Page 79 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
“I’ve always wanted that.”
“With me?”
“If you’ll have me.”
Something abundantly intrusive took residence in Celene’s chest, threatening tears again. “I made a mistake, agreeing to the fake dating.” She stroked Skye’s cheek, picturing the finer details not touched by light. “Being with you is so natural. It shouldn’t have been fake.”
“It felt real to me. Always did.”
Celene really let herself not be cherished for this long. For years. “Then, let’s not waste any more time. You’re my girlfriend, for real.”
Skye heaved out a lengthy sigh. “Finally.”
“How do birds kiss? Do they bump their little beaks?”
“Oh god,” she responded, snorting. “Celene. You’re one-of-a-kind.”
“I’mone-of-a-kind? You communicate with birds, and fireflies bounce around you like a playground.” Celene took this opportunity to press both hands to the console, projecting herself close enough that they could laugh against each other, their smiles grazing. “Touch my beak.”
Skye did just that. She tickled the tips of their noses, sending chill bumps down Celene’s arms. This woman was stellar—no exaggeration.
Celene initiated another nose nudge. “See me tomorrow?”
“Every day until you leave.”
“Deal.”
Then they kissed like humans, shrouded in shadows, in the night, only theirs. No sister, no brother-in-law, no chores for the house. Just her new girlfriend and their blossoming bond.
20
Skye’s parents could have jumped straight off the cover of a neo soul album. They spoke with their daughter from inside their solar-powered RV, decked out in their usual layers of textiles, patterns, and fabrics, all dyed themselves. The sharp web camera quality highlighted their bright smiles—a result of charcoal toothpaste, according to them.
In yellow-tinted sunglasses, Aisha Florentine folded her hands next to Gael Florentine with his signature short dreadlocks bunched atop his head like the plants he nurtured. This style also masked his thinning hair, but that was knowledge for their family and not 3.4 million fans.
After an initiative to jumpstart thirty public schools’ “Green Thumb” clubs, they wouldn’t admit to burnout, but Skye could tell. Glowing skin or not, they weren’t onPlanting Lovebearing their necessary touches of makeup. Sunken posture and under-eye lines couldn’t be hidden in 4K. Fortunately, they’d take it easy for the next month or so.
The crocheted crop top Skye wore served two purposes: One, to bring smiles to their faces, as her mother made it, ever conscious to keep the sleeves long “for Skye’s featheredcomrades.” And two, because it was stylish and showed the skin she knew Celene would appreciate today.
“Enough about us,” Gael went on in his upbeat drawl, rattling beads around his neck and wrists. “I feel sunshine coming from your smile. It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
“Celene,” Aisha clarified. The more practical of the two, she laughed lowly, with a refined air. “Our daughter can smile for whatever she wants.”
He waved his hand, nodding. “Alright, alright. Just saying. Smiles are a good thing.”
“Thanks, I do feel good.” Skye stuck her pinky through the gaps in her top. “Life’s great lately. Shop’s doing well, Luce is back to normal. And yeah, Celene’s special.”
Aisha and Gael established free-range, conscious parenting before they were internet buzzwords, allowing Skye hours of unsupervised play out in the woods. It’d encouraged self-reliance, trust that she’d learn from her mistakes with subtle guidance. Luce pushed back on some of their methods, but ultimately, Skye had a fun, almost magical childhood. They spent a lot of time together back then, too, but that independence prepared her for their foray into helping the community for long hoursand eventually taking the RV cross-country.
With all that, something as insignificant as crushing on girls didn’t make a blip in the Florentine household. Feeling brave at sixteen, she’d called herself a lesbian around her parents, brother, and grandparents at the dinner table. They blinked, absorbed the information with smiles, and asked her to pass the kale.
Their family life hadn’t been perfect, though. Cosmo, her older brother, detested all that freedom. For him, it came with wounds he didn’t properly dress, bug bites, and too much sunscreen. So, he stuck to the indoors, more in tune with videogames. That caused a lot of friction, and though Skye aligned with her parents, she took Cosmo’s side a lot. He’d deserved to be his own version of different. The minute Cosmo reached adulthood, he raced towards a more traditional life path—picket fence, uncreative job, wife and kids in one stable setting, free-range nothing.
And he washappy.
Skye wavered between his path and the older Florentines, unsure which end of the spectrum to take root.
“You speak of the shop and Luce.” Her mother lifted her voice with her jaw, eyes widening. “How about you? Are you feeding your spirit with anything important?”
