Chapter 3
The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.
She waved her hand—she left her wand at the loft in order to avoid having to turn her wand in with the rest of the staff when she arrived at the museum hosting the Bard Ball this year—and the jewels floated up and towards her. She murmured quietly the spells that Tammy had come up with, her fists tight and sweat dotting her hairline with the exertion of her focus. She trusted Tammy’s spells, had been on the receiving end of quite a few of them at times, and knew that Tammy had tested all of these out with the security measures that Nine Ball pried from goblin minds. But that she still held her breath as the rumored Crown Jewels of Merpeople floated toward her, balancing on the balls of her feet, ready to run the moment any security charms that they might have missed go off.
None do, though, and the jewels fall into her pouch neatly. She didn’t touch them for fear of lingering curses and pulled the Mokeskin strings tight. Then she crawled back from underneath the stanchion, heard Debbie spewing out German, and quickly left the display, cursing the Anti-Apparation Charm cast over the entire museum as she hustled as quickly as possible back to the kitchen.
Amita’s eyes sought her out, and she gave her a subtle nod. Then she raised her voice and said, in a voice and accent borrowed from someone else, “I have instructions here for Ms. Kluger’s meal. Gluten-free, no spice, and vegan. Is it ready yet?”
Before anyone could answer her, a house-elf ran up to her, clinging on her white robes in obvious distress. “The pasta is not al dente!” She shrieked, her small body shaking with the force of her haste. “It is not al dente!” She repeated herself, and Lou raised her eyes to the ceiling before kneeling down to take the elf’s knobby hands on her own and saying, in a voice as comforting as possible, “It’s alright,” she checked the small name-tag penned to the ragged pillowcase she wore, “Nissey. I’ll go and make sure the pasta is al dente.” She had no idea what that meant, and she could tell Amita knew by the way she turned back to the dishes washing themselves in front of her and bit back a smile. Lou glared at Amita’s back and let Nissey lead her to where a plate of pasta lay, apparently too soft and soggy to be ‘al dente’.
The rest of the heist went as planned. After dealing with the ‘al dente’ emergency, Lou squeezed two drops of Muggo vomit inducing gel into Daphne’s soup and caught Amita’s eye to jerk her head at the door. Amita nodded, and squeaked something like, “Bathroom,” as she slipped out through the back door of the kitchen. Lou bit back a laugh—Amita was still a greenie at heists—and followed shortly after, pushing a cart to seem authentic, and Amita quickly joined her from the bathroom.
“Be careful,” Amita said as she helped Lou push the cart into the back of the food truck. “You too,” Lou told her, and fired up the truck’s engine. She backed out of the parking space, and Amita grew smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. She parked the truck in Central Park, noted the time, and knew that right now Daphne would be puking her guts out, Constance should have already passed the necklace to Amita, and Amita would be in the bathroom with her setup already. She checked her reflection in the mirror and crossed over to the back of the truck to take off the white robes she had been given at the museum to find the dress robes Tammy had handed her a few days ago. She hadn’t had the chance to see any of the other women’s outfits, having had to report to work in the kitchens with Amita before most of the women left the loft, but if any of the dress robes Tammy had found for them were even a fraction as stunning as the one Lou had hanging in the back of her truck, it was going to be a feast for everyone else’s eyes. She wondered for a moment what Debbie’s would look like.
She shook the thought out of her head. Not a good idea to be fantasizing about Debbie in dress robes in the middle of the heist. She unzipped the white fabric covering her own dress robes and sighed with happiness at them.
Tammy knew her style better than anyone else, and the dress robes she found for her cemented that. The scoop neckline was wide and reached down to her stomach, nearly open but for the X shape over her chest in black velvet. It was held together by a cowl collar made of three stripes of black velvet that were of varying thickness. The rest of the garment was draped along her body carelessly and covered in intricate black stitching and emerald sequins that shimmered with each step she took. The material was as slippery as water and enchanted to mold to her body so that she could run without it slipping an inch, and the shoulders were padded so her shadow cut a sharp shape. She carefully tugged on her heeled black boots, briefly contemplated a necklace, and made sure her makeup was still as flawless as possible before stepping out into the night air. Goosebumps rose on the skin not covered by the warm fabric, and she conjured a watch to check the time. She still had five minutes before she had to go in to clean up Amita’s tools since, to her surprise, she was the only one who could perform wandless magic. She dissipated the watch, and started towards the museum. Might as well get there early.
