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“To Clarke’s big adventure!”
“To Clarke saving the world just like we always knew she would!”
Clarke smiles and lifts her glass. “Prost!”
Mittened hands mute the gathering’s clanking of glasses. The six of them tip their heads back to drink.
Clarke had insisted on a roof party. Despite the December fog rolling in, erasing the usually breathtaking view over the Bay. Despite the wet cold seeping in through the seams, making everyone shiver. Even the white lights strung up over their heads seem too cold to shine.
“So where are you going again?” Cecilia asks. She is Lexa’s ex from years ago, but in the grand old tradition of queer women, everyone is friendly and mostly authentically so. Now Cecilia is with Kai whose arm is wrapped around her shoulders.
“Indonesia,” Clarke says. She looks towards the cooler on the edge of their gathering. “Is there more beer?”
“I know you’re going to Indonesia, Clarke, but it’s a giant place.” Cecilia looks up at Kai. “Will you please get Clarke another beer, my love?”
Clarke flashes a smile at Kai and nods at them as they make their way to the cooler. “It’s this island called Halmahera. It’s five or six hours from Jakarta by plane.”
Cecilia turns her head towards Lexa. “And how are you with all of this?”
Lexa jerks her head as if shaken out of sleep. “I mean, it’s an amazing opportunity.” She straightens her back. “They only accepted three researchers, so…” She trails off and lets herself be distracted by Kai coming back with Clarke’s beer.
“Is it developed? Like, is there running water?” Kai asks as they hand Clarke the bottle.
One corner of Clarke’s lips ticks up in a smile. “Yeah, of course. It’s a full lab. Probably even more advanced than the ones at Cal.” Clarke has her own general practice in Berkeley, but she stayed on at Cal researching rare diseases, particularly Mucopolysaccharidosis type II, or MPS. The disease occurs in one out of every 100,000 people, so when a full third of the children in a remote village in Halmahera were found with the disease, researchers took notice.
“But what about where you’ll live?” Kai’s face is open with curiosity. They’re bundled in a wool hat and winter coat and seem unaffected by the wet chill in the air.
“I mean, it’ll be pretty, uh, monastic.” Clarke shrugs. “But I’ll have what I need.”
“What about internet?” Monty asks. He’s a friend of Clarke’s from Cal and has done his fair share of research in remote places.
“Yeah, that’s the hard part,” Clarke says. She can feel the tension emanating from Lexa who is standing beside her. “It’s pretty remote, so it’s all by satellite and pretty restricted. The lab connects to Boston once a day to exchange data, but we’re not supposed to use it for personal stuff.” Clarke swallows and refuses to even turn her head in Lexa’s direction. “There’s a village about a two-hour drive away where there’s some connection. A van will take us on the weekends.”
Cecilia wraps her arms around Kai and pulls them in. “I don’t think I could do it.” She kisses their cheek. “I’d lose my mind if you were out in some remote jungle and could only talk to me once a week.”
“It’s more rainforest than jungle.” Clarke pounces on her chance to change the subject.
“Aren’t they the same thing?” Kai asks.
“Is she always this inquisitive?” Harper, Monty’s wife, asks Cecilia, smiling playfully and nodding at Kai.
“They.” Lexa’s voice is sharp and too loud.
“What?” Harper’s head spins around to look at Lexa.
“Kai goes by ‘they.’” Lexa’s voice is softer this time. She looks down.
“Oh, right.” Harper scrunches her face in Kai’s direction. “Sorry.”
“No big deal,” Kai smiles and shrugs. “It takes some getting used to.” They turned to Lexa. “But thank you.” Their voice is sincere.
“Monty, didn’t you work in some jungle in South America for awhile?” Cecilia’s voice is full of cheer, but her eyes throw a sideways glance at Lexa.
“It was a rainforest, really.”
A light chuckle fills the foggy air. Lexa forces a smile onto her lips, but her eyes are icy.
Clarke waits until the conversation moves on to look at Lexa with wide eyes. What is going on with you? Lexa looks away and plants her icy eyes on Kai who is joyfully grilling Monty about his time in Brazil.
