The Past and the Present
18 Apr 2022Kodeyne
Life was back to the normal daily grind, after their holiday. But it was all good. The week away of drinking, sunbathing, walking on the beach, making love, laughing, holding hands, cuddling as the sun went down, had been beneficial. Ophelia had perked up no end, and Alison had humbly given herself a pat on the back for getting it right. Maybe a week after their return, Ophelia walked into their cabin aboard Big Bad Wolf, idly pottering round, vaguely tidying, waiting for Ali to finish showering. But there was something...that threw her. She stood, hands on hips, slowly sweeping the room with her gaze, trying to work out what was different.
Finally, she spotted it. A framed photograph, on the table near the bed, one that had not been there earlier. She picked it up, peered at it -
“Oh!” she said, a hand involuntarily covering her mouth as the memories flooded back. It was back on HR 6541 A4, a municipal park in Derrytown, the city where she had grown up, a few miles from where Alison had lived with her parents. They had been, what, eighteen, nineteen at the time?
It had been a breezy spring day. The two of them had their arms across each other’s shoulders, and they were both grinning like maniacs at the camera. A gentle breeze had caught one of Ali’s locks and blown it across her face; her own hair was shorter than it was now, shoulder-length, disarrayed by the same gust. It was very weird seeing her face without the skinprints that had adorned it for so long.
There was a movement behind her, and the waft of air carried the scent of a freshly-showered Ali, wrapped in a fluffy white dressing gown.
“What’s up, petal?” she said, slipping her arms around Ophelia’s waist and planting her chin on her shoulder. She looked down at the picture. “Yeah, that! Mum sent me a copy of it. Isn’t it just sweet?” She turned her head slightly, and saw the pensive expression on Ophelia’s face. Hugged her a bit tighter.
“I know. The innocence in those faces...” She felt a sob convulse Ophelia’s body. Nuzzled at her neck. “Hey. Dry my hair, girl?” It was a ritual from ever since either of them had been allowed to pick up a hairdryer as children, as friends, and long before they had become an item. Ophelia had always been besotted with Alison’s glossy curls, and transforming them from damp black tendrils to their normal magnificence was something that was guaranteed to calm her soul. They would chat during the process, or Ali would happily doze off in the warmth.
It was a week later. Alison paced into the cabin, tired but elated. Another shelter had been established, and all the paperwork was out of the way. As she entered, she saw Ophelia stood by a table. Saw that she was crying. Ali put her bag down on a chair and went to her, then saw that, despite the tears, Ophelia was smiling.
“’Lia?” she said softly. The other woman turned and looked at her, holding out a hand that held something – a pendant. Alison took it and studied it; ornately worked in precious metals, studded with rare gemstones, it depicted a winged emblem that she was familiar with, as she only could be when her other half was a member of the Pilot’s Federation. She gazed at it, then met Ophleia’s eyes.
“Oh, girl....” Ali murmured, “is this what I think it is?”
Ophelia took Alison’s hand that held the pendant, drew her close, kissed her. Ali tasted the salt from her tears.
“I’ve done it, my love. I’ve done it! I’m Triple Elite!”