Kira at Tanglewood
Copyright© 2026 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 12
The trees were still singing softly when Kira woke up Friday morning. She smiled in pleasure, happy that all was right with the world. She might have dozed off for a minute or two, then realized it was light enough that she should be up and getting ready for the day. She sat up and yawned and stretched, feeling the blood move through her veins.
She stopped, aware that Rachael’s bed was empty. Not only empty, but the blankets were unruffled, the pillows untouched. She felt a moment of panic, then settled down. Rachael was an adult; she was fine, she was sure. Still, no matter how faint the possibility that she wasn’t, what were her responsibilities in a situation like this?
She was still contemplating her options when the door rattled, and Rachael came in. Rachael saw Kira sitting up and smiled wanly. “I hoped you were still asleep.”
“It’s okay, Rachael. Maybe I was a little worried, but I was pretty sure you were fine.”
Rachael looked at Kira for a time, maybe a half minute.
“Aren’t you curious?” Rachael asked.
“Rachael, you are an adult, presumed to know what you are doing.”
Rachael laughed bitterly. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? Actually, I’m going crazy.”
“Rachael!” Kira exclaimed.
“I was with someone; someone I shouldn’t be seeing. A student. Yes, she’s eighteen, but she’s a student.”
“She?”
“I said that, didn’t I? Kira, I’m gay.”
“So?” Kira asked.
“Society is still of two minds about lesbians; they are even less understanding of male homosexuals.”
Kira didn’t know why she said it. “I’m a lesbian, too.”
Rachael was silent again. “I was going to laugh, Kira. That would have been unfair, and I’m pretty sure you’d never lie about something like that. Tell me, honestly, if you’ve ever made love?”
Kira shrugged. “No, but I’d like to.”
“I suspect I know who, Kira. Tell me, does she live away from Phoenix?”
Kira nodded. “Her father said the worst thing she could do is fall in love with someone distant. Maybe one of a thousand of such relationships will work.”
“My friend lives in Phoenix, and it’s tough. Kira, her father was wildly wrong. For someone your age, a long-distance relationship is a chance in a million.”
Kira started to speak, but Rachael held up her hand. “Kira, who were you a year ago?”
Kira’s chin came up. “Naive. Someone who didn’t pay much attention to sex ed classes.”
“And you’d never picked up a cello. Are you that person now, Kira? How much have you grown and changed? Is this the first time you’ve thought you were in love?”
Reluctantly, Kira nodded.
“They call those such feelings in young people ‘crushes.’ Nine of ten times, they last a few weeks. One of you does something that angers the other, and you realize the object of your affection isn’t the paragon that you think — and you go your separate ways. You are at an age where your body is changing, your hormones are playing with you ... in short, you, your body, and your brain are changing nearly every day. If you live in proximity to her, you talk a lot, visit a lot, and do things together a lot. You grow up together.
“Far apart, you only see her occasionally; she changes, you change, and the differences can be huge.”
“And you, Rachael?”
Rachael sighed. “Oh, ever so much better than one in a million! Maybe one in a hundred. Society barely tolerates such relationships, and even if things are changing, they aren’t changing very fast. Then there’s the fact of the age difference, the fact that she’s my student ... all considered no-nos. I’m seven years older than she is.”
“Mom is nine years younger than Dad.”
Rachael closed her eyes. “I came on to her; sure, she was more than willing, but I started it.”
“Rachael, I tell you the truth. I’ll never say a disparaging word about you and her. It’s fine with me. Please, give me a chance, too, regardless of the odds.”