Lupe had missed the sensation of Jess waking her up with a kiss to her temple.
“Cariño,” she murmured sleepily in response, turning to press her face against Jess’.
Jess made a satisfied sound, like a cat stretching out to settle in your lap, then her face warmed against Lupe’s cheek as she flushed in embarrassment at the noise.
Lupe thought about teasing, but instead she just yawned. She opened her eyes slowly against the morning light, and couldn’t help but grin.
The 1945 season was over. The Peaches had their first championship win underneath their belts. JessandLupe had survived it all. And today, light streamed in through the window of their apartment as they lay late in bed, exhausted and satisfied.
Lupe hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed this—this shared queen bed, Jess’ tacky drool on the side of her neck, an apartment safe and private enough for them to lie naked and tangled up together.
“Buenos días,” Jess muttered in her Saskatchewanian accent and the raspy morning voice of a lifelong smoker. She tucked her face back into Lupe’s neck and took in a deep breath, like she was trying to inhale her.
“Buenos días, mi vida,” Lupe mumbled back. Then, after a beat, she added, “What, no moan this time?”
“It was not a moan,” Jess protested, but snorted a little bit at the comment anyway.
“Sure,” Lupe teased. “What time is it?”
“I dunno,” Jess mumbled. “Late as hell.”
“When’s the last time you slept in past six-thirty?”
Jess shrugged in her arms. “When’s the last time we shared a bed?” she countered, which was true enough.
It had been once in the middle of the season, when Beverly had been courteous enough to let them room together for an away game, and they’d spent an irresponsible amount of time naked behind a locked door, far too much to be good for maintaining secrecy or focus on the ballgame. But it had been good for their hearts, and Jess had slept past six-thirty.
Lupe kissed Jess’ head gently. “I missed this,” she said in a low voice, even though she knew it was obvious.
“Someday I’m gonna take you up to Moose Jaw,” Jess said in response, her voice still low and scratchy from sleep, muffled into Lupe’s neck. “Gonna introduce you to the old man and all the cattle.”
“Yeah?” They had discussed this before, but Lupe still liked to hear it, and Jess still liked to say it.
“Yeah. And I’ll chop extra firewood every day so you never so much as shiver. I’ll knit you a sweater.”
Lupe laughed, loud and unabashed and safe. “You will not.”
Jess pulled her head up to grin sleepily at her. Her hair was coming loose and sticking to her rosy cheeks. “Okay, probably not. But I’ll let you wear as many of mine as you want. No one will bat an eye at a handsome woman in slacks up there. We come a dime a dozen.”
Lupe was pretty sure she’d still get stared at, given everything else she knew about Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and she was pretty sure she’d still get cold, too, but the fantasy was causing something over-warm and squirming to stir in her chest.
“If I didn’t know better,” she said with an affected air of nonchalance. “I’d say you were trying to make a farm wife outta me, McCready.”
Jess flushed even redder in the cheeks, her grin growing wider. She blew a lock of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, only for it to fall right back into place.
“Well,” she retorted after a moment. “It’s only right that you do me the honor after you’ve taken me home and sullied me.”
Lupe barked out a laugh. “Right. Of course.” Lord knows she had not been the first to ‘sully’ Jess, although maybe she was the first to keep her for the whole day after. A sneaking suspicion told her that maybe she would be the last.
Lupe shook her head. She reached over to the bedside table, fumbling for her cigarettes. She always forgot in the morning that she’d stopped leaving them so easily in reach. Since the war had ended, they’d both tried to cut back. (Jess frequently reminded her that this made no sense, but they had nonetheless halved the portion of paychecks spent on them, which meant more cash for Alma and less of Esti’s fretful sneezing before bedtime.)
She closed on a glass of water instead, took a gulp, and then handed it to Jess, who nursed a tiny sip.
She felt loose and warm and happy, here in their apartment, in their bed.
The first off-season they’d spent together, Lupe had spent half the damn time realizing she was sweet on Jess, and the other half trying to get used to the wonderful notion that Jess was sweet on her right back. Every second had been invigorating and terrifying in equal measure. And somehow, all through it, she still found she was calmer next to Jess than she’d ever before been in her life. Lupe had never felt anything like it. She’d thought she’d been in love before—but whatever it had been in the past, it couldn’t compare to the limitlessness of her love for Jess.
The second off-season they’d spent together, they’d both danced a little bit around how to get into it, no longer under the pretense of single friends sharing a rent agreement, but rather closeted lovers who’d had to adjust to acting like they weren’t crazy about each other for six bizarre months. The transition back to privacy had been clunky, a little over-enthusiastic and messy in ways neither of them had much patience for. It had taken time, something that had felt so devastatingly precious after so much had been taken from them. Then, two months more were lost to separate homecomings. For Lupe it had been a terrible waste, trying to reconcile things with her family while spending every cent of her spare change on long distance calls and international postage. She’d yearned for Jess’ presence the whole goddamned time, and in the end, it had been endured for nothing. Lupe’s mother had told her not to come back, and she had always respected her mother’s wishes more than her father’s.
