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Sabrina shouldn’t have tasted that expensive-looking wine hidden in the cupboard.It’s a bottle Beaujolais nouveau already opened, and Sabrina was dying from curiosity because, drinking is bad, but the adults seem to like it so much that they lie about liking it. It was what got her parents killed too, some drunk driver crashing into their vehicle and Sabrina was the only survivor. She’s been living with her aunts ever since, too young to remember the incident. And since her Aunt Hilda has a distant relative’s funeral to attend in the UK, her Aunt Zelda is going with her, leaving Sabrina in the care of her governess.Ms. Wardwell—or Lilith as Sabrina refers to in her diary—is a woman who doesn’t smile, not once in their tutoring sessions, not ever even Sabrina always finishes her homework, pays attention to Ms. Wardwell, and maintains her straight As. But she probably needs to stop calling her Lilith. Just before she’s placed under Ms. Wardwell’s watch, Sabrina learns that Ms. Wardwell became a spinster when after the war ended, and according to the adults, they didn’t tell Sabrina that because she’s too young to understand sorrow, and Ms. Wardwell hates pity. Still, Sabrina is glad that her aunts think she’s old and mature enough to know now.But not old enough to drink alcohol, for sure.Sabrina quickly places the wine into the very back of the cupboard. Ms. Wardwell isn’t home yet; she’s out buying groceries and, having been living under her roof for a week or two, Sabrina knows it’s Ms. Wardwell’s way to unwind, because she’d come back with the smell of cigarette, which isn’t a surprise. Everybody is smoking. Aunt Zelda does that too, so Sabrina won’t judge. She feels flattered, even, that Ms. Wardwell chooses not to smoke in front of her. But anyway, Sabrina would rather she does that. She likes to look at Ms. Wardwell doing things that she wouldn’t do in their classes. Sometimes, Sabrina thinks she can observe her for hours. There’s just something about her governess that makes her want to get closer, and see what will happen.Like a doomed heroine in a gothic romance, Sabrina wanders around Ms. Wardwell’s apartment, and for the third time in the day, she winds up inside Ms. Wardwell’s bedroom. Well, the door isn’t closed, but that doesn’t necessarily imply that she can waltz into somebody else’s space.Whether it’s the effect of the red wine starting to work, or Sabrina’s curiosity winning over her guilt, it doesn’t matter. She’s capturing the details of the room with her heartbeat picking up in her chest. There’s a piece of art, a painting of flora and fauna on the wall, and Sabrina guesses they’re primroses and forget-me-nots. The bed is twice the size compared to the single she’s sleeping in. On the nightstand, a bookmark is peeking out of a hardcover titled Cain, by Lord Byron. And one of the nightstand’s drawers—the one at the bottom—piques Sabrina’s interest, because it’s bigger than the rest, and there’s dust on its handle. Sabrina had thought, maybe it was where Ms. Wardwell stored the letters or photographs of her deceased husband, or other private stuff, but when Sabrina opens the drawers, her breath catches in her throat.Sabrina’s cheeks burn. With a shaky hand, she takes out a stack of pictures and clippings with women scantily dressed, posing for the camera like pin-up models. It’s not that she hasn’t seen pornography before. Boys in her class pass them around all the time. It’s just not…like this, a visual that’s full-frontal, unapologetic, and by the time Sabrina gasps, she’s realized that this is a collection of pin-up models, and that, Ms. Wardwell was the photographer. There’s one picture of her dressed in a bikini, staring at the camera as if she’s about to smirk or bite. In the next picture, a young Ms. Wardwell is giving directions to the model, a cigarette dangling from her painted lips.Sabrina remembers to breathe because she’s been holding her breath. The wine and the photos both make her feel dizzy. The floor tilts after she puts everything back and stands up, eager to flee the scene. Is this what it feels like to have too much to drink? The air is uncomfortably hot but, weirdly, Sabrina feels cold. What is the fun in all this and why do the adults like drinking so much, she might never understand. The alcohol makes you lose your trust in your body. Sabrina is stripping her clothes away and climbing into Ms. Wardwell’s bed as if possessed. She’s oozy. She just needs to lie down for a few seconds.There, much better.The pillow smells like sunshine and lavender. Sabrina wants to purr. This feels amazing, her flushed, naked skin rubbing against the silky covers. