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An engagement ring in a potato – only Stanley The Yutz Zbornak could come up with such a thing. And it wasn’t like it could be excused by being his first proposal. He’d asked for her hand before, and then, after leaving her in the most disrespectful way after more than three decades of cheating, he’d gone on to the hardly-of-age stewardess, and who knew how many more after wrecking that relationship as well. The fact that 44 years later, he was repeating the same move, in the same clumsy, immature way, albeit with a lot more money on his bank account and a successful business on his name for the first time in his life, didn’t exactly make Blanche jump with joy. He still had the personality of a dial tone, no changes on that front. But seeing how happy it made Dorothy, she suppressed her doubts and received the news with the joy and support her best friend deserved.
Even if it meant losing her, at least a big part of her, her presence, their intimate late night talks over ice cream and cheesecake, Blanche couldn’t help but feel a small, cozy happiness looking at her rejoiced face, her sparkling eyes. Dorothy, ever dateless, single, home alone, had gotten engaged, who’d have thought. The best thing that could happen to a woman, she’d said, and her ring looked gorgeous on her long, elegant fingers, sparkling almost as much as her loud black paillete jacket. After the obligatory group hug, they sat down at the kitchen table, gushing about the shower they were going to throw, the wedding, the honey moon, all the lovely things to look forward to.
Trouble started when Sophia came in, and after learning about Dorothy’s new-old relationship, stuck her head in the microwave. To say she was appalled by the idea was putting it mildly, and she profusely rejected the possibility, insisting on Stan’s inability to commit.
Blanche took Dorothy aside during the bridal shower, while the two cops (one real, one a stripper) both danced together on the lanai, and tried to build bridges by suggesting Stan ask Sophia directly, like the godfather she considered herself to be. Dorothy held her hand as she listened to the idea, enthusiastic and hopeful that it might actually work. After Blanche sent her back out to the party, her party, the echo of the touch lingered on her skin, and she realized just how much Dorothy touched her, casually, gently, lovingly, at the slightest occasion. She would miss it, she thought. Not that she wasn’t getting touched plenty by others, but with her it was so different from her men, the physical, superficial pleasures. Dorothy understood her in ways they never would.
When the Italian method failed, and during the rehearsal Sophia got ahead of herself and, thinking it was the actual ceremony, interrupted with her objection, Blanche could hardly bear the way it wiped the joy from Dorothy’s face. Of course, she had her own reservations about Stan, but Dorothy was a grown woman, old enough to make her own choices, and her own mistakes, if that was what they’d turn out to be. So she’d decided not to voice them, out of what she told herself was respect, but maybe there was also a little bit of cowardice in there. Strangely enough it seemed unthinkable not just because it might cause a rupture in their friendship, like that time Dorothy hadn’t believed her when Blanche had mustered up the courage to tell her about the sleazy pass her seemingly perfect boyfriend had made on her. More than that, Blanche felt terrible for her ulterior motive, for benefitting from keeping her here, single, always at her side, for wanting that almost more than seeing her walk down the aisle and out of their home.
But those were the kind of thoughts she repressed during these days, the tense and stressful days just before a wedding. They prepared everything, the house, the lanai, they coordinated the officiant, the catering, the guests, and they kept Dorothy company. On the big day, ready in her cream colored dress, all made up, she was sitting at her make-up table, nervous as anything.
Rose and Blanche were doing their best to try and calm her, while Trudy, the new roommate they had cast, was having a look around her future place. Blanche stepped to Dorothy’s side, placing her hands on her best friend’s shoulders.
“Oh, you just look so beautiful!” she exclaimed, meaning it. She paused just a bit too long, looking in the mirror at Dorothy’s reflection, the sparkling earrings, the beautifully painted face, the light fluffy curls of grey hair. Quickly, she stepped aside, joining her hands at her abdomen.
“You know this reminds me of the day I married George? Oh, it was an exquisite wedding…” She reminisced in the memory, and the fact that she hadn’t worn any underwear, surprised the girls even though they should have known. Her eyes were still on Dorothy, who was nervously fidgeting with the seam of her dress, the exposed skin of her chest.
“Oh, when Stan and I were married, Stan was crying, I was crying, Ma was crying, all for different reasons, but if you didn’t know us, it looked touching. Why am I so nervous, I’ve done this before…”
“I always get nervous at weddings,” the new girl said, “Weddings and funerals. I’ve been to so many of both that I get mixed up – the only difference is, after the funeral it’s okay to date.”
“I’m beginnin’ to like her,” Blanche said, smiling.
“Me too,” Rose added.
“You’re gonna have a lot of fun together,” Dorothy said, smiling in the beginning, but once the words had left her lips, it faded, and she seemed at the verge of tears. Immediately, Blanche was at her side again, holding her, while Dorothy hid her face behind her hand.
“Oh Dorothy, no one can replace you!”
Blanche felt her friend’s tension, her deep breaths, and soothingly stroked her back, being there for her in every possible way, sensing her, in a way she would not be able to so terribly soon.
“I can’t believe it – you’re going to walk down that aisle and you won’t be home tonight.”
At Rose’s words, Dorothy looked up.
“Oh, I’m gonna miss you so much! You know the only thing that makes me sad is leaving you.”
Blanche felt her heart pick up speed as Dorothy’s glance seemed to linger on her just a bit too long. She couldn’t have meant ‘you’ as in her, could she? No, no way.
“Come on, come on now, we’ve gotta get you ready,” she said, trying to forget about it.
Together, they found the classic borrowed, blue, and new. When it came to the old, Sophia stood in the doorway, and it finally seemed to go well. Blanche grabbed Rose and disappeared, leaving the two alone to make up. They got busy greeting the guests, chatting, seating and waiting on the lanai. Waiting for quite a while, actually. None of them heard or saw Dorothy at first, when she appeared in the entrance, among the yellow roses, looking distraught and lost.
