A Brew in Time
Page 1
Credits
Thank you, dear reader, for your continued support. It is and will always remain deeply appreciated.
As always, thank you to my beta readers.
Please, during these turbulent times, I hope everyone can remain safe.
Eighteen
I looked out the window of the airplane, which I had learned was something called a Cessna 182, specially modified for today’s purpose. It wasn’t really at all comfortable; with the exception of the pilot, there were seven of us seated on the floor of the plane, partnered two and two and two with one extra to photograph the event.
Aunt Jackie and Phoebe were taking me skydiving for my 18th birthday! We were each strapped to our instructors for what was called a tandem dive, and the seventh person was going to record video the entire way down. Each instructor also had a camera on her wrist, but as I was the birthday girl, the photographer would take extra video of me.
I was excited and scared and nervous and scared but not at all as scared as Aunt Phoebe was. She was wide around the eyes, and I actually felt bad for her.
Aunt Phoebe. I was still in a bit of shock I could call her that. She’d been my eighth-grade teacher, and I’d done more than a little bit of matchmaking between her and my Aunt Jackie. I still enjoyed telling Aunt Jackie, “I told you,” whenever I see the way the two of them look at each other. But they were really cute together, especially because Phoebe had Aunt Jackie totally wrapped around her little finger.
It had been an amazing wedding, just last spring. Mom had been Aunt Jackie’s maid of honor, but I’d been invited to be her other bridesmaid, and I’d loved it. Aunt Jackie and Phoebe had both been truly beautiful. Mom had looked great, too, and I thought I hadn’t looked at all bad, either.
Okay, maybe I looked better than not bad.
They hadn’t planned a big wedding, but it had gotten out of hand. Phoebe had a small family, and I discovered they were a little weird, but they had all come, or so Phoebe had said, although there were only three men, and all the women dressed in various shades of goth.
That part had been really weird; it was our side of the family that should have dressed goth, well, at least Aunt Jackie and me. But of course, we didn’t.
There had been a reception afterwards, complete with dancing. And as a bridesmaid, I’d had duties, terrible duties. I had to dance with people. Oh, the horror. But all of Jackie’s lesbian friends had come, and I felt like a big doll, passed from one of them to another, each of them telling me how beautiful I was.
But I danced with Mom, and with Dad, and with Aunt Jackie, and with Ms. Mathis. And it was while dancing with her that I whispered, “Now you’re my Aunt Phoebe.”
She had laughed and said, “I suppose I am.”
After our dance, I pulled her to all of the people I knew and said, “This is my Aunt Phoebe.” And she let me. I think she liked it as much as I did.
I ended at Serephine, my baby sister, now four years old. “Sere,” I said, kneeling down in front of her while pulling Aunt Phoebe with me. “This is our Aunt Phoebe.”
She scrunched her face for a moment. “She’s Phoebe, Lydia.”
“She and Aunt Jackie are married now, Sere,” I said. “Just like Mom and Dad. And so now she’s our aunt, too, just like Aunt Jackie.”
My sister looked at me, and then at our new aunt. She smiled. “We have two aunts now!”
“That’s right, Little Sister,” I said. “And I’d let you hug her, but you’re all sticky. Who gave you more cake?”
“Jay-Jay!”
Phoebe snorted. I laughed, and then Sere laughed with me. Then I stood and pulled Aunt Phoebe away again, pulled her to the edge of the room until we turned to each other. I looked down at my hand, holding her wrist, and then suddenly I realized what I’d been doing. I dropped it, but I continued to look down.
“I can’t believe I did that.” I looked up. “I can’t believe you let me, Ms. Mathis.”
She waved a finger at me. “I like it when you call me Aunt Phoebe, Lydia.”
“Really?”
“To be honest, I hadn’t actually thought about that. I should have. I’m an aunt now.” I could hear the awe in her voice. “You were one of my favorite students, Lydia.”
“You have favorites every year, I bet.”
“Yes, but some are extra special.” She reached out and tapped my nose. “And now look at you. You’re a grown woman.”
“Tell Mom that.”
She smiled. “Your mother is deeply aware of how old you are, and how grown up you are. But you’ll always be her little girl.”
“I hoped she’d put all her focus on Sere.”
“Did you?”
“Hoped,” I said. “Hoped.”
“Your mother is very proud of you, Lydia, as is your Aunt Jackie. Now I want to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” I replied.
“I wonder if it’s okay if I’m proud of you, too? As your new aunt.”
I felt a rush of emotion, and all I could do was nod a little stupidly. That was when Phoebe collected me into a tight hug. I wrapped my own arms around her and whispered, “I love you, Aunt Phoebe. Thank you for asking my aunt on that first date so you could become my new aunt.”
Her arms tightened further, “Oh, Lydia. I love you, too.”
We held each other for a minute and then slowly separated, but then we held hands, looking at each other. Finally I said, “I should give you back to Aunt Jackie. But.”
“But?”