She flashed a smile at the security at the front door, noting the increased numbers since she first arrived. She saw out of the corner of her eye photographers, likely from all over the world, waiting for the first famous person to come out. She took the chance while she was reaching inside the baggy sleeves of her robes to retrieve the invitation Tammy had gotten her from the small hidden pocket inside to look to the side, observing the sight of security trucks from the Colonial Wizard’s Bank. The jewels have already been found to be missing, then. She handed the security men her invitation, and smiled politely as they checked it and let her in.
Once she was in, she suppressed the urge to look for Debbie immediately, and instead started down the corridor towards the employee bathroom when she felt a burn from her Protean casino chip she still carried. Frowning, she reached down to see what Debbie had sent her.
‘Fake planted. Proceed with caution. – D.’
So there had already been a search and they had found the jewels. She sent a quick message back and continued on her way down to the employee bathroom. Tammy had already sent everyone away from this corridor, so she got to the bathroom with no problem and, with a flick of her hand, she murmured, “Depulso,” and the tools vanished back to the loft where she banished them. She arranged another message to Debbie before walking out of the bathroom:
‘Tools clean. – L.’
The Protean chip burned briefly, letting her know Debbie had seen her message, and Lou made her way back outside, finding the seat Tammy had gotten her with little difficulty. There, she sat and sipped orange juice for the rest of the evening, smirking at the stories a director was telling, pretending to be interested in the cancer diagnosis of a screen-writer’s toad.
Constance came near her exactly once. Lou could tell she was suppressing a whistle, so Lou lifted her head just a little and smiled, lowering her tone enough to be seductive when Constance asked if she wanted a refill, “Yes.” Constance’s eyes went wide, and Lou hid her grin behind her sleeve, taking the glass and jewel that Constance pressed into her hand. She excused herself shortly afterwards, strolling leisurely to the restroom and locking herself in a stall before looking down at the necklace in her hand.
She raised it up in the light, marveling at the delicate chain of metal Amita had worked around a large, circularly-cut diamond from the Sanguina in the short amount of time. The diamond hung on a thin chain of silver long enough to hang right below the straps making an X on her robes, drawing attention to the swell of her breasts. Amita really was a skilled Metal Charmer, Lou thought as she stepped out of the bathroom. The necklace was stunning, even if she hadn’t known that it was a part of the Sanguina.
She saw Tammy on her way back, and she nodded subtly toward her. Tammy’s dress robes weren’t nearly as flashy as Lou’s, but they were gorgeous nonetheless. It had a boatneck collar, fell down to her feet, and was embellished with sparkling black stones. Her shoulders were padded as well, her sleeves slightly puffed, and her long blond hair was up, calling attention to the long diamond earrings glinting in the dim light of the Ball and the elegant slope of her neck. Lou grinned. Tammy had received the loot as well. Tammy nodded back, and Lou flashed her a smile before settling back down in her seat.
According to the plan, Lou would be the second-to-last one to leave the Ball, so she sat in her seat pretending to eat the very well cooked—she hoped she would get to see Nissey to tell her that her food tasted delicious—pasta someone ordered for her while the guest number dwindled. She raised her glass when Nine Ball passed by her, dressed in a stunning, ruby red wrap-style robe, her dreadlocks hanging free for the first time since Lou met her. A chain of diamonds was wrapped around her wrist, but besides that she wore no other jewelry. Her face was impassive, as usual, but she tilted her head lightly in Lou’s direction and moved past her.
Lou waited until the room was almost empty before she stood, elegantly wiping her lips with her napkin, and strolled to the doors, stepping down the steps carefully. She had to leave later to make sure that nothing was amiss, her usual job after a heist. She checked the clock hanging on the outside of the museum and spotted Tammy leaving. That was her cue to leave, and as it was she was maybe a few seconds late to the rendezvous spot she and Debbie had agreed on.
She Apparated away from the museum and into the food truck once she stepped outside of the Anti-Apparation Charm. Debbie wasn’t inside, even though Lou was already a minute late. Lou frowned, and checked her Protean chip. The last message was still Lou telling Debbie that she had gotten rid of Amita’s tools. She pushed open the truck door, not panicking yet but prepared to if Debbie didn’t show up soon.
She rounded the corner around the food truck, and there Debbie stood, wringing her hands and looking anxious. Time, suddenly, seemed to slow down.
