Begin Again | on hold

twenty-seven

They hold hands on the way to Viv's flat. It's well after one in the morning and after waiting fifteen minutes for a bus that didn't show, they decided to suck it up and walk the mile, and Sunny's glad now because it's an excuse to walk with entwined fingers, their heights a perfect match. She initiated it: after they left the main street that runs through Black Sands like an artery, she slipped her hand into Viv's to see if it felt right and it did. It does. It's late Tuesday, early Wednesday, so there aren't many people out on the cobbled lanes that string the pubs together like Christmas lights. They own the road.

Until they don't.

Sunny's first thought is that they're a target. A couple of lesbians with bright hair, holding hands in the middle of the night. One side of her brain tells her to drop Viv's hand, like that'll make it any safer, but the other side is louder, the side that tells her to hold on tighter. Viv squeezes her hand in return and eases her to the other side of the road, away from the two dark shadows approaching from the other direction.

Sunny's heart is in her throat until the black-clad pair step under a streetlight and their pale faces are illuminated, the light bouncing off white-grey hair. They are not a threat, not a pair of louts who might turn hostile. They are Astrid and Celeste, dressed in swathes of black material, Astrid using an umbrella like a cane. Viv gives them a wary look but Sunny waves when Celeste raises a hand in acknowledgement, crossing the road towards them.

"Do you know them?" Viv asks, her lips so close to Sunny's ear that she can feel warm breath against that soft patch of skin where her lobe meets her jaw.

"Yeah, they're my friends," Sunny says. She's not sure it's the right word but it's the easiest way to sum up the strange relationship she has with a couple of octogenarian lesbians. Perhaps mentors would suit better, though she hasn't seen them as much as she probably should have.

"Sunny!" Astrid beams when recognition hits. She pulls Sunny into a warm hug as though they've met more than once. Granted, it was the kind of meeting that binds people, the kind that only needs to happen once in order to form a unique kind of connection. Sunny bared her soul to these women within minutes of meeting them, so the hug feels nice. She leans into it, breathing in Astrid's scent. While Celeste is expensive perfume and posh lipstick, Astrid is cotton and lilies, a light and sweet aroma that mixes with the sea air to create the kind of fragrance that people pay richly to own as a candle.

"What're you doing out so late, darling?" Celeste asks, a hand on Sunny's elbow. It gives her a nice, safe feeling, having these elderly women looking out for her and caring about her.

"We're celebrating the witching hour," she jokes.

"That's not for another ninety minutes," Astrid says, checking her watch. Sunny refrains from pointing out that saying stuff like that is why people think she and Celeste are witches. Maybe they are. Stranger things have happened.

"My shift finished at one," she says. "We're heading home."

Astrid turns her attention to Viv, appraising her with a friendly smile. "This must be the girlfriend," she says, and Sunny's not sure if it's a figment of her imagination but she's pretty sure Astrid just winked at her.

"Yeah, this is Viv," she says. "Viv, this is Astrid and her"—she pauses then, not sure of the terminology they use—"partner, Celeste."

Neither of them object to the word so she figures it's all right. Girlfriend doesn't seem like the right word past a certain age, though Sunny's not sure if that's just her being ageist.

"Nice to meet you," Viv says, painting on a people pleasing smile.

"You two make such a beautiful couple," Astrid says, and she gives Sunny a knowing look when she adds, "It seems the universe knows what it's doing, don't you think?"