Include anywhere in the story this line: “Anywhere was home, unless the place included her.”
Josie was a wanderer. Anywhere was home, unless the place included her.
She did not use her name. It was always she, her or, in extreme situations, that woman. Just a glimpse of her, just the thought that she might be there, that she might have followed her across oceans, continents, rivers, towns or down the endless roads… had Josie packing her bags and moving on.
And the worst thing was, that woman refused to take a hint.
Always following her. Tracking her down. Demanding a confrontation. Resolution. Closure.
Josie didn’t have anything more to say to her. She’d said it all so many times over, in the years Josie couldn’t escape. And she just would not listen.
Then came Kraplaquistan. A shitty little town in a shitty little country, with the best person in the world. Max. Josie stayed longer than she had ever stayed anywhere - saving her years in purgatory with her, of course - she made a place. Helped the community. Moved in.
And just like always, she turned up. At a social gathering Josie couldn’t escape because it was in her honour. With everyone staring.
Josie put on a rictus and tried not to bite her as her hand came in for a handshake that looked more companionable than it felt.
“My dear,” she said. “When are you going to give up this nonsense and come back home to Jason?”
“I’m still a lesbian, Mom,” said Josie. “And Jason’s still a rapist asshole who thinks his dick can solve everything. This is Maxine. My wife.”
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