The Last Piece of the Puzzle: a Sapphic mini-story

I Monday afternoons were usually the quietest. Jen liked them that way. Once the lunchtime visitors had dispersed, the museum bookshop settled into a hush, broken only by the occasional tinkling of the bell above the door that announced another customer. She used these quieter moments to work on the novel she'd been writing for weeks, edging it forward a few lines at a time, and was just finding her rhythm when the bell interrupted her. A young woman had entered, around her own age or just a bit older, who paused only briefly before heading toward the counter. She wore faded jeans, white trainers and a lightweight linen overshirt over a navy T-shirt. Her auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail that looked as though practicality had won the argument over style. She stopped in front of the countertop. "I'm looking for the exhibition catalogue." There was the faintest trace of an accent in her voice that Jen couldn't immediately place. "Oh, I'm afraid we've sold out. They've been very popular. I'm sorry about that." The young woman frowned very slightly. "Why are you sorry?" Jen blinked. "Because... we haven't got one." "Yes, but that isn't your fault." Jen laughed. "I suppose not." "In Poland we usually save apologies until we've actually done something." There was no criticism in the remark. If anything, she sounded faintly puzzled, and the complete seriousness with which she said it made Jen laugh properly this time. She also noticed that the woman was peering at her name badge. "I'm Jenny. Jen for short." "Kalina." Jen reached beneath the counter. "We've still got the exhibition guide, if that helps. It's much shorter, but I secretly think it's the better book." Kalina took it from her and turned a few pages. "I'll trust your judgement." Jen wasn't quite sure why that pleased her. "So, are you here every day?" Kalina asked, slipping the guide into the canvas bag she wore across her shoulder. "Monday to Friday. Sometimes a Saturday." Jen tilted her head. "Why are you asking?" "Because now I know where I can find you." She said it with a matter-of-fact directness that seemed to be her default way of speaking — as though she had merely observed that the museum closed at five or that it might rain later. For a moment Jen wasn't entirely sure how to answer. Before she had decided, Kalina smiled, nodded once, and walked towards the door. The bell sounded softly behind her. Only after she had gone did Jen realise she was still smiling. 0x64x7xxxII The following Saturday, Jen found herself listening for the bell above the shop door. She pretended not to, busying herself by rearranging the postcards, checking the receipt roll, answering a tourist's question about the toilets. She told herself several times that it was perfectly natural to notice whether someone came back for a second visit. Museums depended on repeat interest. There was nothing special in it. By ten-to-four she had looked at the clock often enough to become annoyed with herself. When the bell finally sounded, she looked up too quickly. Kalina wandered in wearing a charcoal sweater and jeans, her hair tied back in the same ponytail. She crossed the shop without pausing. "Hi," Kalina said. "Hi." Kalina rested one hand on the counter. "Are you pleased to see me?" Jen laughed before she could stop herself. "Why are you laughing?" Kalina asked, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile. "Because you're very direct." "And you aren't answering my question." Before Jen could reply, the bell rang again. An elderly man and woman wandered into the shop, and Kalina drifted away to look at the rack of postcards. The couple left a few minutes later without buying anything. Kalina returned to the counter. "So. Where were we?" Jen leaned forward, resting her forearms on the countertop. "I think you were flirting with me. Which is flattering, but... it also assumes that I'm queer." Now Kalina leaned forward too. "Of course you are. You kept looking at my boobs." Jen laughed even louder. "That's outrageous! I absolutely did not." Kalina raised an eyebrow. "Well?" "Well what?" "Confess to being queer. And once we've got that out of the way, agree to go on a date with me." Jen released a breath in mock exasperation. "Do I have a choice?" Kalina wrinkled her nose. "In practice, yes. In all probability, no. I live in Shoreditch. You?" "Near Bethnal Green. Maybe we could meet somewhere in the middle?" Kalina nodded. "Okay. I'll put my number in your phone. Then you can text me when and where — unless you have second thoughts about going on a date with a crazy Polish woman." Jen looked up a little too sharply. "*Are* you crazy?" Now it was Kalina's turn to laugh. "Not especially. Which just goes to show that I've been in London less than a year and I've already picked up that annoying British habit of not saying what you mean. So if I start talking incessantly about the weather, you have permission to shoot me." Jen shook her head. "You're teasing me again." She handed Kalina her phone. Kalina typed in her number, then gave it back. "Message me." She stepped backwards towards the door, then paused. "And Jen?" "Yes?" The faintest smile touched the corner of