“I have an announcement to make,” Dorothy said, and Blanche, who’d been sweet-talking the young caterer’s assistant, turned around just like everyone else. Not that she had eyes for anyone else as soon as she saw her.
“I’ve decided not to make the same mistake twice. I’m sorry.”
And with that, she left, and the girls rushed after her.
Later that night, after a lot of tears and talking, the guests gone and the lanai tidied up, they were back to the kitchen table, crisis central. You could tell it was bad by the absence of cheesecake and ice cream. There was nothing but a cup of tea and heartbreak, while they were trying to mend Dorothy back together. She tried not to show it, but Blanche could tell she was devastated, which only made her feel worse at her own relief, this treacherous happiness to have Dorothy still with her, to be able to continue to be with her. At least Trudy kindly agreed to forgo her lease and look for a new place, so that was one problem less on their list.
“Well, Dorothy, I guess we’re sleeping together tonight,” Sophia said.
“I guess so,” Dorothy replied. “Just the kind of wedding night I dreamed of.”
Sophia excused herself to make some space in her room, probably to hide the stuff she’d nicked over the last few weeks, and the junk food she wasn’t supposed to eat. The girls dined on the caterer’s food that night, struggling to fit the enormous leftovers in the fridge and the freezer. Trudy was the first to go to bed, Sophia and Rose soon followed, leaving Blanche alone with the almost-wife. Dorothy was wearing one of her wide shirts, black and white, her face was tired and sad as she stirred her cup of peppermint tea.
Blanche tried to come up with words of comfort that hadn’t been said already, that would actually console her, and not rub salt in the wound, but nothing came to mind. In the end, she just took her hand, her right hand, no ring, and gently squeezed it. Dorothy lifted her head and looked at her, a tiny smile forming on her lips. Blanche smiled back. She would see that all would be well again, she would do whatever she had to in order to make Dorothy happy again.
“I’m sorry my bracelet didn’t bring you any luck,” she finally said, and took a sip of her own tea.
“Maybe it did. After all, the bigger mistake would have been to marry him. Again.” Dorothy shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that I almost did it, how could I be so stupid?”
“Oh Dorothy, it’s not stupid! You were blinded by your affection, by love and hope. He fooled you, and considerin’ how well he knows you, that’s no shame.”
“I really thought he’d changed,” Dorothy admitted, “To think that I was doing it for the money, I mean- how dare he?”
“Just goes to show he doesn’t know you that well at all. I know you could never be so shallow. You’re the most upright, good hearted person I know.”
“If there’s no trust, if you can’t give in completely, share everything, become one – what’s the point?”
“That is the point, darlin’. I’ve been with many guys, but it’ll never compare to what I had with George. Bein’ with him was somethin’ else entirely. With just one look we could say a thousand words…”
Blanche stopped herself and her thoughts, which were taking dangerous and confusing turns. Luckily, Dorothy didn’t seem to notice.
“With Stan, it wasn’t. It was never a big romance, a love story. It started with crying, it ended with crying, and in between, well, there was a bit of everything. Not that I’m not grateful for the good times, my kids, the light parts, but… oh well. What does it matter now.”
“Don’t worry, maybe there’s some guy out there just waitin’ for you with a storybook romance.”
“Yeah, sure, with my luck, he’s waiting in Aruba.”
Blanche blinked. “Aruba?”
“Where I would be heading tomorrow, if…”
“Oh right, the honeymoon trip. What a shame.”
Dorothy’s eyes illuminated. “You know what? I have both tickets here, in my suitcase. I could actually go.”
Blanche beamed at the joy in her best friend’s face. “Oh absolutely, you cannot miss that! Go! Get a tan and a lover and forget about that loser.”
Dorothy laughed, then took her hand again, hesitant to reply. Her brown eyes were directed at Blanche, soft and piecing at the same time, and she could see the wheels behind them turning.
“Blanche?”
“What is it?”
“Do you want to go, with me I mean?”
She could hardly believe her ears. “To the Caribbean? Are you kiddin’ me? Of course I wanna!”
“Then you better start packing, the plane leaves at noon tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
Dorothy nodded. “You’re my best friend, you’ve always been by my side, even during all this mess. The yutz owes us a vacation, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. Oh, that’s amazin’! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
Blanche spent the better part of the night packing two big suitcases full of light clothing, bikinis, bathing suits, lotions, her cutest sandals, her prettiest sunglasses, not really sure what would expect her on the island she really knew nothing about except that it was a popular honeymoon spot for its beautiful beaches and eternal summer. Only afterwards, lying in bed, trying to fall asleep but kept awake by her excitement, it crossed her mind that she would be alone with Dorothy for two entire weeks, in a different country, on an island, in a honeymoon suite. Well, it wasn’t like they would spend a lot of time in the hotel, she thought, after all, this wasn’t a real honeymoon. A blush crept up her cheeks at that notion, and she pushed it aside quickly. This was Dorothy, for god’s sake, just Dorothy. A woman. Something Blanche would never consider, something so out of the question she blamed the thought on the stressful day and her tired mind. Finally, she fell asleep, smiling with anticipation.
During breakfast, they broke the news to the others, and while Rose and Trudy were happy, Sophia was miffed that it wasn’t her coming along. But even she had to understand that spending a honey moon trip with your mother was the stuff nightmares were made of. Dorothy, who’d been up before daybreak, had made pancakes, and everyone was enjoying them while they chatted excitedly. Blanche, wrapped in her coziest robe, couldn’t eat much due to her nerves, but she felt genuinely happy, surrounded by her very special found family. The kitchen smelled of coffee and maple syrup, the soft morning light was entering through the windows, Rose was telling one of her weird stories, and as much as Blanche loved it, she was looking forward to a change of scenery. Two weeks in the Caribbean with her best friend sounded like a dream come true.
