All That Could Be Lost

Statement Twenty-two

Kerry woke to emptiness.

The sheets beside her were cool, the imprint already gone. She pressed her palm to it anyway, eyes shutting against the sudden sting.

Of course.

This was how it would start, vanishing without warning, without a goodbye.

She laid there for a long moment with her hands covering her face, letting the silence press down. Work, she told herself. She’d bury herself in it until the ache dulled. Work was neutral, constant- even if it was her campaign.

Finally, she pulled on her robe and padded barefoot down the hall.

From the kitchen came the faint crackle of an old radio, the rise of a Motown melody slipping through the air. Kerry stopped in the doorway.

Kamala was there.

Dancing. Half-spinning with a spatula in one hand, bare legs moving carelessly across the tile. She wore nothing but underwear and a shirt that hugged too tightly, hem riding high to reveal the curve of her hipbones. Her curls were messy, her smile unguarded. A dusting of flour streaked one cheek, absurdly tender.

For a second, Kerry just stared, imprinting every detail, this unstudied, almost childlike freedom, Kamala lit up by morning sun.

Kamala turned then, caught mid-step, and squealed. “Kerry!” Her laugh was bright. She rushed forward, still smelling of warm batter, and pulled Kerry in by the wrist. She kissed her quickly, twirled her, then stopped to beam at her. “God, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making pancakes,” Kamala grinned, like it was the grandest thing in the world. She darted back to the counter, picked up a strawberry from the plate of sliced fruit. Holding it between her fingers, she crossed back to Kerry. “Taste how sweet this is.” She held it up, just shy of Kerry’s lips. “But don’t take a big bite,” she warned with mock sternness.

Kerry looked at her, then took the entire strawberry in one bite.

“Hey!” Kamala laughed, pushing at her shoulder. But before Kerry could step away, she hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her back close. “We were supposed to share.”

Kerry chewed slowly, watching Kamala’s face soften, her laughter lingering in her eyes. Kamala tilted her head, voice gentler now. “You’re really not going to give me any?”

Kerry shook her head.

Kamala leaned in anyway, lips brushing hers before deepening the kiss, sliding her tongue against Kerry’s, tasting the sweetness secondhand. She pulled back with a quiet sigh, wholly satisfied.

Kerry’s throat was thick, but the words came out anyway. “I love you.”

Kamala looped her arms around Kerry’s neck, smiling like it was the only truth in the world. “I love you more.”

Kerry shook her head, voice low. “Nope. I love you most.”

Kamala laughed softly, the sound folding into the warm light around them. “I can live with that.”

♧♧♧

Kerry’s hands were deep in the sink, the water lukewarm now, bubbles fading. She scrubbed a plate a little too hard, the ceramic squeaking beneath her fingers. Kamala was beside her, humming softly, drying dishes with an old cotton towel.

“You’ve been quiet,” Kamala said. “Want to talk about the campaign? Or Clayton?”

Kerry shook her head, forcing a smile. “No.”