“You tell me how this sounds.” Sadie’s eyes were warm and full. “But what I’d like most is, just for the next little while, to keep our lives exactly as they’ve been for the past four years. Only now, instead of introducing you to everyone as ‘Anne Lowell, the best friend I’ve ever had,’ you’ll be ‘Anne Lowell, the love of my life.’”
“That sounds wonderful.”Wonderfuldidn’t begin to describe it. Like a sunrise flaring out from her chest into Anne’s head and limbs and toes.
“Anne Lowell, the windshield to my wipers, the net to my mosquito, the midlife to my crisis.”
“And we’ll dothis.” Anne kissed Sadie’s cheek, thrilling as she did.
“That and so much more.” The heat in Sadie’s gaze was a perfect promise. “All the reflecting we’ve done this week, the changes we’re starting to make—we’ll keep building on those together.” She smiled at Anne, so fondly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of everything you’ve started.”
Anne glowed. “I haven’t done badly, have I? I’ve got to admit, though, I won’t be sorry when it’s over.” For the last week, she’d been bouncing between extremes, both wonderful and painful, an exhausting cycle.
“Over?” Sadie’s crow’s feet deepened even further, affection spilling beyond her adoring gaze. “That’s the best part, beloved. It’s never over. Oh, it’s not always like it’s been for you lately—there are peaceful lulls, too—but if you’re doing it right, you’renever finished with yourself. The great work continues. All the way until the end.”
Never finished with yourself? A large part of Anne wanted to protest that she’d already done enough for one lifetime; it was certainly more than she’d ever done in the sixty years prior. But to Anne’s surprise, the idea kicked up a little delight, too. Hadn’t she just realized she was more than ready to start pursuing meaningful work?
After all, Anne Lowell didn’t do half measures.
She returned Sadie’s smile and felt the skin around her own eyes crease, too.
“So let’s continue on as we’ve begun. And once we’ve had some time to enjoy just being the happiest women in the world, we can start planning our next steps. Living together, marriage, the whole works. Give you my word.”
Sadie had given Anne so many of her words over the years, but none more important than these. “It’s a plan.”
“Oh, and the baby’ll be here soon! The maraschino cherry on our bliss sundae. You know, it never felt right, the idea of leaving before she’s born. I’m going to be agrandmother, can you believe it? I had a dream last night that I was holding her in my arms and reciting the Shehecheyanu over her.”
”The—what?” The word was Hebrew, clearly, but Anne had never heard Sadie use it. “Shehey—”
“The Shehecheyanu. It’s a blessing for special occasions. Like a baby’s birth, or a reunion with an old friend, or the purchase of a new house. Anything truly important and joyful and uncommon.”
“How about committing to the woman who loves you?”
Sadie sat bolt upright. “I can’tbelieveI didn’t—” She held her hands out to Anne. “Come on, sit up. We’ve got a blessing to say.”
The last time Anne had actively participated in a prayer had been at her mother’s funeral a few years ago. Since adolescence, she’d diligently avoided organized religion. But, somehow, with Sadie, the idea of a blessing seemed less like the humorless rituals of Anne’s childhood and more like an extension of the deep delight bubbling inside her.
Willingly, she sat up and took Sadie’s hands.
“Baruch atah Adonai,” Sadie intoned, her voice low and soft. “Eloheinu melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.” A brief beat. “Amen.”
“Amen,” Anne said softly, and squeezed Sadie’s hands. She’d said it differently from Sadie, who pronounced the wordah-meyn. “What did I just say ‘amen’ to? Translate it for me.”
“Blessed are you, oh Lord our God, ruler of everything, who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.” Sadie brushed a strand of hair from Anne’s face. “Shehecheyanumeans ‘who has given us life.’”
A lump formed in Anne’s throat. Yes, she’d been given new life. Maybe by the higher power Sadie had spoken to in the desert, or by a God Anne had never truly believed in, or by the barreling pressure of time, or by the woman sitting in front of her.
But above all, Anne was her own creator. She’d given life to herself.
“That expression on your face,” Sadie said quietly. “You look like the stars kissed you.”
Anne wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t matter. She did feel starry-eyed; her mouth was awake, tingling.
“Kiss me, too,” she whispered, and without hesitation, Sadie did.
Desire, never a distant neighbor these days, came right home to Anne. Somehow, it filled her up and made her hungry all at once. She surged against Sadie, kissed her until they werelying down again and tangled up in each other, both breathing heavily.
“This is all your fault, you know,” Sadie murmured after they’d made out for a while, and grabbed Anne’s hip, pulling Anne in flush against her body.
“What is?” Anne gripped Sadie’s back. The flesh underneath her hands was warm and full, good for holding.