“So, are you ready?” Dorothy asked, when their plates were empty.
Blanche nodded. “My suitcases are all packed, I just need to get changed and we can go.”
“I will call a cab then, at ten?”
“Great. I’m so excited!”
“Me too. Let’s make the best of this.”
Three hours later, they were boarding the plane at the Miami airport. Blanche was getting giddy, with the realization settling in. She was actually going, she was on her way to white beaches, blue skies and crystal clear water, to cocktails and sunsets and paradise. At her side, Dorothy was tense, and when they’d found their seats and sat down, Blanche placed her hand on her arm.
“Are you okay, honey?”
“Just the flying – I’m still not quite comfortable with it.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just two hours, it’ll be over in no time. We’ll have a drink, you can read your book, and if it gets too much, you can always hold on to me – just maybe not as hard as the last time. The bruises lasted a week.”
But once the take-off was done and the stewardess had brought them some champagne, Dorothy seemed to relax, and they spent most of the flight reading. Dorothy was devouring the latest John Grisham bestseller, whereas Blanche distracted herself with a light Diane Steel novel. From time to time, she looked out the window to spot the bright blue sea between the clouds, a coastline or an island. It looked peaceful and inviting. Dorothy, sitting between Blanche and the window, had her nose buried in her book and didn’t notice when Blanche’s gaze diverted slightly, from the view far below to the view right by her side. She still looked a bit rough, like she hadn’t slept enough, but the soft light was favoring her, and reading always did, too.
When the captain finally announced they were about to land, Dorothy took up her offer and held on to her arm. Her warm hands seemed to burn through Blanche’s skin, which made no sense, so she ignored it, refused to feel it. Everything was a little weird today, and why wouldn’t it, after all she was on a honey moon that wasn’t hers, she was landing on a Caribbean island, a fact that would’ve been inconceivable to her just 24 hours ago. As the airplane touched the ground, Dorothy held on tighter, and Blanche felt her heart beat faster. So this was it. Aruba.
The plane slowed down and drove the short distance to the terminal. Looking out the window, they could see the whole airport, no bigger than a shopping mall in Miami. There were few other planes, two runways behind which the asphalt met the ocean almost immediately, separated by a few feet of grass. The sky was piercing blue, and the waves in the distance soft and soundless.
Blanche smiled at her companion, placing her hand on one of hers, still on her arm. “Look, we’ve arrived, safe and sound!”
But Dorothy only showed signs of relief when she felt the earth under her feet. By the time they arrived at the baggage collection, she’d opened up like a flower in the morning sunlight. She was enthusiastic about everything new, the funny Dutch inscriptions and announcements, the palm trees on the other side of the glass façade, the strangers around them. Blanche stayed by her side, finally asking her about this place, about the trip that was suddenly theirs.
Dorothy told her a bit about the island’s history, the fact that it was a territory of the Netherlands, technically a country of its own with everything except sovereignty, being one of four in what composed the Kingdom of the Netherlands. It was a small island, inhabited by only 66.000 people, first conquered by Spain and then acquired by the Netherlands.
“From what I read it’s a quiet island, with national parks, beaches and little else to do except enjoy yourself.”
They were standing side by side, waiting for their luggage to appear on the carousel, but so far it was still empty, so Blanche looked at Dorothy.
“Sounds wonderful. Did you plan any activities? You always make plans ahead of time.”
“Actually this time I didn’t, since, you know, there probably wouldn’t be a lot of time for trips and all that. It was going to be more spontaneous.”
“I see. Well, we’ll just be spontaneous then, I’m sure there’s lots to see and do.”
“About what you can expect on an island that’s just 69 square miles.”
“That’s tiny!” Blanche exclaimed. “Is there even room for anything else except resorts and beaches?”
Dorothy laughed softly. “There is, don’t worry. But even if there weren’t, I don’t doubt that we’d have a good time anyway.”
The resort they would be staying at was at the west coast, and as soon as the cab left the airport and got on the coastal highway, Blanche saw what Dorothy had been talking about earlier. The coast, just one line of buildings away, was white and sandy and seemed to call for her. Having lived in Miami for so long, the palm trees, the boats and hotels were not an unusual sight to her, but this was so different from the loud, hip Miami Beach. The town they drove through was a pastel colored wonderland, there was soft reggae playing on the radio, and a very welcome breeze cooled her cheeks, while she gazed out the window in wonder.
They arrived at their temporary home in no time: A cozy, pretty little beach resort at Eagle Beach, with individual cabins in a forest of bushes and majestic palm trees, meandering paths and cozy hammocks. The reception was a small building in the colonial Dutch style, peach colored with white window frames, accommodating a single big, modern vestibule with marble floors and flowers everywhere. While a young man took care of their suitcases, a very cheerful lady at the entrance offered them two big flower crowns, made of white, blue and pink blossoms, beautifully interwoven. With surprise but also with joy Blanche bowed her head and received hers. Dorothy was skeptical, but when Blanche turned and smiled at her, the expression on her face softened and she let herself be crowned as well.
Blanche couldn’t help but smile at the unusual sight. The last time she’d seen Dorothy look this different must’ve been as Cher for the Shady Pines Mother Daughter beauty pageant, but this here was not a costume, this was a lovely accessory, a touch of sweetness to her, showing a side of her to the world that she otherwise was so keen to hide.
“Well, look at you, honey!”
“Oh shut up,” Dorothy said, but it was loving, appreciative ‘shut up’, and she looked happy enough.
“Welcome, or as we say, bon bini! I hope you have a wonderful stay.”
“Why thank you,” Blanche said.
“Let’s go check in,” Dorothy suggested. “I can’t wait to have a good look at all this. It’s even better than the pictures in the brochure.”
