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july 2005
On the way back from a group bathroom break, Lucy trails behind one of the other girls in the preschool Sunday school class. A girl much smaller than her, with dirty blonde hair that falls in waves down her back. So pretty and soft that Lucy wants to reach out and touch it.
Instead, she fixes her gaze on the girl’s shoes. Black, with a strap across the top and buckled on the side, paired with white socks that have frills lining the top. Her dress is light pink, with a white ribbon belt, and Lucy is so jealous. The dress, too, looks like it would be silky and smooth to the touch, but Lucy knows she’ll get in trouble for doing anything like that. Somehow, her foster parents will find out, and she’ll be punished badly.
She’s too busy watching the girl to notice that the line of kids parading back to their classroom has fallen apart around them. It’s only Lucy, the girl, and one boy in front of her who have managed to maintain a line-like formation.
The teacher commends them, giving them each a small sticker to wear on their fancy church clothes, but it’s a reward Lucy doesn’t really feel like she deserves.
august 2005
Lucy is working very hard on the coloring sheet that goes along with today’s lesson, and Louisa is beside her, quiet as always. She’s very shy, Lucy has noticed. She barely ever says a word to anyone—not any of the other kids, and not even any of the teachers. She must not like talking very much. Or she’s just scared.
Lucy gets that—she’s scared of talking to people sometimes, too. But the teachers here are way nicer than her foster parents, so they aren’t so scary anymore.
She glances over at Louisa and finds her picking at the paper wrapper on a crayon instead of coloring. That’s really weird, because Louisa also always does exactly whatever the teachers tell the kids to do. Plus, her picture only has a little bit colored in, so she can’t be done yet.
Lucy leans over and whispers, “Are you okay?”
Louisa jumps with a squeak. She shifts awkwardly, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Then, she admits, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I’m sure one of the teachers will take you.”
Louisa winces.
Oh, right. She never talks to them.
Lucy shoots her hand up into the air and calls out. “Teacher! Me and Louisa need to pee!”
(Lucy doesn’t actually have to herself, but she’ll happily tag along to the bathroom with Louisa and just pretend. She’s not exactly sure, but she thinks this is a good way of making someone be your friend. And she really wants to be friends with Louisa.)
may 2007
“Louisa!!!” Lucy cries out, tearing across the auditorium and towards where her friend is sitting nicely at a table with her family. Behind her, her foster mother calls out a scolding, but Lucy pays it no mind. She won’t do anything bad where other people can see, and if Lucy is very well-behaved for the rest of the night, she’ll probably forget about it by the time they get home.
Louisa’s eyes light up as soon as they meet Lucy’s.
She pushes her chair back from the table and jumps down so Lucy can pull her into a tight hug. She’s dressed in a frilly baby blue dress with a hooded red cape over her shoulders—a perfect red riding hood costume! Lucy, on the other hand, is just wearing a generic costume dress that her foster mom pulled out of the basement. Boring. But at least it’s pink!
“Do we get to sit together?” Lucy asks.
Behind her, her foster mother answers, “No. Our seats are over there.” She points to the entire other side of the auditorium. “We will be sitting with Mrs. Twain and her daughter. You remember them, don’t you?”
Lucy presses her lips into a frown, furrowing her eyebrows. The Twain girl isn’t nice to her like Louisa is; and they definitely aren’t friends. Even though everyone seems to think they’re related just because they both have red hair. They’re not even cousins or anything, and adults always say they look like twins for some reason. It’s annoying. So Lucy does not like her.
“We can’t switch seats?”
“You girls can play together for a bit now, and there will be time to talk again after the meal,” Louisa’s mom assures her.
It’s not what Lucy wanted, but she supposes it’s good enough.
“Okay,” she agrees. She takes Louisa by the hand. “Come on, let’s go!”
Louisa’s mom laughs lightly as she drags Louisa away. She’s so nice. Not like Lucy’s foster mother. Lucy wishes Louisa’s mom was her mom. Then she and Louisa could see each other every day! She’d much rather be sisters with Louisa than Mrs. Twain’s daughter.
But Louisa has three sisters already. And Lucy has none. Because her foster parents barely even like taking care of her.
