The Other Woman

*****KIRA*****

Kira leaned her weight over the balcony, relishing in being drenched by large, warm raindrops. It was late August in New York, so the rain was not a promise of pneumonia; it was more of a gentle lull to lubricate a night full of anxiety. It soaked the hood and arms of the gray hoodie she’d thrown on – a welcomed distraction to the onset of worry she’d been trying to stave off for weeks. 

Cynthia was leaving in the morning – in less than six hours – and, unlike the other amazing career milestones that had required her to be here and there and there and back – this wouldn’t be a quick return. She’d actually be living in London again for the next year and a half – possibly longer if the studio decided to split “Wicked” into two parts. 

Of course, she was ecstatic for Cynthia. Even with all she’d done in her career, "Wicked” was a dream, once-in-a-lifetime role that she’d get to play alongside Ariana Grande – the biggest pop star in the world.

The world already knew of her talent, but this movie would undoubtedly put her face and voice into the home of every person with an internet connection. Her life was about to change to the nth degree. 

The logistics of her getting said role, however, had birthed complicated emotions in Kira. Namely, the distance.

Of course, Cynthia had invited her to come along, but it was more of a courtesy. Even if she could've secured the vacation time from her job as a publishing assistant, her better half knew that she’d never be able to abandon writing her debut novel when she was already behind her deadline. A move of this magnitude would throw her writing schedule off by several weeks,  if not longer, and she couldn’t lose the time. Getting her writing career off the ground fueled Kira as much as music and acting did Cynthia –  she’d feel incomplete without her ability to create. 

Even without her own aspirations, she didn’t want to uproot herself to a foreign land when Cynthia would be working herself to the bone for 70 % of the day, and sleeping the other 30 % of it. 

Whereas she thrived on travel, on exploring new places, stability was much more alluring to Kira. 

One of the many ways they were different.

During the three years they’d been together, discovering – and navigating – those differences had been a rather enlightening, fulfilling challenge because they realized that nothing had been strong enough to keep them apart – even the need to sleep in separate bedrooms. 

Cynthia was an early riser, while Kira was a certified night owl, who liked to head to sleep within an hour or two of her girlfriend's 4 a.m. workouts. 

Plus, Cynthia liked to lock into her work before going to bed, requiring either complete silence as she read over a script or the grace for her wall-shattering vocal theatrics to prepare for her latest show. 

It was unconventional but necessary. 

Plus, it’s not like they didn’t often skirt those boundaries whenever those amorous feelings crept up between them. 

Those plentiful moments when career and obligations and everything else came second to a soul-stirring conversation, a sweet, tender kiss or – more often than not – passionate, emotional love-making that soothed not only their bodies but their souls.

Kira sighed wistfully. Although she planned to visit once she got settled, with Cynthia’s unpredictable schedule, and the front-loading that came with getting a movie production of this girth off the ground, it’d be a while before they regularly got to enjoy each other again in person. 

Weeks at least.

“Why on earth are you out here?” Called out a voice – her favorite voice. Firm, slightly quizzical – always full of love, and so, so British.

“Enjoying the rain,” Kira replied quietly, just loud enough for Cynthia to question if she’d heard her correctly. 

Kira intended for her to scold her, to tell her to get out of the rain before she got sick, but she only heard the pitter-patter of bare feet over concrete approaching. Then she felt a firm, yet soft, frame step behind her, arms slinking around her waist. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Kira asked, louder this time. “You have an early flight, and can’t be late for your first day.” 

Cynthia laughed, almost haughtily. “When have you known me to be late?”

Kira humped her shoulders, knowing full and well the answer was never. A consummate professional she was. And yet, she couldn’t produce the words – a rarity for her. 

Between the two of them, she was the chatterbox, whereas Cynthia relayed multitudes with much fewer words. Neither minded the other’s form of expression – except when the energy between them was off. In moments of anxiety or stress, their roles often flipped. 

“Okay, you obviously have something on your mind,” Cynthia said, knowingly. “Do you want to talk?”

When Kira didn’t respond, Cynthia guided her body around until they were facing each other. Although she was a few years older, she was also slightly shorter. On her tiptoes, she reached up and pushed the soaked hood from her open, brown eyes, until they met. 

Rain dripped down from her dampened hair, providing the perfect cover for the stream of tears rolling from her eyes. 

“Baby, you’re crying,” Cynthia said, voice pitched upward.

Usually free, and open, with her emotions, Kira let her gaze wander around her, unable to make eye contact.  

The shorter woman opened her mouth to speak, undoubtedly to soothe the worries she couldn’t vocalize, but that were plastered across every inch of her visage. “I’m happy for you, but I’m going to miss you …  I don’t know how I’m going to get through this next year without you.  

With a sigh, Cynthia reached for her hand, turning to lead them back inside – away from the warm, wet, humid balcony. Kira didn’t hesitate to follow, walking in silence through their sprawling penthouse apartment, past the kitchen, down the hall, her bedroom, into Cynthia’s.

In these moments, she was grateful for the ways in which they differed. As deeply as she did feel, Cynthia almost never allowed her emotions to control her; whereas Kira was sometimes a slave to the wave of feelings that flowed through her at any moment. 

