt the slightest touch along the side of her hand. Vera's pinky ran up alongside Joan's in a whisper of an embrace. It tentatively curled so that it hooked around Joan's and there it stayed. There they stood in the heavy humidity, connected through touch but without the words for what to say.