She tugs Louisa from the auditorium out into the lobby. There are still a few people milling about, so Lucy waits until none of them are looking, even though they’re not doing anything they shouldn’t be. The dinner hasn’t started yet, and they’re allowed to be out here, because this is how you get to the bathrooms.
And that is what Lucy is here for.
She doesn’t have to actually go, and as far as she knows, neither does Louisa. But because this evening’s event is specifically for ladies—the only men allowed are the ones who are going to be serving the food, and the pastor when he does a lesson later—the men’s bathroom has been temporarily transformed into a women’s bathroom. The sign over the door says so!
So they’re not doing anything bad at all. But only for tonight.
When Lucy is certain they’re safe from judging eyes, she nudges the door open, and with Louisa’s hand still fit snugly in hers, they step into the place that is forbidden every other day of the year. One of the few places in the building Louisa has probably never seen before, since she knows basically everything about the church because her parents both volunteer a bunch.
For the first instant that Lucy’s shoe touches the tile floor, giddiness wells up in her chest.
And then it dissipates.
Louisa scrunches up her face. She lets go of Lucy’s hand so she can plug her nose. “It smells bad.”
It does.
Also it’s kind of super boring.
There are urinals, and less decorations, which is basically the only difference.
Still, the fact that they’re somewhere that they’re typically not allowed is exciting enough.
“I’m not sure why they changed the bathroom,” Louisa mumbles. “No one else is going to want to come into this one.”
Lucy shrugs. “What if the other one gets full?”
Louisa frowns. She doesn’t really look convinced, but maybe she’s just still upset about the smell. It was worse at first, but after a few seconds, Lucy is kinda used to it now.
Before she can comment on that, though, the Twain girl comes in through the door.
Lucy rolls her eyes. “There’s one other person who is going to use this bathroom.”
The Twain girl looks her and Louisa over. “You two don’t look like you’re actually using it. Anyway, everyone knows this bathroom is the better one.”
“I think the women’s is nicer…” Louisa mumbles. The Twain girl ignores her, because she’s literally so mean. Lucy almost yells at her for it, but then Louisa asks if they can leave. So Lucy relents, letting her lead the way back into the lobby. Back to the auditorium and the world of the fairytale-themed banquet. Back to where Louisa’s sisters are still at their table, dressed as Sleeping Beauty and the princess from Princess and the Pea. Louisa sits down back in her seat, and Lucy has to go find her own seat with her foster mother and Mrs. Twain.
But she’s happy to know that after they’re done eating, she’ll be able to run back over to Louisa.
february 2009
This is the first year the church has done a daddy-daughter date night, and Lucy almost didn’t get to go because her foster father was completely uninterested. But then Louisa’s dad said she could go with them, and they would pick her up so her foster parents didn’t even have to worry about transportation, so now Lucy is here!
Here, sitting at a table with Louisa and her sisters and her dad, staring at a chocolate cupcake topped with a big glob of pink frosting. The frosting looks good. Lucy has a few hesitations about the cupcake itself, though.
“It’s…not terrible,” Jo offers weakly. But she can’t have cupcakes with eggs anyway, so Lucy isn’t sure she even remembers what real cupcakes taste like.
“It’s not good either,” Meg argues. She’s careful to keep her voice low enough that no one beyond their table can hear. Lucy knows the lady who made the cupcakes tried really hard, and it can’t be easy to make cupcakes that are both gluten-free and vegan. But of the sixteen or so girls who are here—not including the Twain kid, because she’s staunchly begun to refuse being called a girl or a daughter—there’s at least two egg allergies, one milk allergy, and one gluten intolerance.
So.
Carefully, Lucy peels back the cupcake wrapper. She lifts it to her mouth and takes a bite.
She wants to spit it out immediately.
That would be rude, though, so she forces herself to chew and swallow, trying her best to make the frosting what touches her tongue most, because at least the frosting tastes like it’s supposed to be eaten. The cupcake tastes like sawdust that was soaked in swamp water, then left out to dry. Is it sugar-free too? Because it’s so gross!
Meg giggles.
Lucy shoots her a glare.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Louisa says.
Lucy shoves her plate towards her. “Okay, then you try it.”