I looked over. Her family was seated together, all of them in their black, and nearly all of them women, ages fourteen or so to old, really old. “Who is that one?”
She followed my gaze. “To which do you refer?”
“The one in the black dress.”
She laughed. “Funny.”
“The girl,” I said. “She’s talking to your great grandmother.”
“That is not my great grandmother,” she said. “That is my...” She trailed off. “Okay, she’s my great aunt, so I suppose almost the same thing. My grandmother’s sister. The girl is Cora, but I believe she prefers to be called Lamia. She is Aunt Ethyl’s great-granddaughter, or my second cousin once removed.”
“Once removed.”
“That means we are one generation apart. She is my second cousin’s daughter. It’s very confusing, isn’t it?”
“And she likes to be called Lamia? Seriously?” I gestured. “How did you come out of that crowd?”
“I can rock that look, when I want,” she replied. “Did you want to meet my cousin?”
“Yeah.” But I tugged on her hand to turn her back to face me. “Make me dance with her.” Then I turned to pull her towards her family’s table, but this time she pulled me to a stop.
“Lydia?”
I turned back to her. “Don’t make a big deal about this.”
She stared for a minute then nodded. “All right. Come on.”
We approached the table, still holding hands. We were nearly there when a couple of members of Phoebe’s family nudged a few others, and then they all turned to watch us approach. “Everyone,” Phoebe said. “This is my new niece, Lydia.”
From the looks and a few half comments, I think some of them were only realizing what I had realized only fifteen minutes previously: Phoebe was now my aunt. I thought that was a bigger deal for me than it was for any of them, but then it didn’t really affect them.
Aunt Phoebe introduced me to her family. I remembered the names I could, and I offered very polite greetings to everyone.
“And this is my cousin, Lamia,” Phoebe said. “Lamia, Lydia is seventeen. I believe you just turned eighteen in February.”
Lamia nodded and offered her hand. “Pleasure,” she said. I took her h
and. It was cold. We clasped for a moment, and I smiled at her.
“Lamia,” Aunt Phoebe said, “Lydia has a responsibility, and she has been remiss.”
“And I have to help her?” Lamia asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes. She has the duty of ensuring everyone dances. You have not been dancing. Lydia, take Lamia to the dance floor for at least two songs.”
“Yes, Aunt Phoebe,” I said, tossing a smile at her. I turned back to Lamia to see if she would dance with me.
She gazed at me for a moment and her cousin for three. And then I saw as she made a decision. She smiled and stood, capturing my hands. “I lead,” she said. And then she pulled me behind her to the dance floor, her boots clicking on the floor as she walked.
The current song was fast, and she released my hand, but we danced together, or at least near each other. Lamia was... I don’t know how to put it. But she seemed like there on the floor, she released herself. Maybe that doesn’t make sense. She spent a portion of the song deeply focused on me, looking into my eyes intensely, but she also spent a portion with her eyes closed, turning a slow circle as she moved to the music. Then she was back facing me, looking into my eyes again, and I was helpless but to move with her.
It was really intense.
The song ended, and then the band leader said, “We’re going to slow it down.” It was a moment later, and then they began a slow song.
Lamia looked me up and down in a frank appraisal, and then she said, “Phoebe told us two songs.”
“So she did,” I said.
We moved together, and I found myself in Lamia’s arms, our bodies pressed together. I’d never slow danced with anyone. I’d danced to slow songs, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same at all.
“Close your eyes,” she said into my ear. I obeyed, and together we swayed to the music.
I found myself lost to the music, and to Lamia’s warmth, but at the same time, I remember specific, crisp moments. I remember her breath on my ear, and I thought it was intentional on her part. I remember her hands on my back, and then she shifted one, her fingers finding the bare skin at the back of my neck.
And then I remember a clear moment of loss when the song ended, and she pulled away from me. We stared at each other, and then she said, “Come with me.”
I followed her to a different table in the far corner of the reception room. She sat down, turning the chair sideways, and I took a seat facing her. “Why did Phoebe order us to dance?”
I considered lying to her. Instead, I said, “Because I asked her to.”
She shifted suddenly; I thought I had surprised her and worried I’d offended her. She asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Because I wanted to dance with you.”
“And you weren’t brave enough to just ask me? Or were you afraid I’d say ‘no’?”
“Maybe both?” I suggested, making it a question. “You’re a little intense.”
“And you’re a little into understatements,” she replied. She leaned forward and fingered my luck necklace. “Did Phoebe make this?”
I lifted my own fingers. “No. Aunt Jackie did. It wards off evil.”
Lamia laughed. “It doesn’t seem to be working on me.”
“Either you’re not evil, or you’re more powerful than Aunt Jackie,” I said with a little laugh. I waved a wrist at her. “I made this one. Aunt Jackie is teaching me.”
“She is, is she?” Lamia said. She grabbed my hand and then ran fingers over the woven bracelet. “It doesn’t fit your bridesmaid gown.”
“It’s for good luck,” I said.
“Do they work?”