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear, and the feeling of the clothing as barrier seems to amplify. Sabrina rubs her thighs together and thinks she’s wet—from looking at the pictures of Ms. Wardwell? Before she comes to a conclusion, she’s lulled into an uneasy sleep by the noises of traffic, echoing from a distance, through the window, where the light shines weaker because it’s getting late in the afternoon.The fact that Ms. Wardwell will come home lurks as a worry in the back of Sabrina’s mind. So she doesn’t know if she’s dreaming or not, when she feels a warm hand brushing her hair from her face, caressing her cheek, and then lifting the covers. The air is chilly, making the hair on Sabrina’s skin rise. Is she exposed like the models she saw in those dirty pictures? It feels kind of sexy.“It’s ok, you’re not in trouble,” the voice is gentle, “time to wake up, darling.”Sabrina is sucked back to reality even if her brain is foggy. Here she is, sitting without her clothes on in Ms. Wardwell’s bed, and Ms. Wardwell is holding the pictures in her hand, sitting by her side.Sabrina panics.Within a minute, she’s spilled everything.Ms. Wardwell is unfazed. “I know, Sabrina, I’m not mad at you. What you saw was a past that I’m not…” Ms. Wardwell bites her own lips. “…not particularly proud of. I’d gone wayward, wanting to make a name for myself. I was working in a tavern when I met Adam, he saved me, but there was another man, I listened to the devil and made poor decisions. Those days are behind me.” Abruptly, Ms. Wardwell looks away, and she seems deep in thought.Not thinking too much, Sabrina takes Ms. Wardwell’s hand and holds her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wardwell. I promise I won’t tell anyone this. And like I’ve said before I’m really sorry about, stealing from your liquor cabinet and going through your personal belongings.”Ms. Wardwell smiles. “You’re one sweet girl. How about we go out for something special? For dinner?”Sabrina beams.Hours later, still giggly, Sabrina hops into the shower and tries not to smile too much. After the incident, Sabrina is not punished, and instead, she’s rewarded with Ms. Wardwell warming up to her. Sabrina loves the way Ms. Wardwell smiles. It softens her features and gives her a playful look, making her younger, and Sabrina has no trouble imagining the woman in the naughty photos is indeed Ms. Wardwell.It feels nice to share a secret with someone, and Sabrina can’t get enough of it.That’s why she’s knocking on Ms. Wardwell’s door and, hesitating on which excuse to use if she wants to talk to her caretaker.Ms. Wardwell sees through her. “Come here. Get comfortable.” She pats a spot next to her and Sabrina makes a beeline for it, feeling rescued. Ms. Wardwell was reading that sturdy hardcover, and now she’s sliding a bookmark in it.“Thank you for taking me to that restaurant, it was marvelous,” says Sabrina earnestly.Ms. Wardwell raises an eyebrow. “Do I not cook marvelous meals already?”Sabrina stutters, blushing. “No, I mean yes—”“I was only joking,” Ms. Wardwell says, like she enjoys teasing her, “you have some questions, don’t you?” She’s moving the pillow so she can talk to Sabrina with her head propped in a hand, and Sabrina is instantly relaxed by how casual this looks.“Um, I do. But in general I just…I’d love to hear more, if you’re willing to share.”“More about…?”“Your past.”“Oh,” Ms. Wardwell stares thoughtfully at her, “nothing comes to mind. Is there anything specific you’d like to know?” She has that amused look on her face again, like she’s teasing her about something that Sabrina doesn’t quite get. “I got you hooked, didn’t I?”Sabrina swallows. “I’m just…how did it feel to, you know.”“I don’t know.”“To pose like that,” Sabrina forces those words out and her cheeks are flaming with embarrassment.Ms. Wardwell grins. “As your teacher, I should make sure you’re on the right path, not teaching you ways to attract or cater to lustful audiences.”“But, doesn’t it feel powerful too? To have that kind of influence?”Ms. Wardwell frowns at the question. Sabrina thought she was going to tell her off.“You’re right,” Ms. Wardwell says instead. “Would you like to learn a few tricks?”Sabrina blinks. “Now?”“If you want,” she’s rising from the bed and it gives Sabrina a fatal feeling, “you’re in a safe space. Girls your age are naturally curious about your sexuality and, there’s no shame in that.”