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Fareeha’s legs screamed in agony on the exercise bike. Fareeha did not give two shits about her pain as she peddled faster, rocking the entire machine as she pushed for the fifteen mile mark. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her breathing shallow as her jaw hung open for air. The spandex shorts and sports bra stuck tightly to her skin, accentuating her muscles as she moved.
~ Ding dong~.
“Babe? Can you get that!” Fareeha called out to her wife, refusing to slow her roll as Angela pried herself from the sofa half-heartedly.
“Ja, ja….” The medic set her empty coffee mug on the table, adjusting the collar of her turtleneck as she made her way towards the door. “Who uses doorbells anymore? I usually just get an annoying text….well,at least it’s refreshing.”
Angela opened the door, greeting a white-haired, stern looking woman with the straightest posture imaginable. The two stared at each other in deep silence, Mercy opened her mouth, only to close it. The woman pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket, glancing at it and comparing it to the house numbers next to the porch light.
“I was to believe that Fareeha lives here? But, it is good to see you again, doctor Ziegler.” The old lady smiled solemnly, her eyes squinting as she talked. Angela covered her mouth, her eyes wide as she noticed the tattoo beneath her left eye. Fareeha called from the living room.
“Babe? Who is it?” Angela whipped around fearfully, shouting back as the elderly woman perked up at the familiar sound of Pharah’s voice.
“I-It’s nobody! Just..just a salesman!” Mercy turned back to the impatient grandma, her eyes shifting from shock to a narrow glare, talking with bated breath. “What do you think you’re doing here?! If she found out….she thought you were dead! I thought you were dead!” The old lady reached out, touching Angela’s forearm with a sorrowful look on her face.
“Yes. I am quite sorry, I know...I know there must be a million things going through your mind right now but if you will just. Let. Me. See. My daughter, I can start to make things right again.” Angela pulled her arm away from Ana’s touch, a dark look on her face as she trembled, hands shaking. The aged woman crossed her arms stiffly, keeping eye contact as she wondered what Mercy was doing at her darling’s house anyway.
“I...You..Get out.” Angela clenched her fists, blood boiling in the doorframe as her voice steadily rose. How many nights, days, birthdays, holidays, had Fareeha been left alone? How many times had Angela seen Fareeha’s downcast face while everyone was off at war? The pain, suffering. The heartache they had worked through to open Fareeha’s heart again. The nights of panicked, paranoid fear of rejection and commitment when they started to live together, Fareeha constantly worried of Angela’s disappearance. The bawling, unconsolable crying of Fareeha waking up one night after Angela had gotten up, and had been mortified at her absence. The literal reason Angela always made sure to wake up after her sweetheart, among countless other habits to ensure a safe environment for a healing Fareeha throughout the years. No. No, No, NO! NO! Inexcusable. She was not going to let Fareeha go through hell again. Angela glared at Ana Amari, tears welling from the corners of her eyes, streaking down her face, her anger barely concealed. “I said...geT OU-”
“Babe?” Fareeha stood behind her wife, towel around her neck as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Angela froze in the doorway, time crashing around her. Mercy quickly whipped around, holding out her arms to block her view. “What’s going on? I heard yelling.”
“Sweetheart..”Angela hiccuped. “..Please, go upstairs.”
“Hello, Fareeha.” Fareeha dropped her towel, frozen as a statue. If towels could shatter, hers surely would have. Slowly, Pharah regained her moment, taking a step toward her shaking Angela, eyes on the floor and her head hung, knuckles white in clenched disbelief. Her arms laid straight at her sides, her entire body tense.
“Angela. Move.” The soldier steeled herself, knees locked as Angela blubbered in the doorframe, desperate.
“Sweetheart...no...you don’t need this...it’s okay..”
“Angela. Please. Move” Fareeha took a step forward, the veins in her neck vivid as her breathing grew quick. Mercy folded her arms in front of her, biting her tongue until it bled as she took a step to the side, her eyes twitching in anger. Fareeha slowly looked up, her shoulders shivering as she eventually looked at the aged face of Ana Amari. The old woman stared back, nose slightly raised as she looked over what a fine woman her daughter had become. Fareeha was the first to open her lips, her voice almost silent as she coughed back tears.
“...Why?” The words were not much more than movements on her lips, but enough to make Ana’s face crumble as she took Fareeha into her arms, her stern features cracking into ugly sobs as she cried into Pharah’s chest.
“I’m so, so sorry, darling..” Ana’s words lay muffled against her daughter, but were still audible enough to stab deep into her heart. “...For everything..I’m so sorry...Oh god..I’m sorry..” Ana’s arms held her tightly, squeezing her. Fareeha looked down at her mother, refusing to return Ana’s embrace as she cried quietly, rendered unable to speak. After a few minutes, the old woman pulled herself away, dabbing her eyes and nose with a handkerchief. “You must tell me everything...How have you been? Is everything alright? Have you been eating properly?” Fareeha opened her mouth to speak just as Angela shoved herself between the two, eyes wild.
“Everything was alright until you showed up! We thought you were DEAD! How..” Angela swallowed, her breast heaving. “How dare you. How dare you do this. To her! I will not let her be hurt again. I don’t know how you’re alive or what you’re doing here but..you need to leave.” Major Amari set a consoling hand on her wife’s shoulder, looking at her gratefully.