Lou made a choking noise, and Debbie’s head snapped up, her face melting into a gentle smile, eyes lighting up. Lou, on the hand, faltered. She could never forget how beautiful Debbie was, but the woman who stood in front of her… Debbie’s dress robes suited her as well, looked as though they had been created for the sole intention of Debbie Ocean wearing them, and Lou made a note to thank Tammy when she got the chance.
The fabric seemed to be in motion even though Debbie stood still, and the shimmering shades of blue and green on almost translucent silk created the illusion of ocean waves kissing the shore with even the light breeze. It had an asymmetrical neckline, trailing off one shoulder to reach the ground, and was beaded with small pearls that seemed to hint at treasures deep in the recesses of water’s embrace. Debbie wore no jewelry, and she stood there simply, her eyes trailing over Lou’s robes. Lou could almost feel the caress of her look, and she took a step forward, unable to resist the lure of the ocean that rolled on Debbie’s body.
She was glorious, as magnificent as the rising sun and the falling waves.
Lou took a step forward, hoping Debbie couldn’t tell how dazed she was. Debbie cocked a small smile, her eyes glued to Lou as she walked over the crosswalk to stand next to her. The two of them stood for a heartbeat, neither of them saying anything, just looking at one another like a traveler drinking from an oasis in the middle of a desert.
Debbie broke the silence first. Her hand reached out, almost involuntarily, to stroke the fabric that hung off Lou’s wrists. “Tammy’s certainly outdone herself this time.”
Lou licked her lips and nodded. She tried to think of something to say, failed, and ended up saying, lamely, “Blond really isn’t your color, Deb.”
Debbie laughed, twirled a loose strand of that had fallen out of the updo her blond wig was in. It broke the spell, shattered the stupor Lou had been in only to thrust her into another dream, and she grinned stupidly at Debbie’s laugh, so joyous and euphoric and so rare since she got out of prison. “Come on, Gil-galad,” she said, looping her arm through Lou’s, “We have a heist to celebrate.”
“A Lord of the Rings reference?” Lou asked, her heart fluttering at the feeling of Debbie’s arm threaded through hers. “Careful, Ocean. I might think you actually know Muggo culture.”
“I’ve caught up a bit,” Debbie said, shrugging, her eyes landing on the diamond that hung on Lou’s chest. The silence was pregnant with anticipation, but Debbie swallowed and didn’t say anything.
“My eyes are up here, Ocean,” Lou said, finally, smirking. Debbie cleared her throat, and brought her eyes back up to Lou’s eyes with what seemed like a great deal of effort. “Back to the loft, then?” Celebrations were due, and after that the team would have to scatter for few months, lying low to make sure the authorities were off their backs before they would be able to see one another again. Usually, that meant most of them wouldn’t see each other again, but this wasn’t a group of career criminals, so who knows what would happen after the first few days of celebration.
Debbie nodded, and let Lou Apparate them back. The loft was already filled with people, and Debbie and Lou walked back in to the sound of laughter and shrieks of happiness. They were all there except Tammy and Rose, and Lou checked her watch to make sure that they weren’t late yet.
“Moms!” Constance skated over to them, the dress robes Tammy had bought her bunched up in her hands to reveal battered sneakers. It was stunning as well: a mandarin collar, no sleeves, white and embroidered with a China blue that illustrated a flying phoenix and dragon wrapped around her body. It fell to her feet and had a gleaming zipper straight down the middle. She wore diamonds on her wrist, her fingerless leather gloves the same China blue as her bodice, and Lou cringed when she did an Ollie on her skateboard. “The floors, Constance,” She groaned, but couldn’t help the huge grin breaking across her face.
“It’s celebrating time, boss,” Constance whooped and ignored her, skating over to the kitchen. “Nine’s already opened up a bottle of champagne!”
Amita waved them over, dressed in her own dress robes, hers golden and with a deep V-neckline, flowing down from her arms to make an almost cape-like shape behind her back. She wore diamonds on her ears, and grinned wide at Debbie. “You guys look amazing.”
Nine Ball came out of the kitchen, holding an open bottle of wine, and said, with the most inflection Lou had ever heard from her, “We all look fucking dope,” and the women cheered. They all gathered around the couch as Nine Ball poured out the wine, but Lou lagged behind and Debbie stayed next to her. Lou frowned at her, and Debbie just looked straight ahead, her cheeks pink in the warmth of the loft and her eyes soft.
