tuesday nights are the best nights

    There was nothing quite like a cozy Tuesday night spent watching low-budget horror movies. Reagan was always antsy in the evenings as she waited for Nadia to return home, and this frosty January evening was no different. Well, she’d never been very good at being patient to begin with. Never had been, probably never would be. At least Nadia didn’t mind.

    She was perched on the edge of the couch, swinging her feet when the front door unlocked with a quiet click. Nadia was thrown backwards by the force of Reagan’s hug – hadn’t she just been on the couch? It had only been a moment, after all – but accepted it with open arms once she’d regained her balance. “Why the sudden assault?” she asked, prying Reagan off of her after a few moments. No immediate response came, so Nadia busied herself with setting down the grocery bags she’d been holding and starting dinner.

    “I missed you,” Reagan said, the essence of nonchalant. And she had missed her – missed the curve of her painted lips, her ashen skin, the glimmer of her dark eyes. She offered a shrug when Nadia glanced her way, then laughed at the reproachful frown she was given. “You’re home late. I don’t like it when you get home late. Besides, that means movie night is getting pushed back! And movie night’s important!”

    “Well, I’m home now,” Nadia replied, traipsing over to Reagan and kissing her forehead. “Trust me, I don’t like working late, either. The bureau can’t seem to get a grip on public relations with the coven,” she added with a tired sigh, “and they needed me to work overtime – I’d say no if they had another option, but I’m their only in.”

    “You’re such a sweetheart,” Reagan drawled, and though she meant to be insincere there was no venom in her voice.

    Nadia laughed and returned to the stove, setting down a small pan on the right-side burner. “So, what’ll it be tonight? We’re all stocked on ingredients now.” She paused for a moment, then perked up, her dark eyes glimmering in revelation. “I could make that stir fry you like! I remembered to get more vegetables. We’ve even got water chestnuts,” Nadia added in a sing-song voice.

    “I don’t think I could wait,” Reagan groaned. She folded her arms across the countertop and laid her head atop them. Frustration radiated off her in waves. “Can’t we just, like… I dunno, have toast or something?” A moment passed before she glanced up, taking in Nadia’s ridiculous grin.

    “C’mon, love,” the witch said, taking a seat beside Reagan. She threaded a hand through Reagan’s auburn locks, absentmindedly caressing her. “That isn’t very nutritious.”

    “And here I thought you were going to say something comforting.”

    They sat in silence for a minute before Nadia stood up, returning to the cupboards to gather ingredients. “Here,” she said, rummaging through the refrigerator before tossing Reagan an apple. “You can have this in the meantime. I’m going to make stir fry, you’re going to love it, and we can talk about whatever’s bothering you, okay? I doubt that you just missed me that much, although I am flattered.”

    “Sure,” Reagan grumbled, but she bit into the apple with vigor. The soft smile at the edge of Nadia’s lips went unnoticed as she turned back to the stove.

    “So…” Nadia started, summoning the sharpest knife from the block, “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Moments passed in silence, and she busied herself with arranging the ingredients on the counter and chopping vegetables, dicing a white onion before depositing it into the pan. More silence. She moved onto slicing up carrots and red bell pepper, humming lightly as she did. The tune was familiar, and Reagan could almost put her finger on it, but not quite. Just the familiarity of it was comforting, and the adventurer found herself relaxing in her seat.

    The aroma of sautéing vegetables soon permeated the kitchen, and Nadia added ginger and garlic to the mix, turning down the heat on the burner. Once the mixture simmered down, Reagan spoke up. “Classes are hard,” she sighed, slumping forwards against the counter. “There’s a lot of assignments and all, and – well, I mean, adventuring is all well and good, but grades? I’m – I guess I’m just not cut out for school. I’m kind of starting to think that operating on the black market was my only shot at this line of work,” she commented with a bitter laugh. “Feels like I’m starting over from scratch and all my experience doesn’t count for squat.”

    “But it does!”

    Reagan scowled. “Tell that to my professors. They don’t seem to approve of any of my methods. Just because I’m not exactly by the book – ugh, and I can’t just get my qualifications without taking supplementary classes, too – y’know, English and math, some other sciences. The preservation stuff, the basics, some of the more advanced archaeology is just fine, I get that – I’ve dealt with it all before and even know some shortcuts – but not the rest of it. None of it makes sense, and I just—”

    “Hush,” Nadia interjected. “Just stop for a minute. It’s going to be fine, okay?” She added some peanuts and seasonings to the pan, then, putting the burner on simmer for the time being (safety was priority), sat down beside Reagan. She pulled her girlfriend close against her side, nuzzling into her hair. “It’s all good, okay? You’ll do it. It’s… it’s a change of pace, but it’s not the end of the world, even if it feels like it right now. It’s hard to start over – I won’t deny that – but I admire you so much for trying, and I want you to – no, I know you can succeed.”

