Amina and Anya

Amina and Anya

Amina had bloomed into quite the lovely young lady. She was envied by the other girls in her social circle and desired by all of the boys. Which, of course, she had no interest in. She hated the word, but she was a lesbian. Amina had dark brown tendrils of curly hair that she often wore up, in a bun. She had the most fascinating brown eyes which in the light glowed, and were reminiscent of root-beer in a mug. Her skin was soft, flawless, not one blemish or zit, and it was a rich, creamy shade. Easily compared to coffee- yes, she had either a cappuccino or mocha complexion. Amina was not, by any means, short, nor was she tall. Standing at around 5’7” she
was a presence of course, but not too tall as to be one who others avoided sitting behind at the theater. And, conversely, not too short to be looked over by passersby. Although that wouldn’t happen, regardless of her height, because she was such a sight to behold. Slender but still soft in all the places that mattered and exquisitely well proportioned. From the size of her head, to the length of her arms, it, all of it, just fit. We all know that nobody is perfect but Amina’s looks were as close to perfect as one could get.

This is all, more or less, irrelevant though. Because it was Amina’s spirit, her warmth, her kindness, her sincerity, her humor, charm, and wit that were the most gorgeous of all. These traits were also envied by other women, and so attractive to men that they often picked fights amongst themselves, fights often turning physical, simply to get Amina’s attention. It worked. She noticed them. She noticed them and thought, “How barbaric, how stone-age, how crass, juvenile, and
utterly unattractive.” See, Amina wasn’t romantically interested in men and in no way did she wish to be like them. She embraced wholeheartedly her femininity and it was this same femininity she was drawn to in other women.

It was on a warm, windy May day that Amina first encountered Anya. She had never previously seen the woman, nor had they met. In fact, the only way Amina knew her name was because she had read the four words- four words that would forever be etched in her memory- off of her name tag. Amina had never truly believed in love at first sight until the day she saw Anya. The woman was working in the local cafe, in the midst of making an oat-milk latte, dressed in tight tailored pants, a collared shirt and apron, with her short hair perfectly quaffed. Anya was
slight, with dark features and intense eyes. When she glanced Amina’s direction Amina shivered and thought, “Heavens! She could see into my soul with those eyes.” Now, Amina, a deep and thoughtful young woman, who was not superficial by any means, wasn’t so much attracted to Anya’s appearance as she was to her presence.

Anya exuded an unparalleled confidence, a confidence that Amina had never before witnessed in a woman. The way Anya stood, back straight, head held high, had a regal air about it. She resembled a Queen routinely instructing her subordinates, not a woman paid to create then serve caffeinated beverages to the public. The way Anya spoke sounded far more like the executive of a business
evaluating their employees with vast knowledge and experience, than a woman greeting customers and taking orders for coffee. Even the way she was using the cafe’s machine to create the latte drink projected a deep sense of self-assurance and competency. It was these perceived qualities that were the catalyst for Amina falling head-over-heels for the young, tough, aplomb, and poised barista. Too timid, too shy to directly speak to her new object of affection, Amina left
without warning, without ordering anything, not even knowing if Anya had noticed her. Amina made a solemn vow to return the next day. She was enamored and was feeling those lovely, warm, feelings so familiar to anyone who has ever been in love.

On her walk home, to her apartment, Amina moved quickly, as if in a hurry. She was, indeed, in a rush. She wished to write about her encounter with Anya in her diary, immediately. Events and happenings failed to feel like reality until Amina had written them down in her diary. Her entry, that evening, was short and brief. She wrote, simply: “I just met the love of my life, the woman I long to marry and call my wife. Her name is Anya.”After scribbling this submission into her diary, Amina continued on to do one more thing before getting dressed for bed and falling asleep.

She looked up the meaning of her crush’s name. The name meant different things in different languages. Not knowing Anya’s nationality, Amina selected the meaning that fit Anya best. It was the Kurdish definition in which Anya translated to “strength” and “power” this seemed to accurately fit the woman whom Amina was now, hopelessly, infatuated with, perfectly. “Yes, it was strength and power that she emitted from deep within. It is rare for a woman to display these
traits. She is special in many way,” whispered Amina.

Before closing her eyes that night, nearly too excited to sleep, Amina said a simple prayer aloud. Her supple lips let the following words escape, hoping they would reach her creator, “Please bless my good deeds, forgive my sins, help me to become a true believer, a better person, and please give me the gift of knowing Anya deeply and intimately. Amen.”

The subsequent morning Amina awoke alert and excited, almost to the point of giddiness. She brushed her teeth thoroughly yet hurriedly. She bathed rapidly, however she made sure to scrub her entire body rigorously. After performing the daily, routine acts of hygiene, Amina dressed incredibly intentionally, making sure her outfit highlighted the best parts of her svelte body. Ultimately, she decided upon a yellow floral print linen dress whose hem hit just slightly above the knees, a pair of lavender purple cotton socks with ruffles around the ankles, and an expensive yet sensible and comfortable pair of peanut butter brown loafers with tassels on them. She did her hair up in a loose bun. Her outfit gave off the aesthetic of a collegiate student. It was practical, elegant, and said to the world, “I am an intellectual, entertaining, reasonable, outgoing, ambitious, flirty, capable and delightful woman.” It purposefully wasn’t sexy although its virginal, innocent, vibe was provocative, in a sweet way, without being racy or crass. “This will do perfectly!” Amina exclaimed while viewing herself in an oval, full body, looking glass.