An hour later, Harper is bouncing from foot to foot in a little jig. “I can’t feel my feet, y’all.” She looks at Clarke. “I’m sorry, but I need to get home under my warm blankets.”
Clarke smiles and hugs Harper first, then Monty. “Thanks for coming.”
“I can’t believe you leave tomorrow.” Monty’s eyes reflect joy and worry. “Be safe, Dr. Griffin.”
“You know me,” Clarke replies lightly then looks down. Her voice gets quiet. “I’ll take care of myself.”
Lexa is standing off the group a few feet, so Monty and Harper throw an awkward wave in her direction as they walk to the door. Cecilia has no time for Lexa’s coolness. After she and Kai hug Clarke, showering her with both worries and well-wishes, she takes the extra steps towards Lexa and wraps her arms around her like a mother comforting a child.
“I know what’s going on,” she whispers. “It’s okay to be upset.”
Lexa feels angry at the tears that prick at the corner of her eyes. She won’t let Cecilia see them, and she certainly won’t let Clarke see them.
“Thanks,” she says briskly then pulls away.
Lexa drives Clarke’s car down Shattuck Ave. towards Oakland. It’s late and traffic is light, for once. Lexa looks straight ahead, her eyes only deviating to check the mirrors. The silence hangs between them like the fog over the Bay.
Clarke is buzzed, not quite drunk. She thinks about turning some music on, but stops herself. There isn’t enough room in the car for sound. Lexa’s face is already tight at the jaw and around the eyes. The smallest of stimuli and she might shatter.
Clarke sighs despite the risk. She rubs her eyes and shakes her head. She’s not made of porcelain. “Do you just want to drop me off?” Her voice is louder than she intends. “You can just drop the car off in the garage tomorrow or whenever.”
Lexa squints, still looking straight ahead. “Clarke…” She shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. Finally, the lines around her eyes soften. She sucks in her lips then lets out the breath. “No.”
Clarke reaches over, brushing Lexa’s hair away from her neck. Lexa flinches away from the touch. Clarke drops her hand into her lap and looks down.
Silence. They pull into Clarke’s building’s underground garage, take the elevator to the ninth floor, brush their teeth and wash their faces, take their clothes off, and crawl into bed without saying a word to each other. Lexa turns her back to Clarke and pulls the blankets tight around her. Clarke doesn’t close her eyes until she hears Lexa’s breath fall into a slow rhythm.
Clarke wakes in the darkness to Lexa’s arm snaking around her belly and up the middle of her chest, pulling her in tight. She feels lips at the base of her neck, working their way down vertebrae by vertebrae. She sucks in a sharp breath and tries not to move—she doesn’t want to fracture the moment. She wants Lexa to know she’s awake and open, but not too eager. She feels her skin rise in little bumps on every part of her. A shiver ripples through her. The very center of her starts to glow. Her body is eager.
There’s something different about Lexa this time. Her hands grip like she’s falling. Her lips linger longer on each inch of skin they find—a desperation that is slow and methodical. This isn’t about fun or release, it’s about memorizing every moment, every curve, every scent.
Lexa pulls on Clarke’s hip, turning her so that they’re face to face. The glow inside Clarke turns into something else, something deep like the middle of the ocean. Dark and undulating.
Lexa goes still, the silence filling with ambient city sounds—tires on pavement, a distant siren. The darkness is tinged with the orange of street lights seeping in through cracks in the curtain. Clarke can make out the dip of Lexa’s waist, the round of her shoulder. There is shadow where her face is, but a quick flash tells Clarke that Lexa’s eyes are open, looking at her.
They don’t move. Their breathing fills the space. In, out in unison. Clarke feels fingertips on her face, light like a draft from an old window. They brush over her temple, down her jawline, over her lips. Clarke can feel the path they leave across the skin—the glow, the depth. She feels the tears at the back of her throat before they make their way to her eyes. She bites her lip, holding them back.
She hears a quick intake of breath before Lexa’s lips on hers, hard and hungry. Lexa’s body is suddenly on top of Clarke’s, and Clarke pulls her against her, the weight of her an anchor. She tastes salt as their lips come together again. Then Lexa’s mouth is on her cheek, her collarbone, her neck. Clarke’s breath catches as Lexa pauses.