But this year, they’d shrugged off the season easily and settled into the free affection of the apartment with ease and relative grace (but still a fair amount of zeal). Lupe just felt right, like she and Jess had finally mastered the perfect blend of routine and novelty, like they knew each other well enough to know that it was all going to be alright. More than alright. Good. Safe.
Lupe was in love, and it was good. She finally had faith in herself, and in Jess, and in the two of them together.
Jess looked contentedly back at her that first morning in their apartment like she might feel the same. Like she really might take Lupe home and introduce her to her bizarrely accepting father and a handful of indifferent cows. It was a hurdle few people in their situation would ever get over, but if Jess thought it was possible, then Lupe had faith.
“I would, you know,” Lupe said as she watched Jess press the cool glass to her warm face. “I’d marry you.”
Jess smiled bashfully. “If only that were made for you and me,” she mused. “Guess the big guy forgot about us.”
“No, He didn’t,” Lupe said immediately, and Jess just nodded. Lupe hurried to finish the thought, eager to get it out before she let herself worry too much about the sheer honesty of it. “He brought me to you.”
Jess’ expression grew thoughtful and still. “Well, then thanks be for that,” she said, in that out of place way of hers, with the unusual gravity she put on when she was communing briefly with Lupe’s god out of respect for her.
“Thanks, Old Man,” Lupe echoed, a little bit irreverently, because Jess had rubbed off on her, too.
“Cheers,” Jess toasted with a smile, lifting the glass ever so slightly, “to my wife.” She finished the last of the water before Lupe could even think to blush.
“Y salud a mía,” Lupe added. She kissed Jess on the lips to seal the promise.
They both lay there in silence for a moment, grinning like idiots.
Then, Lupe reached out and brushed light fingers down Jess’ torso, crowding further into her hold. “Well, should we ring in the wedding?” she asked slyly.
In lieu of response, Jess fumbled to put down the glass, freeing her hands to do just that.
-----
The train to Regina was mostly empty. Lupe had wondered all day about how to go about the task at hand, but had come up short. Now, it neared eleven o’clock, and Jess was getting sleepy from the lull of a second day of travel and the fading ache of a well-fought baseball season.
In the end, Lupe decided she didn’t want to wait, because today was the day, after all. So she’d gone hastily to the bathroom at the back of the train and scribbled a note on a piece of scrap paper. It was less than romantic, but (hopefully) better than nothing.
She’d opted to write in English, though it would probably be safer in Spanish, where fewer and fewer eyes would be able to decipher it as they went further North for the off-season. But Jess had mostly learned by ear, and Lupe had mostly romanced her in English to this point, anyway, and she didn’t want anything to be lost in translation.
She walked briskly back to the club car, trying to look nonchalant and easygoing despite the unprompted tightness in her limbs. It probably didn’t help that she’d just spent fifteen minutes in the tiny public bathroom, but at least that meant the people she passed likely thought she had a killer case of motion sickness or food poisoning, which might momentarily distract them from everything else about her that was out of place, like the shade of her skin or the cut of her clothes.
She found Jess right where she’d left her, trying not to nod off at a booth, pushing around peanuts and their shells into a makeshift checkerboard.
Dutifully, Lupe sat across from her, although she wished she could lean up against her side. Even the train was cold as they went farther and farther north through the dazzling green landscape.
“You’re shells,” Jess informed her as she sat. Lupe appreciated the gesture, but she panicked a bit at how much of the table was covered in salt and little papery bits of peanut residue. There was no place for the letter.
When she didn’t answer, but just looked wearily at the table, Jess stood.
“Are you nauseous, Lu? Switch with me; face forward. That’ll help.”
Lupe was a little nauseated, surprisingly, but not because of the ride. Still, she obliged and switched spots with Jess, because it meant her full pocket would be against the wall, farther from sight of the other passengers.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. The words—even though they were simple, easy, vague ones, by comparison to what she had just written—stuck in her throat.
Jess looked at her sympathetically. “I knew I should’ve bought mints at the last station,” she said.
Lupe couldn’t help but chuckle. She managed, “I’m not sick.”
“You were in the bathroom for a long time,” Jess countered, which was, to be fair, near incontrovertible evidence.
“Not sick,” Lupe repeated. She drummed her fingers against the salty vinyl table. “I have something for you.”