Intentionally desiring to spend quite some time at the cafe, she did not eat breakfast. She opted for a small glass of pomegranate juice. Immediately after drinking her juice, Amina placed a novel, a pencil, a journal, and a thesaurus into a dark green cross-body bag and exited the building. Anxiety, nervousness, and excitement coursed through her veins, sending shockwaves throughout her body as she made the four block journey to the local cafe, thinking of Anya the
entirety of the way.

Amina arrived, checked her hair with her fingers, straightened out her dress and opened the cafe door. As she did, she tripped on something, stumbling, then bumping into an elderly gentleman nearly knocking his hot drip-coffee all over. She gasped, embarrassed, and said, a bit too loudly, “I’m so sorry. Pardon me, forgive me Sir.” The man was annoyed and a slightly angry until he looked up to see who had almost ruined his day. Upon seeing such a gorgeous, kind looking lady his anger dissolved as he replied, “No worries. Not a problem. All’s well that ends well. Good day my dear,” and exited the cafe with a smile on his face.

Heretofore, we’ve only discussed and highlighted Amina’s desirable attributes. Though they are vast, varied, and numerous they are not the only characteristics that make up who the young woman is. Of course not, for everyone knows human beings are more complex and multifaceted than what has thus far been disclosed. Amina, like each and every being on this planet, had her fair share of not-so-charming idiosyncrasies. For example, she was tremendously clumsy. Which
struck everybody who knew her as odd. It seemed discordant that she carried herself with such an extreme level of grace yet tripped over and bumped into things so frequently. Those who knew her well found her clumsiness charming. She blew her nose often, and in such a fashion that people often wondered if there were an elephant in the room- literally, not figuratively. Furthermore, she possessed a loud, rambunctious laugh, often snorting through her nose when
she found something exceedingly funny or hilarious. Additionally, she would become so caught up in her thoughts and observations that she had a bad habit of interrupting people when they were talking. Contrary to popular belief it wasn’t because she was impatient or rude, rather she would get so excited that she would unconsciously blurt out her thoughts, ideas, observations, and commentary without considering the fact that someone else was speaking. Finally, and this
one isn’t that unique to Amina, her beautiful constitution, her lovely features, her magnificent eyes, her soft rosy cheeks, and her plump, supple lips would twist into a ghastly expression when she cried. This caused her to look nothing like herself and, for that reason, it was disconcerting to witness her crying. This is the case for many women, after all, so it’s the least surprising of her quirks and peculiarities. It’s rare that a woman, any woman or man for that matter, looks pretty while crying. Anyway, it was her clumsiness that caused her to make a scene, to make such an attention catching entry into the cafe. To her horror, Anya had witnessed the whole thing and was looking at her and laughing. Amina mortified and suffering from that specific brand of embarrassment that can cause one to become angry, marched right up to the counter and said, with a hint of vitriol, “You (pretending to read her name tag for the first time) Anya, what do you think is so
funny? You are aware that it is not kind to laugh at a person’s follies, aren’t you?” Anya, stopped laughing, but was still smiling when she replied, “Please excuse me, I laugh easily. But that is no excuse for me being rude. Please, please, let me make it up to you. You can order anything, and I mean anything, and it will be on the house.” Amina made some joke about not thinking climbing on top of the building to take her breakfast was practical or even safe, Anya laughed. She had a
robust, hearty laugh, that was disarmingly charming.

And that, marked the first conversation Amina had with the woman she desired like no other before. It was a slow day at the cafe which allowed Anya and Amina to talk, nearly non-stop,

with one another for the majority of Anya’s shift. Amina found Anya interesting, no, more like fascinating, and Anya was struck by the beauty and the brains of Amina. Anya, eventually, said coquettishly, “It’s not often that beauty, intelligence, and inner beauty coexist in one person. You are an odd duck, Amina, and I happen to have a soft spot for odd ducks.” The chemistry between the two women was magnetic, electric, explosive, and completely natural. They talked about anything and everything until it was time for Anya to close up shop. Amina offered to help which Anya graciously accepted. It was late evening, almost night, when the two women stood outside of the cafe, locked up, then stared at each other in silence. It was Amina, surprising herself, that invited Anya back to her place to continue talking and “get to know each other better” which is exactly how she phrased it.

Looking back on that night both Anya and Amina agreed on how special, how effortless, how easy, and how magical and charmed the first time they made love was. Anya adored how much of a klutz Amina had been that night and continues to be till this day. They, eventually, had removed each other’s clothing and began passionately, romantically pushing, pulling, kissing, nibbling, licking, touching, and tasting one another. They slept not a wink that night and when the first light of morning shined through the blinds Amina was aghast to realize Anya had a black eye blooming on her face. “What happened my love?” She asked Anya, flabbergasted. Anya ascended from the bed naked, where the sheets lay twisted and damp, looked in the mirror and burst into laughter. “That must’ve happened when you were bungling, trying to remove my bra. You’re so inept my dear, so wondrously and sexily inept. I love it!”

It’s been 10 years, it’s been a decade, since that first night they spent together. For the most part, they have been by each other’s sides since. There romance started off quickly and intensely. Both women seemed insatiable, feeling a deep hunger and thirst that could only be alleviated and quenched by their sexual endeavors, by their physical union. The love, the passion, and the heat still existed even after all of those years. Only something else was born as well: the stable, steady, stalwart, never-ending love Amina and Anya had for each other. Things were comfortable, easy, carefree, they had formed routines and had become enviable partners and best friends. Each day they awoke their love grew stronger, their bond deeper.
Anya was asleep on Amina’s chest when Amina looked out the window to see a red rose in bloom. She watched the whole process and felt deep happiness and comfort. She couldn’t wait for Anya to wake up so she could tell her about the rose. Until then, entertained by her thoughts, she remained still and silent so as not to awake the love of her life.