Forever and Goodbye

I was shaken awake by the bus driver, telling me it was time for my transfer. I had no idea how sleep came in such an uncomfortable seat, but I had slept through most of the day, which was completely fine with me. It was now 1 in the morning, and I had 2 hours to wait until my next bus arrived. Nevertheless, I smiled to myself: Callie was supposed to meet me here, so we could finish the journey together. Oh, how I missed her these past few months! My Mother had forbidden me to see Callie after she had tried to sneak me away... (We never thought the neighbor's dumb ass dog would yield to our failure). Figures.
I stood up straight, sliding each drowsy foot into my soft white flats. Suddenly I grew nervous; would she be waiting for me? Could she have changed her mind? No. I mentally kicked myself in the
head.
"After all she's done for you, you're doubting her now?" I whispered under my breath, only to earn a confused gaze from the driver himself.
"Have you got everythin', m'lady?" He drawled out, half-yawning half-smiling in my direction. I could see I was the only one left on the bus, and this man most likely wanted to go home to a nice toasty bed.
"Yes sir," I replied kindly, returning his yellow-toothed smile. "Let me just get my bag here, and I'll be on my way. Safe travels to you, sir."
The driver nodded his head, and waited until I had left the bus completely and taken my belongings before abandoning it himself. He sure did not seem like an impatient man, with his silly receding hairline and that beer belly protruding out of his coat. His face pronounced him kind, with wrinkles around his middle-aged mouth from years of laughter; but after a trip this long with nothing to do but wish he were home, any man would be as eager to forget there was such thing as human interaction.
But the man with kind gray eyes completely flew from my mind as I neared the doors of the packed station. A woman with beautiful white hair stole every yearning breath from my lungs, only to
make me gasp as her lips parted for her lit cigarette.
She stood taller than I in her black stiletto boots, who in turn snaked up her slim calfs and stopped short of her knees. Soft white tights took the boots' place, then, only to be hidden around mid thigh by a form-fitting Royal Blue dress, and a satin sash lying just short of her breasts. Upon her shoulders was her signature black leather jacket, which was by now well worn and probably a size too small, completing her outfit as if it only existed to do so. This girl, with her snakebites and her dimples, her ivory skin and blood red lips; this girl with emerald eyes and the most beautiful smile I had ever seen; this girl, she was all of my dreams...
This girl, was Callie.

I shook my head and stopped gawking at her like a love-struck middle school boy, and slithered closer to her figure. She hadn't seen me yet, courtesy of my new hair color, and rather expensive makeup; but she would recognize me soon enough, I was sure. I had to make my move now. Bowing my head I rushed past the man who had sat on my left; his indecently sized backpack would provide me with some sort of cover.
As I crept closer, she turned her back towards me, unsuspecting; and soon, I stood in her shadow, waiting to pounce. And so I did, sliding my hands around her tiny waist, extracting the loveliest shriek to ever ride the winds.
"Who in hell-" she burst out, spinning around to face the creep who had just laid hands on her. But as Callie was about to slap me, or perhaps bite me by the looks of her flawless face, her anger disappeared in a flash, her bright eyes widened, and she cried out my name in surprise.
"Juliana!" She smiled and took me into her arms, so warm, so perfect.
"Hello love." I chuckled, letting her sweet perfume engulf all of my senses; she smelled of spiced vanilla. My favorite.
We hugged and laughed for what felt like an eternity, but was really only seconds: we were being watched, and being noticed when running away was not exactly the desired effect.
"God, I've missed you, Jules!" she gasped, letting go of my shoulders as she stole a quick kiss from my lips.
"I missed you too, hon... But you have to remember, my name's Tara, now." She flashed me a quick smile as I rushed those last few words. I was overpowered by her scent, her taste, and could barely remain standing.
"Right; I'll try to remember, this time. Shouldn't be too hard since you actually look more of a 'Tara' than a 'Juliana' with that hair." She lifted a strand and studied it close. "I'm going to miss your ginger hair, my dear Tara, but at least your eyes will never change." She stroked my face and stared into my ice-blue eyes; my eyes are what she had always loved most in my appearance. She said they spoke of a deep sadness rimmed with beauty, which only she could ever see.
"For the thousandth time, I'm a red head!" I exclaimed, stepping away from her obvious embrace; "And seriously, stop with the lovey dovey stuff, it's sure to get us noticed. They could be looking for me by now." Callie rolled her eyes at me, and waved at the security guard who had just rounded the corner.
"Really? 'Cause your parents always struck me like the 'let's wait till tomorrow to see if she shows up' type of parents, or better yet, the 'thank the good Lord we don't have to live with Satan
under our roof any longer' type." Seeing my face fall, she sighed.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I just can't deal with what they've been putting you through just because of your sexuality. I mean, you're their daughter, they should accept you for who you are. I mean come
on! I know my mom would have supported me if she were still around." I shook my head and fished my small baby blue lighter out of my jean pockets.
"I'm sure she would, but your mom, is not mine. And mine is about as homophobic as you can get... Remember the summer she went to that gay parade with her religious freaks and stared me
down with her 'God hates fags' sign?"
"How could I forget?" She laughed again with her crystal-clear voice as we sat on the parking lot curb. "Your face got so red, I thought you would explode with anger!" Giggling, she caught me
eyeing dramatically her burning smoke.
Callie's hands dove into her purse, and rummaged around for her pack of Red Next she always had on her.
"Fancy a cancer stick, love?" she called out in a very lousy British accent.
"Absolutely", I responded, gulping my first puff of smoke as if my life depended on it. It creeped up my lungs and filled me with warmth and a sense of calm. That feeling was only deepened when Callie, having finished the longest smoke in history (honestly, enjoy your smoke and tease me less), lay down on the dirty concrete, and placed her snowy halo of hair onto my lap.
Now we waited. We waited for the next bus to take us far away; and we waited for the rest of our lives to begin, free of judgement, and free of hate.