Homebound Ch. 01

I meandered to the kitchen, opening the fridge and closing it again. I wasn't in any mood to eat, my stomach full of knots after seeing Jo. Jo. I still felt like such a coward for stepping away from her, allowing myself the out by talking to the elder from church. It was true I didn't want him to see me speaking to Jo because of her appearance but really, if my mom found out and confronted me, I could've told her I was simply spreading the word of God. The true reason I fled from Jo was fueled by the strange feelings she elicited within me. Something so foreign and terrifying.

Something I had never experienced before in my life. I'd been in love, and surely this drowning feeling wasn't just love. It scared me so badly, I couldn't think about facing her. She'd probably think I was insane! Plus, I would not be able to stop myself from kissing her the second the moment presented itself.

I grabbed my guilty pleasure book from the bottom shelf and plopped on the couch. I needed a good, fictional love story to help me escape from bizarre reality that was taking over my life. And, I quickly fell asleep three pages in.

*Bainbridge Island, Washington, July 1941*

Keiko stood at the base of the stone patio tilting the watering can over the copse of delicate dahlias her mother had managed to cultivate early that spring. Even though it was early, the summer sun spread over her back and her ears perked when she heard a familiar sound.

The soft rumble of a car engine thrumming up the driveway had her lifting her head, her hand pulling the brim of her hat to shield her eyes from the summer sun. It was the milk truck bouncing up the stony path toward her house and Keiko felt her heart rate quicken. She stood, flattening her dress and straightening her dark raven hair down her back. It wasn't as if she were excited for fresh milk; it was who drove the truck.

The vehicle stopped, the tall milkman stepping out and gathering their crate of fresh milk. Although, Keiko knew it was no man. It was Abagail Smith, the handsome daughter of the milkman. After her father suffered an ailing bout of polio two years prior, Abagail took over his route for the family dairy farm, delivering milk to the residents of Bainbridge Island.

Abagail beamed when she saw Keiko watching her, her lithe body dressed in the crisp white uniform of her father, matching hat atop her head, her chestnut locks drifting down her back. "Hello, Keiko," Abagail said as Keiko hurried up to her. The beautiful milkmaid held the crate out for Keiko to take.

"Good morning, Ms. Abagail." She took the offered metal crate of milk, the glass bottles clinking against one another. Abagail was still smiling, her blue eyes shimmering in the heavy rays of morning sun.

"Yes, it is a good morning when I am able to see such a beauty as yourself, Keiko," Abagail whispered. Keiko's lips curled into a demure smile, her eyes dropping from Abagail.

"You are too kind, Miss," she replied.

"May I come call on you, later?" Abagail inquired, her gentle, hushed tone causing Keiko to lift her gaze.

She nodded and whispered, "In the fields, after the sun sets for the evening. I will be there." She handed Abagail the empty crate that sat on the stoop before heading into her home with the fresh milk.

Keiko waited anxiously the entire day until the sun began to slip beneath the horizon. After she was sure her younger siblings were asleep, and her mother and father weren't listening, she crept down the stairs of their home, easing out the backdoor and into the cool evening. She peered up toward the sky as she walked, taking in the vibrant display of stars overhead as the crescent moon hung low. The sweet smell of strawberries filled her lungs and she stopped to kneel, the soil damp from the evening watering of the crop.

She plucked a hefty handful of berries before she stood and continued her path to the massive evergreen tree that had become their meeting place. Keiko had become smitten with the striking Abagail Smith the winter before, when Abagail's father fell ill. It was unusual for a woman to drive in the area, let alone deliver the milk. This wasn't what Keiko found to be the most intriguing attribute of the woman; it was her kindness to Keiko and her family, even after the world war began. Keiko's mother and father had been in the handful of original immigrants from Japan, the Issei, or first-generation Japanese-Americans.

After Japan joined Germany in the war, many treated Keiko and her family much differently. There was a layer of distrust in every interaction within the small town, their friendly neighbors becoming reserved and aloof. Keiko's father was far too understanding of the treatment, attempting to placate the behavior with discounted berries from their family farm, inviting the neighbors for tea and dinner. It did nothing to stifle the collective distrust that even Keiko's younger siblings could sense from the community they were born and raised within.