“Ok,” Sabrina says, trying not to sound like she’s coerced into this situation, “thanks.” She scrambles into a seating position.“Why don’t you start by…you have a pretty form,” Ms. Wardwell says, gazing at Sabrina’s body in a way she’s never used before, like she’s sizing her, “would you like to take your pajamas off?”“Ok,” Sabrina mentally kicks herself for repeating that.She does what she’s told. Folds her pajamas and places them by the bedside chair.“Stay where you are and, turn around for me,” Ms. Wardwell says quietly, “that’s it. Now, put your hands above your hips and, no, like this.” She gets up and walks into Sabrina’s personal space. Sabrina’s mind goes blank when she’s being positioned around like a doll. On the chair, one leg stacked onto the other, her breasts covered by her elbow when her body is angled sideways. On the bed, one leg up and one leg down, or face down ass up.“I figured it out,” Sabrina announces with pride when she’s hiding her bits behind a pillow and showing a leg, “the trick is to trick people into thinking they're this close to, having their ways with you, but you have the ultimate…authority? Right? To say if you want it or not.”Ms. Wardwell tips her head back and laughs. The heartiest laughter yet.“You’re always a quick learner, that’s the gist of it, yes,” Ms. Wardwell is smiling at her again, this time with twinkles in her eyes, and it dazzles Sabrina to the extent that she doesn’t know what’s happening when Ms. Wardwell presses her lips onto hers.Ms. Wardwell is kissing her.“I—I apologize, I got carried away,” Ms. Wardwell says, covering her mouth like she can’t fathom what just happened either, “you reminded me of myself. You’re so much smarter than I was, but anyway, I’m projecting too much onto you.” There is relief, agony and fondness all mixed up in Ms. Wardwell’s eyes, making the blue darker than usual, and Sabrina is getting choked up. She’s never had a moment so perfect that she wants to weep from it.Sabrina tests her voice, but she might cry. So she does the only thing left to do: she kicks the pillow away and kisses Ms. Wardwell back.At first she’s met with resistance, but Sabrina persists, acting purely on instinct, cupping Ms. Wardwell’s face and reaching for her waist. Ms. Wardwell’s body heat thrums from her thin robe, and her skin feels soft, like the surface of eggshells. Sabrina can’t help but explore the rise and fall of Ms. Wardwell’s curves.But then Ms. Wardwell’s mouth is moving alongside hers and leading, and Sabrina melts with a mewl. It makes Ms. Wardwell chuckle, a throaty sound that sends pleasure down Sabrina’s spine.“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Ms. Wardwell asks, fingertips gliding from Sabrina’s bare throat to her breast, grazing over the peak again and again.“Yes—” Sabrina arches her neck and shivers. “Please, Ms. Wardwell, I need you.” She kisses Ms. Wardwell’s shoulder, and then her neck, her face, all in desperation, hoping that Ms. Wardwell can understand how badly she wants it.Ms. Wardwell places a tender kiss on her forehead. “Tell me to stop if you don’t like it, alright?” She does something with her nipple and it makes Sabrina buckle, hitting Ms. Wardwell’s thigh. The throb that’s been coiling between her legs all afternoon has come back tenfold, and Sabrina seriously thinks, if Ms. Wardwell doesn’t touch her there, she’d die.“Will you—” Sabrina struggles to breathe when Ms. Wardwell wraps her mouth around her nipple, sucking just hard enough for Sabrina to feel teeth. “Will you please…put your fingers…I need…”“Here?” Ms. Wardwell lays her palm on Sabrina’s underwear and Sabrina bucks. “You’re soaked, my dear.” It makes Sabrina moan, the sensation of Ms. Wardwell stroking her wet pussy and the mere fact that her guardian, her caretaker, is watching her unravel, is almost too much. Sabrina feels that she’s about to burst.When Ms. Wardwell finally takes mercy on her, and nudges aside her underwear, Sabrina rocks her aching center onto Ms. Wardwell’s other hand.She rubs her in tight firm circles.With a whimper, Sabrina comes violently in seconds.“Sorry, I’m making a mess,” Sabrina says in an unsteady voice, “jeez.” She squirms away from Ms. Wardwell and there it is. “Oh no.” She’s left a stain on Ms. Wardwell’s sheet, a damp spot.“Not to worry,” Ms. Wardwell says, “apologize later. I’m not finished.” Hungry isn’t the word for it. Ravenous is a closer description of the look on Ms. Wardwell’s face. Sabrina hopes she has a camera so she can capture this for later.She saves that thought when she pulls Ms. Wardwell in, hoping to learn the things Ms. Wardwell has in store.
