𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘.

LOCATION — Lilette (a french bistro)

FOR — @selfmaed​

Leona had an affinity for the changing seasons. She adored the cold and gloom that the winter months could bring, the invigorating charm of spring. But August held a rather surprising enchantment on her heart — or perhaps the enchantment stemmed from a someone rather than a something. 

The postcard was tucked into her purse, readily available at her fingertips. However, there was really no need for it to be kept so closely to her person. The words etched onto in black ink were similarly etched into her memory. Almost everything that Salma ever said or did was burned in there. They occupied much of mental space these days, but perhaps it was because distance wasn’t the easiest thing to bridge. It allowed for many ruminations while offering no reprieve save for the sporadic communication that the two managed to scrounge out in their spare time. 

Finally, though, her longings would be abated. One of her favorite people was going to be within reach, she would receive a salve for her aching wound. 

Her stomach grumbled its discontent. Leona bit her lip. 

Food first, salve later. Glancing around to make sure none would witness her impropriety, Leona reached for a menu, eyes skating down its selections. She had to bite down on a groan of hunger as her mouth started to salivate at the possibilities. So engrossed was she that she missed the apple of her eye rolling in. 

Her head snapped up, the menu falling from her hands as she practically squealed in excitement. 

“Salma! Salma you’re here!”

     SUMMER  HEAT  ON  THE  COAST  by  slowly  until  it  starts  going  fast,  and  for  the  four  weeks  that  ticked  by  in  july  and  carried  onward  into  a  ferociously  fevered  august,  there  was  hardly  a  moment  for  salma  to  catch  their  breath.  they  quite  liked  the  fact  though.  their  time  was  well  kept,  always  a  meeting  to  tend  or  a  man  in  a  pinstripe  suit  to  sway  toward  their  own  prerogative  without  hardly  missing  a  beat.  time  was  their  business  and  they  had  intended  to  make  the  most  of  it.      even  happening  upon  nola  was  yet  another  investment  of  their  time.  salma  was  two  days  on  the  train  and  five  hours  in  a  honey  colored  apperson  denoted  by  the  driver  as  his  ‘dependable  old  girl’.  but  my,  were  those  two  days  an  insufferable  tale.  perhaps  just  about  the  heat  they’d  withstood  since  the  summer  of  ‘09.  and  yet,  all  their  efforts  and  business  aside,  are  redeemed  the  very  moment  they  set  foot  into  the  chatty  little  bistro. 

    there  she  is,  a  magnolia  fully  in  bloom,  hardly  wilted  beneath  all  the  sticky  orleans  heat.  something  profound  could  be  said  of  a  love,  much  less  an  adoration  that  transcended  time  and  the  space  oft  wedged  between  them.  salma  hadn’t  the  words  for  it  though.  not  when  the  mere  sight  of  her  had  winded  them  like  a  meter  sprint.  leona  was  like  a  note  clipping  they  kept  in  their  breast  pocket  on  particularly  lonely  days.  always  on  their  heart.  and  now,  just  within  arms  reach.      “  i  wager  you’ve  missed  me  then?  ”  they  know  they  needn’t  ask  such  a  thing,  not  when  the  answer  perched  right  in  front  of  them.  rather  it  was  a  retort  of  affirmation.  something  to  look  forward  to  because  they  knew  for  certain  leona  would  be  there  had  they  called  upon  her.  and  she  had  been.  grin  blooms  across  visage,  a  natural  tinge  of  carmine  warming  their  cheeks  as  they  were  sat  adjacent  to  her.  “  hope  i  didn’t  keep  you  long,  ”  they’d  made  a  note  of  punctuality  and  yet  the  avoidable  was  just  that.  “  traffic  ..  in  this  heat,  could  you  imagine?  ”  

“Listen to this next part,” Nalini closes her eyes, swaying in time to the music, humming quietly under her breath as the voice coming from the gramophone croons their way through the song. “Aileen Stanley, oh I just adore her!” Her eyes are bright and shining, a combination of the alcohol she had drank and the atmospheric lighting in the room. 