I smiled. “Well, since Aunt Jackie made this one,” and I touched my throat with my free hand, “I haven’t had a single direct encounter with any demons or devils, to the best I can tell, your name notwithstanding.”
Lamia laughed. “My real name is Cora.”
“I know. Why do you want people to call you Lamia?”
“Why does anyone do anything?”
I pulled my hand away from her. “So don’t tell me.”
She reached out and grabbed my hand again. We were about to struggle over it, but she said, “Because it pisses off my mother.” I stopped fighting with her, and she pulled my hand the rest of the way to her, holding it and brushing fingers across the bracelet.
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been watching you.”
“You have?”
“We’re the only girls our age here,” she said. “Who else was I going to watch?”
“The boys our age?”
“Yeah, I don’t see any of those, either,” she said. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No. You?”
“No to both,” she said. “I’ve been watching you.”
“You said that.”
“You seem very... sweet.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“If you called me that, yeah, but no. It’s just you.”
“It sounds like you think it’s an insult.”
“It should sound like I’m jealous.”
“Huh?”
“Very articulate,” she declared. “You seem to get along with your parents.”
“I suppose I do.”
“And I watched you with your little sister.”
“She’s pretty cool.”
“That’s what I mean. I make people call me Lamia to piss off my mother.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a bitch,” Lamia said. “And no, I’m not saying that because I’m some sort of spoiled goth bitch myself. I can be a bitch, but it’s usually justified.”
“Who ever thinks they’re the bad one?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said. “But whether it’s my fault or hers, or both of ours, the point is Mom and I fight. Do you fight with your parents?”
“Not often,” I said. “But I’m sort of a goody two shoes.”
“Yeah, I figured that out. And you’re saying I’m not.”
“I don’t know a thing about you,” I protested. “But I would guess that you’ve never called yourself that, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d be offended if someone did.”
She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, good guess. But I’m not a troublemaker, either. I’m graduating high school in three weeks. You’ve got a year left?”
I nodded. “Yep. I’ll be a senior.”
“And then what?”
“College. Have you decided where you’re going?”
“Yeah. I bet you don’t mind depending on your parents.”
“And you do.”
“Mom has something I want,” Lamia said. “I’m stuck until she lets me have it.”
“College tuition?”
“No. I’d sell my body to pay for tuition, if it meant I got out from under her thumb.”
“Yeah, right. That’s not even funny.”
“Give me a hundred bucks, and I’ll go down on you in the bathroom.”
“Funny,” I said. “Not.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“I’m not paying you for... that!”
“Oh? What will you pay me for?” She looked me up and down. I pulled my hand from her and crossed my arms. “Oh, relax, Two Shoes. I’m just teasing.”
“I think I’m starting to realize why you think your mom’s a bitch.”
“Hey!” she complained. “Be nice. Besides, I was only trying to make a point. I’m jealous. Whether it’s her fault or mine, or both, my relationship with my mom sucks. And yours is pretty good, or was that an act?”
“It’s not an act,” I said.
“So I’m jealous,” she said.
“What’s with all of you dressing in black?”
“We’re sucking up.”
“To Phoebe?”
She laughed loudly. “To Grandma Ethyl,” she said.
“I can never tell when you’re serious.”
“And other than her Halloween costumes, she never wears black.”
“She does when she comes to visit.” She cocked her head then stood. She grabbed my hand and tugged. I found myself following her back to the dance floor. A new song began just as we arrived, a slow song. Lamia turned suddenly, and I nearly walked right into her before I found us holding each other. “Close your eyes,” she ordered.
We danced that song, and then she brushed my cheek with her lips. “You’re cute. And sweet. And if we lived in the same town, you’d be mine. But we don’t. Thank you for asking Phoebe to make us dance.” And then she turned around and walked away, leaving me there on the dance floor.
That was the last time I talked to her last spring, but when Phoebe and Jackie got back from their honeymoon, Phoebe told me, “Lamia asked for your email address. Do you mind if I give it to her?”
“No.”
“Great.”
And so Lamia and I became pen pals of a sort.
Falling
Wow, did I get off track, or did I get off track? Where was I? Oh, in an airplane, just reaching an altitude ten thousand feet above the ground below. It was my eighteenth birthday, and we were all about to jump out of an airplane.
We were about to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.
I looked at Phoebe. She looked terrified. Aunt Jackie was excited. I was scared and excited. I looked over my shoulder. My jump instructor was behind me, her legs spread to either side. I could see her with just one eye. Meadow smiled. Yeah, her name was really Meadow. She was a friend of Karla’s. Between Jay-jay and Karla, I swear, they knew every woman, straight or gay, in the entire metropolitan area.
That might be a slight exaggeration, but still...
“Excited?”
“Tell me again how safe this is.”
“I haven’t lost anyone on her birthday yet.”
“Funny,” I said. “Are you sure this harness is going to hold?”
“Positive,” she said. “We checked it together.” She reached up and patted my cheek. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I bet you like that.”