"The Child that is Born on the Sabbath Day" What else was there to say? I woke up. I was naked, and so was she. We had just spent the night together, like we usually did. We had found love in each other's arms the evening before, and I enjoyed it, because I loved her. So, when I woke up that morning, naked and kind of cold, with her laying beside me asleep, what could I say or do, except smile? Here was a woman I loved, and for a number of reasons, and she was asleep and nude and too beautiful for me to say. So I walked off and decided to make her breakfast. Now I'm not one for much nudity, especially if it can be seen by those who you'd rather not show it to, so I found a spare robe and put it on, deciding to traipse downstairs wearing that instead of nothing. I gambled the smell of breakfast would wake her. It was a bright morning, I quickly observed as I walked down the stairs, bright and beautiful, but oh how cold it was. But of course, it was February. I had the inclination to go back up and see to it that my beloved had something warm to put over her skin, but she had several blankets, and her room was on the top floor. I just went to the kitchen, knowing I needed no degree of permission to enter. I'm no chef, so I hoped the meager meal I made was edible at least. Nothing complex—eggs, some toast, a slice of orange (because lately she had become sick, on and off, and I knew it was because she wasn't eating the right foods), maybe some tea or coffee, cereal maybe. Whatever I could find, or rather, what I knew I could make. Even I couldn't screw up some eggs, though they ended up smelling kind of foul (as they do) and not looking all that attractive. Well, it was the taste that mattered. I saw her come downstairs and for a moment worried that she had gone and went without anything on, as she had done before (parents, duly noted, absent). My fears were unfounded; she had on her own robe. I anticipated a warm hug and a soft kiss, or something along those lines, and I got it. It gave me the opportunity to notice that she had brushed her teeth, good girl. I still hadn't cleaned mine, but a little bit of mouthwash can do the trick in a pinch. "Morning, hunny!" she squealed. That was a voice I used to hate and get annoyed at, but now I couldn't get enough of it. Just seeing her made me glad, glad to be there, with her, and loved by her, so fully. Sometimes I wonder if our whole ordeal's been one big fantasy. I've always thought that people like me can only find love in the stories—stories made, duly noted, by people also just like me, compensating for their own personal losses by giving their heroes in the story the chance they never got. It's like...what can I call it? Discreet romance, maybe. Anyway, I thought I was doomed, or sometimes I fool myself into believing that. Trouble is, I didn't want anything to do with her because I was a tormented person. When my father died on us, my mother sort of became his successor. She had to be man and woman for the whole family, my sister and I. I guess I too compensated for the loss by donning a more mannish physique, but I've always been kind of a tomboy anyway. To balance this out, I devoted myself to feminine pastimes, such as writing, studying, and music. Well, I thought they were feminine. I guess that round as a member of the track team sort of made all those things vanish. Yep, I was a lot of things, but most of all I was a mess. I distanced myself from love because I didn't think anyone could love me in the way I wanted them too. I wanted a lover who was silent yet present, completely there and completely quiet, simply content to listen as I pour out all my blues onto their shoulders. They wouldn't offer simple answers either; just stand and listen, and touch me so when I was done. They wouldn't give up on me. Yeah, that was a quality lover. But this day wasn't about me. This day was about the woman I really loved, who defied my every expectation yet stole my heart anyway. Of course, I'm talking about the one and only Anastasia Lu. "Hey beautiful," I called back to her. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Why don't you sit down and keep me company?" "Sure! Wanna talk about something?" "Oh, sure, just anything will do. I'm in a peaceful mood this morning." "Why's that?" I smiled. Did she know I was staring at her as she slept, snoring just audibly enough to sound cute, drooling ever so slightly, with nothing on but her skin? Did she know how perfect she looked then, drool and all? Did she really realize how my heart yearned for her, especially in serene moments like that? Ah, if only my speaking were as good as my writing. "I saw a vision of loveliness when I woke up," I answered coolly. "Mainly you. You're quite sexy when you're naked." "Ohh, naughty Rai-chan," she gushed. Ana set about braiding her hair, something I wish she didn't do. The girl looked so much more grown up when it was loose! Those long pigtails of hers made her look even younger than she was, and she could probably pass off as a fourteen year old under the right circumstances. They went up anyway, and I still loved her regardless. I had to face facts: I was in love with Ana Lu, the whole person. It didn't matter if she had pigtails or flowing hair, or even if she was bald. Ana was Ana. My heart would be hers regardless. She came up and embraced me from behind while I was cooking. I let myself be fondled. God in heaven, those hands of hers are magic! They know just where...just where to...to touch...me...oh! She...she was taking my robe off! She was undressing me in the kitchen of her own home! I was helpless before this goddess; I...couldn't...go on. You know how at times you feel faint, like you're going to fall or lose consciousness, or you feel so dizzy and happy that you just laugh? I had all that happen to me at once, and more. Now I really was naked; she was groping me in her own kitchen! "Ana," I moaned, "don't! I can't do this! For God's sakes, Ana, stop it! What if your parents come in and see us?!" "They already know we're sleeping together, silly," she said, between kisses and squeezes. "That's...not...what I meant! Y-you know it!" "Silly Rai," she said, kissing my cheek. I think I actually did black out as she got on her knees and buried her mouth in my sex. I begged her again to stop, even though we both knew that was the last thing I wanted, and I used the cooking breakfast as an excuse to draw away from her. "Ana," I huffed, "I'm making you breakfast. I was gonna give it to you while you were still in bed and be all romantic, but oh well." "Oh, so do you want me to go back up to my room?" "Either way is fine," I said. Ana let out a sultry little giggle and reached out to tickle my face. As she stepped back, presumably