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Taking Herself Back: Lapis
There is no other way to leave their apartment except to lie. The month she spends sneaking around, searching for new apartments while at work, is less exhausting than she thought it would be. As though the thought of leaving liberates her somehow.
Jasper doesn't notice, because Lapis does not step one toe out of the line. She's home at six, got dinner ready by seven, and is next to the bigger woman's side at their bed by ten: she's the perfect accessory in their relationship. Something to turn on when needed, and when not in use, Lapis folds like an appliance, disappears into the trappings of the apartment. That's what Jasper's done to her, or maybe what she's allowed to be done to herself.
This is not what she expected from Jasper, once upon a time. Once upon a time she loved how Jasper would look at no one else but her. She still remembers the feeling of Jasper's hands round her waist, the feel of someone so tall and strong surrounding her. Jasper used to feel, oddly enough, safe. Safe from the outside world, the uncertainties of being a dancer in a world that could care less about the arts, safe from being homeless, safe from physical peril. Lapis used to love seeing how Jasper's large hands could wrap around her. How Jasper would tilt her chin up when they kissed.
But that feeling of safety has long transmuted into being trapped by Jasper's demands: to be here or there or wherever she's asked to be, to be dolled up how Jasper likes, to quit dancing. When Lapis looks at herself in the mirror in the mornings before work she looks nothing like how she used to. She's forbidden to dye her hair blue, because Jasper prefers black. She's preferred in dresses, preferred to work at Homeworld Incorporated. Jasper's proud of New Lapis, parades her at company balls. Was Lapis ever proud of this version of herself?
Maybe. Maybe when the newness of it all hadn't faded, she'd been impressed by how the world sank beneath her feet. Nevermind that they were feet covered in stiletto heels. It had been so overwhelming to see the world so dazzled by her, if only she would keep her hair black, wear dresses, work for the most powerful multinational company in the world. Until she realized they were dazzled less by her and more by what they thought was her. New Lapis was never really Lapis. New Lapis was the person who folded her arm onto Jasper's at social events, who lay beneath Jasper when they fucked, the person who didn't dance.
And now she is taking herself back.
Marching to the Beat of Another Failure: Pearl
She's been denied another lead role. It's the same bullshit: that she can dance, but there is something lacking. If she cannot lose herself in her steps, then the audience cannot lose themselves in their performance. It's too corny to hear someone older than her chastise her for her lack of heart. Heart? Amethyst instead gets the lead role. The way Amethyst dances is formless. Erratic. Why would anyone watch a dance without a structure?
Garnet's suggested she study other forms, as though she hasn't tried. She's asked for help before. She thinks of Rose, and how they'd dance, if only she were here.
If only is not a phrase that becomes her, she thinks.
"Y'know what would help?" Amethyst says, trying to cheer her up.
"Amethyst," Pearl grumbles, "not now."
They're at the practice hall. Sunset paints the wooden panels a beautiful range of oranges and reds. One entire side of the room is all glass panels, floor to ceiling. Pearl has always loved it here, watching the shadows of Rose dance on the days the older woman had some time off from being the CEO of Crystal Gems Inc.
"It would help if you watched other people dance. Like at a bar," Amethyst suggests anyway. She hears the shorter woman walk to the glass panels. "They're not so conscious of how they move there. And they're just there to have fun."
"They're frequently drunk and falling off their partners," Pearl mutters darkly. She presses a few keys on the piano. The notes tinkle out, forming a simple melody. She used to imagine little bubbles of color coming out of pianos when she played. She used to imagine the air whirring around her when she danced, lines of color like her life was a cartoon. It was all in her head, but it made her imagine the world as a brighter place, a better place.
Her world lost all of that when Rose died. She bangs her fist on the piano, the sound of it reverberating throughout the huge, empty hall.
"We'll come with you," Garnet says, not at all perturbed at the tortured sound of the piano.
"I didn't hear you come in," Pearl says, tilting her head to face Garnet at the door.
"Well, the meeting just ended with the rest of the production crew. C'mon, let's go out. You'll get your day in the spotlight."
"Yeah," Amethyst says, and for the first time Pearl realizes that Amethyst is a little shy to talk to her about the whole 'got the lead role' thing.
She puts a hand on the younger girl's hair as they walk out of the hall. "Thanks, Amethyst."
For once, the younger girl doesn't snark back.
