Lea and the sunflower dress

This short story was submitted through our open call and is a continuation of ‘Lea and the sweatpants’ from HeartCore #9 FREEDOM. The story has been shortened for the sake of this publication.

by Nikoline Heikamp (they/she)

I wake up when the sun begins to light up the room through the cracks in the curtains. It cannot be much later than eight o’clock. I rub my eyes, then my cheeks. I turn my head. There she is. Lea. She looks peaceful, even though she’s snoring a bit. I remove my duvet and carefully crawl out at the foot of the bed. I’ve slept between her and the wall. Like I normally do. Normally, because we’ve slept like this a couple of times a week, sometimes a whole week in a row, these past two months. It feels good. It feels natural. It feels exactly like it feels when two people enjoy each other’s company and don’t really grow tired of each other.

At least I enjoy her company and I haven’t grown tired of spending time with her. I think it boils down to us being able to do our separate things, maybe sharing things that come to mind while doing our individual activities and chores, but otherwise just being together in silence. My theory is that so far, it’s a brilliant recipe for our well-functioning relationship.

I tiptoe into the bathroom, where I splash cold water onto my face. Dry my hands and face with the towel that hangs by the sink. It falls down. I leave it there and go out and into the kitchen. Here I turn on the kettle and find two cups. The purple one with the lemons for Lea. The baby blue one with the sunflowers for me. These are mugs we found at the Sunday flea market by the Lakes.

”Good morning, cutie pie,” I hear a hoarse voice behind me.

I haven’t really settled on a name yet. I’ve tried a couple of different ones, but none of them have resonated with me. I turn around and see Lea with messy hair, sleep in her eyes, only wearing panties. She yawns and stretches in that cartoonish way with her arms over her head and closed fists. Then she smacks her lips like she is tasting her yawn. She shuffles over towards me with her arms open, ready for an embrace. We hold each other without speaking. There’s a click from the kettle, the water is done boiling. I remove one arm from my grip around Lea, while I fish out the Nescafé from the cupboard above us. I remove the other arm to open the container and pour the coffee into the two cups. Lea holds on still, not speaking. She lets go, opens the fridge and takes out the oat milk.

”Did you sleep well?” she asks, while she pours a bit into each cup.

“Yeah. Pretty decent. Even though a certain someone snores,” I answer with irony in my voice.

“I know. You can shove me if it gets too bad,” she says casually.

She grabs the purple cup with lemons with both hands and carries it with her into the big windowsill in the bedroom. I take a sip of mine before I follow her. I sit on the windowsill and look down the street. Lea has put her cup down next to me and looks around the room before she walks with a purpose over and grabs the shirt lying crumpled up on the floor where she left it last night before we went to bed. She shakes the dust off it, puts it on, walks over to me, bends down and kisses my hair.

”Well then, who have you decided on for the first round of people-watching today?” Lea asks, while she sits down and gets comfortable, grabbing the cup I lifted, so she wouldn’t knock it over.

”The person walking there. Where do you think they buy their clothes? It looks cool,” I say, while I stare at a person dressed in a pair of loose jeans and an oversized hoodie under a winter coat that looks like something from a hardware store.

”It’s probably their dad’s clothes from when he was running around down by the skatepark with all the other tough guys. They probably snatched it in secret. And their dad probably always wanted a real princess-y type of girl,” Lea says with some bitterness in her voice. She is not a fan of our parents’ generation and their heteronormative worldview.

We continue like that until we have finished our coffee, making up little stories about the people walking past. As we normally do. Normally, because that’s how most of our mornings have been the past two months when we have woken up together in her apartment. When we wake up in my apartment, we put on our warmest sweatpants and shirts and bring the duvets out onto the balcony, while we drink coffee from mugs we made and painted ourselves at a weekend class in Folkehuset Absalon. Here we listen to birdsong on the weekends and children, yelling and playing in the kindergarten across the street, on weekdays.

”What should we do today?” I ask and drink the remaining sip of coffee that has grown cold because I always take forever to drink my coffee.

“We can buy ingredients for that pasta dish. And a couple of beers probably won’t hurt either?” she says, while she puts a hand on my thigh and looks at me with a cheeky smile.

She’s referencing our first date. I smile, but before I can respond, I hear my phone buzz on the dresser. It’s set to ‘do not disturb’, so it’s only my parents’ texts that make noise. I get up to get my phone, pull the charger out of it, leave it in the outlet, and start moving back towards Lea, when I stop.