Proudly carrying their flower crowns, the girls approached the glossy white reception desk, contrasting strongly with the bright green and pink colors around it. The receptionist greeted them in very good English as well, and asked about the reservation. When Dorothy said they’d booked the honey moon package and the name was Zbornak, Blanche was surprised to see hardly a flinch in the tanned and ever friendly face of Mr Crobers.
“Very well, Mrs. and Mrs. Zbornak. Just sign here please. Your suite is ready, if you’ll follow me?”
Blanche and Dorothy shared a surprised look behind his back as he led them outside and through the little jungle towards the beach. One of the last huts, right by the beach, bigger than most others, made of wood painted in bright colors, was open and their suitcases were standing in the entrance.
“This is all yours. We also have two restaurants, one next to the reception and one on the other side of the premises, a swimming pool among the palms, a spa area and all the answers to your questions at reception. If you have any doubts or need for recommendations, you’re always welcome to stop by and me or my colleagues will help you with anything at all. Here are your cards and your keys.”
Dorothy took them and thanked him for the kind welcome.
“Take your time to settle in and enjoy your holiday! Tonight, we have a special meal for you, so please come to the beach restaurant after seven, alright?”
“Thank you so much,” Blanche said.
“It’s my pleasure. Have a great stay!”
And with that, he left the supposedly newly-weds alone. Their eyes found each other again, and once he was out of reach, they couldn’t help but giggle.
“So I take it we’re married now, what a surprise.”
“As if you’d ever exchange Deveraux for Zbornak,” Dorothy replied, looking around their private little porch.
“It really isn’t the most melodious name, is it. And Stan? What woman in the world would let herself be called Stan?”
“Maybe to a Dutch ear it sounds plausible.”
“Oh well, I ain’t one to argue with a good thing, so let’s just enjoy ourselves and reap the benefits,” Blanche said, still smiling widely. “This all looks wonderful. Let’s check out the interior.”
It was a cozy and fancy accommodation that definitely deserved the term suite. It had a generous lounge space with a cozy sofa and chairs inviting you to take a nap or cuddle with your loved one, a modern TV, even a big bookshelf in bright, happy colors. Further inside, there was a kitchen complete with the basics as well as a big table, on which a bottle of fancy champagne and two high-stem glasses awaited them. The bedroom came next, at the other side. Most of it was occupied by a queen-sized four-poster bed, its white sheets covered in rose petals. They laughed it off, joking about what a shame it was these beautiful details were wasted on them, but when Dorothy had turned around, Blanche took another look, appreciative and pink with the secret blush of her cheeks.
The bathroom was all green and pink with flowers, making Blanche feel like home in an instant. The spacious shower was right on the floor, just separated by the rest of the room through glass doors, and equipped with one of those new rain-like showerheads.
“I can’t wait to try this,” Dorothy said, “To think we have all this to ourselves, for two whole weeks…By the time we’ll come back, we’ll be so tanned and happy no one will recognize us.”
“Speakin’ of a tan, shall we go explore the surroundin’s? I really wanna dip my feet in the ocean.”
Since they’d already put on some light clothes this morning, they didn’t even change, nor did they take off the flower crowns. They simply stepped out the door and walked towards the beach. Blanche took off her sandals right when they got to the first bit of clear white sand, and let her feet breathe on the soft and warm ground. Dorothy soon followed her example, and side by side they approached the water.
Eagle beach was really as majestic as its name promised. It was broad and long, seemingly endless, clear and clean, a few palm trees between the straw roofs to lie under and very few of the typical digi trees, bowing like servants to the sea. It was also popular, they noticed, with many tourists sunbathing, swimming or playing.
It was early afternoon, and the sun was still high, so Blanche and Dorothy didn’t stay there too long. After a little walk along the coastline, their feet immersed in the tepid, turquoise water, they explored the rest of the resort and a few streets around it. All of it was a lot more quiet and peaceful than Miami, Blanche thought. No spring breakers, no mass tourism, just blue skies and Caribbean music, small local stores, bars and restaurants, bright colorful houses, smiling people.
Dinner took place at a candlelit table under a wooden pavilion right by the beach, the lanterns above them already lit and illuminating them as the sun set. There were roses on the table and a special menu, which the courteous waiters served with lovely kindness. It included many local foods, like fish and fried plantain, a surprisingly good combination. By the time they got to the dessert, they’d gone through all the activities and all the first impressions, so that for a while they just sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the ‘tipsy rum cake’, which was simply a delight, and sipping some wine.
The sky had turned from blue to gold and pink and white and by the time they got up, it was blue again, but darker, and the first stars were appearing. They didn’t return to their suite right away, too excited by all that they’d seen and lived through, too enchanted by their beautiful surroundings to go inside, let alone to bed. So when they left the restaurant, they turned to the beach, and this time the walk was longer. The air barely cooled down, but without the sun, it was no longer hot, just a wonderful mild summer night. The tourists had disappeared and taken their noise with them, leaving only the waves and a few birds in the distance.
Blanche let her gaze wander along the coast, among the stars, getting caught repeatedly by the woman on her side though. Dorothy seemed to have shed all the bad feelings from the day before, she was relaxed, observing the stars and inclining her head as she did. It was silly, Blanche thought, but this really did start to feel like a honey moon. She was here with the person she was closest to, enjoying this unexpected time together so much that she had to struggle against her bad conscience, against the reproaches coming from inside of her about how she was enjoying her best friend’s misfortune and heartbreak for her own pleasure. That was not it, she told herself, not at all. Dorothy deserved this trip, she deserved to be independent and far away from Stan, she deserved to be with someone who actually cared about her.
“Lookin’ for constellations?” she asked, smiling at how lost Dorothy was in the world above their heads.
