Agatha

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore can

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore can

Hello, this is other story of my life. This story told me by a friend.  A funny woman who lives in Ohio. Agatha.

She is a lesbian who I knew in a “Dike night” in the jungle (In the city jeje). She self-defines as a Lipstick Lesbian.

Agatha had lot of pajamas in her closet. Under the bed she hid all her sexy belongings. Her favorite pajama was a little set of rose’s pictures. This set was a gif of her friend Samantha when they studied together in the art center. But, she remembered other pajama. That clothe was in a suitcase. The suitcase sat open on the bed, nearly empty now as Agatha put the last of her wardrobe away. It was a pair of pajamas and as these were her favorites she almost never wore them. They were rose’s reed, made of silk, with tiny white stars strewn throughout the fabric. She had received them as a gift from her brother three years ago, and had said that they were beautiful. They were still beautiful, of course, and she liked to keep them looking relatively new. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had worn them. With a soft smile, she put them in the drawer and smoothed them down before closing the drawer, and then the suitcase.

The room contained a small bed, neatly made, two straight-backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau–without any mirror–and a small table. There were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, no pictures on the wall. All day the sun had been pouring down upon the roof, and the little room was like an oven for heat. As there were no screens, the windows had not been raised. A big fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and down, up and down, trying to get out.

She was done! All of her clothes were unpacked and put away, all the dishes neatly stacked in her new cupboards, all her things organized, all the books carefully stacked end-on-end in their new shelves.
Well, that wasn’t surprising. She had only been there for a five hours, and she wasn’t used to being away from her family. Now that she was at college, though, she’d have to get used to the idea.

Agatha grinned and picked up the phone. Good thing her phone line had been connected that morning; she just hoped Lilian was home.

Lilian was pretty impressed with Agatha’s new apartment. “This is a hell of a lot bigger than your old room,” Lilian said, pausing in mid-stride as she passed some of Agatha’s graduation pictures. “…Hey, I didn’t know I was in this one!”

Some people never escape their childhoods, not really. It’s like a part of them just doesn’t feel safe in the adult world. Lilian was like that, always in clothes that never showed her shape and prints that would be more suited to a teenager or younger. She had a thing about “Hello Kitty,” often wearing it on her shirts or bag. Always her hair was in a pony-tail and her face was free of make-up. Sometimes we’d hook up for lunch and go to the canteen, it simply wasn’t worth the trouble to try to take her to a bar. Always the conversation turned to horses, to soup recipes and musicals. She was the most childlike adult I’d ever met, but talking to her was so refreshing. She lacked the guile and complexity of my other friends, what you saw was what she was.

Agatha came over to look. Then she giggled. “Yeah, that’s the only reason I kept that one,” she said. The photo in question was of Agatha and her friends Mile and Britanny, smiling and waving for the camera. Actually, only Agatha was smiling. Agatha didn’t remember why they looked so strange, or even if she had ever known; she only kept the picture because Lilian was visible in the background, soaking wet, chasing after some guy with a Coke cup in his hand. “The look on your face was priceless!”

The joy of being together was indescribable. It was a feeling like walking on the moon and at the same time feeling on earth. “Here and now” like a yogi.  Janet had good vibes in her sex appeal.

“Well, I think you should burn it,” said Lilian, but then she chuckled. “That poor guy. I wonder if all the bruises have healed by now… Listen, Agatha–“

Agatha looked up from the kitchen counter, where she had been pouring some coffee for Lilian and herself. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and although I drank in the aroma like everyone else I will never hand over my wares for it. “Arabica beans, fresh ground, latte, expresso, Americano, hazelnut, french vanilla, percolated, instant, lousy, indifferent, cold, scalding, hot, milky, cream, syrup, mocha, decaffeinated, black, sugar, dunking biscotti, fair trade, Starbucks” Any coffee was good with her company.

We talked like two teenagers about men, fashion clothes, etc.

As soon as, Lilian smiled. “You don’t have anything planned for this afternoon, right?”

Agatha laughed. “Trust me, anything’s better than sitting around a lonely new apartment. What did you have in mind?” She handed Lilian a coffee, sitting down on the couch in the center of the room. Lilian sat next to her, and took a sip of coffee  before setting it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Lilian eyed the new coffee table, it was old fashioned and mahogany, not one of those mass produced items with veneers over compressed fibre boards, but real wood right the way through. She shuddered at the thought of what it cost to make, not in money but in old growth forest, but there was no point. It was antique and therefore more environmentally friendly to buy now than anything new she thought. So instead she smiled and threw an arm around Agatha, “It’s beautiful K, just like you.”

“I’ve been talking with one of the instructors here for a couple months, online,” Lilian began. “I got to meet her a couple days ago and she’s really cool. I’ve been telling her about you and she’d like to meet you. We’re not scheduled to have any classes with her this term, since she teaches Human Biology 301, so…”

Agatha blinked. “Well… OK,” she said. “How come she wants to meet me?” That sounded than a good idea.

Lilian blushed. Now Agatha understood. She grinned, and chuckled. Lilian was bisexual, and one of the reasons that she and Agatha were such good friends was that Agatha didn’t have any problem with this. Although Agatha wasn’t bisexual herself, the thought of making love with another woman didn’t bother her, and so being with Lilian didn’t make her feel uncomfortable.

A year ago, while they were on a weekend trip as part of the school marching band, Lilian and Agatha had shared a room. After curfew, Agatha had lain awake in her bed, and Lilian had climbed in with her. They had talked for awhile, and soon Lilian confessed that she was attracted to Agatha. This didn’t bother her; in fact, she had been flattered, and told Lilian as much. That was as far as their friendship had gone, though, since Lilian was a good friend and never tried to make Agatha feel anything for her other than friendship. Most other girls her age would probably have been pretty confused at their own feelings after something like that, but Agatha generally loved people.

She loved her family, and she loved her friends; boys that she had dated throughout school, even in some of her most intimate relationships, were simply people she loved more than others at the time. She didn’t distinguish between different types of love; it felt too good, too natural, for her when she cared about and trusted other people, for things like sex to get in the way. Sex was nice, but to her, it was an intimate and affectionate activity shared by two people who loved each other, not a line of demarcation between different areas of love. If Lilian had attempted to make love to her that night, Agatha would have welcomed it– not because she desired Lilian in particular but because she loved Lilian, and to please Lilian would have brought Agatha joy. But her friend respected her, and never made a move on her. They’d had sleepover parties at each other’s houses plenty of times since then, just as before, but Lilian had never climbed into Agatha’s bed again and that didn’t bother Agatha either way. As long as Lilian didn’t want to make it an issue, Agatha wasn’t worried about it.