“You’re staring, babe.” Debbie helpfully reminded her as she got out two juice boxes and handed Lou one.
Lou raised an eyebrow. “Can’t help it.” She bared her teeth in a smile that was reminiscent of a vampire. “You look good enough to eat.” Debbie laughed, and poked her straw into the juice box. “Since when do you drink pear juice?”
“Since today,” Debbie said, brushing off the look Lou gave her. “Come on. It’s time to celebrate!” She tugged Lou’s hand, and Lou let her lead her back to the living room, warm and happy and light. Rose, the last to come back, came back to find four women almost drunk and two women sipping juice boxes while they looked over Muggo records. The poor Irish witch was bewildered, but she soon joined in and the night passed in games, alcohol, and a general feeling of rabid euphoria.
And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue.
Lou threw down the sheets in front of her and groaned. “Remind me why I always have to do this again?”
Debbie looked up from where she was scribbling something on parchment across from Lou. “Because, honey, you, Tammy, and Rose are the only ones who know what No-Maj tax forms are.” She brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Tammy’s already gotten Nine Ball to transfer all of the funds to an offshore bank, and Rose can barely keep her own taxes straight, so.” She shrugged.
Lou groaned again, putting her head down on the table. “The only sure things in life are taxes and death, huh?” She muttered to herself, the paper crumpling under her weight.
“Hm?” Debbie hummed, sounding distracted.
“Nothing,” Lou said, lifting her head back up. “I’m sick of this. Can we go out and eat or something before I finish this?” The piece of paper seemed to gloat at her, and she raised it and held it just far away that she had to squint to see it so she couldn’t be tempted to tear it apart. “Hm, Deb?”
Debbie didn’t answer for long enough that Lou lowered the paper and raised an eyebrow at her. She had a distracted look on her face, and Lou had a feeling that even though she was looking at her Debbie wasn’t seeing her. “Earth to Deborah,” Lou waved a hand in front of her. “Can we go get hot dogs?”
“What do you want to do with your cut?” Debbie asked suddenly.
Lou blinked. “I don’t know.” She had what she wanted sitting in front of her. Beyond that, though, she had thought about perhaps flying along the coastline of California, maybe head over to Japan to see an oni and get her hands on some of their cherry wood. Greece, too, and she wanted to visit some of the Muggo structures in Rome and Beijing. She had always been interested in the study of beauty. “Travel, maybe?”
Debbie’s eyes were on hers, again, and they glinted like obsidian under the sun. “When are you heading off?”
Lou blinked again. This conversation was taking a turn she hadn’t predicted. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” She really hadn’t been thinking about it seriously because she hadn’t been planning on leaving yet. She figured she would give Debbie another month, see if she got bored, and then decide whether or not she’d head off. “I’ll probably head off soon. Get this out of my head,” she waved a hand at the taxes in front of her.
“Hm,” Debbie hummed noncommittedly. Then she stabbed her quill into its holder, stood up, and said, “Let’s go out. I want hot dogs too.”
Lou stood up and grabbed her cloak as well, still bewildered but more interested in the idea of trashy hot dogs that were probably made from rat meat than dwelling on Debbie’s curiosities.
The next few days, every once in a while, when they’re sitting there quiet and alone together, Debbie would ask, “When are you leaving?” The second time she asked, Lou raised an eyebrow and quipped, “Trying to get the loft to yourself, Ocean?” The third time she asked, Lou lifted Debbie’s head from off her lap to get a glass of water and came back with another magazine for Debbie. The fourth time, Lou accidentally cut too much of Debbie’s hair and they had to scramble for a spell to make her hair grow back. The fifth, sixth, seventh time Lou dropped what she was doing and walked out of the room, leaving Debbie to clean up the baking supplies, then Korean take-out, then Lou’s records.
The eighth time she asked, Lou set her chopsticks down next to her plate carefully and asked Debbie, “Do you want me to go?”
Debbie’s eyes were dark and unreadable as she replied, “Do you want to go?”
“Duh.” Preferably with you, of course, but their conversations always left more to the imagination.
“Duh.”
Oh.
Lou hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud when Debbie answered, “I know you want to go, and—”
Lou stood. “Alright, then.” She had the distant thought that this was her loft, and if anything, Debbie should be the one leaving, but the thought barely registered against the blood flooding to her ears. “I’m going to pack.”
