Beginnings, Middles, and Ends

By Alina Lee

Every relationship has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

 

Beginnings, Middles, and Ends is a lesbian short story collection that is made up of fifteen relationships. Each story is a snapshot, peeking in at a particular moment in their story. Some of them are at the start, that first meeting or how the ice was broken. Some of them are at the end, some of them peaceful and amicable, but others with a little more conflict behind them. And some of these stories are in the middle, showing a relationship in progress or at rest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alina Lee
• Release date: Mar 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215478707

Alina Lee

Alina Lee is a fan of the fantasy genre and tabletop RPG player, dabbles occasionally in video games, and watches more educational youtube content than most people expect. It prefers to write the kinds of stories it enjoys reading or things that just strike it as something worth writing. This means it is mostly small-scale, non-standard fantasy. It may or may not be a very private komodo dragon.

Book preview

Introduction

Every story has a beginning , a middle, and an end. Actually, a lot of things have beginnings, middles, and ends, including relationships. Where they begin or end isn’t always clear, which in then turns the middles into something a bit muddy to define, but they have these things. And that is the core idea of this short story collection: fifteen lesbian relationships, some at the beginning, some in the middle, and some at the end.

I’m a little hesitant to call this a romance short story collection, because I don’t quite think the setup falls into that genre. Maybe. I suppose it differs depending on who you ask. I’m not entirely sure what genre this falls under, however, but in the end, I think readers will figure that out for themselves. Romance is probably the closest match and a decent starting point.

So what you have here are fifteen short stories, divided into groups of fifteen. I’ve tried to include a spread of ideas here, and I like to think I succeeded at least partially there. Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I did.

Tasseomancy

It was a small shop . Some might argue even 'out of the way' since it wasn't sitting in a spot that had high foot traffic. The kind of small shop that people needed to know about to find, or be directed to by people in the know. It was part of a commercial building with most of the space rented by small businesses like medical clinics or accounting firms, and the shop took up part of an upper basement level that was accessible by stairs from street level. Gave it a bit of natural light and a sense of being hidden in plain sight. Vi thought it was a little like a local secret, in that sense. A secret that was cozy and comfortable.

Vi wasn’t a worker in the same building. She worked across the street in another building that was similar, though with a fancier — to use the term loosely — hexagonal design. She'd found the little shop across the street because the food and drink options at her own were just garbage, little more than the kind of cheap trash found in a bad vending machine. Not that such things were unpalatable, but she had her fill of those in her old job and wanted to try something different for once. And if she was being honest, she wanted to pretend she had a fancier palate than she did by trying some tea, and a cozy tea shop was the easy choice.

That the owner of the shop was a real beauty was icing on the metaphorical cake.

She'd seen beautiful women before. Women with eyes blue as ice and hearts warm as a campfire, who never seemed interested in her no matter what. Ladies with red hair and bright dispositions, always watching the world with green eyes, including the one who broke her heart without a second thought. She used to date a lady with gray eyes and dark hair, one with a smile that always seemed like it was playing a game, and hands that made Vi's mind melt. She'd seen more beautiful women before, women who carried themselves like they knew how good they looked or ones that walked like they did and that just made them attractive, but there was something about the owner of the shop that made her eyes want to linger. Something the others lacked. Something intangible and unnamed, and it made Vi want to stick around to figure out what that was.

Not that she wanted to sit there and ponder without ordering anything. There was tea, after all. So she made a habit of it. During the afternoon lull when there was inevitably nothing to do in the office, she'd wander off and sit in that shop. She'd order tea — any kind of tea, though she figured out early on she had a fondness for something called sencha — and sit there, waiting for it to cool and occasionally looking at the shop owner. The owner who was beautiful and whose long black hair seemed to flow like water while she moved from table to table, delivering fresh pots or the little pastries or fresh-baked breads the shop served along with the impressive selection of teas.

And whenever the owner glanced her way, Vi would turn her attention to her cup and suddenly find the leaves at the bottom of it far more interesting than anything else in the world.

It wasn't the most elegant way to spend time, but it became a routine. And it was a routine she cherished, catching herself staring at the owner just as often as the owner spotted her doing so. Routines were comfortable. Routines made life predictable. Routines gave everything a proper place and made matters easier to sort out. As much as she might have wanted to rail against routine, she couldn't deny that she liked having that specific sequence in place.

Naturally, things changed. Because life was like that.

The day things changed and small pieces fell out of their place, it was raining. Nothing heavy, little more than a faint drizzle. Enough that a pitter-patter from the people walking along the streets could be heard inside, muffled by the walls and windows. There was a little chill because of the clouds and rainfall, but it didn't linger long and the collective warmth of the tea and wafts of heat coming from the kitchen in the back helped push it back.

Nothing seemed different that day. She ordered a pot of sencha and rice crackers flavored with a bit of dried seaweed. It was a good way to keep her jaws occupied and provided something to give her the appearance of being busy as she waited for the drink to cool. She noted that the pot was much hotter than usual the past few weeks, and that forced her to sit and wait a little longer. Not that she minded that. It gave her time to pretend to dwell on her choice of snack, deciding she preferred a sweeter snack over the more savory-salty ones she'd been ordering for a few days. She nibbled on one of the crackers as she kept a long, vigilant watch on the owner-lady.

The lady looked a little different that day. The long hair that used to be left to flow and move freely was cut short, ending just above the shoulder and styled so it framed the face much better. Vi's throat went dry at the sight of the face thus framed, bright-eyed and welcoming, drawing her in like light being pulled into a black hole. It was so much better, a vast improvement. Like someone took workman-like prose with potential and put it in the hands of a master. Once, she thought the hair was a crowning glory of the woman's looks, but she came to understand that it in fact held that shining beauty back.

