A couple of years ago, we did a podcast on the Mary Celeste, history’s most famous ghost ship. The Mary Celeste is so well-known that the ships we’re talking about today are often described in comparison with it. There are many more of these stories in history, but today we’re talking about four: the Resolven, the Sea Bird, the Joyita and the Carroll A. Deering.
because it’s body positivity day and you are beautiful!!!!!
mercy doesn’t really spend any time looking at herself in the mirror
she’s too busy for that and she doesn’t much care for her appearance
that changes when she starts loving fareeha
because god knows fareeha amari, the fuckin hoe, always looks perfect, even when she’s just woken up
so one day she steps out of the shower and looks at herself
runs her hands over the soft, flabby skin of her belly and shudders, disgusted
as the top in her field, she knows the effects of the aging process and the amount of work she does
she just didn’t expect it to happen
and what will fareeha think of her? fareeha, with her smooth muscled body, lithe like a cat- fareeha, who could have anyone- what will she think?
god knows she won’t want angela anymore.
angela studies herself for a moment, then blows out a miserable sigh and turns away
it’s better just to stop now, she tells herself. stop now so you know she’ll still have loved you
over the next few weeks, she avoids fareeha’s touches, ignores her confused glances, blows off a few of their dates
eventually, fareeha corners her.
mercy looks up from her work, glasses perched atop her nose, and sees fareeha standing there, still clad in her skintight raptora under-suit.
angela sighs, hooks her glasses with a finger, tosses them onto the table.
‘it’s nothing, fareeha. i’m fine.’
‘you’ve been avoiding me, ya amar,’ fareeha says softly, no hint of anger in her voice. ‘what’s wrong, angela? is it me?’
‘no! god, no, it isn’t you, fareeha. it’s just- it’s my fault. i’m sorry.’
she turns to look out the window, sighs defeatedly
after a moment, gentle arms wind their way around angela’s hips, and fareeha’s hands link together with hers. fareeha rests her chin on angela’s shoulder and rocks her side to side, humming a quiet tune
angela lets herself relax into fareeha’s body, and then suddenly warm hands are sliding up her shirt, to her stomach, and abruptly she pulls away
‘angela-’ fareeha says confusedly, ‘angela, did i hurt you?’
‘no. it’s not you, it’s me.’
fareeha’s breathing abruptly shortens. ‘are you- are you breaking up with me?’
angela lets out a short, bitter laugh. ‘no. if anything, you should be the one breaking up with me.’
angela turns around, eyes flashing. ‘look at me, fareeha! i’m disgusting! and you- you could have- mmh!’
fareeha’s hands come up to cradle her cheeks, and fareeha licks gently into angela’s mouth, kisses away her defenses until she rests limply against the desk
‘damn what i could have.’ she mutters, ‘i have you.’
‘no, fareeha, you don’t understand- i- i’m not beautiful, not like i was, if i ever was, and i- mm!’
‘take it back,’ fareeha says, hand held to her mouth, dark eyes staring into hers, ‘take it back.’
‘take what back? i don’t understand!’
‘don’t ever say that again,’ she hisses, and she looks angry. ‘do not ever devalue yourself, angela. never. you are beautiful.’
‘no, fareeha, you don’t get it- i’m not. look at me, i’m not beautiful, i’m not like you, look at this!’
and she pulls off her shirt, holds her hands out, helpless
fareeha stares at her, mouth making a little ‘o’.
angela takes it for what she believes it is- surprised pity. she turns away, massages her brow tiredly
‘you’ll forgive me for having this conversation later-’ and fareeha’s voice shakes, with disgust, angela thinks, and then suddenly there’s hot breath at her ear, ‘because i’m afraid i want you desperately.’
oh, angela thinks, and then suddenly fareeha turns her around to face her and bends her over the desk, kissing her passionately, with utter abandon, hands grasping at the clasps of her clothing, pulling it all off, before dropping to her knees
she pulls one of angela’s legs over her shoulder and leans in, and angela lets out a very unholy sound and throws her head back, mouth moving in a silent prayer, letting out a string of very very very bad words and shaking moremoremoreshewantsohgodfareehaohgodmorefuckohgod
when at last she falls still, fareeha rises, practically holding her up, and gently turns both of them around, so that angela’s leaning back against her
she grasps one of angela’s hands, brings it to her lips, kissing each fingertip, before intertwining her fingers with mercy’s smaller hand and gently pulling it down to her face, to her little double chin, then down to her breasts, and then to her stomach, and angela’s hand stills
‘this is your body, ya amar,’ fareeha murmurs, soft and low, angela’s back vibrating from her voice, ‘you shouldn’t devalue it. you should learn it, know it. you are impossibly beautiful.’
reluctantly, angela’s hand traces the soft rolls of skin, and then fareeha’s other hand skates down to her flabby legs, and gently presses her thighs open, her other hand guiding angela’s hand down between her legs
‘know yourself, ya amar,’ she says softly, ‘know yourself, and you will love yourself.’
at that, angela tears up a bit, sniffling, and fareeha presses a smile to her neck, and then her hand presses angela’s hand to work, and when angela rises, fareeha’s name falls from her lips
‘oh, habibti,’ fareeha murmurs, kissing her gently.
angela smiles into fareeha’s lips, twisting in her arms to kiss her properly.
two hours later, hana finds them like that, sleeping blissfully together
she shakes her head, smile tugging at her lips, and kneels down to kiss both of their foreheads, whispering a quiet ‘sarang-hae’.
she pauses at the doorway, turning off the lights, and looks back at her peaceful mums fondly.