The soft song of countless frogs coalesced with the echo of crickets chirping as she continued down the row of strawberry plants. She knew it was wrong to hold feelings such as she did for another woman but, she couldn't deny them. At eighteen years old, Keiko should have been in University or married off or dedicated to the church but she stayed with her family, helping with the farm and her younger siblings. Her duties around the farm were limited due to a heart condition she was born with and her father treated her as delicate as a newly blossomed orchid.

A dark figure leaned against the tree, Keiko hurrying her pace to meet Abagail. They had been meeting for a few months beneath the tree, simply conversing once a week. Abagail expressed to Keiko she longed to learn the Japanese language, which surprised Keiko but she obliged. The time they'd spend together was what Keiko looked forward to each week, her feelings for the woman deepening with every late night meeting.

Even in the dim light from the thumbnail moon, Keiko could see the grin splayed on Abagail's lips. "Good evening, Keiko," she said. Her voice sent tendrils of pleasant goose flesh down Keiko's arms and back.

"Ms. Abagail, the day has not gone by quick enough," Keiko replied, surprised by her own candor. Abagail chuckled, the sound deep and resonating. She reached out and her fingers grazed Keiko's cheek with such tenderness.

"You are so honest and I share this sentiment," she paused and looked into Keiko's brown eyes, "Not a day goes by that I don't wish to awaken with you by my side." Abagail's fingers tangled in her hair, caressing her neck and bringing her face closer to Keiko. Keiko gasped and she took a step back. Abagail quickly retreated, her eyes cerulean in the low lighting as they searched Keiko's face. "I apologize. I didn't mean to cause you discomfort," she said, her voice faltering as her hand retreated. "I will leave you, Keiko."

Abagail turned but Keiko grabbed her wrist. "No, please don't go," she pleaded. Abagail watched her, awaiting her to continue. "Touch me, Abagail." Keiko heard Abagail take a sharp breath before she spoke.

"I know it's wrong to feel this way. I mustn't but...I can't stop myself," Abagail murmured, her fingers caressing Keiko's cheek as she brought her mouth to Keiko. Keiko sighed, the silky softness of Abagail's lips upon her own sending an indescribable pleasure coursing through her body. She knew it was wrong as well but she didn't care any longer.

She couldn't care while Abagail touched her. Abagail's other arm wrapped around her back, her body pressing Keiko against their tree. Damp warmth touched Keiko's lips and she sighed again, the touch eliciting a new sensation. Keiko's hesitant hands reached out, touching the waist of Abagail's trousers.

She parted her lips, accepting Abagail's warm, seeking tongue and felt as if she were melting, like a rapidly burning candle.

Abagail lifted her leg, pressing it between her legs, bunching up the skirt of Keiko's nightdress. The pressure was familiar to what she felt when she allowed her hands to travel beneath her bed sheets late in the night. She shuddered as Abagail pushed harder against her, a low moan escaping her. "Keiko," Abagail whispered, her forehead leaning against Keiko's.

"Yes?"

Abagail's breath was coming just as fast as Keiko's and her words were rushed and husky, "I believe you've securely captured my heart and soul, my love...,"

****

Rachel Emily Moore — Present Day

I sat up, the dream as disorienting as it was arousing. I looked around, wondering if I accidentally fell asleep reading a National Geographic magazine, as I've been known to do in the past because there was no way I would be randomly thinking about the Pearl Harbor era. I was on the couch but the book in my hand was a cheesy lesfic romance. The dream was so vivid, the smell of strawberries still lingering in the periphery of my senses.

And Abagail. I knew her. Who was she? The only face that came to mind was Jo. "I'm going insane," I said to my empty condo. I quickly concluded I'd gotten my subconscious in a weird state by falling asleep reading the romantic book with thoughts of Jo. Luckily, the alarm on my phone for work began to chime. I go up from the couch and headed to my room to dress.

Work was busy, the smoke drifting in the air from the recent wildfire in the eastern part of the state causing many people to come in with breathing issues.

I loved my job not only because I was helping people but because I felt as if I was making a difference, one patient at a time. As a respiratory therapist, I assisted patients in clinic as well as in the hospital setting. I helped with anything from asthma control to COPD management and ventilated patients. It wasn't easy but I enjoyed what I did. My mother would've rather had me marry and settle down with at least half a dozen kids.

I didn't experience any strange dreams for the next few weeks, allowing myself to fall back into my normal routine of work and solitude.