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When their final meeting is done, the crowd takes nothing and leaves everything behind: the smell of stale ink and cheap liquor lingers, with the last issue of their magazine—their magazine!—lying scattered on the table. Unseen Arts were once in high demand and now, they’re yesterday’s glory. The model on the cover is forever beautiful, though. Sabrina remembers the details of that shoot very well. She was the one directing the photoshoot when it was—when they were—still important.Sabrina picks up one of her life’s work, and returns to her office. She pours herself something stronger, the secret stash she kept under her desk, inside the bottom cabinet. A bottle of Old Grand-Dad bourbon she “borrowed” from her Aunt Zelda.Sabrina lights up a cigarette. Glass in hand, she flips the magazine to the pages where she was the model. It was a scintillating shoot, and the product turned out nicely, thanks to the magic of soft-focus photography. She did the shoot with Harvey Kinkle and Nicholas Scratch because they were sort of dating one another, a concept that seemed fine when things were moving along, until it isn’t, because people get bored of quaint concepts fast. And then nobody is buying Unseen Arts.Sabrina had tried to hold everything together, but you just can’t beat Playboy and Penthouse—basically, the popular demands of the market. They had a wild ride, went through the peak. Time to go down before they lose momentum. Their brand has value attached to it. Sabrina believes that if they bow down gracefully, Unseen Arts can fade into a myth, a wonder, a beacon for progressive visions. Most importantly, Sabrina wants the best for everyone. Her decision to close up shop has bought them time; jobs are offered liberally when their frenemies are still feeling charitable. For Sabrina, she already received an invite to model, where she can pick the time and place, the theme and who she wants to work with. Sabrina hopes the shoot would be a manifesto: the staff of Unseen Arts is the crème de la crème in their line of work.It's getting too late in the day to reach out to her family, and give them an update without making them worry to death.Sabrina stubs out her smoke in the ashtray, takes a sip of her drink—decides to finish it in one go because why the fuck not—and dials the number she memorized throughout the years. Almost a decade now.“You’ve made a good call,” says the warm, familiar voice, “I saw, in the newspaper. How are you doing, my dear?”Sabrina bursts into tears.“M...Ms. Wardwell,” she sniffles, “Ms. Wardwell…it’s…so nice to hear your voice.”“Likewise,” Ms. Wardwell answers, and says nothing while Sabrina sobs. It’s like the levee breaking because, dear god, Sabrina misses home, misses everything and everyone back in Greendale. She can’t afford to go back because it’s too late for that. Choices and sacrifices were made years ago. She wanted to make something of herself, and her dream hasn’t changed: to be more than a pretty face men jerk off to, and then, help more folks navigate this industry that’s always been hostile to newcomers.Even if her family supported her decision, Ms. Wardwell is the only one who really, really understands. After all, she was the one who changed Sabrina overnight. Sabrina didn’t let anyone know what actually happened between her and Ms. Wardwell. What they had was too special. People wouldn’t understand. By keeping it under wraps, they were able to steal kisses here and there, sneak quickies in the backroom whenever there was a family gathering—the sex wasn’t even that important. It is the conversations, the connection they built that mattered. Sure, they parted on good terms when Sabrina left for the city. But whenever Sabrina felt like giving up, Ms. Wardwell is one phone call away. She is irreplaceable, and Sabrina will never find someone like her again.“Christ,” Sabrina hiccups, and hears Ms. Wardwell chuckle, “that was a bit much. I didn’t know I was that bottled up.”