Chapter Text
Ofelia could still remember when Anthea stopped being just her stubbornly practical neighbor, hair swept back in plain cowgirl boots when Annie started being her lover. She had seen Anthea in a plain white t-shirt and cowgirl boots clearing out the overgrown brush, face scrunched up as the sun shone down on her. The heat of summer seemed so long ago already.
When autumn rolled around, Ofelia went into her closet and pulled out her winter clothes, smelling of closed-off stagnant places and washed them all, kept them ready for the yearly but still somehow unexpected harshness of dead winter in the semi-desert. In the beginnings of living close enough to be considered neighbors but far enough that they had plenty of privacy, they had seemed to court each other. Anthea knocked on her door one day, sweat beading on her forehead, her whipcord strong arms covered in scarlet tattoos, and held out a loaf of homemade rosemary bread wrapped in white cloth.
“Just wanted to say hello,” Anthea had said and then when Ofelia’s garden overflowed with rosemary and mint and cilantro, she trimmed them and walked across the white dusty caliche road and knocked on her door and gave her the bundles of herbs. Anthea always nodded curtly and said thank you.
Ofelia supposed, as she contemplated her neighbor’s solitary ways, that she could understand why. The woods around them were dynamic, with a new sight to behold every other day, thick with mesquite and huisache trees that smelled of honeysuckle when they bloomed. Sometimes cardinals sat in the grey branches of the trees and appeared as vibrant as a drop of blood, rabbits darting about in the undergrowth and occasionally, a tortoise would make an appearance. Ofelia rarely ever encountered rattlesnakes and took the sightings of Indigo snakes as a well-off sign. Indigos fought and ate rattlers after all. The woods rustled in the wind as if they were breathing and although Ofelia caught strange eyeshine in the woods and saw paw prints that seemed a little too strange, the claws neither wild hog nor coyote nor stray dog, she never felt unsafe. The woods sighed around her and accepted her presence as she treaded lightly.
Now it was late January and the semi-desert was bathed in mist and cold winds, the sky flooded with woolly gray clouds. The thin willowy branches of the mesquite trees were covered in a fine sheen of ice that glinted silver in the pale winter sun when it broke through the veil of clouds and tinkled like chimes as they clattered together in the breeze. All the color had bled from the world, except for a green jay here or a bloody red cardinal there, the scarlet of Anthea’s sweater sleeves peeking out of her plain canvas jacket.
The power was out but the water was still running and Ofelia left the water running on a thin trickle so the pipes wouldn’t freeze as Anthea chopped wood outside. Ofelia heard the rhythmic crack and thump of her work as she stood in the kitchen, having taken the boiling water off the stove just as the power went out, bathing her in weak winter light and she’d heard Anthea swear from outside.
She poured out the chamomile tea into mismatched mugs and sweetened it with honey just as they both liked it. She had previously taken all of her plant pots indoors and what she couldn’t take inside, Anthea swathed with old sheets, telling her to go back inside since it was cold as fuck, and she’d laughed and relented.
Ofelia glanced up just as Anthea came into the kitchen from the side door, pearls of water sitting in her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, her cheeks and nose red from the biting winds, stuffing her gloves into the pocket of her jacket.
“The tea is ready,” she said and Anthea smiled and gratefully accepted the mug and drew close to Ofelia, resting her hip against the counter.
“Thank you,” she said, putting a hand on her waist as they kissed briefly. “Are you warm enough?” Anthea asked and Ofelia nodded.
Carefully arranged in the house, on the small kitchen table and the counter and the coffee table in the living room were white, pink, and purple candles, little points of light scattered over the rapidly darkening house. She pressed herself against Anthea, who wrapped an arm around her waist, soaking in the other’s presence as the wind moaned outside followed by the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. According to their friend in town, it was dark there as well and only a single fast-food restaurant was open.
The smell of honey wafted between and around them, warming them up with gentle drafts of steam rising from their cups and Anthea kissed her temple.
“I’m going to the couch,” she said, something like an invitation playing in her voice and so she followed Anthea to the living room with her plum Naugahyde couch that would be freezing to the touch. Anthea set her cup down on the table by the candle and took off her canvas jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch and settled against it. Ofelia sipped at her tea and sat down by Anthea’s folded leg, ignoring the icy faux leather surface. She set the cup down next to Anthea's, unlaced her boots, and pulled her legs up, cuddling up against Anthea’s chest, her arms wrapping around her instantly. She was so warm.
“Are you sad?” Anthea asked quietly and Ofelia shook her head then said no, aloud. She pressed her ear to Anthea’s chest and heard the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, Anthea’s hand rubbing her arm affectionately. Ofelia kept some things to herself and one of them was this, the beautiful sound of Annie’s heartbeat under her ear, warm and content under her. Ofelia was reserved but Anthea was well versed in solitude in her own way and so they shared the darkening living room and the ambient noise of the wind and rain and creaking wood and it was enough.
They could have gone to bed but the sheets of cotton would have needed time to warm up under them and so she stayed there, slowly drifting off as Anthea held her.
“M’ falling asleep,” Ofelia mumbled and shifted around so that she was back to chest with Anthea, the smell of her perfume oil, cinnamon, and clove, warm and spicy, was filling her senses. Anthea wrapped her arms around Ofelia’s waist, hand on top of hers.
“Duermete, mi amor, there’s nothing else to do right now,” Anthea said softly, her own voice soft and sleepy and Ofelia drifted off in her arms.
There was red behind her eyelids and someone was talking and she groaned.
“Power’s back on,” she heard Anthea whisper patting her arm and she sat up, catching the hum of the heaters. Anthea sat up behind her, kissed the back of her neck, and then Ofelia got up so Anthea could move. She downed the rest of her tea even though it had gone cold and shuffled to the bedroom with Annie. She flicked on the bedside lamp and nothing else and it cast warm buttery light over them as Anthea took off her red sweater while Ofelia sat on the edge of the bed. Annie had just barely tossed the sweater in the hamper when Ofelia reached forward and hooked her fingers in the belt loops of Annie’s pants and playfully tugged her forward. Annie laughed and then cupped her face and kissed her, lips sweet with tea.
“I love you,” Anthea whispered when they broke apart and Ofelia threw her arms around her shoulders and pulled her down on top of her, laughing as they went down.
“I love you too,” Ofelia said. They clambered back onto the bed and shifted onto their sides, Anthea fitting her body to Ofelia’s, and put an arm around her waist. The rain picked up and slammed against the roof, the cold and wind groaning and twisting around the house but they had each other.