Drunk Crossroads 1: Pearl
She drinks to drown out the sound of rhythm and blues. Amethyst orders for her, something sweet and alcoholic. She asks for more and is rewarded with a pitcher. It's too crowded, both too hot and too cold. The floor is sticky, the colors are a dizzying neon, there are too many pulsating lights, and the leather is synthetic and not soft enough. She stuffs a wad of tissue into her ears. There's no one worth talking to in these kinds of places. It's mostly adults dancing, making fools of themselves, puking on each other, and if they manage to keep the vomit down they might get laid and then throw up in the morning like the hopeless losers that they are.
Why she agrees to be with this mess of humanity, she doesn't know. Next to her, Garnet is more than happy to nod her head to the beat, and Amethyst is already in the neon-lit dance floor dancing with someone who can't keep up with her. Her dancing is, as Pearl has always thought, formless, but organic. Amethyst twirls to some beat, then splits, then gets up and shakes her butt. Booty, they call it these days. Pearl rolls her eyes.
And then on the dance floor a pale girl twirls too. The turn ends in an arabesque. Somehow she times it to the bizarre beats that always jar Pearl. The neon lamps below and above her form a trick of the light, highlighting the planes of the pale dancer's face, emphasizing her perfect form. And then the moment ends and the beat changes, and the pale dancer is back to more simple forms.
Maybe she's already drunk to the point where everyone can dance and everyone is pretty. There's no way a classical dancer would visit a dump like this.
But then she's here. And so are Garnet and Amethyst. In her ear, Garnet whispers. "That one looks a little lonely, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Pearl agrees, her voice a little slurred.
"Well? Go to her, then."
Pearl looks at the shitty leatherette of the booth she's seated at. Looks at the sticky floor, blue in the light. Her eyes return to where the dancer was. She's gone to another neon-lit square in the dance floor. Find her, Pearl orders herself. Find her and ask her how she dances like that to this horrid music.
She pours herself another glass and downs it. Then she takes the wad of tissue out of her ears and winces at the volume of the sounds. Garnet steadies her as she stands. "I can do this," she tells the taller woman. It's unnecessary. She might be tipsy, talking like that.
"Good luck," Garnet says, deadpan as always.
She finds the dancer without any trouble. There's a spotlight on the girl (younger than her, maybe?) -- or there should be one, Pearl has no idea.
"You dance really well," Pearl says. The girl only raises an eyebrow.
"Can't hear you!"
Pearl tries again, this time shouting at the girl's ear. "You dance really well!" She feels like an uncivilized barbarian, shouting like this, but the girl smiles. The pale girl has eyes that shine like mirrors. Pearl wonders if the burning feeling in her face is from the drinks or from the girl's gaze at her.
"Thanks. It's ballet!"
"I know! Can we dance a pas de deux?" That is, can we do dance for two?
Her new partner's eyes widen at the word. "Yeah!"
There isn't any space for a dance for two, especially not a formal ballet dance. After Pearl spins into some drunk fuck, the pale dancer instead leads her through a few simpler dances. It's been years since she's done a simpler dance, no more complicated than syncing with a partner's steps and keeping her hand on her partner's shoulder.
For the next song, awful as the last, they do a few silly ballroom dance moves. This time Pearl leads, and at some point they're even doing the box step and laughing about it. The song is a little slower than the others, so it's a simple matter to keep up with each other's steps. Pearl is careful to look over her new partner's shoulder lest the younger girl misread what they're all about. But, some corner of her mind rebels, maybe she'd like to open that book for the night, a story of a two drunk dancers waltzing to the tune of their bodies in bed.
They break off at the end of the song. The DJ switches to less dance-heavy music.
"Want a drink?" Pearl shouts into the girl's ear.
"Yes!"
And then Pearl remembers that she's had her hand on the girl's for quite a few songs. She tugs gently at the hand, and tells herself it's only to guide her new dance partner to their booth.
Drunk Crossroads 2: Lapis
She finds herself touching her short hair every now and then. She's supposed to be listening to this woman -- her name is Pearl, they've introduced, drunk a cocktail together even -- but she finds herself instead watching the older woman's face and gestures. Pearl has large eyes, pale skin, short blond hair, and the most elegant legs Lapis has had the pleasure to watch. And upon watching Pearl talk, Lapis wonders whether it is Pearl's legs or her lips that are more beautiful.
"Are you okay?"
That snaps her out of her daze. "Y-yeah," Lapis says, hoping that the light masks her blush.
"Sorry if I've been talking so much," Pearl says, long fingers covering her mouth.