She does. For what it’s worth, she actually doesn’t even grimace at the flavor, but she’s also probably more used to eating stuff like that than Lucy is, since basically all of her sisters have about a thousand allergies each.
She swallows, then nudges the plate away from her. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, but…it’s edible.”
Meg snorts. “I bet the bathroom wall would taste better than that.”
“No way!” Jo argues.
There’s a beat of silence, and then—
Lucy breaks into a mischievous grin. “Let’s test it!”
december 2009
The girls’ bathroom in the children’s wing is suddenly the warmest place in the church.
Lucy’s not sure how that happened, exactly—it used to be the same temperature as the rest of the building, and now it’s like stepping into a furnace. Or a sauna, since there’s water, as Louisa pointed out. It’s a heavy, humid, heat, but it wraps its arms around Lucy like a hug as she stands with her back against the wall, waiting for Louisa to be done.
The walls were recently repainted—pastel pink with magenta accents instead of the boring white it was before. Lucy turns, slightly, so she can run a finger along the crevice between the cement blocks of the wall. She digs her nail into the paint, not enough to chip it, but enough to leave a tiny mark. A scar. So it can match Lucy.
She wouldn’t mind hiding out here for a little while longer, she thinks. It’s almost Christmas break which means she has to be at home all the time and she won’t get to see Louisa or her other friends at school. It means she’ll be stuck with her foster parents for longer. It means, after everything is over, she’ll go back to school in the new year and all of her friends will have so many amazing gifts to talk about and Lucy will have to just lie. She thinks maybe she’ll say she got a bicycle this year. A pretty pink one, with streamers dangling from the handles and a basket on the front. And a horn!
But Louisa emerges from the stall only a moment later, and she washes her hands, and then they have to return to reality. Where their parents are waiting in the hall for them to be done so they can go home. So they can go their separate ways. So Louisa can eat lunch with all her sisters and her parents and her grandparents and her aunt and uncle, while Lucy will spend the rest of the day doing chores and homework lest her foster father find a reason to get mad at her.
Before they go, though, Lucy stops Louisa in her tracks.
She frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Your hair is messed up,” Lucy explains. She reaches out, fixing the strand that had somehow gotten tangled around Louisa’s headband. It takes only a moment. Lucy wishes it required more time. She would spend an eternity in a safe room with only Louisa for company, running her hands through her hair, weaving little braids into it.
Maybe one day, they can run away and find a safe place together.
march 2010
For Easter, the church does its own Journey To The Cross.
Lucy goes with Louisa’s family, and they make their way through the different rooms, following a path that presents a recreation of Jesus’ last days before the crucifixion. When they turn into the children’s wing, something immediately catches Lucy’s eye.
The entrance to the girls’ bathroom has been blocked off—by a large boulder made of painted bulletin board paper. The stone that would have taken twenty soldiers to move, but which Jesus rolled away by the power of God.
The bathroom has been transformed into a tomb.
august 2012
It’s the last Sunday of children’s church for both Lucy and Louisa. The last Sunday before they graduate to attending the adult service with their parents. The last Sunday where they get a fun lesson with fun music and a snack and a game.
And Lucy is hiding in the bathroom.
She can’t explain why, really. She doesn’t want to miss out, but she’s sick to her stomach at the thought of growing up, and so she asked this week’s teacher if she could go to the bathroom, and now she’s just…
Standing here. In a stall. Pastel pink walls surrounding her, paint chipping, the air still a bit too warm. A bit too suffocating. A bit too—
The door squeaks as it swings open, and Lucy’s breath catches in her throat. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping whoever it is won’t even notice she’s there. But the footsteps click against the tile floor for a moment, and then come to stop, and Lucy does not hear any other stall doors shutting.
A knock.
“Lucy?”
Louisa.
Lucy exhales slowly. She unlocks the stall door and steps out. “I was just about done!” she lies. She brushes past Louisa, over to the sinks, and turns one on. She places one hand beneath the soap dispenser, then shoves both into the ice-cold water. For such a warm room, you’d think the hot water would work better. Then again, the water in the building doesn’t really work that well at all, considering it tastes like rust.
Louisa stands by in silence as Lucy washes her hands, and then uses too many paper towels to dry them. Once done, she crumbles them up and tosses them into the trash can.