Jess quirked her eyebrows in interest. “You found something in the bathroom?”
Lupe laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” Her hands were shaking—why?—but she pulled out the folded-up scrap paper from her pocket and handed it across the peanuts to Jess. “Careful with it,” she cautioned.
Jess wiped her palms on her pants before taking it, which was not what she had meant with her warning at all, but at least it wouldn’t get covered in greasy fingerprints.
Lupe watched raptly as Jess unfolded the letter, glancing occasionally at the man sitting across from them, just to be sure he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t.
Jess’ keen blue gaze flickered down the paper. She got to the end, then doubled back and started again.
Lupe’s hand was tight around the ring in her pocket. When Jess made it to the end the second time, Lupe pulled out her fist and knocked gently on Jess’ knee beneath the table.
Jess looked up at her, her eyes a little watery at the rims, and wrapped her hand tightly around Lupe’s fist, like she wanted to embrace her.
Lupe raised her eyebrows in a gentle, hesitant question.
Jess nodded and smiled.
And then Lupe opened her fist and gave Jess the ring. She felt Jess grasp it tightly, and then she pulled her hand back.
Jess immediately looked down into her lap to examine it, and though Lupe couldn’t see, she could tell that she was turning it over and over in her fingers.
She was grinning so big that Lupe’s cheeks hurt just from watching.
After what seemed like an endless moment, she tucked it securely into her breast pocket, just the merest flash of gold passing from her hand before it was out of sight again. Then she folded the letter back up and put it in her pants pocket.
She smiled broadly at Lupe and sniffed, just once. “Thank you,” she said, and Lupe could hear the magnitude of unspoken sentiments behind it, too.
“You’re shells,” she said back, though of course she meant, ‘I love you, too.’
Two days later, when they arrived, exhausted, at the McCready farm, Jess put the letter on her bedside table. She read it every morning before Lupe awoke, fiddling with the gold band on her finger.
Querido,
Be careful with this letter. Watch out for that guy in the next booth over; he seems like a creep. I almost wrote this in Spanish to be safe, but it would miss the point if you didn’t understand all of it.
Okay, now that I’ve warned you, and you’re being careful (I mean it!), I love you.
I don’t know if you remember. It’s okay if you don’t. But today is the day that we decided was our anniversary. Last year, you called me your wife for the first time, and we drank a toast to each other. It has been one year since I really, truly knew you were mine for keeps.
I remembered the date, because it felt important. But now we’re on this dumb train, and the day’s almost over without me having said anything. (Because that guy is totally a creep.) So I’m writing a letter, and there’s at least two people waiting outside the bathroom, which is crazy, ‘cause it’s so late, but I guess I’ve been here for a while because I got nervous about what to say. It’s silly to be nervous, trying to write it all out. It’s silly because when I’m with you I feel safer than anywhere else.
Anyway, all I really want to say is that I love you. I love you, mi esposa. It means the world to me to get to call you that, even if it’s just in a letter. I think maybe I love you a little more every day, although it’s hard to imagine that tomorrow I’ll manage to outdo today. I won’t be surprised, though. You make miracles happen, Jess. You make me into a person I never could’ve been alone. You make every day have meaning that I can’t even describe. You are everything to me.
I was thinking about how I might celebrate the day for a couple weeks, and when you said you wanted to go home for the off-season, it just seemed right. I went to the pawn shop and found a pair of rings. Have to get them resized, I know. I don’t know who they might’ve belonged to before, but I like to imagine they were lovers, too. (Maybe two men, wouldn’t that be funny?) I wonder if they loved each other the way I love you, like it’s as necessary and easy as breathing.
Since we’ll be spending so much time on the farm, I thought maybe it would be safe enough that we can wear them around. If not, I’ll wear mine on my necklace. That’s where it is now. You can do whatever you want with yours, cariño. But maybe you can at least wear it when we go out to that bar of yours, so all your old girls know you’re not free anymore.
I’m joking, obviously. But I would like it if that little piece of the world could know we belong to each other. You and me, together.
So, I got you a ring. I figure, if we're in this together, we may as well do it right. You’re the love of my life, mi vida. I’m so glad to call you my wife, too.
Here’s to us. One year and many more.
Tu esposa, siempre
-----
Lupe woke up chilly, which could only mean that Jess was already up.
She got out of bed and yanked on the pajama pants that she’d discarded sometime in the night. Jess was a furnace, and their two-twin-beds-pressed-together-with-a-quilt-stuffed-in-the-crack setup was prone to becoming extra warm in the night, even in comparison to their queen bed in the city. It really truly had been the heat that had made Lupe take them off, but the way Jess had traced light fingers along her bare thigh until she’d fallen asleep had certainly helped her have sweet dreams. In fact, she woke up determined to make a few of those dreams come true today, if Jess was down for it.
