Page 60

To A— p. 41

—S

Ada flipped to the page, her fingers trembling.

XI.

THE OUTLET

My river tuns to thee;

Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.

Oh sea, look graciously!

I’ll fetch thee brook

From spotted nooks,—

Say, sea, take me!

Ada stared at the poem for a long time, trying to decipher the meaning between the lines. Finally she gave up and read the poem out loud, quietly, to herself. The second time, something stirred in her chest. She set the book down and went into the garden. She cupped a soft pink rosebud and the petals fell into her palm. She carried the petals into the library. She picked a book and pressed the rose petals into the inside cover. She returned the book to its place, but left the spine jutting out, just like Sophie did.

Sophie went to work her shift the next morning at the local public library. When she came home, she went straight to her room. Adalingered around the kitchen, and then in the garden. She couldn’t take it anymore and walked back into the library. The book was gone.

The doors opened behind her, and without even turning around, she knew it was Sophie. She stayed facing the wall.

“Hey.” She heard Sophie’s soft voice behind her. She held the copy of the collection of Yeats poems.

“You did…” Ada paused. “The violet. And the poem. What does that mean?”

Sophie tilted her head and took a step closer. “What do you think it means?”

“I…” Ada’s voice faltered. “I feel like it’s about how you feel. About how we feel. About each other. But I could be wrong and maybe that’s not what the poem means, and maybe I’ve been reading things wrong the whole time.”

Sophie seemed to swallow. Gently, she took Ada’s hand and leaned in. Ada closed her eyes. She felt Sophie’s lips press against hers tenderly. Suddenly, Ada’s insides were hot oil.

Sophie smelled like oranges and honey and sun. Ada took a breath. Then the pressure eased. They pulled away and Sophie said, softly, looking up from beneath her lashes, “Does that answer your question?”

Ada nodded wordlessly.

“I didn’t want to do something you didn’t want,” Sophie said. “And sometimes I think you’re too good for me.”

“I’m not,” Ada whispered. “And I do want this. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

The dim light of the desk lamp cast muted shadows over everything. It was Ada’s first kiss. Heat bloomed in her chest. Ada closed her eyes and reached for Sophie again.

twenty-one

MAY 1990

ADAhad been wanting to kiss Sophie again ever since their first kiss in the library. This time, she knew what to do. She pressed Sophie among the fur coats. Their fingers trailed instinctively across each other’s hips, waists, collarbones.

The door creaked and they pulled apart.

Sophie’s eyes widened. “Did anyone—”