She glances towards the door.
Then, her gaze lands on Louisa. Uncertainty shines in her expression, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. It isn’t uncommon for her to be anxious, even in familiar situations, but she seems even more uneasy than usual.
Maybe she’s not dealing with the thought of change so well either.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asks.
“Are you?” Louisa returns.
Lucy snaps her mouth shut. She looks to the ground, where their feet are rooted, pointed towards each other. Lucy in her black mary janes and Louisa in her brown flats. Both in their Sunday bests, hiding away in a deteriorating bathroom.
“I don’t want to get older,” Lucy admits. “I want to stay like this forever. I want to just freeze time, so we can stay kids.”
“Me too,” Louisa admits. She looks around, as if taking in the room for the first time ever. “I wish we could hide here together, and slow down time, so it’ll be years and years before we have to grow up.”
Lucy reaches forward. She takes Louisa’s hands in hers, squeezing gently. “At least we’ll still have each other though, right?”
Louisa nods. “We’ll always have each other.”
Then, she surges forward, wrapping her arms around Lucy’s neck as she tugs her into a hug. She buries her face in Lucy’s shoulder, and as Lucy hugs back, she makes eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. Cheeks pink, freckles splattered across every visible inch of skin, and something startlingly melancholic in her eyes. It hurts to look.
Her gaze drops to the sink instead. She watches as the leaky faucet drip drip drips. Holds Louisa in her arms.
Wishes they could be like this forever.
january 2013
Halfway through the lesson at youth group, Louisa silently excuses herself to the bathroom. Or, at least, Lucy assumes that’s where she’s gone—she stands up, smooths her skirt down, and scurries out of the room with her head bowed, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
Lucy doesn’t think much of it, until it’s been more than five minutes, and Louisa still isn’t back. Did she get sick? Does she need a tampon?
Lucy can’t exactly help with the latter herself, but she can at least go check and see if something is wrong. Louisa would do the same for her—she has done the same for her.
She slips out of the room, turns the corner, and hurries to the bathroom. She’s pretty sure no one else is in there, so she calls out Louisa’s name as soon as she opens the door.
There’s a squeak, and Lucy zeroes in on the one stall with the door shut—the one furthest from the bathroom entrance.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “If you need a tampon or something, I can ask if anyone else has one. I’ll say it’s for me, if you’d like. Or they might even have some in the other bathroom. I can run down there and check?”
“No, no, I don’t need that,” Louisa answers quickly. There’s an odd strain in her voice. “I’m okay, I just need a minute. You can go.”
Lucy hesitates. “…Are you sure? If you’re sick, we can call your parents.”
“I’m fine.”
She doesn’t sound fine. But Lucy can’t help if she doesn’t know what’s wrong. She racks her mind, trying to figure out what the problem could be. Was there something in the lesson that upset Louisa? Admittedly, Lucy hadn’t been paying as much attention as she probably should have, but in her defense, she has a huge math test tomorrow that she still needs to study for plus a history assignment that she’s barely started. And her foster parents don’t like her having to stay up late to do homework, so she’ll have to hurry through the history assignment as soon as she gets home, then sneakily study for the math test when she’s supposed to be sleeping.
So she’s kinda stressed.
None of that matters more than Louisa, though.
She takes one step closer, then pauses. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Louisa sniffs. “No.”
Lucy’s shoulders drop. There’s nothing more than a bathroom stall door separating them, but she’s certain she’s never felt more distant from Louisa in her life. There’s never been this great of a divide between them—any gaps have been ones Lucy can easily bridge.
But for now, she resolves to do the only thing she can.
“Okay,” she relents. “Just…let me know if you ever do. I’ll be happy to listen.”
There’s a stretch of silence long enough that Lucy figures Louisa simply isn’t going to respond. But just as she turns to leave, a soft, “Thank you,” sounds from the stall Louisa is in.
Lucy breathes out a sigh of relief.
She leaves Louisa, then, and returns to the lesson. Louisa comes back a few minutes later, and Lucy pretends not to notice the red rimming her eyes.
june 2013
The children’s church room gets a new coat of paint. No more bright blue skies with wispy clouds of white, no more apple tree with a smiling face, no more airplanes and hot balloons with Bible verse banners trailing after them, and no more rainbow arching across the back wall.
