a cottage secret

a miracle

One of those days, Florence asked Betty if she'd like to come over. She didn't know what they would do together, she only knew she wanted them to be close. Maybe they could stay inside the house and play some music, or maybe they could go running on the lavender field and just lie there and wait for life to pass by.

She could do anything with her. Her presence was enough for Florence to feel like life was a blessing and that the universe was magic. She figured magic had to be real for Betty to be real too.

She didn't want to think that would end so soon. She wanted to believe that summer would last forever and she'd never have to choose between staying or leaving. That choice was nearly impossible for a girl her age. How could she decide something so big when she had barely seen anything in the world to find out what made her happy?

She just knew Betty made her happy. Happier than she had ever been with her family, with other friends, with other partners. She considered life to be bliss only when the neighbor was around to touch her hand, to braid her hair, to kiss her face.

She was more in love than she could put into words. The only way she could tell the redheaded girl she was the one she thought of before falling asleep was to be around her. She thought her actions could speak her mind.

Maybe asking her to come over, running her fingers through her spine while she played the guitar, baking her favorite cake and smiling at every word she let out of her mouth was enough. Maybe silence was enough.

Betty came and brought her guitar. She had also baked some cookies before she went there. Cinnamon cookies, the same ones as the first day they had together. She knew the girl would like it. Florence hugged her as if she was a physical necessity and the redheaded girl felt her heart melting inside her chest.

She also didn't know how to explain the way she felt about that girl. Every time she mentioned going away to live abroad, to run away and be as free as she could ever want to be, Betty felt her soul leaving her body. She knew that Florence would leave with her heart in her hands. She'd leave Betty with nothing but a memory.

But she didn't care. She figured the girl was worth it. The girl was worth every single possible heartbreak Betty could ever have. Because what they had was real. It was the only thing that mattered in her entire life. Nothing could ever compare to it, nothing was half as important.

Florence knew her and understood her more than she could ever try to make other people know and understand. She felt like she could finally just be herself – so she was figuring who that was.

When the girl's arms wrapped around her, it was like coming home.

For a minute, she thought she'd cry. But she was far too happy to let tears get in the way of her face and the girl's.

They decided to sit in the middle of the lavender field. There, no one would ever bother them. At the house, there were too many people, including Florence's grandma, and Florence didn't feel as comfortable loving Betty in public. She didn't want any stranger to judge or put their input or tell her she was making a mistake: she just wanted to love her. No complications. No questions asked.

Amidst the purple flowers, Betty played her love songs and Florence embroidered the two of them together in a green piece of fabric.

The sun set, making the skies purple and orange. They laid on the grass and held each other's hands. They were experiencing a miracle.