#kazoola

—

She couldn’t help raising her brows when water transformed into solid ice in front of her naked eye. The edges of the lake crackled and fell silent as frost crept onto the banks. Even with her own warmth assured, she didn’t expect their surroundings to drop so quickly, as if the waterbender’s finesse had commanded every other element. Remarkable.

Her next exhale was visible, so small and withheld that it left in a wisp. It was how she knew Katara had stolen her breath - again.

“I promise, it’s firm enough to step on.” A boot measured the thickness with a tap, then she boarded the glassine surface with a satisfied hmph. It slipped Azula’s mind to peel her eyes away and pretend to scout the woodlands, fold her arms, sigh, anything that feigned emotional distance. She watched Katara’s hand move across her sole, sculpting from residue, setting down a knife-like edge with the clink of a cup on a saucer. She repeated with her other foot, straightening on thin slivers of ice like it was easy, hands on hips. “See? I told you we came prepared. Now it’s your turn.”

The princess unstuck her fists from her sides, taking the arm. Not a moment later her feet started to slide apart, grating on the only barrier between steadying hands and a splintering fall. “Oh. I didn’t expect - this is much more...”

“I’ll take care of that.” She gripped her waist, and Azula clutched back. “Just hold on tight.” With something of a kick that never landed, they were spurred into motion. The princess started with a hwah! sound, heart hammering even when coasting along her side, even pressed to the furs Katara was bundled in. Or her thoughts were flying, pulse singing, for another reason outside it all.

Black and dark brown hair fluttered behind them. The wind was hardly biting, jades and colored spots of flowers blurring into one line, pitting a sensation like summertime whisked out from under their feet. No chance. If there was any promise between them - and there were many - it was to snatch out sunlight when it broke the clouds, trap fleeting moments like lightning bugs in clear jars. Until hope spilled into her world, and Katara along with it, Azula learned to heal... and to her, love was an endless summer. One long overdue.

They drifted farther apart, round after round scaling the rink until they were only joined by their hands. Azula found her footing, prodigious learner that she was.

“Hey, you’re getting the hang of it!” Katara’s eyes glowed. She glowed.

With a surge of confidence, the princess dragged her heels, hooking an arm around the other girl and pulling with all her strength. They veered left with a giggling fit, arms locked as they circled to a halt. Dizzied heads were a small price to pay.

“That... was... fun!” Katara gasped out. Finally at rest, she brushed back the uneven cut of Azula’s hair, drinking her in. The sheared ends had regrown quickly, still somewhat mismatched; in just a few months, her reflection wasn’t in complete tatters.

“Next time, I’m taking you to walk over hot coals.” Azula smirked, skates moving in an intuitive waltz. “Or to set off fireworks. As many as we can manage before our hands are covered in ash. Isn’t this the theme we’re following - showing off?”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try and outdo me.” She leaned in, the warm press of lips to Azula’s forehead releasing butterflies in her stomach. Katara’s voice hovered above her ear, teasing, “Unless we’re talking about hot looks. Then I’ll have to step down, hm?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She scoffed, a little flushed, throwing back a flippant hand. Venom seeped into her tone out of instinct, but the words were anything but. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever set eyes on. It would be an insult to doubt my tastes.”

It flew out before she caught herself. Azula’s eyes snapped open, red-faced. “I... er- I meant it!”

Katara smiled. Before she could stutter her way back onto her dispassionate pedestal, a loud crack rang in the quiet. Their eyes shot straight down. Fissures spiderwebbed from under Azula, the ice tinged with heat. Oh...

Flustered, to the point of softening the ice underfoot. Azula could only fling her head up to Katara’s, pale with dread, lungs braced and teeth clicked shut for the cold shock. I’m sorry!

When the ice gave way and they tumbled, her eyes squeezed closed - don’t look, don’t look - no light or even afterimages allowed to pass through. Weightlessness stretched out for an impossible length of time... floating, hearing and seeing nothing, until her ears pricked. A voice.

“It’s okay. I got us. We’re safe.”

What? She loosened the death grip around her knees, squinting. It was dark.

“Azula? We’re okay. I promise.”

Katara, hand in hers - the first one she’d held after days imprisoned in the ward, blood pooling at her elbows. Her grip had been an iron clamp; they never doubted each other’s strength.

Azula looked up, head whipping around until what she was seeing made sense, logic falling into place. Air.

“You didn’t think you would drown with a waterbender at your side, did you?” A chuckle. Her palms were flat and spread, weaving in delicate circles. The pocket around them was held in place, walled on all sides by a swirling current.

Azula made no effort to contain her awe. The underside of the lake was striped azure blue, its bottom glinting in weak rays of sunlight. Shadows of darting fish crossed her periphery. She looked down at their clothes. Dry as bone.

“You know what?” Katara appraised their situation, hands dropping into her lap. Of course she could hold the bubble like it was an afterthought. Of course. “I think we found a great place to cuddle. Play Pai Sho, have a picnic...”

Raining on Our Democratic Party (November 2016)

When I was driving from Warwick to Mobile, I’d passed the signs marked for Panama City Beach and almost instinctively veered off the exit. I thought “Oh my gosh. This might be my last chance if he’s still there!” 

Then I realized that I really had zero time for that bullshit, so I got back on the road and back on track to Mobile. I was proud of myself for overcoming a weak moment and guiding myself back to see a friend. 

I’d arrived in Mobile around 7 pm, and it was already so dark outside. All we really had time for was to party, and it was election night, so that made it pretty interesting. 

She showed me the place that she said she worked, bought me a really spicy wrap called the Katy Peri Peri which was made with Peri Peri peppers. It was dripping all over the place and brought tears to my eyes, but it was so tasty. On the counter, there were also candied habañero peppers which Jesse said customers would stupidly grab handfuls of because they were free. He said it was fun to watch them cry after not reading the obvious warning signs. 

I didn’t realize that Mia and Jesse both worked together. She was a bartender and he was a cook. They were both living in an upstairs room in Jesse’s father’s house which was one of the coolest, traditional American classic homes I’d ever seen. You could tell that the architecture was from a much older era, and I appreciated the charm that it had. It was well-decorated and well-furnished, and I lucked out by coming at a time when Jesse’s sister was away, so I had my own room to stay in. 

Mia showed me around her downtown which she described as “a little sister New Orleans.” We bar-hopped across town and ended up in a place where there was a Democratic party being held, and was even being broadcasted live on the local news. We had watched the broadcast from another bar across town, and made our way to the bar known as Kazoola, to witness the broadcast in person.  

The bar itself was named after a famous slave that grew up in Alabama and was known for its live jazz performances. It seemed that everyone’s jovial laughter and jubilant mood about the hope of our first female president quickly turned into anguish and despair once it was seen that Donald Trump caught up to Hillary Clinton and all the states after that started bleeding red too. Once we saw that North Carolina turned red, we knew it was over. It was extremely fitting for everyone’s mood that the musician sing “Purple Rain” by Prince, and I captured the memory of the sadness and support of everyone in the room.

Mia and Jesse had taken the loss extremely hard themselves. On the way back home, Jesse kept talking about how it was all a ploy to get Trump impeached so that we could have the real devil, Mike Pence in office. It was so unreal to see this orange man with no experience or qualifications to be our new president and leader.