Chapter Thirty-Nine

Kit

It's been a week since the video posted to my YouTube channel.

It wasn't the way I wanted it to happen, but Piper forcing me out on social media didn't hurt my channel at all. In fact, the viral explosion of it garnered me more followers, every day, for weeks.

But it's nothing compared to the reception of my own coming out.

That version has brought in interest from Good Morning America and the Drew Barrymore Show podcast. My channel is blowing up, and I am starting to see proof of my theory IRL. You can't truly have a whole, fulfilling life if you are denying a part of your identity.

Coming out changed my existence.

My life.

It's giving me the one that I want.

The response from friends and fellow creators has gone a long way to make this moment feel meaningful. They've shared the video so it eclipsed the original outing. They want me to succeed in this new era of my life, no judgments, no pile on.

After I posted the video, Mom got me a cake with rainbow layers to celebrate. Dad grilled out. Willa showed me and Nina how to work both our cores and pelvic floors while my parents argued about an offer that had come in for the house.

We were moving on, all of us, becoming fuller versions of ourselves.

But Julia still hasn't DMed, and that makes me worried that in the time it's taken me to figure my shit out, she's moved on for the last time. I believe in the magic of the universe, but maybe Madame Moira was wrong. Or maybe it doesn't matter what the universe wants if the people don't anymore.

I want to spiral about it, but that's not productive, and it's definitely not going to change the outcome if I do. So I let the fears exist, but I don't let them shape my thinking. I get my head in the game. This is my first job since Millie's wedding. I need the money for a down payment on an apartment, since just this morning Mom and Dad accepted that offer on the house. In a few weeks, my childhood home will sell to a family moving in from Ohio. A little girl with blond hair will take over my room. Everything will change, and even though I'm almost thirty, it's going to take some adjusting.

Fortunately, I'm getting good at going with the flow and trusting my instincts to guide me.

I check that the address I have is correct. It's a studio space in the Arts District. The event is for a group of visual artists getting ready to launch a show next week. They want me to read the cards for their event.

I push the intercom button.

A woman's voice crackles through the speaker. "Welcome to Euphoria."

"Hi." I try not to sound weirded out. "This is Mystic Maven—Kit. I'm here for the tarot reading. I was hired by Zed."

"The Omega, yes." Ha, okay. Because Zed for Z, the end of the alphabet. Jesus, at least the pay is good.

They buzz me in. I take the staircase up to the second story, per the instructions.

But when I step into the loft, it's not anything like what I expected.

They've strung lanterns around the room, their golden light complementing the sunset that cuts through the windows on three sides of the space. The room is flooded with color and life. There are flower arrangements dotting the floors, paintings of desertscapes and night skies creating a story around the room.

It's an homage, perfectly designed, but it's not what I'm focusing on. My eyes have fixed on the woman standing at the center of the room.

Dressed in poppy orange.

Her fade shaved.

Her nose glinting with a piercing.

In her hand she holds a card. I recognize it immediately as one of my own from a deck I haven't touched since the desert. I didn't know it was missing, but somehow it makes sense that she has it.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

She steps closer. I step closer, too.

"You got your speech," Julia says, her face coming into sharp clarity as she nears me. She's never looked more like herself. Her wild waves tossed to the side, her skin tan and glowing, her tiny waist snatched up with a belt. "Let me have mine."

I bite my bottom lip. Waiting.

"You're no one's manic pixie dream girl," she begins, catching my eyes in hers. Reeling me in with her gaze. "You're not the ingenue of a story someone else is writing. You're here for so much more than just to inspire a greater appreciation for life in the main character." She smiles with her whole body and it cracks me open. Feelings I've been holding in erupt all over my skin.

The sharpest of them being joy.

"You aren't for my benefit, but still, it's hard to believe that you might want me. I don't think I'll ever get over it, because in my wildest dreams I never expected I'd get to fall in love with a woman like you."

My heart races, but it's the kind of racing that makes you feel like you can fly.

"I don't know everything about you. You don't know everything about me. But I want to uncover every mystery that you want me to, and I want to be with you for every hard decision and scary moment. I don't want to own you or make you feel like you aren't your own person. I want you to be free and I want nothing more than to be by your side for a lifetime of unexpected adventure or just lying on the couch and watching Netflix." I laugh as tears break free from my eyes. "I'll take anything, really, I'm way less picky than I used to be."

Somehow as she's been speaking, we've kept moving, like at the centers of our bodies are magnets that draw us into each other.

From somewhere in the room, music begins to play.

The song.

The one we last danced to. The one Piper tried to steal from us.

But this love is good. It is alive, back from the dead.

"I triple-dog dare you to dance every dance with me." Her voice quivers as she extends her hand to me.

"Do I need to say yes?" I reply, taking her hand and pulling her into me.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it," she says, tucking her free hand into my hair and running it over my earlobe to my chin, where she holds on. Ready to kiss me. "Just one more time."

"Yes." I let my forehead fall against hers. "Forever, a million times, yes."

When our lips touch

two flames, broken apart, mended together, become finally, forever

one.