“They’re pretty easy to find in a remote place like this. You see the five stars over there, which look like a W?”
Blanche followed the direction Dorothy’s hand pointed at and it really was easy to see. “I do.”
“It’s called Cassiopeia, after a queen from Greek Mythology.”
“What did she do to deserve a place in the sky?”
“She was put there as a punishment actually, because she was so vain she claimed herself to be more beautiful than the sea nymphs.”
“Why you’re lookin’ at me like that?” Blanche asked, laughing.
“You’ve been known to make similar remarks, and we’re by the sea, so I’m just keeping an eye out for you. Don’t want to lose you- on the first day,” Dorothy added, a little too quickly.
Blanche smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not takin’ any risks. Though it would be nice to be immortalized among the stars…”
Later that night, ready for bed and in their lightest summer nightgowns, the two honeymooners were enjoying the mild breeze coming in through the open windows, carrying the soft rolling of the waves and the smell of summer. They’d called the family earlier, letting Rose and Sophia know that everything was alright, and hoping that with the two of them home alone the house would still be standing once they got back. Now, however, none of them were thinking of that event in a future that seemed impossibly far away. Now, they were simply here, on a big and comfortable sofa, reading, listening to music, and looking forward to tomorrow.
The sleeping arrangement was just a little bit weird, not because they had to share a bed – as roommates and best friends they had done so more often than they could count – but because even after removing the rose petals, everything about that room yelled romance. Blanche noticed Dorothy stealing a few glances at her, more than usual, and when they were under the covers, facing each other in the semi-darkness of the room, something felt different. Blanche couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in her friend’s expression, in the light of her sweet, chocolate brown eyes, that she wasn’t used to. She was starting to feel warm, a glowing sensation of giddiness took over her heart, and she didn’t understand. Dorothy smiled at her, talked about their plans for the next day, the museum she wanted to visit, but Blanche could barely understand a word. She was entranced by the way Dorothy’s eyebrows underlined her words, the soft movements of her lips, the low tone of her voice, and there was a need arising in her, a well-known urge, that didn’t make any sense. Not here, not now, not with her.
She nodded politely, trying to focus on her friend’s words, not her lovely face, and as soon a she could, she yawned and said good night, turning around. Sleep did not come for a while, however, and when it did, it was light and full of dreams she couldn’t remember in the morning.
The next day, after a luxurious breakfast of fruit and yoghurt and homemade granola, Dorothy and Blanche explored the capital. Walking through the long, narrow streets, they were fascinated by the city center’s colorful, cute and elaborate architecture. Bright, but soft, cheerful colors, wooden arches, a colonial wonderland. The artist in Blanche was enchanted, and she could hardly take her eyes off all the beautiful shapes and bright colors, especially during lunch, which they had on the terrace of a corner restaurant with an excellent view. They rested their legs for a good while, enjoying the delicious food, chatting about everything and nothing. Once they’d recharged their energy, they headed to the museum, where Dorothy absorbed the presented knowledge like a sponge, and Blanche let herself be carried along. Her best friend’s enthusiasm was contagious, and by the time they left the exposition, she felt like she knew the island well.
Last but not least, they headed up the tower of the former military fort that now hosted the museum.
“Are you serious?” Blanche asked, looking at the narrow wooden staircase. She was wearing not only heels, but also a relatively short summer skirt.
“Don’t worry, there’s no one behind us. If you want, I can go first. The brochures insist that it’s worth it.”
“If it doesn’t kill you first…”
It didn’t, and even though it was a difficult climb, they managed to get up safe and sound. At the top, there was just as little space as on the way up, but the view distracted them completely. First, they saw the harbor behind the palms and houses, a few boats and a cruise ship sharing the little room they had. The breeze that came in from the sea cooled the tiny beads of sweat on Blanche’s forehead, and she smiled at Dorothy, whose face was mere inches apart from her own, leaning out over the parapet. Their arms were touching, just barely, but when Dorothy returned her glance, it was everything Blanche could feel. She was paralyzed, looking into her best friend’s gentle brown eyes, and she didn’t know what would have happened if the bell right over their heads hadn’t struck the hour and shaken her out of the moment. She tore herself away and explored the other sides of the tower, but suddenly the inland view seemed much less interesting. Dorothy followed her and if she’d noticed anything, she didn’t show it.
“Goodness, is it hot out here,” Blanche sighed as they left the museum, back in the afternoon sun.
Dorothy nodded in agreement. “What do you say, shall we head back and cool off at the beach?”
“I say let’s go!”
“Just make sure you get it everywhere,” Blanche said, as she turned around to allow Dorothy access to her back. The bikini she was wearing was tiny, leaving most of her sensitive back exposed to the intense sun. Well, maybe not so intense at almost five pm, but she was not willing to take any risks. Sunburns were most unpleasant, increasing wrinkles and spots, not to mention provoking skin cancer. Her body was a temple, and as such she treated it.
Then there were Dorothy’s hands on her back, applying cool sunscreen in soft circles, and breathing regularly was suddenly very hard.
They hadn’t bothered to get ready at the hotel, unable to wait a second longer to throw themselves in the crystalline waters. After grabbing everything they needed, and putting on their swimwear underneath their clothes, the supposed newlyweds had hurried on to the beach, and found an exquisite spot in the shade of a digi tree. There they stood now, their feet in the warm sand, and their hair caressed by the ocean breeze.
“Done,” said Dorothy, and Blanche both lamented and welcomed the withdrawal of her best friend’s gentle hands.
“I’ll do you now, come on.”