"It's fine," Lapis says. "Y'know," she says, "you look kinda familiar."
"Well," Pearl says, "The ballet scene is a little small around here. Maybe we've seen each other in some production?"
Lapis stares at the seat. "Nah, I stopped that a long time ago."
"Then now's a good time to start again," Pearl says.
Lapis looks at her, and there's a hint of anticipation in Pearl's eyes. Lapis inches close to her, slow enough to make it clear what this is. They kiss; Pearl's eyes widen for a split second then close, tilting her head and moving closer.
Lapis puts Jasper out of her head. It's easier to with the drinks. It's easier to feel Pearl's lips, the texture of it, smooth lip gloss on her own lips and electric jolts everywhere else. It's been so long since she's let this happen to her, since the last time another human has cupped her jaw. Pearl's fingers are not too heavy on her cheek. They're hesitant, slow, tentative and careful. Lapis keeps her eyes closed the whole time they explore each other with pecks and touches, nothing too invasive. Fingers brush against her shoulders and neck, a gesture she returns with a hand to Pearl's shirt, tugging her closer.
It is when Pearl touches the back of her neck that Lapis's eyes snap open at the sudden jolt of desire. She pulls back, her eyes surprised as Pearl's.
"Sorry," Pearl murmurs. It is more the shape of Pearl's mouth that gives her words away. "Sorry, sorry."
Lapis smiles. "I liked that," she says. Against the noise, she tries to speak. "I cut my hair today. Cut and dye, actually." She wants to explain, to speak to Pearl, but at the same time she wants Pearl to simply shut her up, make her tremble with want, make her spread her legs and come. Tonight is not a night she wants to spend sober.
"You look good in blue."
Lapis blushes. "You look hot yourself."
The soft smile on Pearl is much too genuine for the evening. Lapis ends it with another session of light kisses. Their noses touch, their lips slide against each other, until they come to an agreement.
"Get me out of here," Lapis whispers at Pearl's ear. She swipes the shell with some tongue, making what she wants clear, and is pleased when she feels Pearl shiver.
You'll Not Be The Same: Lapis
At the taxi, Pearl texts her friends. "No idea where they are," Pearl admits, her head resting against the window of the car. She's on the left side, Lapis on her right. Pearl's left hand holds the cellphone like a worried mother, leaving the right one flopped on the seat.
"I'm sure they're fine," Lapis says, putting her hand over Pearl's free one.
"What about your friends? Do they know you're coming with, ah, a stranger?"
Lapis chuckles, the edges of her mind just a little black with something she's long suppressed. "Didn't come with any." She squeezes Pearl's hand. "It's fine. You'll take care of me."
"You're awfully trusting." Pearl hesitates. "Are you sure this is fine? I wouldn't want to take advantage of you."
"Are you sure I'm not taking advantage of you?" Lapis shuts her up with a kiss to the cheek, with a quick tilt of Pearl's face. And now they're kissing lips to lips once again, and Lapis allows herself a bit of tongue, darting and swiping and demanding to be let in. She's the one in control, dipping into a willing partner's mouth, sucked into it with a burning desire that she holds back only because she wants to take Pearl and be taken by her in a place where they can dance.
The taxi ride is brief. Pearl holds her hand the whole time they walk up to a beautiful beach side house. Pearl puts a finger to her lips, not explaining the need for restraint. Lapis, too far gone in this bar to beachside fantasy, lets it slide. But the minute they're at Pearl's room, Lapis buries herself in Pearl's neck, pushing the taller woman against the wall, kissing her thin neck. Pearl wraps her hands round Lapis's head, her fingers tangling into Lapis's blue hair. The sensation is like fire, like Lapis has woken up from a dream of being someone else's favorite robot. This is real: the feel of Pearl against her, her neck tilted upwards as they kiss, Pearl's fingers on her back and neck and hair. She has weight again, strength and the freedom to touch another person, the freedom to put her fingers underneath the hem of another woman's shirt and tug it off. The freedom to smirk as they draw apart to see what marks they've left on each other.
Watching Pearl struggle to get her breath back turns her on. Pearl's pale skin has splotches of red where Lapis's teeth have grazed. Her bra is lacy, covering small breasts that remind her of buds sprouting from the ground at springtime. With only the yellow bedside lamp for lighting, Pearl's body looks as though it could burn her from the inside, vibrant oranges and reds and sharp flickering shadows. But her eyes keep their blue softness along with her lips, puffy from their kissing.