“Well you were their editor-in-chief, the cameraman, and the model, and you did that all at once, no-no,” Ms. Wardwell tuts, efficiently cutting off Sabrina, “don’t tell me you only do that occasionally. You were a one-stop shop and a force to be reckoned with.”Hearing that takes so much weight off Sabrina’s shoulders. She sags, and kicks off her heels. She grabs a tissue and then places her feet on her office desk.“Thank you for saying that,” Sabrina blows her nose, “I hate the phrase passion project now. Everyone is saying that to me and a bunch of other I-told-you-so bullshit.”Ms. Wardwell makes a noise of disapproval. “What they should ask is what’s next. Or is that too much for you to hear as of this moment?”“Not when it’s coming from you,” Sabrina says with a smile, “I have a favor to ask and…I really hope you’d say yes.”“What can I do for you, Sabrina?”Sabrina describes her visualization as best as she can, expecting Ms. Wardwell to sound hurt or confused or, worst of all, tell her to never call her again. After all, Sabrina is asking for something she’s not very confident they still have.But after a minute, there’s mostly hesitation. “Sabrina…I haven’t done that in years.”“It’s not even about if you’re good with the camera,” Sabrina insists, “I’ll teach you, the technical issues will be easy to tackle, and so will the outfits. I mean, the innocent, babydoll look? It’s a cliché, old fantasy. But if we bring sex toys into the shoot, oh boy. It’ll turn up the heat.”“And Icarus thus falls from the sky,” Ms. Wardwell sighs, “watch out for your wings. I know what you’re trying to bring to the table but, it’s too soon for the world to see something pure, and, be convinced that it’s genuine. Subjective art never ends well.”“But Ms. Wardwell, art is never objective, you told me that.”“I did,” Ms. Wardwell pauses, “you will teach me, then?”“Yes, yes! It’ll be fun. I can show you so many things,” Sabrina laughs, suddenly thrilled, “I’ll book you a room for the night, don’t worry, it’s nothing fancy. It’s down Seventh Avenue and we did our shoots a lot around there.”“Whatever suits you, you know I’m not as busy—” Ms. Wardwell inhales sharply, as if she’s making up her mind on something, “you remember Masters?”“Yes,” Sabrina says, her heart leaping to her throat. How can she not remember Ms. Wardwell’s fiancé? He is the reason she started seeing Nick and Harvey because, hey, if Ms. Wardwell has moved on, so will she.“He…left—”“What?”“I told him not to wait,” Ms. Wardwell hurriedly adds, “I just…couldn’t make such a vow. It doesn’t feel right and I...well. That’s that.”“Oh, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”“Passion projects, am I right,” Ms. Wardwell snarks, making Sabrina wheeze out a laugh.“You often are,” Sabrina quips, “let’s talk soon.”***“How long has it been? Five years?”“Eight,” Ms. Wardwell says with confidence, which doesn’t match her body language. She’s adjusting the collar of her blue dress, struggling to look or not look at Sabrina. “You’re all grown up.” She seems almost shy to acknowledge that, and it makes Sabrina’s heart flutter.“Don’t let this fool you. I got this suit from a friend who’s…” Sabrina leans in, lowering her voice because they’re having brunch in a public place, “very gay, and very stylish.”“Is that so.”“Uh-huh,” it occurs to Sabrina that they’ve never addressed this, their sexual orientation and preferences. Maybe that’s why it’s making Ms. Wardwell uneasy. “And you haven’t changed at all, Ms. Wardwell,” Sabrina changes the subject quickly, even if it’s a white lie.Ms. Wardwell snorts. “You’ve had too much honey on your pancake. Sweet-talking will get you nowhere.” Sabrina giggles with a sense of loss. She has changed and, even if she adores Ms. Wardwell just as much, time’s gone, and there’s even more distance between them, which can’t be undone.Sabrina tucks all her sentiments away, and smiles brightly at Ms. Wardwell. They have business to tend to.