Kalina's mouth. "Don't overthink it." The bell chimed softly behind her. III Jen stood in front of the wardrobe for considerably longer than any sensible person needed to. She had changed her mind twice already. The navy jumper looked too ordinary. The green dress tried too hard. Eventually she settled on a dark knee-length skirt, a cream scoop-necked top and the black leather jacket she always wore when she wanted to feel more confident than she actually was. As she was about to exit the bathroom she caught sight of herself in the mirror. It occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she'd dressed for a date. Probably when she and her ex were still in the getting-to-know-you stage, long before it went so horribly wrong. The thought was oddly sobering. She picked up her bag before she had time to change her mind. Kalina was already waiting outside the wine bar. For a fraction of a second Jen almost failed to recognise her. Gone were the jeans and oversized sweaters of the museum. Tonight she wore a simple black dress beneath a faded denim jacket. A little mascara, a touch of lipstick, silver hoops in her ears. "You look lovely," she said, and meant it. "So do you," Kalina replied, slipping her arm through hers. "And now we both know where we stand, let's go in and enjoy ourselves." Once they were inside, any initial awkwardness disappeared with surprising speed. The wine was good. The food better. Conversation moved easily from books to travel, from favourite cities to the peculiar things Londoners apologised for. They disagreed cheerfully about modern art, agreed unexpectedly about old buildings, and discovered they had both once become hopelessly lost in Venice within twenty minutes of arriving. Several times Jen forgot she had been nervous. A bit later on, Kalina took off her jacket, and Jen noticed several white ridges crossing the inside of her left forearm. Old scars. Lots of them. Without thinking, she kept looking. Kalina moved her arm.out of view, and Jen's head jolted upward. "I was staring. I'm sorry." "There you go," Kalina said gently. "Apologising again." Jen took a sip of wine. "It's rude to stare, that's why I said sorry." Kalina glanced at her own arm. "It's quite simple.I had a difficult time when I was younger." She said it matter-of-factly, as though recalling some minor ailment. "It was years ago. And life is good right now." There was no invitation to delve any deeper. Jen understood, and It struck that there was something quietly liberating about not needing to know everything all at once. When they left, the streets were cooling after the warmth of the day. They walked towards the Underground station side by side, neither seeming in any hurry to arrive. A little further on, Kalina reached for Jen's hand. "There." She nodded towards a narrow lane between two old brick buildings, almost hidden in shadow. "I don't want to kiss you in front of half of London." Jen laughed. "That seems reasonable." They stepped into the quiet. For a moment they simply looked at one another. Then Kalina reached up and brushed an escaped strand of hair behind Jen's ear. "I've wanted to do this all evening." The kiss was tentative at first, slightly clumsy, then Jen felt herself melting into it, responding in kind. When they finally drew apart, neither spoke for several seconds. Kalina smiled. "Come back to mine." Jen looked at her, unsure she had heard correctly. "I know it's our first date," Kalina said, "but I want you to stay the night." She hesitated only briefly before adding, with the same directness she had shown from the day they met, "I really want us to make love." And everything inside Jen seemed to freeze. Only moments earlier the evening had felt wonderfully uncomplicated. Now her chest tightened so suddenly she struggled to draw a full breath. "I'm..." The words refused to come. Kalina's expression softened. "You don't have to." "I can't." Jen heard the panic in her own voice and hated it. "I'm sorry." Kalina took a small step towards her. "Jen?" But Jen just shook her head, already retreating. "I'm sorry." "Jen..." By now she had already turned and was hurrying toward the station, with her heart still pounding absurdly fast by the time she passed through the ticket barrier, moving in a kind of daze down the stairs. And all the while she knew, with a painful clarity, that it wasn't what Kalina had proposed that had scared her. It wasn't that at all. It was how much she'd wanted to accept. IV Jen woke several times before dawn, each time convinced only a few minutes had passed. The bedside clock disagreed. At half past three she gave up trying to remember how many hours remained until morning, and simply lay there, listening to the occasional car passing outside. Every time she closed her eyes she found herself back in the alleyway. "Come back to mine." She had replayed the moment so often that it no longer felt like memory but something still happening. Until then, the evening had existed in its own small, perfect world: a first date, a first kiss, something she could take home untouched. The invitation had changed that. Suddenly there might be a tomorrow. And another after that. The possibility had frightened her far more than the intimacy itself. Her phone vibrated. She looked at the screen for several seconds before opening the message. I've been thinking about last night. I may have pushed things too far. If I did, I'm sorry. K. Jen read it twice. Then, breathing in deeply, she began typing a reply that quickly became a confession. By the fifth line she stopped, selected the whole message and deleted it. She tried again. You didn't. I got scared. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't run away. She stared at the words for a long moment before pressing Send. The reply arrived almost immediately. Coffee? Same bar as yesterday? Kalina was already there when Jen arrived. She looked up, smiled and lifted a hand. "Hi." "Hi." Jen sat down, and for a moment neither woman seemed to know how to begin Then they both spoke at once. Jen said, "I wanted to—" Kalina said, "There's no need to—" They stopped and laughed. "Okay," Kolina said, still grinning."You go first." Jen stirred her coffee while she tried to get the words in order. "I've been trying to understand why I ran away." "And have you? Understood, I mean?" Jen let out a slow breath. "I don't think it was because you asked me to come home with you." Kalina waited. "It was because... suddenly it wasn't just a first date any more. It felt like—" She searched for the right word. "—a possibility." Kalina remained silent. "I realised that if I went home with you, it could be the start of something. And then—" Jen looked away towards the window. "Then one day it could end." The café seemed to grow quieter around them. Kalina reached across the table and rested her fingertips lightly on the back of Jen's hand. "I thought afterwards I was too direct. Going in feet first. Yes?" Jen nodded. "Yes. But that's what I like about you." Kalina's expression softened. "Really? You don't find it too much." When Jen said no, a small smile crossed Kalina's face. "We're different, I suppose. And yet... not in everything. I have scars. I think you do, too. But maybe yours are on the inside." Kolina leaned closer, squeezing Jen's hand. "It might also surprise you, to learn," she said, lowering her voice, "that I can be ever so patient when there's someone worth waiting for." For the first time since arriving, Jen looked directly into Kolina's eyes. "Ask me again," she said. Kolina looked confused. "I don't understand. Ask you what?" "Ask me to come home with you." There was a pause while Kolina returned Jen's gaze — peering at her as if trying to check the sincerity. "And if I did, what would you reply be?" Jen turned her hand over beneath Kalina's until their fingers rested tigether. "I'd say yes," she said. "This time I would say yes." V Kalina's flat overlooked a quiet street where the last of the evening light still clung to the brickwork opposite. "It's a bit of a mess," she said, pushing the door open. Jen looked around. Books lay in uneven piles beside the sofa. A half-completed jigsaw occupied most of the dining table, leaving just enough space for a mug and yesterday's newspaper. Kalina noticed where she was looking. "I've been doing that for weeks." Jen smiled. "Difficult?" "Very. But I enjoy a challenge." Jen looked at her. "Ah." Kalina tilted her head. "Ah what?" Jen hesitated, then smiled. "I was wondering whether I was a challenge." Kalina laughed, the sound warm and unforced. "No." She shook her head. "You're just... wonderfully Jen." The words caught Jen completely off guard. She had been preparing herself for compliments all evening, rehearsing ways of dismissing them politely. This one refused to be dismissed. Instead she stepped a little closer. Their kiss was unhurried, no longer carrying the uncertainty of the night before. When they finally drew apart, Kalina rested her forehead lightly against Jen's. "You can still change your mind." "I know." "I'll keep saying that." "I know." They knelt on the rug by the sofa. Kalina never hurried her. Every touch held the same unspoken question. Is this okay? Each time Jen answered by drawing a little nearer. At one point Kalina took Jen's hand and, with a look that was almost shy, guided it gently downwards. "Yes," she murmured. "There... like that." Jen felt the warmth of her skin, the quickening of her breath, and the quiet astonishment of realising that she could bring another person such evident happiness. Kalina's body tensed for a fleeting moment before softening again, a breath escaping her that sounded almost like relief. When Kalina looked back at her, she smiled. "My turn?" Jen answered with a nod. Kalina rested her on hand on Jen's hip "Can I..?" "Yes." There was no urgency now. Jen closed her eyes, and when emotion finally caught up with her it arrived unexpectedly, leaving her momentarily breathless. She laughed softly, then found herself blinking away tears she hadn't realised were there. Kalina brushed them away with her thumb. "Hey." Jen smiled. "I'm all right. Better than all right, actually." And it was true. This wasn't how she had imagined the day would unfold. Yet here she was, wrapped in the warm arms of a woman who had been brave enough to ask twice, and kind enough to wait for the answer. She was taking a risk; she knew that. But for the first time in a long time, it felt like one worth taking.