Dorothy, wearing a rather conservative black one piece, nodded and offered her much more covered back. The skin was pale, and Blanche wondered when it had last seen the sunlight. Unlike her, Dorothy was not a fan of basking in the sun on the lanai, never mind about going topless… Blanche shook her head and concentrated on applying the lotion on her friend’s skin. Skin that was creamy and soft, spotless, skin that she’d seen before, so many times, yet as she touched it now, she couldn’t help but think about the scumbag who’d last had the privilege to do so. He had not deserved the second chance he got, he had no idea how lucky he’d been to spend most of his life with this woman on his side, this warrior who’d do anything, bear (almost) anything to make ends meet, to make a good life. No, he really didn’t deserve any better than being stood up at the altar, not after he’d hurt her so badly. At the memory of Dorothy’s pained expression, Blanche felt the anger at him flare up again, but she took a deep breath and a look at the sea in front of them, and smiled as she remembered who was paying for all this. Poetic justice.
“Okay, we’re done. Let’s get settled, shall we?”
At the foot of the tree, they spread out their towels, had a sip of water, and Dorothy wouldn’t be Dorothy if she didn’t have a book in her beach bag. Blanche had not brought hers, but she did pull out her camera. The other night, while packing for the trip, she’d taken it from the box in her bedroom where she kept it for obvious reasons, taken some new films too. This place, this experience was too beautiful to be left to the indifferent transience of time.
Through the lens, she observed her surroundings, the sparkles on the waves, people playing, the glow of the sun, but she was hesitant to push the shutter release. Then she looked to her side, and there was Dorothy, placing a straw hat on her head, softly shading her, turning her smiling gaze to Blanche as she realized she was being observed. Click.
“Hey!”
Blanche lowered the camera, and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, you were just lookin’ so lovely.”
Dorothy shook her head incredulously. “Sometimes I just can’t believe you.”
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Blanche said. “How about we finally go in? I’m dyin’ to take a swim.”
“Alright, paparazzi.”
Blanche laughed, and together they crossed the few feet of sand between them and the Caribbean sea. They went in slowly at first, but the water was so pleasantly trepid, Blanche quickly walked in further and then finally let her petite body fall into the gentle embrace of the ocean. There was nothing quite like this surrender to the forces of nature, she thought, as she melted into the waters, letting herself be carried along, just breathing deeply, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face and even through the crystal clear water. Beside her, Dorothy appeared, beaming. This really was paradise.
They swam side by side for a while, exclaiming loudly each time they spotted a pretty fish, splashing each other playfully and forgetting all about anything else in the world. They spent the whole afternoon at the beach, drying and starting on their tan, reading, talking, watching the sky glow as the sun set over the horizon. Blanche took some photos, of the brilliant gold, the soft pink, the crescent moon showing up in the pale blue infinity above.
By the time they got back to their suite, night had fallen, and soft lanterns illuminated the pathways. They decided to get dinner at one of the tiny restaurants nearby, and fell into their bed happy and full a few hours later. No matter how light their nightgowns were, though, it was still so warm that they didn’t pull up the covers as they lay there, too pleasantly tired to even read, just resting their heads and enjoying the glow of the warmth and joy the day had brought them. Even the ocean was still with them, softly rolling its waves and lulling its listeners into a most peaceful sleep.
When morning came, and Blanche slowly returned to consciousness, something felt different. Thoughts of George rushed into her mind, and she didn’t know why, until she realized it was not the blanket she was hogging, but Dorothy, who was sleeping in her arms. Without moving, she opened her eyes, waking up at once. She couldn’t see much more than Dorothy’s torso, though, herself being nestled in the cozy space just between the head and the shoulder, and just as tightly wrapped in her best friend’s arms as she held her in her own. Conscious of the feeling of her skin, her breath, her heartbeat – all soft and warm – engulfed Blanche in this moment in a way she couldn’t have justified. She didn’t move a fraction of an inch, was even hesitant to breathe, afraid to break the magic of this state that almost seemed to be a dream. Why was she admiring the beat of Dorothy’s heart as if it were a symphony, why was this closeness making her feel like a brightly glowing magnolia in May? Why did she want to remain like this forever?
The minutes slipped through her fingers as sweetly as honey, until her best friend stirred. Blanche closed her eyes, suddenly ashamed, ready to pretend waking up, but to her surprise, Dorothy stopped moving. Blanche slowed her breathing, puzzled. Could it be Dorothy was doing the same as she had before?
Before Blanche could ask herself any more rhetorical questions, she felt Dorothy’s arms gently ease their grasp around her, hesitantly letting go. But then she didn’t. Blanche couldn’t see, but she knew Dorothy was looking at her, holding her at this little distance, just enough to take in her complexion, as a lover would. Blanche almost shot right up at this thought, but she managed to control that impulse and instead moved her head a little, then blinked, as if she were just waking up. Dorothy withdrew more, and as Blanche finally opened her eyes again, her best friend’s cheeks were rosy, and her lips were curved in a tender smile.
“Good morning,” she said softly.
“A very good mornin’ indeed,” Blanche replied, stretching her legs.
“I can’t remember the last time I felt so free… No work, no ma, no duties at all…”
Blanche nodded. “It almost feels unreal, like a different life.”
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
Blanche was very glad Dorothy didn’t know just what exactly she was thinking about, in bed with her like this, and playfully pushed her fist against her shoulder.