“You know, I was gonna sing this tonight, at work. If I’d have made it, that is.” she chuckles, shaking her head. “What about you? What plans of yours ended up in ruins tonight?” Nobody was here by choice - after all, this party wasn’t even supposed to be happening, was it? Salma is surely no exception to the rule. Or if they are, there’s something Aurelie isn’t telling Nalini. 

“Do you like to dance?” the next question comes spilling from her lips - drink makes her chattier than usual - a tilt of her head accompanying it. “Because if you did, you and I could dance. Together, I mean. You up for it?”

     THEY  BID  HER  WISHES,  perhaps  grant  her  a  few  extra  to  keep  her  satiated.  the  pair  sit  somewhat  entangled,  yet  not  touching.  rather,  tucked  off  into  a  far  corner  of  the  function  abuzz  with  jazzy  trills  and  enough  booze  to  keep  the  party-goers  drunk  for  a  week  and  beyond.  it’s  a  delightful  medium,  some  intimacy  to  be  found  when  everyone  else  was  busied  with  their  own  endeavors.  “  business  arrangements.  all  of  the  stale  sort.  ”  talks  of  investments  with  a  pepper - haired  man  with  an  affinity  for  theater.  plans  hardly  set  to  motion  are  faltered  when  the  first  shot  rang,  so  called  ‘the  shot  heard  around  the  crescent  city‘  as  a  particularly  pretty,  wild  thing  mused  moments  before.  new  orlean’s  smart  set  and  the  latter  crammed  into  the  four  corners  of  the  french  quarter  apartment  wasn’t  how  salma  intended  to  relish  in  the  rest  of  their  evening.  and  yet.  “  do  i  ?  ”  they  mean  to  say:  ‘oh  another  time.’  rather,  salma  is  up  on  slightly  unsettled  footing  before  the  other  can  risk  another  word.  hand  offered  over  had  she  wished  to  take  it.  “  do  you  think  you  can  keep  up?  ”

word of mouth travels quickly, the guests flowing into their apartment more strangers than friends. she’d lost track of who’s who over an hour ago—not that she minds. who is she to turn away those looking for a reprieve? for light and laughter while blood runs through the streets? the more the merrier, in her opinion, but one that swiftly changes when she comes across a familiar face. salma’s not a stranger, but not a friend—they are in a category all their own, brushed in gold and dipped in honey. still, she doesn’t tell them to leave. if only because it’s not safe out, she tells herself. not because she’s curious to what promise they’ll peddle out next.

“let it be known i’m never an ungracious host, even to those uninvited.” she smiles sweetly, holding out a gin rickey. “did you come for the party, or for me?”

     SOMETHING  COULD  BE  SAID  about  a  city  threatening  to  eat  itself  whole.  you  were  not  save  from  its  advances.  and  yet,  there  was  good  to  be  found  even  beneath  a  muddle  of  gun  smoke.  “  i  hardly  fathom  i  could  ever  take  you  for  anything  less  than  decorus.  ”  a  truth,  in  part.  though  it  would  be  foolish  to  pin  the  woman  as  if  butter  wouldn’t  melt  in  her  mouth.  salma  knew  better.  consider  them  accepting  the  drink  a  temporary  truce,  lest  aurélie  though  to  pick  their  poison  before  salma  had  the  chance.  “  neither,  ”  glass  is  brought  to  their  lips,  licking  the  remnants  from  rouged  lips  like  a  pleased  cat  curled  upon  a  lounge  chair  not  belonging  to  them.  similarly,  making  a  home  where  they  were  uninvited.  “  but  i’m  plenty  thankful  you’ve  opened  your  doors.  ”  there  is  no  mention  of  intention  nor  how  salma  found  their  way  to  the  comforts  of  aurélie’s  home.  an  opportunity  to  examine  the  lion’s  teeth  without  sticking  your  hand  into  it’s  mouth  was  most  opportune  indeed.  and  who  were  they  to  deny  themself  the  chance?  “  this  city  is  alight,  and  i’m  not  sure  i  want  to  be  the  one  getting  torched.  ”  not  tonight.  but  even  as  the  best  of  them  all,  there  was  a  human  price  for  luxury.  a  head,  or  perhaps  two  so  the  party  could  rage  on  another  day.  otherwise,  what  was  the  point?