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MsBloom
Moonchild
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2020
- Location
- Northern Europe
1990:
Jules stood looking at Allie with a slight feeling of disappointment. They had hoped, when seeing Allie outside the window, that she had come to say that she didn't care what her parents, or godforbid her pastor thought of relations between people of the same assigned gender or what they thought of the fact that while they were assigned female at birth, Jules did not identify as a girl, at least not entirely. They might not have had a word for it back then but they knew that they did not identify as a boy either, at least not entirely. Their identity was somewhere inbetween. While this was of course very confusing to them, to a teenager who had not been dealt the cards they had expected by puberty, it was at the same time the identity with which they felt the most confident, part girl, part boy to varying degrees, and sometime both at the same time, or neither. It was still something of a work in progress.
They understood, on a strictly intellectual level, what Allie was saying and could see how much the idea of anyone else finding out scared her, how much it pained her that she was afraid to show the world how she felt. Still, also on a strictly intellectual level, Allie had said nothing she had not said at the river, except maybe to confirm that she did not in her heart believe, as her parents and pastor did, that it was wrong for two people who had both been assigned female at birth to be intimate, emotionally as well as physically.
Jules nodded but kept their distance while they thought about what Allie had said. And what they had said when they had given her the white stone. What Allie had said was to some degree exactly what Jules had asked of her. She had decided to follow what was in her heart rather than what she was supposed to do and what not to do. She had decided she wanted to explore their relationship further, see where it went, at least until the end of summer, or at least until Jules had to leave and return to Boston.
She did want to keep it a secret from her parents and everyone else which, Jules concluded, was perhaps just because she was unsure about what the relationship would lead to. If all it would turn out to be was a summer fling, after which Jules would return to Boston and Allie would have to remain in a closed-minded community with parents that might reject her for said fling, then it was understandable that she wanted the fling to remain a secret. They nodded to themselves as they made a decision.
They then closed what little there was left of distance between them and Allie, placed their hands on her waist and leaned in to kiss her. The moment their lips touched Allie's they felt a warmth of arousal spread through their body like nothing they had felt before. They let their hands make their way up along Allie's sides to eventually find her breasts.
"Promise me one thing though," they said.
"Before I go back to Boston you decide if you want this to be more than just a summer fling."
They had been about to suggest that if Allie decided she wanted their relationship to evolve beyond a fling that she could come with them and their aunt back to Boston but that was not for them to decide and so they said nothing.
Present:
"Not to mention pathetic," Jules agreed and chuckled as another song they had played almost obsessively that summer (and which had later become a bittersweet, at times almost painful, reminder of the love they believed to have lost forever) came up next on their playlist.
"I only had one picture of you though," she said.
"Remember, our last night together. You wore that pale green dress with flowers on it ... And the stone of course."
She drove on in silence for a while, letting the song surround her.
"Tell me Al,"Julia asked when they sat across from one another at a small roadside café.
"Would it have changed anything if, instead of you giving me back the stone so that I would return next summer, I had told you to give it to me when we met next summer?"
This was a question Jules had asked herself over and over for the past 30 years. She had even written her first novel about it five years later, a massive volume of almost 800 pages with a title she had hoped would catch Allie's eyes: The White Stone (a broken love story) in which she had told the story of that summer from her perspective but also tried to imagine it from Allie's. That story however had ended with the road trip being cancelled and with the character based of herself having made a deep cut into her left hand, wrapped the hand tigthly around the white stone and let it soak in the blood before mailing it back to the character based on Allie. In the last scene it had been unclear whether or not the character Julia had based on herself had survived.
She had had everything prepared, the padded envelope with the address already on it, and then walked to the nearest mailbox without bandaging her hand, dropped the envelope in and then the text had panned the street and faded to black as a raven flew cross the sky.
Jules stood looking at Allie with a slight feeling of disappointment. They had hoped, when seeing Allie outside the window, that she had come to say that she didn't care what her parents, or godforbid her pastor thought of relations between people of the same assigned gender or what they thought of the fact that while they were assigned female at birth, Jules did not identify as a girl, at least not entirely. They might not have had a word for it back then but they knew that they did not identify as a boy either, at least not entirely. Their identity was somewhere inbetween. While this was of course very confusing to them, to a teenager who had not been dealt the cards they had expected by puberty, it was at the same time the identity with which they felt the most confident, part girl, part boy to varying degrees, and sometime both at the same time, or neither. It was still something of a work in progress.
They understood, on a strictly intellectual level, what Allie was saying and could see how much the idea of anyone else finding out scared her, how much it pained her that she was afraid to show the world how she felt. Still, also on a strictly intellectual level, Allie had said nothing she had not said at the river, except maybe to confirm that she did not in her heart believe, as her parents and pastor did, that it was wrong for two people who had both been assigned female at birth to be intimate, emotionally as well as physically.
Jules nodded but kept their distance while they thought about what Allie had said. And what they had said when they had given her the white stone. What Allie had said was to some degree exactly what Jules had asked of her. She had decided to follow what was in her heart rather than what she was supposed to do and what not to do. She had decided she wanted to explore their relationship further, see where it went, at least until the end of summer, or at least until Jules had to leave and return to Boston.
She did want to keep it a secret from her parents and everyone else which, Jules concluded, was perhaps just because she was unsure about what the relationship would lead to. If all it would turn out to be was a summer fling, after which Jules would return to Boston and Allie would have to remain in a closed-minded community with parents that might reject her for said fling, then it was understandable that she wanted the fling to remain a secret. They nodded to themselves as they made a decision.
They then closed what little there was left of distance between them and Allie, placed their hands on her waist and leaned in to kiss her. The moment their lips touched Allie's they felt a warmth of arousal spread through their body like nothing they had felt before. They let their hands make their way up along Allie's sides to eventually find her breasts.
"Promise me one thing though," they said.
"Before I go back to Boston you decide if you want this to be more than just a summer fling."
They had been about to suggest that if Allie decided she wanted their relationship to evolve beyond a fling that she could come with them and their aunt back to Boston but that was not for them to decide and so they said nothing.
Present:
"Not to mention pathetic," Jules agreed and chuckled as another song they had played almost obsessively that summer (and which had later become a bittersweet, at times almost painful, reminder of the love they believed to have lost forever) came up next on their playlist.
"I only had one picture of you though," she said.
"Remember, our last night together. You wore that pale green dress with flowers on it ... And the stone of course."
She drove on in silence for a while, letting the song surround her.
"Tell me Al,"Julia asked when they sat across from one another at a small roadside café.
"Would it have changed anything if, instead of you giving me back the stone so that I would return next summer, I had told you to give it to me when we met next summer?"
This was a question Jules had asked herself over and over for the past 30 years. She had even written her first novel about it five years later, a massive volume of almost 800 pages with a title she had hoped would catch Allie's eyes: The White Stone (a broken love story) in which she had told the story of that summer from her perspective but also tried to imagine it from Allie's. That story however had ended with the road trip being cancelled and with the character based of herself having made a deep cut into her left hand, wrapped the hand tigthly around the white stone and let it soak in the blood before mailing it back to the character based on Allie. In the last scene it had been unclear whether or not the character Julia had based on herself had survived.
She had had everything prepared, the padded envelope with the address already on it, and then walked to the nearest mailbox without bandaging her hand, dropped the envelope in and then the text had panned the street and faded to black as a raven flew cross the sky.