“Don’t go.” The whisper lingers in Clarke’s ear as their bodies start to move against each other in a rhythm—their rhythm.
It’s still dark when Clarke’s alarm goes off on her phone. As she reaches to turn it off, she can tell Lexa is gone. Her eyes are heavy with too few hours of sleep. It doesn’t matter. She has two days on planes ahead of her.
She hears rustling from the kitchen. A soft light spills in through the not-quite-closed door. Clarke pushes her head into her pillow and closes her eyes again. When they had finally fallen asleep, Lexa had been wrapped around her, her head cradled in the nook of her neck and shoulder. Clarke can still feel her on her skin. She closes her eyes and lies very still, memorizing the feeling, but when the door cracks open, it melts away.
“Clarke?” Lexa is on the other side of the door, but Clarke can hear in her voice that she’s biting her lip. When they first got together, she’d always bite her lip when she wanted to kiss her but didn’t want to seem too eager. When she was trying to stay in control.
“I’m awake,” Clarke says, her voice scratchy.
“If you want me to drive you to the airport, we should leave soon.” Lexa’s voice is stronger, more even. More distant.
Clarke turns and looks at the clock. 6:30. She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, Lex.”
“Are you sure?”
“The traffic on the bridge will be horrible. I’ll just take the train. It’ll be easier.”
Clarke hears Lexa exhale. She still doesn’t come into the room. “Do you want some coffee?” she asks.
“Yes, please.”
The soft light of dawn is starting to trickle in through the blinds, mixing with the light from the hallway. Clarke rubs her eyes before she opens them. The room slowly comes into focus. She lets her eyes take everything in. In the corner, The backpack and two bright yellow suitcases she packed yesterday—her life for the next six months inside. A photo of her and her mom at the peak of Mt. Tamalpais, the Pacific glistening behind them. The dresser where Clarke emptied two drawers so Lexa could store some of her things there. They had talked about moving in for months in the same way they talked about getting married or having kids: someday in some unspecified future.
The last time had been different, though. They were drinking their morning coffee on Clarke’s balcony looking out over Lake Merritt. It had been a week since Clarke had told Lexa she accepted the fellowship in Indonesia, and Lexa had been sleeping over almost every night.
“You should live here while I’m away. Just move in,” Clarke said. “You could keep the place cozy while I’m gone. I’ll pay the rent.”
“You won’t even be here,” was all Lexa said. The way she clipped her words indicated that the conversation was over.
Lexa looks down at the cup of coffee on the counter. Something inside her wants to take it to Clarke black even though she knows she likes it with a half spoon of sugar and a splash of cream. Lexa has made it that way for her hundreds of times. She instead considers yelling down the hall that the coffee is ready—make Clarke get up and prepare it herself. One is passive aggressive, the other simply inconsiderate, especially on their last morning together.
Lexa’s chest glows with a warm frustration. She knows she should feel sad, that she should make the most of this last hour together, but she just wants to skip this part. Her head drops over the coffee and she takes a deep breath. Then she walks over to the fridge to grab the cream.
When she brings the coffee into the bedroom, Clarke is toweling off after what must have been a very quick shower.
“I just needed to rinse off the…” Clarke glances down at the bed, which is a swirl of untidy blankets. The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile that is somehow sad, sincere, and playful at the same time.
Lexa forces a smile back but she can feel how shallow it is. She holds the mug out to Clarke who tosses her towel on the bed to take a sip. The site of Clarke’s bare body stings her. She wants to push Clarke’s wet hair out of her face, run her hand over the curve of her shoulder, but the desire burns off like newspaper in a fire.
Clarke suddenly feels exposed without any clothes on. She sets the coffee down and grabs the towel, wrapping it around her body. She squints at Lexa. “Are you okay?” She always picks up on whatever is going on under Lexa’s silence. Sometimes Lexa hates it.
“Are you all packed?” Lexa replies, glancing down at the luggage in the corner, aware that she didn’t answer Clarke’s question.