    “It’s hard to quit all at once though, you know that? Now that I’m not doing the whole illegal thing, something like half my income is gone. Making coffee doesn’t exactly make a ton of money, y’know.” She sucked in a deep breath, letting it all out in a soft whoosh. “It’s a huge change.”

    Nadia gave her a sympathetic half-smile, her hand falling to the small of Reagan’s back. “Like starting over from scratch. It’s a new beginning.”

    “New year, new me, am I right?” Reagan groaned. With a laugh, Nadia agreed.

    “Well, there isn’t much use dwelling on it. You’re passing all of your courses, right? So it’s okay for now. Even if you’re stressed out. As much as you want to work on things, you have to be patient and give yourself some time to relax too. That’s why we have movie night,” she added. “But I need to go wrap up dinner, okay? We’ll eat and then watch something.”

    Reagan nodded in agreement, but her stress was evident in the half-genuine quirk of her lips and the darkness to her green eyes. She moved to the round dinner table, sitting down and tracing the whorls of the wood with a fingertip. Minutes passed before Nadia joined her, placing napkins and plates on the tabletop at their spots. They ate mostly in silence, with Reagan offering the occasional complement on the dish and Nadia criticizing her for adding so many red pepper flakes to it. (“How do you even know what it tastes like with all that spice?” she’d said at one point.)

    By the time they were stretched out on the couch, Reagan sprawled across Nadia’s lap (the witch was the taller of the two, naturally), it was late evening and they were exhausted. The quiet stretched on as Reagan curled up against Nadia’s chest.

    “So what do you want to watch?” Nadia asked after a while.

    “I don’t really care. You pick.”

    “You don’t care?” she shot back with a grin. “Because I think that means it’s horror movie time.”

    Reagan growled from her seat. “Just nothing Rob Zombie, okay? That guy’s stuff messes with me. Or a Saw film – I hate those,” she added. “Oh, and nothing ridiculously gory. I’m not signing up for another gore-fest. We had one last week – I mean, technically it’s my turn to pick, but whatever.”

    “No, I think you’ll like this one,” Nadia insisted, pulling up Netflix on their shared laptop. “It’s a… cult classic. And not a good one. I really think you’ll enjoy it, if only for how horrible it is. Trust me! You trust me, right?”

    With a telling smirk, Reagan craned her head to meet Nadia’s gaze. “You have horrible taste in movies, you know that?”

    She only laughed in response, hitting play on the movie and sinking back into the couch cushions as the opening credits rolled. This moment, this exact moment, was bliss. As much stress as there was in her life – supporting Reagan through her struggles, trying to sort out the council’s problems, and learning how to take care of a mongoose (where was she even supposed to start?) – these moments were calm and pure. She could just focus on the energy around her, on Reagan’s even breaths, on the warmth of their bodies pressed together. Nadia was thrown off when her girlfriend spoke up.

    “Thanks,” Reagan murmured, wrapping the blanket tighter around her lean frame. “You’re a godsend, you know that?”

    “You don’t have to thank me. I’d be here even if you didn’t want me,” Nadia answered, then conceding, “But I wouldn’t overstep my bounds. I respect you too much for that – I’m not a stalker, I swear.”

    Reagan giggled, and Nadia admired the glow of the screen against her tanned skin, the way her few freckles were illuminated in the light. These moments made everything worth it. “Cute,” Reagan said, “but not as cute as you.”

    “Stop it,” she demanded, though her tone fell flat. Reagan only smiled back and pulled her into a gentle kiss.

    “Never.” Another quick kiss. “A ‘new beginning’ doesn’t mean I’m completely changing. What would be the fun in that?”

    Nadia pulled her closer. “Good. Change isn’t bad, but I happen to like you the way you are.” Reagan laughed, and the movie rolled on; they fell asleep before it ended, a combination of exhaustion and the film just being that bad. Reagan couldn’t help but think before she drifted off that Tuesday nights really were the best nights.