"Y-you should take off your dress, don't you think?"
"Take it off me then," Lapis grins in reply, stepping back and falling onto her new lover's bed. And so Pearl follows like they're still dancing, taking the ribbon off Lapis's neck. The dress pools around her legs.
Pearl doesn't join her in bed, for a moment too long.
"What's that on your neck?"
Lapis looks down. The gold chain she hadn't removed from when she left Jasper a short letter saying good bye. The gold chain that still held their engagement ring.
"Old ring," Lapis shrugs. But Pearl doesn't move. Fuck, Lapis thinks. She should have gone to the bathroom and taken it off. But then it's not like she planned on meeting a ballerina in a bar. How should she have known her first impulsive move in a few years would end up like this?
"Is it really?"
"I broke up with her tonight," Lapis says. "And I paid for my ring, and I wanted to keep it. A reminder, I guess." She shakes her head and at the foot of the bed, sees all the foolishness she's indulged in for one night. "I should go, huh?"
"It's too late in the night, and you're drunk."
"So are you."
"Stay. It's not safe." Pearl sits at the edge of the bed, gazing thoughtfully at her. "Thanks for telling me."
"I wasn't planning on telling you," Lapis says.
"Sorry if I'm so old-fashioned. Reminds me of a girl I used to know."
"How so?"
"I confessed, gave her a ring, and told her to keep it even after she said she thought of me as a friend. She always wore it around her neck. And I never told her it tore me up to see it, because it would tear me up even more if she didn't wear it." Pearl laughs. "I couldn't believe she chose some beach bum over me."
"Because you're so perfect?"
"That's what I used to think. What gave you that impression?"
"How you dance. No one can lie when they dance. Even when you're drunk and having fun, you can't quite let go. "
"You can, though."
"I'm a free woman. I wanted to celebrate."
The Ocean At Dawn: Pearl
Somehow her evening has wound up like this: telling her sad little romance to a girl she barely knows, who would have fucked her without full disclosure. (Technically if it's just sex there isn't any need for it.) But then it isn't just sex that Pearl has discovered she wants from Lapis. But -- but -- but. Her whole life is a series of buts: She loved Rose but Rose loved Greg. She loved dancing but couldn't (can't) let go. And now there's a beautiful girl with blue hair and eyes that glitter with life, a beautiful girl whose moves match her perfectly, but -- but she's only left a relationship and Pearl has no idea what the next move is to their dance.
She lays in bed, Lapis shifting her position to lie next to her. They're maybe a head apart, facing each other. She's still wet down there, her body still responding to the alcohol, the music, the lights, the whole unreal atmosphere of meeting a dancer as good as Lapis at a bar, taking her home, the crazy highs and now the low of it all isn't enough to dampen her want, her need, her desire to sleep with someone for the night. It is the break in their dance, this moment. The break where they decide to end it or keep going. There is no middle ground. It is her move, for it was her who retreated. Lapis won't push unless Pearl throws her a bone.
She touches Lapis's cheek. A finger grazes over Lapis's lips. They're so close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from the other. Her hand clutches at the old ring. Should she say she wants it off, too? Her fingers go even lower, to the swell of Lapis's chest.
Lapis inhales, sharp and cutting. She undoes the clasp of her gold chain, turns to put it on the bedside table. And then she sits up and swiftly straddles Pearl's waist. Pearl sits up to kiss her.
"Don't go," Pearl murmurs, gaze lowered.
I want this, she confesses with her lips and the insistent way her hands grab at Lapis's and place them round her waist and shoulders. She whimpers when Lapis ghosts her fingers over her breasts, when Lapis squeezes them.
"Yes," Pearl whimpers, eyes shut tight.
Lapis dives into Pearl's depths, parting Pearl's legs and entering her. The shared breathlessness is like swimming in an ocean. She's all wrapped up in Lapis. Or maybe it's what Lapis feels as well, her fingers slick within Pearl, her face swimming deep into the older woman's crevices, her tongue an explorer, mapping Pearl, unraveling her.
Ocean Motion: Lapis
She's surprised, at the end of it all, that she can open herself up so easily to someone new. Perhaps she is only returning the trust given to her by Pearl. She's thought it would be harder to give this part of herself. But technically she's not giving herself, only her body.
Maybe it's just the alcohol.
Maybe it's just that Lapis hates being alone.
Maybe it's just the sea so close to her, the desire to grab an opportunity. To make this moment special.