Clarke sucks in her lips and closes her eyes. She doesn’t want a fight right now. She nods. “Yeah, it should be everything. They don’t let us bring much.”
Lexa feels a laugh rise up in her. She can’t help it. When it mixes with everything else inside her, it comes out as scoff, but the smile that spreads across her lips is real and she can’t do anything to hide it. The suitcases are huge.
“What?” Clarke smiles. “That’s not much stuff for six months!”
Lexa feels her smile turn sad. “Do you have your headphones? The nice ones, not the ear buds.” She looks down at her hands.
Clarke nods, only a shadow of a smile left. Lexa bought her fancy headphones for Christmas last year. She uses them all the time.
Neither of them say anything for a few moments. Lexa looks down at the palms of her hands. Clarke sips her coffee.
“I need to take a shower,” Lexa finally says and pushes past Clarke into the bathroom.
Lexa’s takes a long shower. After, as she opens one of her designated drawers in Clarke’s dresser to grab fresh underwear, she realizes she may not be here again for a long time. She looks around the room. Her iPad on the bedside table. A stack of books from Half Price on the shelf underneath, only half of them read. Her running shoes by the closet. She sighs.
She doesn’t want to come back here after Clarke is gone.
“Clarke?” she calls, not moving.
“Yeah, Lex?” Clarke’s voice drifts in from the balcony.
Lexa opens her mouth to answer, but the words catch in her throat. This had been her other home for nearly two years. She woke up in Clarke’s bed more often than she woke up in her own.
Clarke materializes in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“I...I need a bag.” Lexa looks down at the drawers open in front of her.
Clarke bites her lip and swallows. Of course Lexa would take her things. Why wouldn’t she? But the realization pricks at the corner of her eyes. “Uh, yeah.” She swallows again and takes a deep breath. “Like a grocery bag or a duffel bag or…?”
Lexa lets out a long breath. “A duffel bag, I guess.”
Clarke nods and disappears. She comes back with a small gym bag. “This is all I could find.”
“That’s fine,” Lexa says quietly as she grabs the bag. She looks at Clarke for a moment, but even a moment is too much. Her eyes shift to the contents of the drawer with a strange intensity. She starts pulling socks out carefully, like she’s handling dried flowers.
“I’ll just…” Clarke can’t find more words, so she slips away. She walks through her apartment. She runs her finger across a layer of dust on a bookshelf and straightens a frame on the wall. She folds a blanket and drapes it over the couch. She rubs a leaf from her monstera between her fingers and pulls a wilting blossom off her Christmas cactus. They’ll be fine. Her mom had agreed to come by once a week to water them and to check on the apartment.
She knew she couldn’t ask Lexa.
She makes her way back out to the balcony and watches the new day reflect on the lake. Early morning joggers make their way around the three-mile track while ducks disappear momentarily beneath the surface of the water. The rising sun catches on the walls of windows curving down the Cathedral of Christ the Light. Clarke narrows her eyes against the sharp reflection.
There’s nothing else for her to do but wait.
Her coffee is gone, the mug cold in her hands, when she hears Lexa’s voice.
“Are you almost ready?”
“Yeah.” Clarke doesn’t look away from the glare of the cathedral. “Just need to put on my shoes.”
Lexa nods but Clarke doesn’t see it. Clarke stands and leans against the rail, memorizing the curve of the lake shore, the morning light breaking on the water.
I’ll miss you.
When she turns around, Lexa is gone. She goes inside and hears water running in the kitchen. She goes to grab her shoes and sees the bloated duffel bag by the front door. She takes a deep breath. She can’t take her eyes off it, the sight of it burning over the lake scene in her mind.
Lexa had taken Clarke’s mug from the balcony. She is washing it and the few other dirty dishes in the sink. She has already walked through each room to make sure there was nothing that could pose a danger from neglect—unplugging appliances and opening blinds. She’s made the bed and wiped down the bathroom sink. As she places the last dish in the drying rack, she knows there’s nothing left to do but leave.
The breath catches inside her as she feels Clarke’s arms wrap around her from behind. She lets herself lean back and wraps her wet hands around Clarke’s, holding them tight. They rest against each other for a few moments, Lexa’s eyes closed, Clarke digging her nose into Lexa’s hair.
