Page 21 of Flogging Faith
Faith giggled. “That’s okay, we can row across.”
“Yes,” said Bex. “We definitely can.” She had never rowed a day in her life. When planning the picnic, she’d asked Tay what they thought would work, and Tay had suggested this. There had been no mention of a boat, or the need for rowing. As had been apparent when she’d stepped in the boat, Bex was made for dry land.
She stared at the oars, as if that would browbeat them into submission.
“Do you want me to…?”
“No no,” said Bex airily, sounding for all the world as if she’d coxed for Cambridge. “I’ve got this.”
It soon became very apparent she did not have this.
They started out strong, but at some point, her left arm started aching and so she let up. Big mistake. They started going round and round in circles.
Faith was very sweet about the whole thing, and didn’t even offer to help, though Bex could tell that she wanted to. But after about ten minutes of making swirly patterns on the lake’s surface, she gave up and looking pleadingly at Faith. “Help?”
“Of course.” She didn’t tease Bex either, but just talked through what she was doing as they moved toward the waiting picnic quickly. “You can take us back after,” she said. “You’ll have it down by then.”
They managed to get out of the boat without overturning it, and Bex was very grateful when her feet hit the soil on the bank. “Finally,” she said, jokingly getting to her knees and kissing the earth. “I never thought we’d make it.”
They both laughed, and Faith threw herself onto the picnic blanket, whilst Bex clambered over to join her.
Tay and the kitchen team had done an incredible job. They’d picked a shady spot so the picnickers didn’t burn in the midday sun. August in Montana was actually cooler than in the UK, but Bex wore sunscreen year-round because she was prone to burning. A spot in the shade was definitely for the best.
The blanket was laid out with cushions for them to sit on, and the biggest picnic hamper Bex had ever seen sat in place of pride at the center. Made of wicker, it looked exactly what Bex thought a picnic basket should look like, promising edible treats.
Opening it revealed a treasure trove of Italian picnic goodies. Cured meats and cheeses, pickled vegetables, sundried tomatoes, and an assortment of dips and accompanying crudités. Faith’s eyes got wide in that way they did when she was excited. Bex was starting to recognize that look.
There was a flask with iced peach tea which Bex poured out into glasses for them, and then they started eating. The flavors were paired together really well, the sweetness of the pickled vegetables marrying perfectly with the acidity of the sundried tomatoes, and the creaminess of the cheese. It was a masterful picnic, and far superior to anything Bex would have been able to put together herself.
There was silence for a good while whilst the two of them dug in, with just the occasional hum of happiness as they ate.
It was a comfortable silence, and Bex was pleased to note Faith was as invested in the picnic as she was, so they didn’t have to fuck about with small talk when they’d rather be eating.
Eventually, they finished, leaned back and sighed in unison.
“You were hungry,” said Bex.
“So were you,” said Faith.
“Well, we worked up quite the appetite last night, I suppose,” said Bex, teasingly.
Faith blushed and threw a grissini at her. “Oh, hush you. I thought we were supposed to be getting to know each other, not getting horny again.”
“We can’t do both?” Bex was joking though, and she smiled to soften her words. After taking a bite of the thrown Italian breadstick, she pointed it at Faith. “Okay, tell me about you, Faith. Why pottery?”
A look came over Faith’s face that wasn’t dissimilar to the one Bex had seen when Faith had started slipping into subspace. It spoke of peace and happiness. “Are you actually interested? Because it’s my special interest and a lot of people get really bored when I start talking about it.”
“That sounds rude,” said Bex.
“Oh no,” said Faith. “I’m quite capable of rabbit holing and accidentally delivering a lecture for an hour if not reined in, so knowing what level of interest you have will help me pitch it.”
That sounded exhausting. “Ummm, I want to know why you like it, and if that means you go off one for a bit, I’m totally fine with that.”
Faith looked so unsure, but as she started to speak, her confidence began to shine through. “So for me it’s a mix of two things. Firstly, it’s the ability to create something that’s so changeable. You start working in clay, and it’s wet and messy, but when you fire it in the oven, it transforms into something else completely. And then when you glaze it, it changes again. Somehow each step of that feels like art to me, different pieces of art while being the same thing all at once. It’s incredible.”
“It sounds transformative,” said Bex.
“Exactly that!” said Faith, her eyes shining. “We run a lot of outreach programs, including some with trans youth. For them, seeing how the same piece can change depending on the treatment can be really illuminating. And they get to take something home that they’ve transformed, as a reminder that change is possible.”