“Don’t be sweet on me when you’re giving me directions, Ms. Wardwell. I like honest opinions, so, if you think something is bad, tell me, and if you think you want to try new things, I’d love to hear that, yeah?” Sabrina wants to sound encouraging, but she’s getting distracted by Ms. Wardwell’s face—other than the fact that she has a very beautiful face, Ms. Wardwell looks as if she’s recovering from some shock.“You’ve really grown,” Ms. Wardwell says tersely, clearing her throat, “I’m all done here. Shall we head upstairs?”“I’ll get the check. The gear is ready in the room.”“Splendid.”Unsure why Ms. Wardwell is turning aloof, Sabrina is still determined. She will grin and bear it. She’s had all the shots panned out and if magic doesn’t happen—if Ms. Wardwell’s presence isn’t bringing out the raw side of her—and it turns out bad, they can always keep it as a memento. Sabrina puts her game face on and gets to work.Angelic chemise? Check. Pantyhose? Check. Ropes and handcuffs? Check. They even go as far as Sabrina bound and gagged on the bed.Vibrators and dildos, however.“Holy—” Ms. Wardwell’s eyes widen behind her glasses. She dabs a handkerchief at her hairline, then she puts down the camera, finishing her bottle of water. She’s popped a few buttons open from her collar when they were in the middle of the shoot, and Sabrina can almost see the outline of her bra. “I’ve never seen those before. Is that a…?”“Yep, those are quite new,” Sabrina answers, splaying the items on the table and trying to disentangle the cord which is tied up like a Gordian knot, “borrowed from a friend.” A-ha, she’s found a loose end.“The gay friend?”“Nah Prudence is straight, she’s actually dating my ex,” says Sabrina, focusing on making the wand work. It’s supposed to be the Cadillac of vibrators and Sabrina has been so busy, she didn’t even have time to try it. “Oh my god it’s working.” Sabrina giggles hysterically when the buzz comes on. It’s more comedic than erotic, and Sabrina doesn’t know if she can go back posing after she breaks character.Sabrina thinks they have to call it a day because she turns around, and sees a very befuddled Ms. Wardwell standing there, holding a dildo.Sabrina laughs to the point where she worries that Ms. Wardwell might feel insulted. It’s supposed to look seductive.“Be careful with that, you’re returning it to your friend,” Ms. Wardwell advises, taking the vibrator from Sabrina’s hand and turning it off.“It’s how you’re supposed to use it! I’m not going to break it!” Sabrina protests in a whiny tone, making grabby hands for the Hitachi wand. “Give it back!”“I’m the photographer, I call the shots.”Sabrina grins. “Oh yeah? Where do you want me, boss?” She does a sultry wink at Ms. Wardwell, aiming for a joke, but Ms. Wardwell freezes.And then her face darkens, the blue of her eyes glittering like gun metal.Uh-oh.“Take your clothes off and get up on the bed,” says Ms. Wardwell. Her voice is light but clear, somehow menacing. It takes a few seconds for Sabrina to realize that, it’s not that she’s taken things too far, or disrespected Ms. Wardwell. None of that.She’s done absolutely nothing wrong; it’s not her, it’s Ms. Wardwell.From the second they met, there’s been a tension Sabrina mistaken as the kind you’d have when you meet an old best friend, someone who you’ve lost contact with. Sabrina hadn’t even let her mind go there, because they have work to do, and over the years Sabrina gets quite good at separating the personal from the craft.In a way, it’s inevitable that the personal blows up in her face.Ms. Wardwell is holding her gaze while undressing. Beneath her dress is a set of black lingerie, the kind with lace, garter belts, and everything.Sabrina hears herself let out a fascinated groan. How can she forget that Ms. Wardwell is the one who put ideas into her head? Who started all this? She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Ms. Wardwell. While she’s sitting there on the velveteen bedsheet, she’s overcome by the mere power Ms. Wardwell has had on her since she was a kid.How they’re repeating the past and everything is the same. Sabrina, awed and breathless for a punishment or praise. Ms. Wardwell, taking off her glasses and shaking out her hair from her bun.Fuck.