I joined my parents and Kayla at church each Sunday and did my best to deflect my mother's questions about romantic prospects. Although the dreams had ceased, my mind still didn't stop thinking about Jo.

As I've said, Kayla was into various sports, one being cross country, which started shortly after school did. I loved that she had something to do other than sit around the house on her phone or at the youth group with the church as I had during my teen years. It was abysmal and I hated every moment. It was a Thursday afternoon and I had just clocked out for the day. We'd had a last minute trauma I had to attend in the emergency room and I was running really late. I gathered my crap and headed to the car, sending Kayla a text that I would be on the way soon.

****

Josephine Daniela Vazquez

I hadn't seen Rachel in three weeks, but a day didn't go by without her crossing my mind. It was ridiculous and goddamn infuriating that I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Frankly, it pissed me the fuck off. Work was great, and it kept my mind off her for the most part. The position I occupied was sophomore gym and the kids did love me from the get go, as Ana predicted. The other physical ed teachers accepted me with open arms and I was grateful when one asked if I'd be interested in coaching a team.

So, there I sat in the late September afternoon watching a bunch of teens run the make shift cross country track around the high school. The weather was cooling drastically, and I was thankful the rain hadn't started yet and that I'd brought a pull over hoodie with me. Cross country was definitely my forte and I was excited to start off the season as co-coach. The teens filtered through the dense trees around the high school, coming back around to the other side of the track.

I checked the time and blew the whistle to conclude practice. The teens came bounding over to change and grab their things from inside. I ambled in after them and grabbed my own things from my little desk in the large, shared office of the female PE teachers. Most students had already caught the activity bus but a few were lingering outside the building by the time I made it out front.

I stayed until all but one were picked up. The girl was a senior and I vaguely remembered my co-coach, Jess, telling me her name was Kayla. I walked up to her and smiled. "Kayla, right?" I asked. She nodded, lowering her eyes shyly and I swear I saw a blush in her cheeks. She looked familiar, her height and blonde hair echoing Rachel's. Well, fuck. I almost went three hours without thinking about her. "Did you miss the activity bus?"

"No, my sister is going to be here any minute," she replied, finally looking up at me again.

"Cool, cool. I'm just going to hang around until she gets here, okay?" She nodded and I plopped down on the bench. She followed suit, pulling out her phone, her fingers whipping across her phone's screen. Damn, and I thought I could text fast. A little Toyota curved through the student pick-up roundabout and my breath caught in my throat. Kayla stood as Rachel pulled up beside the curb.

"Hey, Kayla, I'm sorry I'm so late, I was...," her voice halted when we made eye contact through the open passenger window. Kayla was busying looking through her gym bag.

"It's okay. I totally forgot my phone charger. I'll be right back." Before I could turn and tell Kayla the door may be locked, she was already running toward the building, yanking the door open and slipping inside.

Rachel cleared her throat and I turned my head. "Hey, Jo." Her voice was full of what I took to be apprehension. Again, the demure woman before me was a stark contrast to the woman I shared my night with.

I edged closer to the open passenger window and bit my lip. "Rachel." Her name passed my lips as a whisper. She looked like she was going to cry and it freaked me out. Did she think I was a stalker or something? "Sorry I was busy the last time we saw each other. I'd promised to help Jose carry that crap out of his truck and I wanted to talk to you once I was done."

She nodded and I swear her eyes had unshed tears in them. Thankfully, I was saved from the awkward interaction by Kayla running up to the car.

"Got it!" she said, holding up the wire of her charger in triumph.

"See you tomorrow, kid," I said, turning as Kayla climbed into the car.

"Wait, Jo!" Rachel's voice was slightly hoarse, and it frightened me. She sounded scared. I turned back toward the car and her head was bent as she scribbled on a tiny sheet of notebook paper. She thrust her hand out in front of Kayla who had just fastened her seat belt and I took the slip of paper through the open window. Our fingers brushed, and I bit my lip to stifle the gasp that was inevitably about to escape. I looked down at it to see a phone number and I glanced back up at her.

"Text me some time," she said.

I nodded, and the passenger window went up as the car pulled forward, leaving the parking lot. I stood there for a few moments long after her car was out of sight, staring at the phone number. What in the ever-loving fuck just happened?