Debbie bit her lip, looked down at her plate, and said, “You don’t have to go so early if you don’t want to. I just meant—”
Lou interrupted her with a laugh, her voice was bitter when she replied, “Make up your mind, babe.”
Debbie chewed her lip, her eyes still on her plate, her body tense, but when she spoke it was flippant and casual, “Don’t let them tell you I’m the clingy partner.” She raised her eyes to Lou, who hoped the blood didn’t drain out of her face at the implication Debbie was making. “You should go, Lou. Go, and have fun.”
Lou levitated her plate to the sink and had the sinking feeling of déjà vu. “Great.” She left Debbie to finish her Korean cold noodles, and left without another word to her room. Except even there she couldn’t seem to get rid of Debbie, the smell of lavender lingering on her sheets, Debbie’s clothes strewn over her floors, strands of brown hair on one of the pillows. Everywhere she turned, there were signs of the cold-hearted con who sat downstairs, pushing Lou away at every corner. Every single fucking place she looked.
She gathered some things, placed them in her Mokeskin pouch. The pouch had been with her for longer than Debbie had been, she thought hysterically, maybe she should fall in love with it too.
She stopped in the middle of stuffing a Muggo shirt into her pouch. She thought carefully back to what she just thought, feeling as though she were holding back a tsunami. Oh. Shit.
This was not what her therapist had meant by damage control, she thought numbly. No, her therapist had told her to stay away from things she control herself around, stay away from things that made her think dark thoughts, and stay away from things that had too much control over her emotional stability. Stay away, not fall in love with said things.
She ripped out of her room and hurried down the corridor, into the room furthest away from hers. She had been trying to give Debbie space when she gave Debbie that room, thinking that the brunette would appreciate it after five years of sharing cells with less-than-preferable roommates. Now, she was just glad it was far away from her room. Ironically, it was the one room in the loft that was bare of any traces of Debbie Ocean, and she heaved a sigh of relief when she realized that the smell of the air here was simply musky and tinged with gray rather than light purple.
She fell asleep on the chair next to the bed that night, still clutching her pouch. Her dreams were formless and dark, a languid mass of anger and fear and sadness and a tinge of guilty joy. She woke up on the bed that should be Debbie’s and felt stiff everywhere. The lights were still dark outside, which was what she preferred. She wanted to leave early, before Debbie woke up, because Debbie slept late and Lou didn’t think she could bear another goodbye with no reunion in sight. Some small, grimy part of her also thought it served Debbie right to be left like that, blind sighted the way she kept doing to Lou. She had no idea if Debbie would be here when she got back, and she didn’t want to care.
Spoiler: she did care.
She stumbled down to the kitchen, the beginnings of morning sunlight just beginning to peep in through the blinds. The smell of coffee should have been her first warning sign, but she was sluggish with restless sleep and she missed it.
“Sleep well?” Debbie said, not turning from where she sipped her coffee at the kitchen counter, reading The New York Ghost. Lou stared at the tiny moving people in black and white on the paper for a moment, not responding. “I made you coffee.”
“Thanks,” Lou managed, grabbing the steaming mug that Debbie pushed towards her and settling down at the kitchen table. Debbie lowered her newspaper and stared. Lou sipped the steaming liquid and repressed a sigh that nearly escaped her. She kept her voice even as she took another sip, “It’s good.” Debbie had dark shadows under her eyes, and Lou wondered if she had even slept. Something must have happened with the funds. She resisted the urge to groan and burry her face in her arms, her brain already supplying her with a thousand visions of a future buried in Muggo files and Swedish forms. “Is everything okay?”
Debbie nodded, still looking harried. Lou took another sip and started listing the reasons why Debbie would look that way in her mind. A) Debbie didn’t want to tell Lou. That made sense, Lou supposed, in some weird twisted way, in that she always had an ace up her sleeve and maybe this was another twist that she wanted to hide until the big reveal. B), Debbie had insomnia. Also likely. She hadn’t noticed Debbie not sleeping, but Debbie was up much later than her usual bedtime that first night she knocked on Lou’s door, so maybe she had chromic insomnia. C), and this was least likely, but there could be a problem with the heist and she didn’t need Lou to help with it.
Debbie stood to go reach for a bagel and Lou’s eyes followed her even as she continued making her list in her mind. “Are you leaving now?”
Lou shrugged. “Probably. Early bird catches the worm.”
