Page 55 of Scorched Hearts

“Or maybe some of them were closeted and forced to hide their whole life,” Elle pondered, “and now we honor their life by openly celebrating who we are? I prefer to think of it that way. And those who were straight and homophobic, they’d probably change their minds if they saw us now.”

“You’re so distracted today, really.” Maya kissed Elle’s forehead. “Back to the names. What do you think about Alex?”

“Alex?”

“Mhmm.” Maya nodded. “It’s universal, short and cute, could be feminine or masculine, and I think it matches our names.” After a moment, she added, “And surnames.”

“I like it, Alex Monroe-Rodriguez.” Elle took Maya in her arms, excited. “I think we’ve got it! Alex Monroe-Rodriguez, with such a long double surname, a short name works perfectly. I love you.” She rocked Maya in her arms side to side, unable to let her go.

The world outside looked bright and saturated, the grass around the house glistening under the plentiful sun, its green leaves vibrant and inviting, carrying shadows of the passing clouds here and there. It was a lovely March day.

“So, is it decided? Her name is Alex?” Maya freed herself from the tight embrace to look at Elle’s face. She couldn’t wait to see Elle as a mom.

“It’s decided.” Elle nodded, happiness sparkling in her eyes. “Should we begin preparing for the dinner party?”

“Yes!” Maya got up excitedly, and a wave of nausea overcame her. She couldn’t wait to meet her daughter, but she also needed this pregnancy to come to an end for more selfish reasons. “Next time you’re the one getting pregnant,” she threatened.

Elle looked petrified. “Not in a million years, Baby, I’m not as tough as you are.”

“Sure.” Maya sighed. She didn’t feel particularly tough, only nauseated and heavy.

They entered the freshly cleaned kitchen. Its large window let in a flood of sunlight, which then shone on the surface of light wood countertops and the stone floor. Maya gasped.

“You really outdid yourself, Elle,” she said while kissing her neck and reaching to open the fridge. “What were we supposed to make?”

“Ginger garlic chicken with broccoli and sesame chili sauce as the main, cucumber and onion dip with vegetables as the appetizer, lavender martinis as the drink,” she recited military style.

Maya looked at her lovingly with a little smile. “Who’d think you’d become such a house chef?” She reached to kiss her, and they locked in a long, sensual one, full of love and hope for the days to come.

“Will you let me cook now?” Elle said in a serious tone of voice, making Maya laugh. “You can stay in the kitchen, though. If you want. I’ll bring you a chair.”

And she was gone to fetch a chair from the living room. The hours spent together in the kitchen had quickly become one of their favorite ways to spend time, usually with Elle doing everything and delegating small tasks like peeling vegetables to Maya. It made them feel like a proper family to sit in their own kitchen and prepare food together, and they couldn’t wait until their baby would join them in the ritual. Elle came back in carrying the chair.

“Let’s get this started,” she said, opening the fridge in a grand motion. “The bird has been waiting for us in the fridge. You can mix the sauce, Maya.”

They cooked and jived to light jazz music, the fragrance of roasted chicken spread in the air and infected them both with powerful hunger. Maya bravely mixed all the sauces and dips, feeling helpful and a part of the cooking. Elle enjoyed flexing her skills when she explained to Maya the process of preparing the chicken.

“Elle, this is disgusting, I don’t want to listen to that,” Maya complained, twisting her face away.

“No but you don’t understand. It’s so satisfying, I’ll show you how to do it next time,” Elle teased, knowing fully well that Maya was disgusted by the process of preparing meat. She still ate it—she just preferred not to know how exactly the thing got to be on her plate.

“Shouldn’t you set up the table outside? We don’t have that much time.”

“Right. Right.” And Elle was out of the kitchen.

Their garden was perfect for dinner parties, and they took advantage of it as often as they could. When they’d found the property, only twenty minutes away from the city, they’d fallen in love with it at once. Its garden spread wide, full of cherry trees and flower bushes, a little bit wild in its beauty. Elle wanted to dig a pond somewhere in it, but she’d never gotten around doing it, so after a while, everyone would get annoyed whenever she’d start talking about it.

Whenever the weather allowed, they’d set up a long table there for the guests and delighted in the knowledge that they were the best hosting couple among their friends.

“What tablecloth do we want, Darling?” Elle shouted from the garden. Sometimes she’d catch herself saying things like this and giggle at their domesticity, sounding like the married couples she’d see on TV as a child. Now she was one of them, and she wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“The Italian one?”

“Excuse me, which one is the Italian one?”

“The blue checkered one!” Maya looked out the window. “Do you remember? The Italian guy gave it to us that summer.”

“Oh… I know which one,” Elle lied. “Can you check on the chicken? It should be ready.”

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