She pulled on Jess’ old cardigan over her pajama shirt, just in case her father or brother was downstairs—they didn’t care, but Lupe still felt a little bit like a guest in their house and therefore beholden to at least some rules of etiquette—and lazily got ready for the day.
When she’d let her hair down from its scarf and washed her face, she wandered downstairs to the kitchen, where Jess was predictably sipping her coffee as she fried eggs on the stove.
“Morning,” Lupe said, and since it was just the two of them, she came up behind her and wrapped her arms around Jess’ waist. “Smells good.”
“How many d’ya want?” Jess asked, then turned her head to kiss Lupe on the temple.
Lupe hummed in pleasure at the affectionate greeting. “Two’s good,” she answered. “Where’s your dad?”
Jess chuckled softly. She flipped an egg out of the pan and onto a plate. “Went out for errands. He caught me coming back from the bakery this morning and got ideas, so he’ll probably be gone for a while. Matty’s out with him.”
“You went to the bakery?”
Jess flipped the second egg out onto the plate, then set to work toasting bread. She tilted her head so it rested against Lupe’s. “Happy anniversary,” was all she said in explanation.
Lupe whistled. “Already?” she joked, even though she knew. “No kidding. Happy anniversary.”
“Asshole,” Jess grumbled. “I got up early and did half of our chores; Matt agreed to do the rest. Then I went to the bakery and got us danishes. And Dad said he’d bring up some wine from the cellar, but it doesn’t taste any good.”
“How is it for getting drunk?”
“Excellent.” Jess stepped back from the stove with the plates, discarding the pan in the sink.
Lupe followed her to the kitchen table and eagerly took her cup of coffee. “Your family is sweet,” she thought aloud. “I still can’t believe how John treats us.”
Like always, this topic of conversation made a concerned cloud pass briefly over Jess’ face, no doubt as she thought about Lupe’s father, who she had never met and never would. But it passed quickly, and Jess reached across the table to take her hand, even the metal of her ring somehow warm from her effusive body heat. “He cares about you,” she said softly. “He just wants us to be safe.”
Lupe nodded, knowing it was true despite the colossal odds. “So what are your plans for our anniversary?” she asked, changing the subject.
Jess grinned slowly, smooth and savory like the butter melting on her toast. “Well,” she said slowly. “We have danishes for whenever we want. And the house is empty for at least another hour.” She winked. “I figured we could go out to the bar tonight if you wanted to, or get drunk—on wine, I guess—in the hayloft, like that first time last year.” She shrugged. “I’ll wine, dine, and love you, García, in whatever order you want.”
Lupe grinned back. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve this sweetness. She wasn’t sure what to do with all of it, but she knew where to start.
She stood up from her chair and crossed to Jess, grabbing at her braid to pull her into a long, indulgent, egg-flavored kiss.
“That’s McCready, to you,” she said.
-----
Lupe’s last year in the League was bittersweet, but mostly bitter. Her arm ached most of the time, and when it didn’t, her heart did enough aching to cover all other bases.
Jess didn’t press or try to make her act cheery. She just sat with her, held her, helped her stretch her elbow, and kissed her twice as often.
She’d been bumped down to relief pitcher the season before, and this year she was only out half the season, anyway. She’d continued to take up the de facto coaching position, though, since the AAGPBL had still yet to scrounge up any men who gave a real shit about the Peaches’ success, but insisted on trying.
She was a good coach, the only thing that allowed her to hold out hope that it wasn’t just out of pity that she was kept on the team so long.
The season closed, and she and Jess had gone home—this time to the apartment, because Jess’ brother Harry was moving into the farmhouse with his wife and their toddler, already with another little McCready on the way.
Lupe was depressed, to put it succinctly. She moved through work in a slog, dutifully stretched and did half-hearted sit-ups to keep herself somewhat in shape, and read a lot to keep herself from oversleeping. She was desperate enough for distraction that she’d even picked up one of Carson’s disgustingly sappy suggestions from the library.
When they’d discussed it on the phone, Carson had pointed out that Lupe was, herself, disgustingly sappy, and Lupe, unable to face the truth, had promptly hung up. (It was just for dramatic effect; she called back an hour later.)
She felt plenty disgusting, but not particularly sappy, and so had plenty of guilt when her anniversary rolled around.
She woke up later than she’d meant to, and Jess was gone, a note left in her stead.
Gone out to grab some things. Got us moved to second shift today, so don’t hurry to get up. X.
- J
Lupe sighed, counted as high as she could before losing her focus, and then spent another few minutes convincing herself to get up after that. Eventually, she dragged herself out of bed.