Debbie nodded, and reached across the counter for her empty mug. She turned to put her mug in the sink, and she didn’t turn back. Lou chewed the tasteless bagel and had the unnerving sense that she had been in this play before, and she didn’t like the way it had ended.
She swallowed and stood too. She thought about reaching out to touch, but Debbie had withdrawn into herself, and Lou had never known how to draw her out. Instead, she did was she does best, and decided it was time to do what she did best and run. The Mokeskin pouch seemed to mock her for it, sitting on the table leering at her. She glared back at it and cleared her throat, pushing down the strange feeling that overtook her throat, waiting, wanting Debbie to say something.
Debbie didn’t turn to look at her, leaving her with nothing more than the back of her head. “Apparate safely.”
She nodded, knowing that Debbie didn’t see her, and pushed her hand deeper into the pockets of her robes. She opened her mouth, thought about it, and closed it. She didn’t have anything to say to the back of Debbie’s head, and Debbie wouldn’t want to see her dithering anyway. Neither of them had much patience for that, and she could almost feel palpable waves of defensiveness rolling off of Debbie. She wanted to leave with a promise, something as simple as, ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ or ‘I’ll be back soon,’ but she wasn’t sure Debbie wanted to hear them and she wasn’t sure she wanted to make them. She tugged on her leather gloves, nodded one more time, glad that Debbie couldn’t see her repeat the action, and reached to weigh the couch in her palm. She studied it, and tried one last time. “See you.” The syllables were flippant and careless, and she saw Debbie stiffen.
Debbie was still facing the window when Lou turned to walk out the front door. “See you.”
Lou stepped into the brisk morning air and closed her eyes, letting the unsettled feeling wash over her entirely before attempting to Apparate. The last thing she needed was to be Splinched because she was too distracted with whatever game she and Debbie couldn’t get out of. When she was sure she could picture her destination, she opened her eyes and felt the tell-tale push at her eardrums. She envisioned the coastline of California and felt her chest constrict and a sharp tug at her hand. The next thing she knew, the iron bands tight around her chest loosened and the sea wind brushed against her face.
The water glimmered under the morning sun when she opened her eyes. She sniffed, and ran a hand across her eyes, scoffing when she felt the wetness. How pathetic, she thought, giving the ocean a hard look. Even now, running from monsters that lurked around the corner, she ran towards the ocean. She watched the waves kiss the shore and cleared her throat to get rid of the rising lump in her throat.
Let no one say she isn’t a romantic, she thought scathingly. She gave the ocean one last hard look and turned away, pulling her broomstick out of her small pouch. She had long since stopped being able to differentiate comfort from lies when she told them to herself.
She found a spot with shade and laid her head against the bark of a palm tree, ignoring the roughness against her head. She would soak in the sun and the feeling of uninhibited freedom for a while, she decided, then start casting the spells that would make her invisible enough to take off.
She fell asleep, her dreams listless and flat, losing any sense of vibrant color. She woke with a start, feeling agitated, and rubbed her eyes hard. She couldn’t feel the warmth of the sunshine anymore, and she opened her eyes only to see dark, pointed, and if Lou knew anything at all, heeled boots, standing in front of her, blocking the sunlight. A nightmare turned into a dream, she thought distantly, and it’ll wither in the light of the sun. She was sure of it. Still, she hoped.
“You forgot your Protean chip,” Debbie’s voice told her, still maddeningly indifferent, still maddeningly contradictory when she herself stood in front of Lou. Lou didn’t look up. She stared down at the shoes, and wondered if a person could hope so much that they implode from hope.
“Lou?” She didn’t answer at first. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, a sea of pain and regret and joy and love would gush out. She was afraid that one word and Debbie would be gone, taking her lavender scent with her, and Lou would wake up, broken when she realized that she was so pathetic she was dreaming about Debbie in vivid colors.
Debbie waited for her, and when she was sure she wouldn’t burst out into tears, Lou raised her eyes and found Debbie’s. Her eyes were so soft Lou thought she could stumble into them and never need to come back out again. She let Debbie search her eyes, silent for a heartbeat that lasted for an eternity, and croaked out, “Why are you here?”
She heard the gravel crunch, and Debbie kneeled down to face her. Her voice was soft. Tender, even. “You left your chip.” Debbie held out the casino chip that Lou had left on the kitchen counter.