“Do I have to repeat myself?” Ms. Wardwell is not looking at her, having walked up to the table where the sex toys are.“Fuck,” Sabrina mutters, anxious to get her clothes off and the déjà vu makes her dizzy. It’s precisely like the night Ms. Wardwell took her virginity. When she’s done with her silly outfit, she’s met with strong hands pressing her back to the mattress.Funny how the vibrator wand fits in Ms. Wardwell’s hand, and looks downright diabolical.Sabrina whimpers.“Spread your legs,” Ms. Wardwell says, and turns the thing on, and proceeds to make Sabrina come within a minute, because she’s the same person who easily made Sabrina admit her misbehaving acts, back then, and rewarded her with the forbidden fruits of knowledge.Sabrina hides her face in her palm and tries to stay quiet. She can’t control her cries, because it’s a mental thing, the orgasm, that tears down her guards and smashes her against the ugly truths. The truth is that she’s always been in love with Ms. Wardwell, and she does what she does to prove that, she can be better than Ms. Wardwell—as some kind of innocent revenge that they can’t be together.And Ms. Wardwell just watches her do all this, knowing what her profession means, but choosing not to say it out loud, until their pinky promise turns into a bet.“Are you alright, Sabrina?” She answers by pulling Ms. Wardwell down so that she can feel her body on top of hers, a comforting weight. “I’m sorry, I…” Ms. Wardwell presses a soft kiss on her flushed cheek.“Got carried away?” Sabrina remembers that like it was yesterday. “I’m reminding you of your younger days? You’re projecting onto me?” It’s ironic how even if she’s harboring such bitter feelings, every atom of her being craves Ms. Wardwell.Ms. Wardwell doesn’t immediately reply. She tries to get up and free herself from Sabrina, but Sabrina holds on, persisting. When would she not.“I got jealous—I am jealous,” Ms. Wardwell is lying down next to her, her side profile shadowed by her wavy brown hair, “you’re having the best days of your life, the city lights just…shine in your eyes when you talk and, I should feel proud of you. I am. But I can’t bear the fact that, well, the student excelling the teacher.”Sabrina doesn’t know what to say. She’s been expecting and avoiding this conflict, knowing that the delicate balance between them will break, and the sadness will be profound, and there’s more at stake.“You wanted me to shine like you do. So I did,” Sabrina says simply, “I have always been yours even if we pretend otherwise.” Ms. Wardwell telling her that her fiancé left in their phone call? Dressed in lingerie beneath her prim-and-proper dress? They both miss the good old days, only that Ms. Wardwell wants to go back and Sabrina is trying to move forward.“I got you screwed, didn’t I?” Ms. Wardwell sounds tired. She props herself up and, starts to pick up their clothes.“That’s hyperbolic,” Sabrina echoes. She observes the way Ms. Wardwell bends over, and how her body has changed, the line of her hips and her belly softer, less sharp, and there’s a slouch to her movements. The signs of Ms. Wardwell’s age make Sabrina feel tender and full inside, even if it’s an aching feeling. “Ms. Wardwell?”“Yes?”“Come back to bed,” Sabrina says, blinking her tears away as she tries to smile, “I want you to kiss me.”Ms. Wardwell’s lips tremble. Her eyes are misted over, too. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Despite so, she’s putting down the carefully folded clothes, and sinking into bed, almost like a mermaid. “Not a good idea at all.”And then she kisses her on the mouth, loving and demanding, like a strict teacher.Maybe just for a little while, for more of this.Sabrina surrenders to it like she always has.