She managed to heat the coffee Jess had left out on the stove, then managed to brush her teeth and smooth her hair out of her eyes.
When she was getting dressed, Jess came home. She kicked off her shoes, tossed a paper bag onto the kitchen table, and then immediately came over to pull Lupe into a tight hug.
“Happy anniversary, Lu,” she murmured into Lupe’s hair. “Three years, can you believe it? I thought for sure I’d get lost on the subway and be long gone by now.”
Lupe laughed. Jess was the only one who had made her laugh in the last month; she just had a way about her. Lupe loved her so much, even if she felt like shit about everything else.
She was prone to getting lost on the subway, which was ridiculous, seeing as she could somehow just sense cardinal direction and loved ‘exploring’ the woods with no map. And most damningly, the city was a numbered grid. How anyone could get lost in it was just as baffling to Lupe as how Jess somehow managed to never lose her way in the sticks. It made no sense.
“It’s a grid,” Lupe said exasperatedly. “Cariño, you just get back on from the other side of the platform.”
Jess nodded against her shoulder, but she hissed in a breath through her teeth like she didn’t quite believe it. “I know,” she said. “I know that, but…. It’s loud down there.”
Lupe kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her a little tighter before letting go, as if holding her now would keep her from ever getting lost in the future.
Jess grinned at her as she pulled away. She was so gorgeous. Lupe wished she were able to appreciate the day more, wished she didn’t feel so wrong lately.
Jess ran a hand through Lupe’s hair. “Getting long again,” she observed. “Are you gonna grow it out again, or should I trim it?”
Lupe hadn’t thought about it; now that she wasn’t beholden to the League’s stupid press handbook anymore, she could keep it cropped the whole year around, instead of just cutting it once at the end of the season and letting it grow back out in time for spring.
“I guess I can keep it short, now,” she voiced her thoughts aloud. She reached up to feel the locks between her fingers, just at that obnoxious state of newly overgrown. A sudden relief washed over her at the thought of discarding her tresses and dresses for good—the first upside to letting go of her career.
“Okay,” Jess said with a soft smile. “I like how it looks short. Very handsome.”
Lupe smiled bashfully. “What’d you get?”
Jess laughed, catching on to Lupe’s misdirection tactic. “It’s our anniversary,” she explained. “I thought you’d like to celebrate.”
Lupe could hear the small thread of hope in the sentence and held back a wince. It was so hard for her to like anything at all these days, but she would try.
“Nothing fancy,” Jess assured, like she could feel Lupe’s apprehension despite her effort to hide it. “Thought maybe we could stay in today. Just you and me. Got us a bunch of snacks.”
Lupe had gotten snacks, too, and small gifts for Jess. She kissed her again, trying not to think too hard about the possibility of disappointing her with the lackluster day.
When they pulled apart, Jess tugged gently at a curl. “Let me get this,” she said, no nonsense, and then she turned and was gone, digging through their kitchen drawers in search of their scissors.
“Now?”
Jess located the scissors and pulled out a chair from their little table, putting it in front of her and looking expectantly over at Lupe.
“Jess…” she started as she moved closer, but trailed off.
“C’mere,” Jess murmured, ignoring her hesitance. When Lupe sat, she ran a gentle hand down to the back of her neck. “Same length as last time?”
Lupe didn’t have it in her to argue. She just nodded.
Jess began to trim around Lupe’s head, humming softly under her breath as she did. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the mundanity of the task or the disruption to her plans.
Lupe felt the uncomfortable itch of shame moreso than the tickle of her hair against her shoulders. It was their anniversary, and Lupe was not as enthusiastic as she wanted to be. She knew Jess could read her exhaustion all the time, and she wanted to be better for her today, of all days. But somehow she had ended up here, letting Jess trim her hair like it was any old Tuesday.
Her hands were gentle on Lupe’s scalp, moving slower than usual, like she was something precious and breakable. She was tender when she touched her, using her fingertips to guard against the cold metal of the scissors, keeping them from touching Lupe’s skin.
“Jess,” Lupe said again, helpless, not even knowing what she wanted to say, but needing to say something, to somehow explain herself.
“What, cari?” Jess asked softly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Lupe let out a shuddering breath. “No,” she answered honestly. Then, unable to help herself, she added, “I’m sorry.”
She heard the click of Jess setting the scissors down on the table. Then Jess was suddenly on her level, crouching in front of the chair and touching her cheek, forcing her to meet her gaze.
“Lu. Don’t be sorry.”
“It’s our anniversary,” Lupe protested dully.
Jess chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t care,” she said bluntly. “Obviously it means something, but I care more about you, not about what day it is.”