A silly excuse, and they both knew it, but Lou took it anyway and stood up so that she looked down at Debbie now. She waited for Debbie to say something else, and Debbie stayed, crouching on the ground looking up at Lou. The silence dragged on until Lou stopped hoping. The temperature in her voice dropped by a thousand degrees when she spoke next. “Thanks.” She turned to go.
A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, unrelenting even when she tried to tug away. “What, Debbie?” She didn’t have to fake the exhaustion in her voice. She pretended she didn’t hear her voice break on the last word. She pretended Debbie didn’t hear her voice break on the last word. Debbie tugged at her hand and though Lou couldn’t bring herself to look Debbie in the eye, her eyes rose unwillingly.
Debbie seemed to grapple with herself before she said, her voice as even as choppy waves during a storm, “I thought, when I got out of prison…” She trailed off.
“What?” Lou refused to soften and give Debbie an easy way out. She finally lifted her eyes, and Debbie’s eyes were dark with turmoil when she met them.
Debbie took a deep, steadying breath. “Claude was only meant to be a job. After you left—”
Lou interrupted. “You told me to leave.” She needed to make that clear.
Debbie nodded lightly in acknowledgment of Lou’s words and chewed her lip. Lou waited, a chasm in her stomach filled with butterflies. “I thought about rehearsing a speech, but I thought then it would seem rehearsed. Then I thought about just telling you spontaneously, but that felt insincere. And then I thought—”
“Just spit it out, Debbie.” Lou’s heart was beating so fast it felt like one long beat. “What?”
Debbie looked into Lou’s eyes, looked down, and looked back up at her. “I hate this,” she murmured, almost to herself, her eyes on Lou’s. “I can’t plan for this.”
Lou saw and heard everything in sharper focus than she thought possible. She could see each breath Debbie took, could see each flutter of eyelash every time Debbie blinked, could hear almost nothing except the rush of her blood and the sound of waves lapping the shore. She watched as Debbie took another deep breath and stepped closer, close enough that she could whisper. “I love you,” Debbie told her, her hand reaching out and pausing a hair’s width away from Lou’s cheek. “Will you come back soon?”
The world burst into arresting color. Lou looked at her, blinked hard, opened her mouth, closed it, thinking she must look like a gaping fish. But Debbie didn’t make a joke, didn’t take the escape route that Lou accidentally offered her. She just looked back evenly at Lou, the slight color creeping up her throat the only sign that she was affected as well.
She nodded, overcome, and pushed her cheek into Debbie’s hand, sighing at Debbie’s cool touch. Debbie understood her, she knew. Debbie heard the ‘yes’ her heart thundered with every beat. Debbie heard the ‘I love you, too’ that Lou told her with every breath. Lou was sure she did. But Lou still raised the hands that had been frozen at her side and pulled Debbie close, not caring that Debbie was still holding onto her wrist like she was afraid Lou would run away.
Debbie pulled back first, her cheeks flushed now, and Lou thought that she had really been mistaken when she thought Debbie looked glorious on the night of the heist. No, this Debbie, the one who’s breath hitched a little, who’s cheeks are flushed a soft pink, who’s eyes looked at her so unabashedly sweet and gentle, this Debbie was the Debbie Lou wanted ingrained in every fold of her mind. This Debbie was her Debbie, the Debbie that no one else in the world had the honor or the privilege of seeing, and Lou was in awe.
“Lou?” She looked at Debbie, wanting to kiss every single one of Debbie’s light freckles, the eyelids that were fluttered shut, the quivering eyelashes. She didn’t bother answering. Instead, she pressed forward and gently, very gently, pressed her lips to Debbie’s.
Debbie’s lips were warm, soft, and tasted like some ancient, innate thing that kept tugging Lou in deeper and deeper, something familiar because she remembered the taste of those lips but foreign too, the taste of something completely new—a promise. She pulled back before she let herself drown, just enough to mumble, because she was too weary to read between the lines and hear underlying assumptions anymore:
“I love you too.”
Debbie made a sound that sounded like a muffled sob and a laugh, so Lou pulled her close and hungrily captured her lips again, swallowing any sounds of pain or release that either of them would make. She wanted the feeling of Debbie’s lips tattooed on her lips, as effervescent as the glimmering sunlight reflected off the ocean. She was light, so light that she might float away into the sky if not for Debbie, anchoring her to the ground, and she lost herself in Debbie all over again.