Hey, *deadname*, won’t you join us for dinner and board games like we used to? You can bring your friend, Lea. Malthe and his new girlfriend are coming as well. Have you met her? She’s wonderful. Kisses from mum.

“Hey, you,” Lea says and gives my shoulder a squeeze. She’s gotten up and moved next to me while I have been rereading the text at least seven times. I turn the phone and show it to her, following her eyes as they jump to the next line of text, while she reads the message. I try to see if I can read her thoughts in her facial expressions, but I can’t make much out.

“That sounds… nice,” she says and looks up at me with an insecure and questioning gaze, still holding her hand on my shoulder.

I throw my phone over on the bed. Lea puts a hand on both my shoulders.

“I know it’s hard. I really want to help you tell her. But I think we should take it one step at a time. Maybe you can introduce me as your partner today?”

Partner? Are we a couple? We definitely act like a couple. Not seeing other people. Spending time together as often as we can. Holding hands as we walk down the street (if we feel safe enough to do so). I have a toothbrush at her place. She has a toothbrush at mine. I just thought it would feel more like butterflies in my stomach. Instead, it feels safe, secure, and calm. Which actually makes a lot of sense.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Lea interrupts my thoughts.

“No, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell my mom we’re a couple,” I reply, as I slowly come back to reality.

“That’s totally fine. You should do this at your own pace. I don’t even know… if that’s… what we are. I just think… It sounds better than friends. Doesn’t it?”

It’s not very often that Lea gets insecure. Her dating profile was pretty spot on; sweet, confident, random, and messy, but in a thought-out way. She’s the type who uses eight or nine tries to make a messy bun. Or who buttons her shirt wrong on purpose. It’s the same reason she doesn’t have even two mugs that match. That’s how Lea is, but it is pretty adorable.

“Yes, it definitely does. I would much rather be your partner than your friend,” I say in a confident voice, even though I’m just as insecure as she seems to be right now. She smiles. It feels like a confirmation.

The rest of the morning passes primarily in silence but with a lot of shy smiles and gentle bumps into each other. We put on our coats and shoes and walk to our bikes behind the building. Unlock them in sync and walk them out to the street. Kissing each other awkwardly leaning over both bikes.

“Let’s meet up at home. Then you can consider your mum’s suggestion. I’m ready. As long as you tell me what I can wear at your parents’ house,” she says, a cheeky smile on her lips.

“Oh, come on. You can wear almost everything. And you look good in anything.”

“So, we’ll go?” Lea says with excitement.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

“Cheer up. It’ll be fine. I’m good with mothers.” Another cheeky smile.

She swings her leg over her racing bike, rings the bell and bikes off. I stand there and watch her until she turns around the corner. Find my headset, put it on and start my playlist only filled with queer artists.

A message ticks in just as my thoughts have started to run free in my own unworried world. It’s my mum. She asks if we’re going to make it or not. I feel heat rising to my face. My heart is pounding. When I reach my workplace, I take a deep breath in. Type: “We’ll be there.” Press Send. Quickly put my phone away. Breathe out.

…

She’s standing on her tiptoes and leaning over the sink in the bathroom, while she open-mouthed applies mascara with the help of her reflection. I spot a dress hanging on the doorknob of the door to the bedroom. A dress with sunflowers. I’ve just stepped through the front door. My gaze landed on her immediately because she always catches my gaze faster than anyone or anything else in a room. A dress with sunflowers, my thoughts return to it.

“Is it new?” I say as I gently place my hand on her back.

Her attention is still on her reflection.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says, while she puts the mascara brush back in the tube and screws the lid back on.

“Well, hey to you too,” I say and kiss her cheek.

“Is the dress with the sunflowers new?” I ask again.

“Yes, I have to make a good impression, you know,” she says while she removes a bit of mascara from her eyelid with her index finger.

I feel a small knot forming in my stomach. Not sure if I’m excited or nervous. I try to loosen it by counting to ten quietly to myself. Lea seems completely unbothered and walks breezily into the bedroom.

“This is Lea, my partner,” I practice in a whisper while I walk back and forth in her two square-metre bathroom, like I’m about to take an exam.

The dress slides down her body and embraces her shape. She doesn’t smooth out the folds that form in several places. I notice each and every one of them and it makes me shiver a bit, while I try to shake it off. It can’t be right that even the smallest of flaws sets something off in me.