Lupe blinked hard, desperate to hold back the tears behind her eyes. It was only when she was with Jess that she cried, but she wanted to hold back now. She needed to be strong for Jess, stronger than this. Surely she’d be able, if she just tried a little harder, to scrounge up the enthusiasm that Jess deserved.
“It’s okay, Lupe,” Jess said softly. She brushed her fingers across her cheek, catching a tear that had fallen despite her efforts. “We can celebrate tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever you’re feeling better. There’s plenty of time.”
Lupe started crying for real, absolutely not strong enough to hold it back. She knew it was true, but she wanted to give Jess today. She wanted to be there for her in the important moments, the times that were supposed to be special. She was so sick of the dread that had followed her since her end-of-season notice. She was so sick of being only halfway there, not the same person whom Jess had made promises to. She wanted to be the one to take care of her, to keep her safe and happy. She couldn’t do that when something as simple as getting out of bed felt like such a chore.
“I’m tired,” she mumbled in a creaky voice. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I want to do something special, I just— I don’t—“
Jess shook her head. She picked up Lupe’s hand and turned it to face her, showing her the band on her third finger. It only made Lupe’s stomach swoop with guilt. But then, Jess took her hand and placed it on her own, tucking Lupe’s fingers over her own ring.
“This is what it means,” she said slowly. “Good days, bad days, all of them. You gave me this, and I wear it because I mean it, Lu. I love you always. You don’t have to pretend for me.”
It was so much more than Jess would usually say. Jess who so often showed her love rather than spoke it. Jess who wouldn’t let the blade of the scissors touch Lupe’s skin. Lupe clutched her hand, overcome with the promise. She didn’t bother to try to stop her tears any longer, but just bent forward in the chair, tugged at Jess where she held onto her.
Jess acquiesced easily, gathering her in a hug and holding her until her gasps subsided, until she felt a little more like a person again.
“Lupe,” Jess whispered when she’d finally stopped crying. “Let’s just relax today, okay? That sound doable?”
Lupe nodded and tried not to acknowledge the pang of guilt in her chest. There would be other days. She had to believe so.
Jess pulled back a little and grinned at her, then, unexpectedly. “Your hair is lopsided,” she commented, obviously amused. “Let me finish it, and then we can take it easy.“
Lupe laughed, somehow, at that idea. She’d been losing it this whole time with only half a haircut.
Jess smiled bigger. “Didn’t wanna say anything, but…” She tugged on Lupe’s left side, a good inch longer than her right. “It’s certainly interesting.”
She kissed Lupe on the cheek before getting up to finish the abandoned task.
“I wasn’t just saying it, y’know,” she continued as she evened out the other side. Lupe could tell from the slight laugh in her voice that a blush was creeping up on her. “You look good with it this length.”
“Yeah?”
Lupe liked how she looked with it short, too. She liked the way it had her walking a more ambiguous line, something more like herself and less of what the League had wanted her to be. She missed baseball, so much so that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same without it, but she had her body back in exchange, and that was worth something, too. And if her haircut made Jess blush, well, that was just an added bonus. As the hair fell down to the ground around her, some of her heaviness fell off with it.
Jess made her appreciation for the haircut extra clear later, holding her close in their bed. She kissed every inch of Lupe’s head, over and over, until she was giggling uncontrollably. Until she felt a little more like herself again.
-----
“Top shelf for the wife on our anniversary!” Jess announced with unnecessary pomp.
Lupe elbowed her in the ribs and shook her head. “The usual, Vi.”
Lupe’s single room in a Rockford boarding house for unmarried women was not the most ideal set up, although she was grateful that Bev had helped her find a place that would forgive her men’s clothes and above-average age, things that no doubt made her stand out like a sore thumb from the typical down-on-her-luck bachelorette that would end up in such a place. But women’s work was harder to find in Rockford than it was in a big city, and willing landlords even worse, so she made do with being the odd one out.
After all, she was married, something which Jess liked to remind her when she complained about not fitting in.
But the lodging meant a few extra weeks in Rockford, which meant more time for Lupe to nurture her soft spot for Edie, and to spend their anniversary at Vi’s bar.
“Anniversary!” Vi exclaimed, pulling out two PBRs and sliding them across the bar counter. “Well, damn, how many years is it?”
“Four!” Jess bellowed, easily the loudest person in the bar. She was sober, but already ruddy-cheeked and extra handsy, high off sheer joy. “Four whole years!”
Lupe had half a mind to be embarrassed, but she couldn’t help but grin anyway, pressing herself a little closer into Jess’ side. “Four,” she confirmed, a little awed at it herself.
“Edie!” Vi called over her shoulder. “C’mere, doll, bring us your words of wisdom!”
Edie came down from the other side of the bar, smiling sweetly right at Lupe as she did. “I’m needed?”