She scrambled, panicked, to pick up the cup and try to take a sip from it when their eyes met. A single moment of contact caused a hint of a smile to form on the other woman's lips.

Vi tried her best not to burn herself on the still-steaming tea, letting it linger long enough that she could pretend to take a sip. And then set it down gently, all while appearing nonchalant about it. It simply wouldn't do to embarrass herself in front of the shop-owner that she may or may not admit she had a crush on. A woman she thought about asking out once or twice, but decided against. She'd not even managed to learn the lady's name, much to her frustration and internal shame.

She'd only just managed to set the cup down and pretend she was calm and about to pick up another rice cracker when she noticed the owner was coming her way. A quick glance around showed her that the place wasn't empty, but it was far from busy either. And she was the only customer that was alone at her table. And the beautiful woman she'd spied upon in awe was coming her way, a smile that had no guile or playfulness, but certainly looked like it had intent.

It wasn't something out of place. One of the reasons people kept coming back was how the owner sometimes took the time to sit down with her customers to chat, particularly the ones that came alone. Just that it never happened to Vi before, and she thought she'd scared off the possibility because she got caught staring more than once.

She stuffed the rice cracker in her mouth as the other woman pulled up a chair. Her hand, moving as if it wanted to do something just to look busy, tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. She only caught herself doing it once the motion was complete.

Was that a blush? No, no, that couldn't have been a blush, she assured herself. That didn't make any sense, and she was probably seeing things in her infatuation-induced panic. And she was infatuated with the owner-lady, she was sure. She accepted that within days of first seeing the other woman. She'd been infatuated with other women before, though in the panic of the moment, she couldn't think of the last time one of them sat down at the same table as her without being invited. No, that was not a blush. It was a trick of the light and her mind — or more primeval parts of her anatomy.

She felt like her mind suddenly lapsed into guy-mode and she needed to shake herself out of it. Not for the first time, she admitted she really needed a girlfriend.

Hi. The other woman's voice was smooth like silk, and twice as soft. But she heard it clearer than the sound of the rain from outside. Do you mind if I—?

She shook her head, well aware that she looked panicky in doing so. Not at all! Not at all! Your shop, after all.

But your table. Her smile was radiant, but also earthy at the same time. Like she knew she was beautiful, but not how much, and it didn't matter how much because she didn't use it like a weapon the way others might have. But thank you. I'm Claire.

Viola. But my friends call me Vi. She grabbed another rice cracker to keep her mouth occupied, best to head off the risk of saying anything stupid.

Claire was such a plain name, though. Not at all what she expected. She hadn't actually given much thought about what the other woman's name was at all, because it seemed rude to think of her with a name in her head that wasn't actually right. In that sense, she admitted that 'Claire' was a massive improvement. And a name didn't always need to be meaningful or elegant. Sometimes a name was just a name, and as long as it served its purpose, that wasn't a problem.

So. I see you're staring into the tea again. Claire chuckled. Does it talk to you or something? You have to tell me if it does, because I'd love to know what the leaves say about me.

Oh? She took a sip of the tea. Just warm enough that it was safe to drink, safe to occupy her mouth with. Do you talk to them or something?

Maybe sometimes. Claire looked away, bashful and nervous. Vi thought both were adorable, the shyness and the talking to the tea alike. I just find it nice and relaxing. Soothing. Helps me sort myself out.

She nodded. I used to take up journaling to do the same. But I kinda fell out of the habit. That was not as smooth as she'd have liked, but it kept the conversation going. That was good. That was important. Didn't want to bore the lady. And sadly no, the tea doesn't talk to me.

Oh. That's disappointing. The smile faded, and there lingered a certain sense of disappointment in the revelation. Vi couldn't help but wonder if the other woman was just so innocent as to think such a thing as talking tea leaves was possible. And then, So why do you spend so much time looking at them, then? It feels like half the time I see you, you're looking at them and the other half, you're looking at me like I'm doing something wrong.

What? No, no. Don't be silly, you're not doing anything wrong. Vi chuckled, nervous and unsure of what the next move ought to be. She knew the next thing she said was of vital importance, too important in making sure she didn't spook Claire. Claire, who she badly wanted to keep close and get to know better. I was reading your future in the tea.

Really? Earnest, eager, and innocently assured of the honesty of the response.

Vi mentally slapped herself for the hasty and haphazard lie. The proper thing to do was to be honest, but a sliver of her mind decided maybe a bit of fun could be had. Harmless fun. She could come clean about it later, or overplay things so it was obvious she was making stuff up whole cloth.

There's this thing called tasseomancy. It's where someone divines the future by looking at leaves of tea, and it's an ancient and well-respected practice, she declared, puffing out her chest as she did. As far as she knew, that was an actual real thing, something people actually did. But she had no idea about the specifics of that, and the whole thing was set to collapse if the other side knew more than she did. Sometimes I like to come here, look at you, and see what the tea says about your future.

And? Claire leaned forward, giddy with interest. What do you see?

Vi didn't think, beyond making a mental note to actually look into the practice. Maybe there was something to it and maybe it was a skill that could be studied and learned, that it might even be useful in the future. For the present, however, plans meant nothing. Not that planning was ever her strong suit, but she had a knack for improvising when pushed. The weight of the lie began to press on her shoulders, though, and