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You’ve got to know when it’s time to turn the page.
- Tori Amos
The lights dimmed as the music started, a ballad sung in Farsi that Philippa didn’t recognize. In the middle of the dance floor, a single couple began to dance, swaying side to side and smiling joyously at one another. Philippa took another sip of sparkling rose from a champagne flute.
The hall was filled with delighted guests, oohing and awwing as the happy couple revolved slowly in its center. Afsaneh giggled as Brett twirled her around and Philippa sighed and took another sip.
“Hey,” Gabriel whispered from the seat next to her. Philippa jerked, nearly dropping her glass.
“What is it?” she hissed at him.
“You okay?”
Philippa glared. “I’m fine.”
“Pippa… come on. I know this is a little weird for you—“
“It’s fine.”
Gabriel sighed. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“So I shouldn’t be reading anything into the way you are staring at Afsaneh or how tightly you are clenching that glass?”
She frowned at the glass in her hand and put it down, then sighed. In a low voice she whispered back, “He’s not good enough for her.”
“So this is about him?” Gabriel asked, nodding at Brett.
Philippa’s eyes narrowed. “Who else would it be about?”
Gabriel just raised his eyebrows at her silently, the answer to her question hanging unspoken between them. “You should go talk to her.”
Philippa let out a breath and turned from Gabriel, eyes finding Afsaneh again on the dance floor. She was wearing a tea length ivory party dress, wedding henna still visible under lace sleeves. Her dark hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders.
“And what? Confess my undying love?”
She didn’t need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes behind her. “No, of course not. But it might be good to talk to her. You both still care about each other, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, eyes not leaving Afsaneh’s smiling form.
“So talk to her.”
“Fine,” Philippa muttered. “When all this,” she gestured towards the dance floor, “is over.”
The two friends sat together quietly as they watched the dance conclude. So far, Afsaneh and Brett’s wedding festivities has been a combination of American and Iranian traditions. She knew they’d married in Tehran a week ago surrounded by family and friends. This reception, in San Francisco, was mostly for their Starfleet friends. It seemed to be mostly American in style, but Philippa had noticed plenty of Persian sweets covered in powdered sugar on the dessert tables.
When the song was over, it was replaced by something much more uptempo, and the newly married couple waved everyone onto the dance floor. Many people got up and joined them, but Philippa remained in her seat, sipping her wine.
When that song ended, Afsaneh stopped dancing, fanning herself with a hand and grinning broadly and Philippa saw the best opening she was going to get. Afsaneh was making her way to the edge of the dance floor, where she stopped to chat with an old classmate from the Academy. Philippa vaguely remembered him from her survival strategies class. She set her glass down and walked over.
Philippa wound her way through the crowd and by the time she found Afsaneh again, she was talking to someone else. Afsaneh looked up, breaking into a genuine smile at the sight of Philippa. Her heart started beating faster as Afsaneh excused herself and walked towards Philippa.
“Would you like to dance?” Philippa asked, reaching out with an open hand.
Afsaneh smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.” She put her hand in Philippa’s and Philippa took it and led them back onto the dance floor.
They found a gap in the crowd and turned to face one another and before they could do anything else, the music ended. Both paused, waiting for it to resume. When a slow song began, Afsaneh smiled shyly but held out her arms. Philippa took her by the waist and the two began to sway gently to the music.
“Thank you for coming, Philippa. You--“ Afsaneh hesitated, “your friendship has always meant so much to me. And I’m just so glad that you are here today.”
Her hands tightened involuntarily around Afsaneh’s waist. “Me too,” she said, and she meant it. “I wouldn’t want to miss it.” She stared into Afsaneh’s eyes and suddenly the memory of lazy mornings spent in bed, hands gently caressing bare skin, eyes glinting in the sunlight coming through the windows, low laughter rumbling in their chests, filled her senses. She wanted to fall into those eyes and never climb back out. She shook herself, shoving the memory aside. “We will always be friends and I will always care about you, and all I want—all I truly want, is for you to be happy.”
Afsaneh smiled, getting teary eyed, and leaned in closer, hugging Philippa tightly. “I am happy,” she whispered.
Philippa hugged her back, even as she felt her heart breaking inside her. When Afsaneh pulled back, there were tears in Philippa’s eyes, and she cursed herself for the sparkling wine she’d drunk. This isn’t the time for feeling maudlin. You broke up a long time ago. She isn’t yours anymore, she reminded herself. But she’d always assumed they’d eventually find each other again. But this felt different now. More real. More permanent.
Afsaneh smiled and cupped her hands around Philippa’s face. She looked like she was going to start crying too, and Philippa couldn’t take it. She covered Afsaneh’s hands with hers. “Be well,” she told her. “Be happy.”
The song was ending and Gabriel came up behind them, politely cutting in. “Afsaneh,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Oh, Gabriel, thank you so much for coming.” She dabbed at her face. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just been so emotional this week.”
He smiled sympathetically. “Completely understandable. And I wouldn’t miss it, of course! Would you like to dance?”
She hesitated for a moment, looking at Philippa, but Philippa shook her head. “Please. Go ahead.”
Gabriel whisked her off, and he caught her eye over Afsaneh’s shoulder. She smiled and nodded her thanks. Took a deep breath. Then she turned and left.
It was time.