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“You look absolutely stunning,” Sabrina says breathily, staring at the woman she loves and the cream-colored yellow dress she’s in, which has an asymmetrical cut. Definitely a Vivienne Westwood. Sabrina doesn’t know which shines more, the champagne-gold sequins decorating the bust section, or the woman she’s about to spend the rest of her life with.
Ms. Wardwell smiles at her. “I can say the same thing.” Her smile is bright, filled with love and adoration. Sabrina gets drunk just by looking at her.
“Well,” coyly, Sabrina takes a little spin to show off her purple-lavender gown, which is a bit too modest to pass as a wedding gown, but it’s a private ceremony, like she’s always dreamed of. And the color really compliments Ms. Wardwell’s eyes. “I’m happy that you like it.” A dream come true, indeed.
“You’re the loveliest bride I’ve ever seen,” Ms. Wardwell sighs. Sabrina flushes when she’s greeted with a kiss on the mouth, one so sweet that it makes her weak in the knees. She loves Ms. Wardwell’s hairdo, big and curly and oh-so-fine that Sabrina wants to drown in it.
“It’s good we’re exonerated from all that, bad luck for the groom to see the bride stuff,” says Sabrina, which makes her lover laugh. Sabrina wants to kiss where Ms. Wardwell’s skin trembles from the laughter, so she does, mouthing the tender flesh of Ms. Wardwell’s throat.
Ms. Wardwell moans. “Sabrina, we’re going to be late for the ceremony.”
“I don’t care,”
says
Sabrina, knowing that Ms. Wardwell can’t wear a bra under this sort of dress so she cups her breast, “need to have you now.” She is so soft against her palm, and Sabrina wants to worship every inch of her milky skin.
“Then I’m yours,” Ms. Wardwell lets out a small whimper, and pulls Sabrina in, “don’t want to share the sight of you with others, anyway.”
Sabrina’s chest throbs with a happiness so extreme that she can die from it.
Sabrina’s heart pounds in her temples when she jolts awake, her alarm clock blaring noises that can give her a heart attack. It takes her a while to remember she’s staying in a motel. Her Greendale home has been renting out years ago, since her Aunt Hilda passed away. Cousin Ambrose is half a globe away, and Sabrina can’t manage an old house when she’s working on the other side of the country. So.Sabrina is not used to new technologies like this. It takes her some time to turn the clock off.She’d rather risk sleep deprivation than to be late.It’s dark outside. It will take another hour for the sun to rise. Sabrina drags herself to the bathroom, flicks on the lights, and stares at the mirror. She remembers what to do, what she’s going to say from word to punctuation, so she doesn’t need to practice her speech again. What she needs is more downtime, but she’s out of time, isn’t she.The tears she expects to come don’t. There’s only an empty, hollow feeling that has her by the throat, suffocating her with affectionate purposes, reminding her that she’s crossing another important nexus of her life. It’s not until she gets older does she finally understand, there aren’t that many things for her to learn. The world consists of nothing but signifiers and the signified, in a set of combinations, the symbols interchangeable, the outcomes predictable.You love me. You love me not.
A wedding. A funeral.
Sabrina’s lips twitch, and she finds herself smiling at the dream she had. Adolescent wishful thinking. Ellen came out a few months ago so, that might be in her self-consciousness, amongst other things.Once upon a time when Sabrina was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she believed in some vague hope. And as she walked her path to reach it, she realized she’d always had that in the palm of her hands, a wish, or an object she thought she desired most. It’s not that she’s incapable of reaching it. On the contrary, she has to keep it out of reach so that, she can keep going, convinced that she'll get it someday.
Becoming Ms. Wardwell. Ms. Wardwell herself.
“I miss you,” Sabrina whispers, staring at her own face. The light reflected from the gray tiles gives her skin a blue undertone, so that her veins look almost purple, like fading bruises.Ms. Wardwell was about the same age when they really got to know each other. Sabrina can barely imagine herself touching a twenty-something now, so, she guesses what they had was, truly, one of a kind.Eyes dry, Sabrina splashes some cold water onto her face.Time to get ready and head over to Ms. Wardwell’s funeral ceremony.