The sky is replaced by muted, darker tones of olive and fuchsia.
Lucy supposes it doesn’t matter much to her, since she’s too old for children’s church anyway, but it’s still sort of sad. Growing up is bad enough on its own. Why does she have to lose all physical reminders of how fun her childhood was too?
At least, she thinks idly, standing in the hall beside Louisa as they wait to pick up her sisters from their class, the bathroom in this hallway is still the same color. Still pink, still light, still warmer than the hallway when you step inside.
Still a safe haven.
september 2013
Technically, Lucy and Louisa are supposed to be at the Sunday school class for the youth group kids, but that class is boring, and only like three people ever show up to it. Neither Lucy nor Louisa typically attend, but Lucy spent the night at Louisa’s and her parents are helping with sound this morning, so they and all of Louisa’s sisters had to come early.
But Louisa’s sisters are all still young enough for the fun Sunday school class—the one for the kids.
Anyway, it’s not like anyone is really going to be expecting them at the youth group Sunday school, so Lucy tugs Louisa into the women’s restroom to hide. They land on the cushioned bench inside, pressed up against the wall that Lucy licked on a dare so many years ago. The rest of the bathroom is spread out before them, empty, and they can only faintly hear the sounds of the worship team practicing their songs for this morning’s service.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Louisa asks, twisting her fingers together. “What if someone comes in and yells at us?”
“There’s barely anyone else here this early,” Lucy reminds her. “Besides, if someone does come in, we can just pretend we’re going to the bathroom.”
Louisa still looks unsure, but she doesn’t argue. Lucy knows she doesn’t want to go where they’re supposed to be any more than Lucy herself does. This is obviously the best solution. It’s not the same haven that the girls’ bathroom in the children’s wing was, but it’s a quiet, otherwise empty, place for them to exist together all the same.
“Okay…” Louisa looks around. The colors here are more muted—more mature. An earthy-tone blush sort of pink rather than the pastel and magenta of the girls’ bathroom. There are floral paintings hanging on the walls, and a vase of fake flowers on the side table beside the bench on which they’re sitting. It’s also bigger, with more stalls and more room in general.
Lucy is struck with an idea.
She jumps up from her seat, then holds a hand out to Louisa. “Let’s dance!”
“What?!” Louisa demands.
“We can hear the music from the auditorium,” Lucy points out. “So let’s dance!”
Louisa eyes her warily. But she gives in without a fight, placing her hand in Lucy’s and allowing her to pull her to her feet. She spins them into the open area between rows of stalls, and Louisa lets herself be dragged along. Her movements are stiff and awkward at first, but after a few moments, her frown melts into a smile and she falls into the rhythm of it.
Lucy isn’t exactly a very skilled dancer, and Louisa’s only dance experience comes from the few ballet classes she took when they were in elementary school, but they’re having fun. And that’s what matters most.
By the time the song ends, they’re both giggling, holding onto one another, not worried one bit about anyone else finding them.
To Lucy, none of the rest of the world exists.
It’s just her and Louisa in this church bathroom, joy welling up in her heart, alongside some other, more fervent, more pressing, emotion that she can’t quite put a name to. Overwhelming affection, an incessant desire to pull Louisa closer and hold on for longer.
(To hold on forever.)
Louisa looks so pretty, even washed out under the flickering fluorescent lights. She’s staring at Lucy like nothing else in the world matters, breathless, eyes shining in delight. Her glasses are askew, and her headband is slipping forward, and she is the most beautiful person Lucy has ever seen.
The music starts up again as the worship team begins their next song. Louisa breaks into a grin.
“Again?”
Lucy beams back. “You don’t even have to ask!”
july 2014
Halfway through the sermon, Lucy slips away to the bathroom. She doesn’t actually have to go, but she’s painfully bored, and she can’t stand staying still in her seat for any longer. She could tell her foster mother was getting annoyed with her kicking her legs back and forth, and her foster father keeps telling her to pay attention instead of coloring in all of the ‘o’s in the bulletin. But Lucy can’t just sit there and do nothing, so…
She ends up back in the place that’s always been safe for her.