“These two have been married for four years,” Vi said, looping her arm around Edie’s waist. “They oughta have a speech from the lesbian fairy godmother herself.”
Lupe had talked to Edie a lot that season, spending many of her nights at the bar, even when Jess couldn’t sneak out. Often she didn’t drink, just helped Edie wash glasses and gossiped. As such, Edie knew how deeply Lupe loved Jess, how much the years meant to her, and how her gold band shone in the dim light of the bar.
Edie smiled wider. “Well, ain’t that something,” she drawled. “You know, this one here—“ She pointed knowingly at Lupe. “—asked me about my wedding ring once, way back when we first started getting ballplayers in. I guess I taught her well.”
Jess looked over at Lupe as if for confirmation. Lupe nodded, taking a swig of her beer to keep from blushing. “You did,” she conceded.
Jess grinned at her side.
Edie grabbed a third and fourth beer, popping the caps off with ease, and handed one to Vi. Her own, she raised, inviting in the stares from nearby patrons. “A toast,” she declared.
They all raised their drinks.
“Make it a good one, sugar,” Vi said. “You always do.”
“A toast,” Edie repeated. “To our very own Rockford Peaches. To their love which first took root in our old bar, and grew strong and tall in this one. May it forever blossom against all odds.”
“Mazel tov!” Vi added, and they all drank.
Lupe leaned her head back and downed half her bottle in one go. Then she thunked it back down on the counter and turned to Jess, taking her face in her hands, and kissed her far too long for a public setting.
Vi and Edie just laughed and whooped before going off to serve other customers, as she and Jess made out against the hard edge of the countertop like they were 25 again.
Lupe was hungry for it, for Jess’s body against hers, for Jess’ hunger in return, for Jess, Jess, Jess. Her wife, wearing her ring in this beautiful, beautiful bar.
When they finally broke for air, their foreheads still tipped close together, Jess grinned at her, flushed and almost teary-eyed—getting emotional despite herself. “Care to dance, McCready?”
Lupe took her by the hips and pulled her out onto the floor. “I thought you’d never ask, García.”
-----
No baseball season meant no moving, something that hadn’t quite hit Jess and Lupe until March. No moving meant more possessions, meant more permanency, meant more…pets.
At least, that’s what Jess was trying to convince Lupe of.
It wasn’t that Lupe didn’t like animals. She tolerated dogs, admired horses, and had a healthy respect for fish—especially the shiny, vicious ones at Battery Park. It was just that, they’d settled into New York with a sense of finality that felt inevitable. The city was the realest home Lupe had ever had, and even Jess was starting to prefer it to Moose Jaw, which had proven a little less welcoming when she tried to navigate it with a woman at her side—especially one she’d called ‘hermano’ and then ‘cariño.’ New York was home because it afforded them some comforts over others, small pieces of safety and ease at the expense of astounding rent and perpetual bad odors.
One downside about Manhattan was that only rich people had pets. On Lupe and Jess’ block, the people lived corralled in like animals, in crowded, dirty tenements with thin, drafty walls that offered little privacy and even less space. Anyway, there were already plenty of cute furry animals around, if you counted the rats. Which apparently Jess did not, despite her grudging respect for their industry.
Jess didn’t consider any place a home without a pet, having grown up with a loyal collie and a dozen rowdy barn cats and countless cattle and a horse or two. Lupe, on the other hand, had a hard time understanding just what the appeal was. They were never far from the park or the zoo or the aquarium. Why did they need something living in their own place with them?
It didn’t matter, though, what Lupe thought or felt about the concept of coexisting with an animal, because her heart throbbed every time Jess clucked at the carriage horses in the park or stopped to watch a squirrel furrow away a nut in its fat cheeks. They had no baseball season next year, and as much as that loss ached, it meant some things would become more real, too, including their little home in New York. They were getting a pet if Lupe had anything to say about it.
She’d been thinking about it, really, looking into it here and there. She’d wanted to have something concrete and helpful to say about it before bringing it up with Jess. It would take some time and effort to get right. For now, she pretended to be unconvinced (mostly because it was so cute the way Jess pouted over it).
The plan for today had been something much simpler: the flowers that Lupe had hidden under her jacket, the new wallet, and the drinks she’d bought for after dinner. Much of her plan involved their bed. It was a good plan, one that she’d spent weeks preparing for.
The pet issue did not factor anywhere into her plan for their fifth anniversary.
But the cat was just so fucking stupid.
