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“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Mm?” Fareeha raised a brow as she turned the page of her book, refusing to look up. The two laid on the couch, Angela’s head in her wife’s lap as the lazy sunday morning killed any productivity.
“Do you ever think about, like, life?” The doctor briefly waved her hands at the ceiling. Fareeha flipped another page. She was a fast reader.
“Mmm.”
“Sweetheart you’re really bumming me out here.” Angela pouted. “But I mean, what is everything? I mean, atoms. Duh. Obviously. But why? ” A minute passed in silence before Fareeha set down her book, contemplating for a moment before looking down at her wife. Man she looked great in that ribbed sweater.
“Babe. Do you want to order takeout? I’m hungry.”
“Humor me first.” Angela crossed her arms, wanting to prolong her glorious thigh-pillow as long as she could. Nothing more comfortable than solid muscle.
“Ehh…” Fareeha reopened her book. “I guess I’m okay for now.” Angela scoffed, deeply insulted. Well, she practiced monologues for a reason.
“I’m just saying that everything is the same. Atoms. So, then, what makes me different from a rock? And whose to say a rock isn’t sentient? Just cause we can’t communicate with it. It’s nonsensical. What determines how atoms get put where?”
Fareeha shrugged. “God?”
“Sweetheart please creating life is like play-doh.”
“Then you’re answering your own question. You decide where atoms go when you make...things.” Fareeha shuddered, pausing from her book as she recalled Angela’s ‘necromancy’ phase.
“Well….Shut up.” Angela puffed her cheeks, unsure how to continue the conversation. “I’m finna order some takeout, what do you want?”
“ Finna?” The security guard raised a brow. Angela laughed.
“It’s something I heard Hana use. Gotta keep up with the kids, after all.” Fareeha groaned as Angela pulled out her phone, pressing the emergency call button. Nothing says introvert like having Chinese food on speed dial. “Anyway what do you want?”
“Proper grammar.”
“This is why Hana loves me more. I’m buying you Pad Thai.” Angela tsked at her wife before placing her order. “Ja, hi. I’ll take two orders of Pad Thai. Of course I want chopsticks. Don’t forget the….honey cookies. Fortune cookies! Ja, please. Okay.”
“Why is a Chinese restaurant selling Pad Thai.” Fareeha looked down from her book, Angela hanging up the phone.
“Because this is America and most people can’t tell the difference.” Angela shoved her cell back in her pocket, rolling over and nestling comfortably in her wife’s unworldly thighs.
“That’s kind of….sad.”
“Ja. Welcome to America.”
Fareeha pursed her lips, thinking for a solid thirty seconds. “Why did we move to America again?”
“Cheap taxes.”
“Cheap taxes?” Fareeha couldn’t really hear Angela, the doctor’s voice muffled against her sweatpants.
“No taxes if you have a good lawyer.”
“What was that? Can you please speak up….or roll over? Anything, really.”
“I said, ‘Man, I sure do love having a large house with a large porch and large lawn.’ ” Angela lolled her head to the side in the same manner of someone trying to get comfortable on an airport bench.
“You’re being sassy again. Rude.” Fareeha shook her head before going back to her book, ending the discussion. Minutes passed, the only sound coming from the ticking of the clock as time trickled by. Angela watched a sunbeam pass through the living room window, the light slowly traveling from one angle to another. The doctor closed her eyes, the warm room coaxing and comfortable.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Yes, babe?”
“I can hear your heartbeat.” Angela snickered. Fareeha jostled her legs embarrassedly, trying to kick her off. “HaH! Stop it!”
“You stop it!” Fareeha frowned, blush on the edges of her cheeks. “I’m trying to read a book!”
“Two can play at that game!” Angela sat up, launching into a full frontal assault on a scale not seen since the early morning of 1939. Fareeha doubled over as Angela tickled her mercilessly, laughing in hysterics as fingers scratched at her sides. Soon, the doctor nearly had Fareeha pinned, coughing with tears in her eyes before Angela relinquished her hands. Seeing her wife vulnerable, sweaty with face blushed, Angela felt her own face going red as something tugged at her heart. She licked her lips. She leaned in. The doorbell rang.
“Must be the food…” Fareeha mumbled, taking deep breaths as she tried to slow her racing heart. Angela hesitated before getting up, grumbling as she answered the door.
“Ja? How much’ll it be?”
A Japanese man with green hair smiled expectantly. “That’ll be 15.98, please.” Angela nodded, taking the food to the kitchen table before fetching her purse. She dug out a few crumpled bills, 16 dollars. Good enough. The young man took the money, counting it before waiting a moment, looking like a kid wanting a second helping of ice cream. Angela scowled.
“Need something?”
“I..uh. No. Enjoy your food.” The guy gave a quick bow before Angela closed the door, grabbing the plastic boxes of carbs before returning to the living room. The smell of Chinese takeout filled the room. Fareeha was sitting up on the couch, evidently having recovered from her attack.
“Smells good.” The security guard reached for her food as the sound of screeching tires interrupted her, immediately followed by the sickening crash of metal. They paused.
“No!” Angela jolted up, a look of pale horror on her face as she stared at the food in her hands.
“What?! What is it?” Fareeha tensed, alarmed.
“They forgot the fortune cookies! Fuck!” Cursing under her breath, the doctor took her seat on the couch, snapping a pair of chopsticks in half as she dug into her Pad Thai, disgusting slurping noises rampant, because once you spend extended periods of time studying science you lose all sense of decency or manner. Don’t become a scientist. Pharah opened her own box. The heavy smell of oil watered her mouth, taking her first bite. Before long the pair were like wolves in a meat factory, and even sooner the emptied boxes sat on the floor as Fareeha let out a satisfied burp. She watched as Angela absentmindedly picked at her teeth, not exactly the most flattering of positions. But good enough for Fareeha.
“Babe, you got something on your cheek.” Angela looked up as Fareeha leaned over, eyes open as Fareeha touched their lips, pulling the doctor close as they locked into a loving kiss.
“That wasn’t even my cheek, you liar.” Angela punched her shoulder lightly as they separated, giggling lightly. “You’re too cute.”
Soon, things returned to how they were, Fareeha reading her book with Angela resting her head in Fareeha’s lap. Stomach full of cheap noodles, the doctor drifted off to sleep, the cozy feel of her wife’s warm body only exemplified by the hand in her hair. Everything was perfect with the lazy Sunday afternoon.