And she finds Louisa sitting on the bench, back to the wall, knees hugged to her chest. She’s staring straight ahead, eyes glazed over, but she jumps when the door thunks shut behind Lucy.
“Sorry,” Lucy apologizes casually. She sits on the bench beside Louisa. “I didn’t realize you were in here. Are you waiting on someone?”
Louisa hesitates. She looks over at Lucy like she’s seeing her for the first time. It makes Lucy feel strangely seen—like Louisa is peeling back each layer of her, analyzing it, and then piecing her back together after extracting all of her deepest secrets.
“No,” she answers slowly. Then, she corrects herself. “Well…I don’t know.”
Lucy tilts her head. “Huh?”
Louisa looks away. “I think I might have been waiting for you.”
“You knew I’d come?”
“You always go to the bathroom around this time.”
Lucy purses her lips. She knows that she has a schedule for her self-appointed break from the sermon, where she hides away in the bathroom for just a few minutes to let herself breathe. Her parents might get mad at her if they figure out her real reason for going to the bathroom in the middle of the service every Sunday, but Louisa has never judged her like that.
Still, her heart skips a beat in her chest and something cold settles in her stomach.
“So?”
“So I wanted to see you.”
“Oh.”
Louisa’s eyes are still trained on the floor. She hugs her knees even tighter, half-burying her face in them so her voice is muffled when she admits, “I think I like you more than I’m supposed to.”
The cold floods the rest of Lucy’s body. Shooting through her veins, then warming instantly and setting her alight like a firework. Her limbs are numb and her heart is hammering loudly in her chest and all she can think is:
I like you, I like you, I like you.
She isn’t supposed to, but she does. How could she not?
Louisa shakes her head. “Forget I said anything. I’ll just—”
She starts to stand, but Lucy grabs hold of her wrist and yanks her back down. Before Louisa can say another word, Lucy cups her face with both hands, leaning in. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she’s never been that great with words. Actions usually serve her better.
So, she closes the distance between them and presses her lips to Louisa’s.
She does it carefully, gently, afraid everything will shatter beneath her touch if she makes any sudden harsh movements. Like a snowflake that dissolves the second it comes into contact with the warmth of a human, or a bubble that pops at the slightest hint of pressure. She can’t stand the thought of Louisa pushing her away and disappearing forever.
But when the kiss breaks after only a moment, Louisa doesn’t run.
“Can we do that again?” she asks, voice small.
Lucy nods, not trusting herself to speak. She guides Louisa’s face back towards hers and slots their lips together once more. It’s wet, and kind of weird, but Lucy thinks she likes it. She likes being this close to Louisa, at least—likes holding her face in her hands and feeling the warmth of her skin under her fingers. She likes the way Louisa lets out a soft sigh, and how her lips taste of vanilla lip gloss.
She likes how, when they pull apart again, Louisa’s cheeks are flushed pink and her pupils are blown wide and she reaches out as if by instinct, her hand finding purchase against Lucy’s chest, softly gripping onto the fabric of her blouse.
“Oh,” Louisa mumbles.
“I think I like you more than I’m supposed to,” Lucy parrots Louisa’s earlier statement, the words tumbling out of her mouth one right after the other. She’s aware that her foster parents said it’s bad when two girls or two boys kiss one another, but her foster parents think a lot of things are bad when they’re really not, like how Mark was born a girl but is now a boy, so she’d just kind of shoved this into that category. Even when she knows it should go in a different category. It’s supposed to go on the list of things forbidden by the Bible, but—
this doesn’t feel like any of the other sins Lucy has committed. There’s no lingering guilt, no tug on her conscience reminding her she’s done something wrong, no influence of the Holy Spirit nudging her towards repentance.
And it definitely isn’t hurting anyone.
So how can it be wrong?
Louisa’s gaze roams over Lucy’s face, unsure, as if she’s searching for something. Lucy doesn’t know if she finds it, or if she simply gives up, but a moment later, Louisa leans in and presses her lips to Lucy’s a third time.
And there, in the safety of the church bathroom, with Louisa’s lips on hers and her face cradled carefully in Lucy’s hands, Lucy’s heart is reborn.