London, England: 1909
"All right, get in there, you," said the policeman, shoving Lucy rudely into the wagon with the other women. She stumbled, almost fell into the filth on the road.
"There's no need to push her like that," chided one of the women, holding her hand to help Lucy up.
"Oh, she's a lady , beggin' your pardon." The policeman made an elaborate, mocking bow and then slammed the prison-wagon's door, nearly catching Lucy's skirt.
"They're beasts, all of them," said the woman who'd helped her in, and the other women nodded in agreement.
Lucy smiled, not so much at the woman's words, but at her accent. "You're an American."
"And so are you. I'm Alice Paul." She was dark-haired and strong-jawed, and her smile lit up her entire face.
"Lucy Burns." The wooden bench was crowded, but Alice moved enough to the side that Lucy could squeeze in beside her. Beside her countrywoman, she thought, pleased at the coincidence. Her countrywoman, and her sister suffragist. Perhaps when they had won the vote for women in England they could do the same in America. Impulsively she kissed Alice's cheek.
Alice reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm sure we'll be great friends."
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: 1912
"I am glad that is over with," said Alice, taking off her hat and slumping onto the bed in their shared hotel room. "Mrs. Catt is a dragon."
"If there's any knight that can slay her, it would be you," said Lucy.
Alice grinned. "So does that make you the maiden sacrifice, tied at the stake?"
Giggling, Lucy flopped on the bed beside her. "I sacrifice myself on the altar of votes for women!"
"A tasty morsel, says the dragon." Alice rolled over, looming above Lucy for a moment. "Tasty," she repeated, slowly lowering herself until their faces were inches apart.
Lucy's mouth went dry. Strong, beautiful, willful, clever Alice, and there she was, just above her, her lips, oh, her lips. Right there. She licked her lips, her own lips, and Alice made a small noise and closed the short distance between them.
Alice tasted of the sweet tea they'd had at Mrs. Catt's, when Alice had persuaded the women who ran the National American Woman Suffrage Association that they could take over in Washington. Sweet tea, and victory. For an instant she tasted tea; then Alice moved away. "All right. Let's start planning what we'll do in Washington."
Washington, DC: 1914
"Are you going to see him again?"
"Hmm?" Alice was reading something, or she was pretending to read something; Lucy wasn't sure. Perhaps she sensed Lucy's disapproval; not that she disapproved of Mr. Weissman, exactly, but it made her uneasy, thinking of Alice and him, together. She wouldn't call it jealousy. Not out loud. "Are you going to see him again?" repeated Lucy. "Mr. Weissman."
Alice shrugged. "I don't know."
"Do you love him?"
"Lucy, don't be ridiculous. He works for the newspaper. He's got a lot of influence that might be useful."
"I know that. That's not what I asked. Do you love him?"
"Why do you care," said Alice. Finally, she looked up at Lucy, her eyes shadowed and dark. "I told him I can't get involved with him. I can't get involved with anyone. I have only so much to give, Lucy. Our cause is more important."
Joy bubbled up in her breast, strong and exultant, but she did not let it touch her face. Instead she said lightly, "So women are more important than men?"
"Equally important, Lucy. Isn't that what it's all about?"
"Of course," she said, kissing Alice on the top of her head.
Occoquan Workhouse, Virginia: 1917
When Alice was released from the prison's psychiatric ward she looked awful, thought Lucy. Of course, they all looked awful. That's what prison did, what it was intended to do: it tired them out, gave them dark circles under their eyes, tangled their hair, roughened their hands.
But it couldn't touch their hearts, unless they allowed it. And Lucy could see that the straitjacket and the questioning and the hunger had only strengthened Alice's resolve.
"They have no right to hold us," whispered Alice. Her voice was hoarse and low, and it hurt Lucy to hear it. "If we all refuse to eat, they must do something."
"You know everyone will follow your lead. But you --" She shook her head. Alice was so weak. Not her heart -- never her heart -- but her body, and Lucy worried.
"They can't hurt us if we stand together," said Alice. Her eyes were burning with fever and courage, and she wrapped one thin arm around Lucy's shoulders and kissed her, burying her face for an instant against the side of her neck, brushing aside dirty hair.
She means to comfort me , thought Lucy, amazed, and she pulled Alice toward her, and held her tightly.
Ridgefield, Connecticut: 1966
When the doorbell rang, she let Elsie answer. She was too old to run down the stairs, too old to be in a hurry. She'd admit that.
She wouldn't admit that she was too old to march in the protests against that horrid war. It made them all stare, to see a woman in her eighties walking proudly alongside the young girls whose brothers and boyfriends were sent off to die. They probably thought she was there for a grandson, a great-grandson. She wondered sometimes whether the girls beside her even knew who she was. They all took the right to vote for granted.
But her work wasn't finished so long as the Equal Rights Amendment continued to languish. Her amendment. She'd pushed Congress on it every year since 1923. Goodness, it had been a long time.
She looked up as Elsie walked into the room. "What is it?"
"Lucy's passed away. The newspaper wants you to say something."
So much to say, thought Alice. "I'll be there in a moment."
As Elsie left, Alice picked up a photograph from her desk. The two of them, so long ago. Kissing Lucy's image, she went out to speak to the reporter.
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http://hieroglyfics.net/fivekisses.htm | written October 2005 by Isis