I hope everyone likes it.

This one is actually a little long. I wrote it a few years ago, but today edited it to convey a sharper message. Like?

Angelie and Roma had made their decision. As modern women of nineteen years they were not prepared to waste away, drifting through life as giggling housewives, gossiping about their bitter lives over bitterer cups of coffee. They were living in the forties, for God’s sake! Long tired of the inhibitions of petticoats and corsets, they wanted more out of life than kittens and children and laundry and—well, what else did America have to offer a woman?

On a particularly brisk November morning they rose long before the sun and crept through the back door of Angelie’s enormous country home. They walked north now, between the factories and businesses that had long ago become mundane to them—the streets that had lost their flavor after having to ask their fathers one time too many for permission to explore them. Waiting north of town was the same train station they had taken with their parents as girls, the same station that had hosted more than a few dates for each of them—and, of course, their chaperones. Today, however, they were on their own. Each girl grew more and more nervous the closer they got to the station; it was soon hard to differentiate whether it was the heat or the proximity to blame for their hurried heartbeats and damp skin. Mending the neighborhood children’s clothing didn’t have much to offer, but it had earned the pair just enough for two train tickets to take them to New York, from whence they would depart for Europe.

The sun was lingering on the horizon and lazily rising into place by the time they reached their train’s platform. Their eyes frantically ravaged the storm of faces surrounding them for the one they were looking for, which was that of a friend named Oliver. They heard the conductor calling aboard for their departure and worriedly gave the platform a final once over before shaking their heads and boarding. It was so like Oliver, his tardiness at so important a time.

Oliver was a bit older than they, about twenty-one, though he acted in such a manner that could have fooled anyone. He had met the girls when he was only seventeen. He had always lived downtown and at the time had been working at his father’s bakery, which Angelie and Roma had frequented at least weekly. That was, in fact, how they had come upon each other in the first place.

Presently, the girls found a compartment in the train and waited. Oliver would be here. He would find a way. If Oliver had to hop the back and hitch there until they made it to the southern shore, that was what he would do. The train lurched forward and Angelie and Roma nearly fell off their seats. Oliver was still nowhere to be found, but they knew he would come through eventually. Somehow.

A warm July sun was caressing Roma’s cheek when Angelie plopped down next to her in the sand and handed her a glass of wine. “Merci, merci,â€? was all Roma muttered before taking a sip from the glass, at least half full, and took Angelie’s hand in her own. Since arriving in Nice the girls had grown even closer than they had been before they left home months ago. They had even taken to introducing themselves as sisters, which sometimes made Oliver a little uncomfortable, but they didn’t mind.

A new friend who lived on the beach, an old friend of Oliver’s, had been letting the girls use their guest house as a home. It was more than enough space—a bedroom, a small kitchen, and a dinette. A nice view of the shore was available when one was sitting on the north side of the table, and isn’t that truly all they had come searching for at all? As long as Roma had her easel, and Angelie her notes, what more would they need? They were happy, and they were a family.

Oliver had met a young lady of about eighteen—her name was Desirée , and she wanted desperately to marry him. He of course was not interested… she pretended not to mind. Roma and Angelie really got a good kick out of watching her pant and pout like a puppy whenever they were around, as she was terribly jealous of the girls’ presence. A silly young lady, that Desirée.

“Roma?â€? Angelie’s voice broke through her preoccupation. She only gave a brief “Hm?â€? before she noticed the waves whispering in the background and Angelie’s hands reaching out to her. She downed the rest of her glass, grabbed her sister by the wrists, and pulled herself up. Angelie spun her about, shook her loose, and ran out into the wild, vast expanse of the Mediterranean Sea set out before them.

Roma quickly composed herself and pursued Angelie out into the water. This was where their lives began; this was where they experienced freedom for the first time in their lives; this, of all the places, moments, and time they had shared, they came to share one heart.