They stopped as they approached the foot of the bed. Cynthia released her hand, and turned to face her once more, gathering her hoodie at the waist and pushing it up her body, over her bushel of curly hair, then starting work on her T-shirt underneath until all that was left were her bra and pajama pants. She slinked her hands back across her svelte waist, and pushed herself upward into a sweet, chaste kiss  – all they had time for – then walked over to her large, walk-in closet, to search for a suitable replacement.

A moment later she emerged with a pajama top; it didn’t match, but it was dry. “Here put this on; because you are not about to ruin my silk sheets,” Cynthia said as she tossed the top her way. 

Kyra took the top and slid it on, before allowing her body to descend to the edge of the bed. “You won’t be able to stop me when you’re gone,” she replied, voice uncharacteristically buoyant on the word gone.

It had always amused her how meticulous Cynthia was about her things. She worked hard, yes, and deserved everything she'd been able to afford herself. But a few drops of rainwater could never hurt her ridiculously priced, though admittedly immaculate, sheets. 

Usually, this would be the time that Cynthia would follow up with an equally challenging quip – one based on nothing other than the fact that riling each other up always led to the most satisfying outcomes – but Kira was met with only compassionate silence. 

A beat later: “Come on, let’s go to bed,” said Cynthia as she settled underneath her sheets. “I do have to be at the airport in a few hours, but I always, always have time for you.”

Kira looked back at the other woman – hours away from embarking on her biggest career move yet. Love and pride bloomed up in her chest, overtaking, for a moment, the bittersweet emotions she’d been feeling all evening. Through packing, through dinner, through their last time wrapped up in each other’s bodies on this side of London. 

Unable to hold her back from a good night’s rest a second longer, she obliged her request, joining her at the head of the bed. 

Slipping under the covers, Kira settled onto her side facing the other woman, who had her head propped up on her pillow. Their hands easily found each other underneath the silky cool fabric, their fingers entwined together, their eyes journeying across each other’s faces. 

Savoring the moment, Kyra committed Cynthia’s beautiful features to memory. Her large, evocative eyes, her gorgeous lips, her deep brown skin.

Taking stock in Kira's own beauty - her round face, her glowing brown skin, her delicate features, she slinked her hand up her wrist, past her arm, tracing unknown platitudes into her skin. “I love you, you know that right?” She said, a tender lilt underlining her words. 

Kira smiled sadly. “I love you too.” She paused. “It’s just that I’m going to miss you terribly.” 

Cynthia pressed her lips together, muted sadness spreading over her face. “I know …And I’m going to miss you too. But we have been apart before, babe, and it’s only ever made us stronger in the end.” She said reaching up to stroke the side of her face. 

“I know.” Kyra bit her bottom lip. “I just …” She sighed. 

Cynthia laughed softly. "We spent the first year of our relationship running up our phone and internet bills texting and Facetiming, and doing whatever else we could to stay connected while I was filming this and that, and that and this.”

“Well, it was a lot easier to not have you every day then, because, well, I didn’t know how amazing being in your daily presence could be. Now you've gone and spoiled me.” 

Her cheeks flamed hot, as embarrassment made itself known. But dammit, it's how she felt.

“You’re not the only one who’s gotten spoiled,” Cynthia said, pulling Kira closer. “What am I going to do without seeing this smile every day? Hearing your laughter? I know I can be a bit intense at times, and you help to ground me, and make me remember that, at the end of the day, life is to be enjoyed.”

“You’re going to go and conquer the world,” Kira replied without missing a beat. “That’s what you’re going to do … Make everyone love you as much as I do.” She paused. “Well, actually, I don’t know if that’s possible, but you'll definitely come close.”

“You really think so?” Cynthia asked earnestly – one of the rare moments she wore her insecurities on her sleeve.

She’d led films before, and even had the shiny Oscar nomination to prove her acting prowess, but this behemoth of a film was … different. So many of her future opportunities were riding on her performance … on the audience’s reception. Not to mention the critics.

“That’s the only possible outcome because, well, you’re you,” Kira said. ”All you needed was the platform, and I can’t imagine a bigger vehicle than ‘Wicked.’ You’re going to get all the theater nerds, all the drama fans, the fantasy lovers – everyone. Not to mention … the bi-curious.” 

Cynthia chuckled. “What, no lesbians?” 

Kira scoffed. “Have you not seen your Instagram comments? You've had that market secured for years now,” she said, a slight wave of jealousy overtaking her. “Your fans are shameless sometimes.” 

Quirking her brow, Cynthia couldn’t quite disagree – not that she’d ever be arrogant enough to admit it. Still, her quiet resignation about her widespread appeal endeared Kira to no end, prompting a reluctant chuckle from her end.

“Regardless of all that,” Cynthia said with a smile, “There’s no one out there whose support, love, attention, and affection means more to me than yours.” She brought Kira’s hand to her mouth, planting a kiss. “You’re my person.”

Kira pouted again, re-threading her hand in Cynthia’s. “You’re my person.”

Cynthia smiled into a yawn, finally feeling the effects of their late night and the immense journey ahead of her. “So rest in that, darling,” She added sheepishly, her eyes fluttering closed. “Nothing will everrr come between us. Not time, not distance … not people. Nothing and no one .”

Kira smiled, finally feeling a little better. “Nothing and no one.”