“Angela. It’s okay. I can do this.” Fareeha gave her a reassuring smile as she gently ushered her aside, making room for her mother and closing the door behind her. “Please, take a seat…...Mother.” Pharah gestured at the cluttered kitchen table, coffee stains and week-old newspapers littering the surface as she took a seat. Ana graciously took the opposite one, glancing at Angela biting her fingernails, leaning against the counter anxiously with a sour look. “So. I think you owe us both an explanation.” Ana folded her hands in front of her, taking a deep breath.
“Yes. Quite. Well, I didn’t exactly die as people had thought, as you can tell.”
“ Quite. ” Fareeha lowered her gaze coldly, her arms crossed.
“Darling, please. Let me explain. So much was going on during the war that...I thought it best the world forget me. It’s been so hard, I wanted to tell you day after day ….”
“But you didn’t.” Pharah exhaled loudly, her bottom lip quivering as she failed to make eye contact, her fingers grabbing desperately at her arms. Angela stepped forward, placing her hand on the nervous major’s to help calm her down. “Well...better late than never, I guess.”
“I wanted to!” Ana slammed her hands on the table, her demeanor cracking under her daughter’s cool reception. “I..wanted to. But I couldn’t. No one could know. Not even…”
“Your own daughter?!” Angela broke in, gritting her teeth with a cocked head.
“Yes. And what, exactly, are you doing in my daughter’s house again? I don’t recall receiving an explanation on that subject.” Ana turned to face the aggressive doctor, reforming her no-nonsense disposition as she stared her down. Angela searched for an answer, only to respond with a light cough, turning away.
“She…” Fareeha stood up, grabbing her partner by the hips and spinning her back around, holding Angela to her side as she pushed away all her worries for her beloved. “She is my wife. Is that a problem?”
Ana propped herself up on her hand, rubbing a finger across her lips in mild surprise. “No. Of course not. It was just not...expected. I always imagined Ziegler to relieve herself with some nightmarish contraption by her lonesome, that’s all.”
“Me? With a robot?” Angela laughed forcefully, disgusted. “I...uh…” She couldn’t help but look at Fareeha in awe, the ceaseless courage she was showing made her heart pound, it wasn’t helping that Fareeha hadn’t put on a shirt yet. “Ja. I love her.”
Ana set her arm back down, smiling softly as the two starting warming up at the new topic. Some ground had been gained. Maybe. “Then I see no issues with it. Darling, I hope that, in time, you will come to forgive me, but until the-”
“Excuse me.” Angela interrupted yet again. “Regardless of your approval, I don’t approve of you being in our house! How do you think Fareeha is feeling right now?!” Ana stared at her hands guiltily, pausing before slowly pushing her chair back and walking towards the door.
“You...may be right. Allow me.” Ana opened the door, looking back as Fareeha crumpled into a chair, Angela holding her tightly. “I..I’ll be back. Just take some time. I’m sorry.” The door closed with a click, everything back to the way it was.
Angela caressed her wife, bent over her body as Fareeha had her head in her arms, her breathing interrupted by the occasional gasp. Ziegler pressed herself against the shocked Amari’s back, whispering into her ear as she ran her fingers through Fareeha’s hair, reassuring.
“Shh...it’ll be okay. I’m here. You’re not alone. Just keep breathing...That’s it. I’m here.” Fareeha gasped, picking herself off the table in favor of her loving wife, leaning against her as she recovered from the sudden shock. After a few minutes, Mercy lowered herself into the chair next to her, a comforting hand on her arm at all times. “It’ll be okay. I’m here for you.”
“I just can’t believe…” Fareeha wiped her eyes, puffy from the sudden breakdown. “That she was alive this entire time...And didn’t tell me?” Angela rubbed her arm, her smooth skin warm.
“I know...It’ll be okay. Just breath. Let me get you a drink.” Mercy shifted to get up, stopped by a sudden tug on her sleeve. Fareeha held the cloth tightly, looking at the kitchen tiles, afraid.
“Don’t go…” Pharah mouthed, closing her eyes as Angela sat back down, a small smile on her face. Fareeha whimpered, mentally and emotionally exhausted as she let her head fall into the soft pillowy surface of Angela’s lap. Sleep.
Fareeha groaned, wiping the drool from her mouth as she opened her eyes, everything dim. A flash of realization, Fareeha jolted upright, a hand running fearfully through her disheveled hair as she looked around. She was in her bedroom, and her in her bed. She looked out the window. The moon shone through the clouds, its waxing period almost complete. The bed squeaked underneath her as she shifted, double checking her surroundings. The mind began to fill with dread, recollecting all the words her newly not-dead mother had said to her. She gripped the sides of her head in fear. Suddenly, all her thoughts her shattered by a groundbreaking snore. Looking at the source, Angela laid in the bed alongside her, her hair down and an empty bottle of wine on the nightstand. She snored again. Fareeha smiled, comforted as she laid back down, wrapping her arms around the noisy Angela and pulling her close before closing her eyes again.
Everything will be okay, because I have you.