The Price of Salt

by Claire Morgan

The gray eyes regarded her directly now, and for the first time, Therese faced them. There was a measure of humor in them, Therese saw. And what else? Curiosity and a challenge, too.

A world was born around her, like a bright forest with a million shimmering leaves.

"Is there a word? A friend, a companion, or maybe just a sharer. What good are words? I mean, I think people often try to find through sex, things that are much easier to find in other ways."

"And now you make a wish," Richard said. Therese wished it. She wished for Carol.

Carol was like a secret spreading through her, spreading through this house, too, like a light invisible to everyone but her.

Then Carol slipped her arm under her neck, and all the length of their bodies touched, fitting as if something had prearranged it. Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh. She had a vision of a pale-white flower, shimmering as if seen in darkness, or through water. Why did people talk of heaven, she

And she did not have to ask if this were right, no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect.

"My angel," Carol said. "Flung out of space."

How was it possible to be afraid and in love, Therese thought. The two things did not go together. How was it possible to be afraid, when the two of them grew stronger together every day? And every night. Every night was different, and every morning. Together they possessed a miracle.

But when they kissed good night in bed, Therese felt their sudden release, that leap of response in both of them, as if their bodies were of some materials which put together inevitably created desire.

"Man or a woman?" Therese smiled. "A woman," she said.