When I got home that night, I felt odd. Not ill but just not right. I ate a bowl of canned soup instead of the delicious pupusa Ana made because of how bizarre I felt. I took a shower after eating my scant meal and climbed into bed immediately afterward. It was strange, the dream I had the night after Rachel and I saw each other last. The two women in it were foreign to me yet familiar. I had woken up with a strange taste in my mouth, akin to overripe strawberries in the heat of summer.

Overly sweet yet pleasing. The sweet girl Keiko. I could feel her lips against mine as I kissed her. But, it wasn't me. It was Abagail, the daughter of James Smith, the milkman who couldn't drive the milk truck because of the clutch, the muscles in his legs being far too damaged from a bad case of polio.

Abagail, who wore her older brother's clothing and lived essentially as a man. Abagail, who had fallen in love with Keiko Takeda the moment she lay eyes on her a whole two years before their first kiss beneath the oak tree.

Why did I know these things? Had I read it somewhere, maybe watched a documentary on the timeframe? I'd learned about World War Two and the attack on Pearl Harbor in school, not that I ever paid much attention back then. There was no reason it would drift into my subconscious now. Right? I rolled over and stared out my window, a gently rain pelting the glass surface. I could feel more to it, something just out of reach.

A painful memory awash in relief. I couldn't figure it out. I got out of bed, hurrying over to my laundry hamper to fetch my pull over hoodie from that afternoon. I found the slip of paper Rachel handed me, the phone number scribbled down hastily. I sat on the edge of my bed, putting the number in my phone and adding her as a contact. My finger hovered over the send message button as I contemplated my actions. Shit, I was fucking freaked as the 'what-ifs' fluttered into my brain. What if she only gave me her number so I'd leave her alone? What if she was afraid of me?

She had sounded so scared when she told me to wait. Shaking my head, I closed out of it and set my alarm before climbing under the blankets and falling into a fitful sleep full of vivid dreams.

****

*Bainbridge Island, Washington. March 1942*

"Can't we fight it?" Abagail asked, her voice nearly a shout. It wasn't fair, none of it. It wasn't Keiko's fault nor her family.

"No, my love," Keiko murmured with resignation. Her hands were folded in her lap, her feet tucked under her in the armchair she rested in. A fire was roaring to life in front of Abagail as she stoked it, throwing in a handful of dead leaves and shriveled twigs.

The tiny cottage they occupied lay in the far corner of the family farm, Abagail's father granting her use of the small building for whatever she purposed it for. It was where Keiko and Abagail spent many a night, wrapped in each other's arms, away from judgment and safe from the elements. Their first few trysts had involved quite a bit too much dirt and grass beneath them for Abagail's liking.

"It's a hideous discrimination hidden in the falsity of national security," she grumbled, pacing the small space in front of the hearth. It had been nearly two months since the attack on the naval base Pearl Harbor and the president had signed an executive order for all Japanese Americans to be evacuated from the west coast, including Keiko and her family. They had six days to prepare and Abigail's anxiety was drowning. She feared the worst, as if these relocation camps were more than they were being told. She didn't want to speak aloud her fears, as she didn't want Keiko to be afraid.

"Papa believes it'll only last until the war is over. Abby, it won't be forever. Once the war is over, perhaps things will be different. I'll come back to you," Keiko claimed but, this did not placate Abagail's fear. Abagail didn't see Keiko stand from the chair and cross the room, her arms wrapping around Abagail's torso. She looked up at Abagail, her obsidian eyes dark and rimmed with tears.

"I love you so much. I can't lose you," Abagail sobbed. Keiko's gentle hands ran up and down her back in a soothing motion as Abagail cried, Keiko soon joining her lover, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I love you too Abagail." Abagail took Keiko into her arms, hauling her slim form to the bed and laying beside her. She ran her fingers through Keiko's black hair, twirling the fine raven locks and smiling. "We have five days. Let's make them last forever."

*******

Josephine Daniela Vasquez – Present Day

The shrill ring of my alarm cut the dream from my brain and I sat up, my head groggy and sore. My chest hurt at the recollection of the scene from my dream. It felt as real as if I had gone through it myself. The pain evident within Abagail echoed in me and I wasn't all that surprised to feel wetness on my cheeks. I clambered out of bed, finding my phone and silencing the alarm. I wanted to text Rachel so badly, it hurt. Though, I didn't want to scare her away from me before I even got to talk to her again.