Lexa lets out a long breath and lets go of Clarke’s hands. “Can we take a Lyft?” she asks without turning around. “I’ll just take the train home.”
The ride to West Oakland station is silent except for what sounds like preaching in Spanish over the speakers. Miguel, their driver, nods every so often when the preacher gets especially passionate. Clarke looks out the window, taking in the graffiti on abandoned houses, the brightly painted cranes on the port, the fuzzy outline of San Francisco on the horizon. Everything seems brighter against the slate gray sky. Lexa scrolls mindlessly through Instagram. They don’t say a word.
When they arrive, the station is swarming with morning commuters. The train into San Francisco will be packed. Lexa’s jaw goes rigid. I should have driven her. But there’s no guilt. There’s not even sadness. There’s nothing—except a steady, heavy pounding in her chest.
Miguel pulls the suitcases out of the trunk and sets them on the curb..
“Have a good trip.” He smiles at Clarke as she grabs them. The smile is sweet. It’s genuine.
Something boils up in Lexa. How does it come so easy for him? She slings the duffel bag over her shoulder as Clarke looks down at her suitcases, sorting out the calculus of moving them both at the same time.
“How will you get those onto the train by yourself?” Lexa asks, her voice hollow.
“I’m a scientist,” Clarke replies. “I’ll figure it out.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laugh.
“I should have driven you to the airport.”
“It’s fine.” Clarke has sorted her suitcase situation and starts to move them towards the elevator to the platform, pushing one ahead of her and pulling one behind her.
“Let me help.” Lexa rushes over.
“Lexa.” Clarke sighs and stops. “I’m fine. Besides, you’re going in the other direction.” She hits the elevator button.
It all hits Lexa at once, like a bright light turned on in a dark room. Her chest is burning, and heat pricks at the corner of her eyes. She feels every breath move through every part of her. In and out. She forces herself to look up at Clarke.
Clarke just shakes her head and looks down. She doesn’t know what to say.
In less than a heartbeat, Lexa’s arms are around her, their bodies pressed against each other, warmth and sadness. The doors of the elevator open then close. A sea of people flows around them in an endless current.
“Be safe,” Lexa whispers. “Come back.”
Clarke just nods and presses her face into Lexa’s neck, the smell of her skin slowing everything down. “I love you.”
Lexa just nods, sucking in her lips, holding back the water threatening to break through the dam.
Clarke swallows and starts to pull away. “I need to go.”
Lexa steps away and nods again. She looks into Clarke’s eyes, blue like an endless storm on the ocean, but she can’t hold the gaze. It’s too much. She presses the elevator button for Clarke. The doors open immediately. Without a word, Clarke steers her luggage in. The doors close before she can turn around.
Lexa takes a deep breath before she turns to the stairs that lead up to the eastbound platform. The duffel bag is heavy and awkward in her hand, but she still skips every other step on her way up. The sky feels even grayer when she reaches the top.
Only a few people mill about on her side, but across the tracks hundreds of people wait to head into San Francisco. Lexa scans the crowd, looking for Clarke, but there are so many faces. Something frantic rises up in her. She rushes down the platform, her eyes darting from face to face. Where is she?
“Lexa!” Clarke’s voice calls over the static noise of the station.
Finally, Lexa spots the bright yellow suitcases and draws her eyes up to Clarke standing next to them. Clarke holds up her hand in a tiny, sad wave. Lexa lets a tiny laugh escape and returns the wave. Clarke’s mouth is drawn in a slight smile, but her eyes betray everything going on inside her. This time Lexa holds the gaze, intent on keeping Clarke with her as long as she can.
They’re still looking at each other when the train to SFO rolls in, cutting the connection. Lexa stares at its grimy windows as it sits for a few moments, dirty silhouettes of people looking at their phones filling each frame. It lingers, swaying slightly as a wave of passengers swarm inside.
The train pushes off. Car after car goes by in a blur. When it finally reveals the platform on the other side, everyone has disappeared. Clarke is gone.