“Don’t think too much, though, or we’ll never get to the park in time…”
The weather this day was a bit cloudy, so they’d decided to make use of it and go hiking in the national park Arikok. Thankfully, the hotel had arranged an organized visit with several other tourists and a local guide, so that the girls didn’t have to worry about a thing. In a big, dark green jeep, they crossed the roads – easy and straight at first, then more rough and curved the further they got into the reserve. The dry land had little vegetation, not much green among the grey and brown hills. Still, in its own, untouched, way, it was beautiful. The horizon was blue and wide, the ocean hugging the island in many dreamy lagoons, which unfortunately were too dangerous to swim in. They visited mountains and caves, got scared by bats and marveled at wall paintings that spoke of people who lived thousands of years ago. Blanche, having acquired an artistic eye and a more profound appreciation for the arts thanks to her work in the Miami museum, didn’t need any of it to be in awe of what she saw. Standing side by side with Dorothy, images flashed before her inner eye, of the people who had lived here, all these generations come and gone, the innumerable lives of people just like them, with their daily struggles, their friendships and stories, their favorite meals. She felt very small and insignificant in the big picture of the world and its history. What did it really matter, after all? Eventually, nothing would remain of her, of any of her friends and family, so what was it that actually mattered? Shouldn’t it be up to her, her life, her happiness? What a precious little thing it was, this life, minutes and hours and days and years, flowing together into one like a mosaic. Shouldn’t everyone use what little liberty they had, and make the best of it not giving a damn?
Blanche had never thought of herself as someone who gave much of a damn, but the realization that lay sleeping just around the corner of her mind made even her steady sense of self tremble. Luckily, she was able to conceal it once more, as Dorothy’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. Now was not the time.
The next few days were spent leisurely at various beaches, one prettier than the other, diving and reading and sunbathing. Blanche, out of what was a mix of force of habit and an attempt of self-deception, engaged in some flirting with locals and tourists alike. However, it appeared that Dorothy had better luck, and one night at a bar, while Blanche was standing around sipping her margaritas, struck up conversation with a handsome airline pilot. Blanche listened to their flirting for as long as she could, feeling the burning thorn of jealousy glow brighter as time passed and as Jeremy got more outspoken. She could see the blush on her best friend’s cheeks, but eventually she noticed how she seemed increasingly uncomfortable, averting her gaze, taking a step back, trying to escape the situation. The guy, however, didn’t see or didn’t care, and Blanche decided to intervene. From her corner, she approached their table, just as he grabbed Dorothy’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, creep, what do you think you’re doin’ with my wife here?”
His confused expression was priceless, and he let go.
“What?”
Dorothy looked taken aback for a split second, but then she understood, and stepped to Blanche’s side, leaning against her shoulder.
“You heard that right. This is our honey moon, so you better get out of our way.”
“We were just having a chat…”
“Yeah, right.”
Dorothy shook her head. “He’s not worth it, let’s go.”
Blanche glared at him threateningly, and he decided to retreat. When they were alone again, she turned to Dorothy.
“Are you alright, honey?”
“Yes, thank you for cutting in. Just at the right time.”
“Nobody lays a hand on my wife, much less on the honey moon…”
Blanche winked, and Dorothy laughed softly.
“I think I’ve had enough of the bar scene for one night. Shall we walk for a bit?”
Blanche nodded, and they abandoned the crowded, noisy establishment for the quiet, maritime night. They started out walking through the streets of Eagle Beach, heading home with some detours. In the end, they went past the resort to the beach itself, since it was a cozy, mild night and the sky was sprinkled with hundreds of stars. They walked barefoot at the shore, side by side, when Blanche felt that it might be the time.
“You know… I would be honored to be your wife,” she said, looking up at Cassiopeia.
“What?”
Blanche took a deep breath. “I’m just sayin’, to be married to you, such a wonderful, kind, smart person, would be an honor. A guy like Stan really doesn’t deserve you.”
Dorothy let out a little sigh. “At our age, you can’t help but wonder if you can afford to be picky…”
“Now don’t ever think such a thing!” Blanche said, punching her playfully against the shoulder. “No matter your age, you deserve only the best, darlin’. Especially you.”
They walked a few more yards before Dorothy replied in a murmur.
“The best isn’t always an option.”
Blanche stopped and turned around to look her in the eyes – those soft, chocolatey sweet eyes.
“You get what you settle for, Dorothy, remember Thelma and Louise?”
Dorothy leaned her head back and looked up at the sky, struggling to come up with words.
“So don’t settle for anythin’ but the best.”
“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew what that was.”
Blanche felt her heart beat increasingly faster as she was pinned by a longing glance. Could it really be? And if, could she allow herself to give in?
“Try me,” she said defiantly, torn between the two possibilities, both equally terrifying.
Dorothy, usually never at loss for a witty reply, just kept looking at her for what seemed like a little eternity.
“If I tell you how much I loved it when you called me your wife…” Her lashes fluttered, and she lowered her gaze. “If I told you how this whole thing seems like a daydream of mine… If I told you that you – you’d be my best… wouldn’t it ruin everything?”
Dorothy’s eyes found hers once more, and Blanche felt all her fear fall off of her, like a heavy winter coat. She didn’t need it, not here, not now. She had everything she needed.
“No, it wouldn’t,” she replied with a coy smile. “Actually I think that you are my best, too.”
“But-“
Blanche smiled at Dorothy’s incredulous expression. “I know what I’m sayin’, honey. I know that I feel at peace when you’re beside me, that you’re the most wonderful person in the world, I know I’ve been tempted to… do things a best friend would not do. I don’t know how or why it came to be, but I do know what this tinglin’ in my heart is.”
Blanche reached out to take her hand, but as soon as Dorothy held it, and took in Blanche’s dashingly beautiful smile, her legs gave out and she dropped into the sand.
Blanche let out a soft laugh, prompted by surprise and compassion, and sat down beside her.
“I never thought you’d like me back,” Dorothy said, leaning her head against Blanche’s as they looked out over the ocean together.
“It took me a while,” Blanche admitted, “It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Actually, it wasn’t even a possibility to begin with. But bein’ here, spendin’ all this time with you, made me realize that my jealousy about you getting’ married was not about the ring, the money, or Stan himself, not any of it. It was because it meant losin’ you.”
“You’d never lose me,” Dorothy replied. “I would’ve come by all the time. After five years, I can’t imagine living without my family. And as for Stan, well… it was a choice out of comfort. I know all about him, good and bad, and how to deal with it. It seemed preferable to hoping for the impossible, living with the thousand tiny heartbreaks I experience every day around you.”