It was so small that Lupe wasn’t even sure how she’d noticed it, but once she had, she couldn’t stop watching. She watched it skitter across the pavement after somebody’s lost ticket, chasing after the fluttering scrap of paper until it reached the edge of the platform. And then the stupid thing was peering over the lip of it into the darkness below, scrunching its tiny body back over its haunches as if preparing to jump into that abyss, right down into the tracks where it would be crushed. And not even venturing after a source of food, just some useless piece of trash. Don’t cats have mothers? Where was this cat’s mother? Hadn’t it ever been told not to do stupid things? It was going to die if it went down there, and soon. Incredibly soon, if Lupe’s watch read right. About twenty seconds, in fact.
Lupe was clutching the kitten before she had time to think about it.
“Tonto,” she grumbled at it under her breath. The kitten squirmed momentarily in her grasp, but then seemed to settle, snuggling up against her chest just as the train chugged up to the platform.
For a second, Lupe contemplated setting it back down, now that it was no longer in immediate threat of being crushed.
She got on the train instead.
It sniffed everything. It tried to eat the leaves off Jess’ flowers. It bumped its head repeatedly against Lupe’s jacket like a tiny linebacker. But it didn’t stray from her. When she set it down on the ground momentarily to gather her things, it twined itself between her legs.
“Fine,” Lupe said as she gathered it back up in her arms, a little irritated that her well-laid plans were going so suddenly awry. “Okay, you can come with.”
The cat purred. God damn it.
Jess was late getting back from her shift, so Lupe had time to wash the little cat’s paws and face—it was much harder than she’d expected—and feed it some canned fish they had in the cupboard. She was still setting out her gifts when Jess opened the door.
“Lu!” she greeted cheerfully. She kicked off her shoes and immediately pulled Lupe into a kiss. Instantly, Lupe melted, so grateful to have someone so wonderful to share her life with. She wasn’t sure she’d ever fully get used to it. Some small part of her hoped not, hoped that there would always be part of her that remembered to be appreciative.
It was obvious from the kiss that Jess’ plan involved the bed, too, so before they could get carried away, Lupe forced herself to pull momentarily back. “Jess,” she started cautiously. “I got something that— It wasn’t supposed to be today, but— I would’ve talked to you first, but I couldn’t just—“
Behind them, something toppled over.
They both turned to look, and there it was, the little kitten, chewing on the lace of Jess’ discarded sneakers.
Immediately, Jess let go of Lupe and crossed to the door, crouching and holding out a hand. “Hi little fella,” she said softly. The kitten sniffed her hand and decided she was safe, bumping its tiny head against her. Jess obligingly scratched behind its ears.
“Lu,” she said over her shoulder. “How did you find—?”
“The subway,” Lupe explained, joining them on the ground. “It was gonna die out there alone, Jess. I knew you wanted a pet, and when I saw it, I just couldn’t leave it there.”
The look Jess gave her in return was so sweet it almost made her stomach ache. It was half admiration and half accusation—you love it, too.
Lupe couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her again, pressing a hand to her cheek to keep her close.
The moment was cut short by the kitten scrambling its way up into Lupe’s lap. It curled into a ball and licked her thigh.
“Tonto,” Lupe scolded gently. “You’re supposed to be for Jess.”
Jess laughed. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of Lupe’s neck, scratching teasingly, as if Lupe were a cat. “Tonto?” she asked. “Is that his name?”
“He’s stupid.” Lupe stroked the little kitten’s fuzzy head even as she said it. “I saved his dumbass life.”
Jess made a squeaky sound with her mouth. “Tontito,” she teased, reaching over to place her hand in Lupe’s lap next to the kitten’s face. “Our little idiot.” She turned to rest her head on Lupe’s shoulder. “Thanks, baby,” she murmured. “He’s perfect.” She laughed and then added, sincerely, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Lupe laughed back, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by affection. “Happy anniversary.”
Their plans were delayed by the distraction of the new little creature in their home, but the more Lupe watched Jess interact with Tonto, the more she understood what it was that Jess had wanted so badly. The little kitten was just a kitten—playful and naughty and unbelievably cute—but it felt as though his presence had suddenly expanded their home into something sturdier, more real. By the time Tonto fell asleep in a little ball over the warm vent, the three of them had already grown into something resembling a family. It wasn't just the two of them anymore, but rather the two of them and their life, something bigger than them, that filled up their home and their days and the small spaces between. One more thing Lupe had thought she’d never get to have.
It was always like that with Jess. Every day had some new little surprise, a gift given so freely. Lupe had never realized it could be like this. Even after five years, it still managed to surprise her.
And, as it turned out, they still had plenty of time for the flowers and the dinner and, of course, the bed. At least until Tonto jumped up to join them on it.
Only then did Jess show any signs of regret over wanting a pet. But it was too late; Lupe already loved him hopelessly. Maybe even more than she loved Jess.
(There was no way.)