It's Always Snowy in Manehattan

“Равенство, брат, исключает братство.”

Иосиф Бродский, “Речь о пролитом молоке” *

* “Equality, brother, excludes brotherhood.”

Joseph Brodsky, A Speech Over Spilled Milk

“I made you breakfast.”

Waking up from a bad dream, Vinyl barely opened her eyes, yawning, and almost decided on going back to sleep, when she saw the bare, naked form of Octavia Philarmonica, looming over her. Hungrily, Vinyl grabbed the naked woman and drew her close, leaning into a lusty kiss. Breaking the kiss, she smiled at the flustered cellist. “Are you the breakfast?” she wondered jokingly.

“No,” Octavia purred, “but I can be the dessert.” She lay on top of Vinyl, feeling her lover’s hot, breathing skin. Vinyl embraced her, nuzzling her on the neck, then kissing the spot. Critically, she eyed the cellist’s bandaged hand. No music for her for a while.

“Can I have the dessert right now?” Vinyl pleaded, reaching with her arm for Octavia’s behind.

The hand was deftly interjected. “No,” Octavia said firmly. “Too much sweetness is bad for your figure.” She poked Vinyl’s belly. “You chubby girl.”

“I’m not chubby!” Vinyl protested weakly, pinching Octavia’s shoulder playfully. “You are just very lean.”

As if to prove her leanness, Octavia arched her back, her breasts pressing against Vinyl’s breasts. “Oh, so someone just doesn’t want her dessert?” she cooed, looking innocently, too innocently into Vinyl’s eyes.

“And to think,” Vinyl said, kissing the woman lustily, taking in that new feeling of euphoria, “that yesterday you weren’t a lesbian.”

Octavia softened her embrace and looked aside. Vinyl mentally cursed herself for stepping on that minefield. “Too soon?” she asked sheepishly.

“I…” Octavia gulped. “I don’t want to think in defining terms. I am your lover. Is that not enough for you?” she asked, while Vinyl grabbed her and pressed hard against herself.

“It is,” Vinyl said, “the only thing that will always be enough for me.” Lightly, she slapped Octavia’s behind, eliciting a yelp from the cellist. “Now bring me that breakfast, woman!”

“Are you practicing domestic violence on me?” Octavia wondered with a grin, standing up tall and prim, her eyes speaking, oh really?

Vinyl felt heat rise to her cheeks as she saw the magenta of her lover’s eyes. “I… I just wanted to give it a try, is all.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Will you eat the breakfast I prepared for you or not?”

“Oh, with pleasure!”

“...”

“What’s wrong, Vinyl?”

“Um.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Uh. What is it supposed to be again?”

“What? Can’t you see - it’s an omelette with ham and cheese!”

“Ah, that’s what it was all along.”

“Stop jesting and eat!”

“...”

Vinyl looked, pained, at what was supposed to be an omelette. She was pretty sure omelettes didn’t look that way. Moreover, she was pretty sure food in general wasn’t supposed to look that way. She looked at Octavia’s gleeful face. Then she looked at the “food.” Then at Octavia again. Oh, for fuck’s sake. She closed her eyes and took a bite.

“Sooo?” Octavia asked hopefully, with a broad smile.

Vinyl chewed on the “omelette” painfully, then swallowed it, forcing herself not to vomit. “Octavia, my love,” she said carefully, not meeting the cellist’s eyes. “Promise me one thing.”

“Yes, Vinyl?”

“Never. Ever. Cook anything. Ever again.”

Octavia huffed, clearly wanting to give Vinyl a piece of her mind, but instead just sighed. “Is it that bad?”

Vinyl scrunched her face and nodded. Twice.

How could this prevailing silence be broken?

By the miracle of speech, given to mankind by the gods, in whom Octavia and Vinyl believed not.

Why was the prevailing silence not broken?

Somehow, despite the earlier commotion, the silence grew easy and neither person felt the need to break it.

What commotion?

The bold calling-out of the insufferable meal the Staremistress had prepared for her newfound lover.

What actions were taken, subsequently, by the Staremistress who had prepared the insufferable meal for her newfound lover?

She huffed, she laughed, she lay, naked, onto the bed next to her newfound lover.

What actions were taken, subsequently, by the newfound lover, for whom the Staremistress had prepared the insufferable meal?

She frowned, she smiled, she embraced the naked form of her lover.

What thoughts commanded Octavia’s mind?

The undesirable label of lesbianism; the need to come out; how she would tell Bea about her orientation.

What thoughts commanded Vinyl’s mind?

How could she have succumbed to Octavia’s charms; the warmth of the body next to her; are we alone in the Universe?

Why was the label of lesbianism undesirable?

Octavia Philarmonica, 23, was undoubtedly perturbed by the very notion of labelling herself a lesbian, for she truly and honestly despised the lesbian community, more so than the male homosexual or any other deviant community.

Deviant?

In some form.

The need?

There was no need to come out yet.

Bea?

Beatrice.

How could Vinyl Scratch, 25, have succumbed to Octavia’s charms?

She fell in love with the majestic eyes, the magenta of her eyes, the eyes.

Why was the body next to her warm?

Despite the freezing cold that reigned outside, the flat was quite stuffy, and, full of youthful vigour, Octavia’s body was a fine 36’6 Celsius, as a normal, healthy, living body should be.

Are we alone in the universe?

The answer to that question depends on how broad the universe is, how many planets it entails, and the chances of there being life on one of the planets of our universe.

What event followed the silent contemplation?