“So… you’ve been feelin’ like this for a while?”
Dorothy turned to face her as she answered. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you.”
Blanche felt her heart light up like a fireplace on a snowy winter day. “I’m in love with you too, Dorothy Zbornak.”
Slowly, they leaned in and so, after having spent half a honey moon together, they finally kissed. It was the first time Blanche kissed a woman, except that one time in high school during a game of truth or dare, and this was something else entirely. Dorothy was soft and warm and gentle and she could feel herself melt into her arms like it was meant to be, like she’d been waiting for this moment all those years.
“So I was right about it,” Blanche said, as she withdrew and looked into Dorothy’s blissful expression.
“About what?”
“That there was a storybook romance waitin’ for you in Aruba…”
Dorothy chuckled softly, and kissed her again.
“I guess you were, and I’m very grateful for it.”
For the rest of their time in the Caribbean, they made good use of their honeymoon suite, and held hands like lovestruck teenagers. The days were warm and long and bright, and passed oh so fast. When they awoke on the second to last day, their last full day, Blanche didn’t need to pretend to sleep to remain in her lover’s embrace. She savored every second of this peace, of this feeling of tender dissociation, two astronauts far out of orbit of anything else on earth, and an idea formed in her head. She smiled to herself, and caressed Dororthy’s cheek, prompting her to snuggle even closer, still half-asleep.
Later, while Dorothy was getting spoiled at the spa, Blanche snuck out to the city, and made a purchase she’d never thought she’d make, but which felt just right. She hid it in her purse as they went out for their last dinner on the island, in a fancy seaside restaurant on the south coast, and couldn’t stop thinking about it all evening. After the luxurious meal, they didn’t head back to the resort directly, but instead took advantage of the clear night to go for a last late walk by the shore. This town had a broad boardwalk that lead them in gentle curves past small stores, bars and restaurants, and the air was filled with cheerful Caribbean music. They’d been walking for half an hour when they reached the harbor, and Blanche suggested to take a seat on one of the benches, to watch the lights on the water.
“I’m going to miss the quiet here,” said Dorothy, as she stretched her legs. “Miami is so loud in comparison…”
Blanche nodded. “I’m not sure if I’m lookin’ forward to goin’ back.”
Dorothy glanced at her for a moment, before asking, “Are you worried about the others? About us?”
Shaking her head firmly, Blanche smiled. “Not a bit. As a matter of fact-“ She got up from the bench and reaching into her purse, she got onto one knee, careful not to get her skirt dirty. As she looked up again, Dorothy was staring at her in disbelief.
“It seems we’re sorta doin’ all of this backwards anyway, so I hope you don’t mind that this comes at the end of the honeymoon, and not inside of a potato…”
She opened the little black box, presenting the slim silver ring to her beloved. It consisted of two thin rings spiraled into each other and was crowned by a bright blue gem. Dorothy, open-mouthed, couldn’t find any words, but Blanche saw the overwhelming joy in her lovely face.
“I’m not askin’ you to marry me, not that we could, legally, anyway… I just want you to have this as a sign of my love, as a reminder of this coral blue island that brought us together.”
“Oh, Blanche…” Dorothy sighed as she held out her hand. Blanche gently slid the ring on her finger, and kissed her hand. “I never thought-“
“Me either. I was always the receiving one, the typical belle, but well, you’ve shown me how breathtakin’ it can be to try somethin’ new, and you deserve this.”
“I-“ Dorothy couldn’t form a sentence, and just pulled her in for a passionate kiss.
The next day, as the plane set foot on Miami soil, and they had to return from their own little paradise to the real world. Thoughts of work and chores started coming up, but every time Blanche glanced at the woman by her side, she couldn’t help but smile. She felt as if she were carrying a suitcase not full of dirty clothes, but of happiness, and to her surprise it was devoid of worries. They took a cab home, and of course it didn’t take long for Sophia to notice. A comment on her tan, on her smile, and still in the living room, she took hold of her daughter’s hand.
“What’s that? That’s not his ring, is it?”
Blanche held her breath. This was faster than expected. Dorothy turned her head to meet her glance and reached out to her. Blanche stepped to her side, and smiled as she felt Dorothy take her hand.
“No, it’s not his. Actually, I got it from Blanche.”
Rose, coming back from the kitchen, was confused as she looked at the object in question. “Why would Blanche give you such a ring?”
“Because we’re together. We’re … dating.”
“We are,” Blanche confirmed, holding on tight.
“I was wondering if this day would ever come,” said Sophia, evidently not very surprised. She faced Blanche and held up a finger in front of her face. “If you hurt my daughter in any way, I will make use of the worst Sicilian curses that –“
“Ma, please.”
“Alright. But I will make my special cannelloni for dinner, no objections. This is finally some good news.”
“I will take good care of her,” Blanche promised, “And I’m very much lookin’ forward to the cannelloni.”
“You look like you had plenty of good food on your trip already…” Sophia said, eyeing Blanche’s lower body.
Blanche laughed it off, and as the old lady had disappeared into the kitchen to check on the ingredients for her feast, said to Dorothy, “At least she’s not sticking her head in the microwave…”
Dorothy laughed. “She doesn’t make cannelloni for just anyone. I think you’ve just been officially approved.”
Blanche gave her a little kiss. “Come on, this luggage isn’t gonna unpack itself.”
By dinnertime, they’d fully arrived back home. Rose was wearing the bracelet they’d brought as a souvenir, babbling about something that once happened in St. Olaf to a jeweler, and Sophia was nibbling on one of the stroopwafels – typical Dutch caramel waffels - as desert. Blanche and Dorothy sat side by side and felt at home at heart.