to choose between the two, I made sure my robe was closed tight. No matter how her parents approved of our union, I don't think they would've liked us wandering around naked (or having sex) in their own kitchen. Ana ultimately decided to stay there and chat with me as I cooked, something I think we didn't get the chance to do very often. It's usually romance with us, not that I'm complaining. But settling down into peaceful moments was also good. ...... I felt like such a lesbian during breakfast! Rai and I fed each other, usually with our bare hands, sometimes slipping our fingers in each other's mouths a little too far. I squealed every time Rai sucked on mine longer than necessary. Dessert for breakfast was a cup of yogurt, also which we shared—also using our fingers! I always knew that if you did it right, eating could be a very erotic and even sexual experience, even at seven o'clock in the morning. When we finished, we tried to decide what to do with the rest of the day. The stories would suggest, for two women in love, to have marathon sex all day and night, but that gets old after awhile. Even as wonderful in bed as Rai is, sex with her all day just didn't seem appealing. We needed to do something else. "There aren't any good movies out," she said. "I don't feel like shopping, plus I have no money anyway, and it's too cold for a walk." "We could rent a movie and watch it." "But what about the rest of the day?" "Umm...we could watch it...several times." She rolled her eyes. "Ana." "Okay, okay, umm...oh! I know! But this is serious." "What?" I leaned forward and took her hand. "Rai, I think it's time you tell your mom about us." She huffed. "She already knows." "Oh?" "Yeah. Apparently your mom and dad revealed it to her during that parent-teacher conference. She really let me have it once she got home. She nearly came close to disowning me on the spot, but my sister spoke up for me. Right now I'm just avoiding that place for as long as I can." "Oh." I knew I looked crestfallen to her. Didn't Rai's mother feel happy for her daughter? Didn't she love her? The two of us were in love—so what if it was a gay relationship? Heck, a few months ago, I would've laughed if somebody told me I was going to be romantically involved with another woman. It's been boys and men for me as long as I could imagine. But Rai made me see things different, although yeah, I probably fell in love with her first because she looks kinda masculine. These days, I don't care. She can be as feminine as she wants and I'd still love her. "Don't look so sad!" she exclaimed, touching my face in a caring way. "It's not your fault, honey. I chose this path out of my own free will; what right does my mother have in controlling that? Even God can't mess with it." "You never did tell me where your religious beliefs lay," I noted. Now I was the superstitious type, one who believed in luck and fate and karma and all that, but I wasn't so sure about Rai. I knew she didn't care for most of my beliefs, but hey, that was cool. "Well, let's put it this way," she said. "I like most religions and what they have to say, particularly the Baha'i faith. I'd put myself as a Buddhist, but I believe in a creator god, and I'd contemplate Islam if they exercised just a wee bit more love. I even tried the Christian faith, to no success. It just disappointed me." "Ah. So what would you call yourself?" "Searching," she replied. "Until I find something that corresponds with what I believe in, I'll be wandering around." "I can't believe we're having this discussion," I said bashfully. Normally we didn't talk about spiritual matters, so it was strange territory we were going into. Rai happily changed the subject and talked about the significance of being born on certain days, kind of like astrology I guess. I myself was born on a Sunday. "And you know the poem," I said happily. "‘And the child that is born on the Sabbath day is bonny and blithe and good and gay.'" "Well you're certainly gay," she noted playfully. I slapped her playfully. "Not that kind of gay! It means I'm happy and bright and cheerful and everything else." "Well, that also applies. But what the hell does blithe mean?" "I dunno. I know that bonny means I'm pretty." "Which is true," she noted. "Also, you're quite a good girl. And you know what they say, it's the good girls that are sexiest." "Stop," I giggled, blushing. I personally don't consider myself sexy. Cute, pretty, beautiful, maybe even gorgeous, but certainly not sexy. I guess Rai's eyes were just different than mine. I didn't mind! "But the Sabbath day is typically Saturday," noted Rai. "At least for Jews it is. I think Christians celebrate it on Sunday, which is why, I guess, the so-called weekend falls on those days. So maybe it counts." "I still don't know what blithe means, though," I noted. Rai wanted to find out and so she got a dictionary and looked it up. Turns out it meant, "of a happy lighthearted character or disposition" which, by all means, described me to a T. "It's eerie how perfectly that poem describes you," Rai noted as she put the dictionary up. I smiled merrily and flung my arms around her. "Oh, what about you, sexy babe? Born on Monday, I bet." "Actually, I don't know what day I was born on." "You're kidding!" "No, I'm not. My parents never told me and I don't have a birth certificate." "Well I'm sure you can go down to the hospital or the county clerk's office and get a copy. I mean, geez! Isn't that one of those things you need in life, like a social security card and a driver's license?" I had a point now, and she knew it! Of course, by saying this, I opened up the day's activity, so me and Rai got into her car and first drove by the county clerk's office, since she didn't even know what hospital she was born in. How can you not know that? Even I could tell her where I was born in: East St. Mark's Hospital, right on Vainstay Street! As I thought, it didn't take long for Rai to discover her "origins". It turned out first that yes, her full name was Raisa Lanceten Zanders, and she was born in Central Roman Catholic Hospital on Byzantine Lane (which was in some other state). What surprised me most, though, was finding out that my dear sweet lover was also born on a Sunday. I didn't believe it at fist. I mean, I loved my Rai-chan, but she hardly fit any of the descriptions in the poem. "I guess it doesn't apply to everyone," she noted. "It's just some silly poem anyway." I understood what she meant—we can't base everything on things like this, because otherwise, we'll be obsessed and too wrapped up in vague things to focus on what really mattered—and leaned in to rest my head on her shoulder. "Yeah, you're right."
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