Love scene inspirada en la foto que Phyllis Siegel y Connie Kopelov, la primera pareja de lesbianas en casarse en NY, se sacaron durante su matrimonio. Y no, no es que me haya dado por escribir otra vez, es que tome un ramo en la u de escritura para obligarme a escribir ;)
She kissed her cheek smiling as the woman
declared her wife and wife. Clarissa was sitting on her wheelchair looking up
at her with a small smile playing on her lips.
Married. They were finally married. It
seemed almost unreal. They had wished to be more than just a mere couple for
almost 25 years and wishing seemed good. It had seemed enough; it had seemed to
be all they could get out of life. They hadn’t said it aloud, but it was always
present. It haunted them. Their ring-less hands had begun to suffer, to seem
unreal after their 15th anniversary. Clarissa had started wearing
gloves; Mary tried not to do her nails in an attempt to not care about it.
Mary was standing next to her, holding the
sides of her wheelchair tapping lightly on her shoulder. They said ‘old habits die
hard’ and she believed them. After a whole life together in which together had meant they were to be the
only pieces left in a giant puzzle, living through signs and symbols, it seemed
hardly improbable for them to stop now their hair had turned white and their
skin had wrinkled.
They had forever loved one another through
silences, blinks, and light taps on the shoulders. One blink: yes, two blinks:
I know, three blinks: Me too. Being careful around people hadn’t been an
arrangement between them, it had been an armour, it had been the only way in
which they could protect what they had. How many parties had they thrown
together? She couldn’t even remember all of them. Clarissa and Mary had met after Clarissa had
been divorced for half a decade and after Mary had been a widow for far too
long. A extended string of silences had brought them together, and a long
string of blinks combined with semi colons had kept their love in secrecy. In
those times people didn’t understand.
Clarissa had been divorced and hopeless whereas
Mary had just been looking to have a good time. Neither of them could have ever
envisioned what would come afterwards.
Clarissa looked up again, this time a question
slipping from her shoulders and a question mark putting emphasis on his request
through the way in which her eyes opened and closed at regular intervals. The
people around looked at them with curiosity while Mary stood there, unable to
decide.
Her silence, once again speaking for herself,
answered before the decision had been made. Mary kneeled on the floor, one knee
on the floor ‘it’s ok’; then the other one ‘it’s different now’ and looked at
Clarissa in the eye.
That day a second wedding kiss was given to
Clarissa, but in this time she received it full on the mouth. No complaints
were given, no regrets were held. These were other times.