Octavia Philarmonica leant in to the beautiful face and kissed the lips of her lover.

Did she enjoy it?

Yes, she enjoyed it immensely.

Upon breaking the kiss, what did she say?

She expressed joy at just lying like that, next to her lover in this wonderful spacious bed, in her bed, that is to say, they bed, maybe now, yes, what she meant to say, was to suggest, why not make this bed of hers their shared bed?

Why did Vinyl claim that she had to think about it instead of rejecting straightaway?

Because, despite her lack of desire to have a relationship, she did not want to hurt the young, wide-eyed, happy Octavia Philarmonica.

Was Octavia Philarmonica truly happy?

Yes, she was truly, blissfully happy.

Why was Octavia Philarmonica happy?

She wasn’t sure, but it entailed having the naked form of Vinyl Scratch next to her naked form.

How did Octavia Philarmonica deal with the situation that ensued therein?

Define “the situation that ensued therein.”

The doorbell chiming, jingling, piercing the air with sound.

She freaked out.

Define “freaked out.”

She cried, “Fuck, it’s Bea!”, rose from the bed swiftly, tried to find her clothes, failed to do so, the bell chimed again, tried to find Vinyl’s clothes, failed to do so, the bell chimed again, what was she to do?!

What was she to do?

She was to, swiftly, conceal Vinyl’s presence and, getting dressed, open the door and greet Beatrice, wondering why she hadn’t called in advance and getting her to the kitchen swiftly, while Vinyl could get dressed and escape the flat unnoticed.

How?

“Get in the wardrobe!” Octavia hissed, nudging the naked form of the DJ towards the large, ancient wardrobe made of fine, strong redwood. She picked up a pair of socks, putting them on - a pitiful and laughable sight in the wake of both women still staying naked.

“What?” Vinyl blinked. “Octavia, are you serious?!”

“I cannot just come out yet.” Octavia nudged Vinyl towards the wardrobe. “So far, it’s the only possible solution.” Receiving a shake of disbelief, Octavia managed to persuade her lover to enter the wardrobe and closed the doors. “Fine! It’s fine! Just wait till we get to the kitchen, then you can get dressed and slip out! I’ll call you!”

“A, I don’t know your number,” Vinyl mumbled from inside the wardrobe, “and B, I don’t know where my clothes are! Things got kinda… heated.”

“Great!” Octavia said, without listening, and ran out of the bedroom, having lost all hope of finding her clothes. She slipped into the bathroom and grabbed a robe, wrapping it around herself with haste. The bell was chiming insistently.

“I’m coming!” Octavia called out, blushing as she remembered the circumstances in which she had called out the same phrase, albeit with a different meaning.

So, uh, she kinda greeted Bea at the doors, right, and they exchanged something like I mean they talked, sure, and Octavia led them to the kitchen, somewhat, and they sat and they talked and they drank tea. Is that a valid description? Can I go now?

“Octavia, may I ask you something?” Beatrice asked cautiously, putting down her tea.

“Of course!” Octavia smiled a little broader than was necessary.

“Why are you naked beneath that robe of yours?”

“Ah, um. You know, I like to sleep naked, is all.”

“Ah. And why are you so sweaty?”

“Oh, you know, Bea, it’s so hot in my flat…”

“I feel kinda cold.”

“Uh. Well, the blankets were too heavy.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah…”

“Um. Octavia, who was the half-naked woman who tiptoed past the kitchen and waved her hand at me?”

“...”

“I mean.”

“...”

Octavia was sure that at this moment, she could let the earth swallow her and call it a day. To think that Vinyl would be so careless as to… But of course. The only way to leave the flat was to pass by the kitchen. And she doubted Vinyl’s ability to have found all her clothing.

“Octavia?”

Beatrice’s gaze wasn’t judging, it wasn’t sly, it wasn’t angry. It was just curious and… hopeful?

Octavia couldn’t believe it was her words coming out of her mouth, that it was her voice speaking them. “It was… Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch. She. She. She’s my… lover.”

Octavia shut her eyes tight. She expected Bea to shout at her, to accept her silently, to stand up and leave. But she did not expect a powerful, mean slap on the cheek that she received. Her eyes opened, and she looked at the heavily breathing woman, now standing. “Your… lover. Your lover?!” Bea shouted, while Octavia just sat there, like a puppy who’s being scolded. “You were… All the time, and! I agreed with you! I, I was meant to be your lover! You never even noticed me! And now you’re lesbian, and you have a lover, and I am out of your league?!” Another slap. Another cheek. She didn’t say anything more. She turned, and walked away.

Octavia sipped on her tea. In a while, she felt the familiar presence materialise behind her. “Yes, Vinyl?” she said in a plain, normal tone.

“Is now a good time, Octavia?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure ever is a good time.”

“I may have overheard your argument.”

“You aren’t sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Good. I don’t want you to be sorry. … I didn’t know.”

“Wasn’t she obvious?”

“No, never. She always played along.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she loved you. A friend.”

“I don’t love her.”

“Do you love me, Octavia?”

“I don’t know, Vinyl. I want to love you.”

So Vinyl sighed, uh, and, you know, it was just nearing afternoon, what I mean is, it was a good day, right?, as good as any, and the snow was falling, again, I guess, so white, woo, and the people were swish swish swishing around in the streets, and especially in one cafe, a nice cafe, there sat Frederic Horshopin, the famous pianist, you guessed it, and he drank, um, I guess, coffee?, and it was good, it was real good, and so he drank coffee, and the snow was falling, and all was good and right.

Amen.