Still though, this sex almost feels like lovemaking. Maybe such a thing is possible between two strangers, if only in the common decency that they both want to pleasure the other. That's love too, isn't it, in a way? Perhaps not as deep as the kind of bond time forges with a significant other. Who cares? Pearl fucks her well, plays her like an instrument, makes her come hard, hovers over her to make sure she's fine.
Lapis grins and licks the come off her lover's fingers. Pearl blushes above her. Her expressive eyes couldn't lie in a thousand years.
Pearl asks: "Was that good?"
She collapses on top of Lapis. Lapis's arms wrap around her, now that her head sits on the valley between Lapis's breasts.
"Really good."
"It's been a while."
"And here I thought I was special, to make you come like that. Turns out you're just...horny."
"You're the cheeky sort, huh."
"It's just been a while since I've had the chance to do this." Lapis may be hysterical with gladness, if she's honest with herself. The day is breaking through the blinds. What it brings is the great unknown.
She squeezes Pearl harder.
"You felt great," the blonde says, trying to compliment her. "Dry spell or not."
"Sun's gonna be up in a bit. D'you mind if I watch from the beach?"
Pearl gets up and throws her a bathrobe. "I'll follow," she says.
Outside their room, everything is still. Lapis sniffs and the ocean enters her nostrils. She's missed that smell, she realizes.
The door creaks when she opens it. She winces, but it doesn't look like she's woken anyone up. Outside, the pale of a new day fills her vision. She stays at the porch, feeling the wind at her hair, the nape of her neck now exposed by her shorter cut. She's missed that tickling sensation.
Behind her, the door creaks open. Pearl smiles with two mugs at hand. "Hot chocolate?"
"How'd you guess?" She takes the offered cup.
"You're cheeky."
Lapis smells tea from Pearl's cup. How predictable, for someone so orderly. "Let's take a walk."
And Pearl follows this step in their dance.
They don't wear any slippers as they trudge through the sands. The mix of warmth and cold and the salty smell all come together. A final pleasantry before the real world crashes in. Lapis doesn't let the thought sour the moment. She holds Pearl's hand like they're caught in each other.
"You can touch me, you know," she says.
Pearl ruffles Lapis's hair just a bit before settling her arm around Lapis's waist.
Her hands are so small, Lapis thinks. Small but long.
She wants to lick those slender fingers again.
They drink their beverages as they walk, watching the sun rise.
5th Position: Lapis
Afterwards, she asks Pearl about that last woman she loved. And she lets Pearl talk, because it seems as though she's never let herself do that. And then she talks about herself: about how she's always been stuck, about how she's getting herself out. She thinks of Jasper, who's probably demolished the apartment now that she, Lapis, has come to life. She laughs, but she's crying too. She lets Pearl hug her. The tenderness of it makes her cry harder. How strange to meet someone like Pearl. How strange to spend the morning at the beach. How strange...how strange.
How strange to see her tears on another woman's chest.
The chocolate is long done for when they've finished their conversation. It's a proper morning, now, and the town is awake. The light reflected by the sea is dazzling, rippling bright patterns of sun. Hand to her blue hair, Lapis is surprised by the warmth.
Gazing towards the ocean, she says, "I'm pretty sure my ex is looking for me, and I need to deal with that on my own. For myself."
"Okay. But promise me you'll come here when you need me?"
"I promise."
Pearl retrieves a tiny music player from her robe's pocket. They listen to the music for a few songs, then Pearl starts twirling on the sand. They fall to a rhythm, together again. Pearl leads, and they finish with a dip that Lapis finds herself surrendering to. For a split second she feels exposed far more than sex exposes her; no one can lie when they dance, and here she is, putting herself in the hands of another. But the moment passes and Pearl holds her. Trusting someone doesn't always make her vulnerable, Lapis knows, but in that moment with Pearl, she feels it more than thinks it.
They walk back to the house after maybe a few silly songs and dances. Pearl gives herself away too, Lapis realizes, with her sloppy footwork and exaggerated bends.
"You had fun?"
She wonders how warm Pearl's face gets when she blushes like that.
"Yeah," Pearl confesses.
No such thing as a perfect match, Lapis tells herself. She has no idea where she's going with this, whatever final destination time propels her towards. But she smiles at Pearl, and Pearl smiles back, and maybe they can get through this, whatever this is.
We move like the ocean, but I can't swim anymore.
- Bad Suns