"I'm in the pub,
high on Pils,
with some shades on.
Tarted up,
mini skirt,
with my Choos on."

Brilliant. My best yet.

"Hear what I did there, Chloe?"

"You changed the lyrics."

"What of?"

"23."

"Excellent, Chloe. You're on trend."

"Really, Steffanie? Maybe because you play it a hundred times a day."

"My version's better. It's crazy like us."

"Right."

"Oh don't be like that, Chloe."

"Sorry, bitch."

She's not supposed to call me that, not here. Bitch is private, same as Tutu, her word for a naughty girl. Chloe loves her love name, only hearing it from me though. I get a kiss as an apology. Not sure exactly what for. A slow kiss on the lips no less! Now that's a serious apology for a nice girl from Ghana to make. In a bar. In public.

Anyway, my lyrics really are crazy like us. I'm in a seaside pub with my lovely girlfriend and holding a bottle of ice cold Pils lager. Shades because it's sunny outside. Tarted up in our summer mini skirts. No Choos on my feet but Chloe would love to see her bitch in a pair. I reminded her of it cos they're three hundred quid. As a joke.

"Come on," she says. "It's time we hit the beach."

"Comin'."

The short walk to the beach is a fashion statement for Chloe, dressed as she is in her bolder new style. She doesn't really look tarty. I do. But Chloe looks as elegant as ever, with her beauty and grace she could work as a model. She models for me. I make wacky fashion and I made Chloe's little skirt exactly how she wanted. As a gift that has both our hearts in it. Now she's wearing it as a symbol of her more liberated self.

Symbols are very important in the part of Africa where my girlfriend comes from. Her tribe have hundreds with all different meanings. They have symbols for adaptability, peace, strength, transformation and all sorts of other soulful qualities. They even have one to express acceptance of diversity. They remind me of logos and would make a very cool tattoo.

Mixing our cultures is fun. Although there's much than symbols and fashion for Chloe to deal with. Holding her hand isn't such a big problem, but could be. And our kind of loving is one diversity that's far from established in her homeland. On the other hand, me being white wouldn't matter much at all, well maybe. Different cultures can be cool. They can also seem awfully heavy. I try not to judge because I don't really know.

"I'm on the beach,
high on lotion,
with some shades on.
Oiled up,
no skirt,
with my bikini on."

Excellent. It seems my genius knows no bounds.

"Very good, Steffanie."

"You're just saying that. And don't you think that's enough sun cream?"

"I don't want you burning."

"Thanks. Why don't you wear any sun cream, Chloe?"

"Because I'm as black as midnight."

"You can still get skin cancer you know."

"Do I hear your sister talking?"

"Oh fry and die then."

"Hey! That's not my bitch."

"Sorry. Didn't mean it."

She said bitch again, although my crime was much worse. Another little kiss is needed. In front of all the people on the beach! No worries. Not in our gay friendly town. With little kisses is how me and Chloe work. One big reason why we work. We push and probe and get real serious too. A little lovin' smoothes things along. There's a lot to understand. Chloe wants to hear what I think, not hear me quoting my clever sister like a parrot.

Not that Chloe has a problem with my sister. They get on great. They're both the academic type. Chloe does business and my sister does science. Fashion is my thing. I guess that just about puts me amongst the arts. Aren't they're a lot of categories in life? Everyone is either this, that or the other. The three of us talk about our categories. We can be honest because we care about each other. Honesty can hurt, but a little hurt now and then is all part of growing.

Negative honesty is horrible. Chloe knows all about that. Too much so really. It's those categories again, she's in the wrong ones for some people. How can one person be hurt so often for such stupid reasons, yet still come shining through? She's the black star. The black star of Ghana and she deserves every bit of good fortune that comes her way. I'd change the world for Chloe if I could. But then she's already changed her small part of it for the better. She'll change the rest later no doubt.

We'll go home after the beach. Then my love can tell me all about her latest ambitions while I moisturize her skin. I'll slap cocoa butter all over her beautiful body. Then maybe paint her toe nails, if she'll let me. Both things are treats for me as much as her. She likes trimming and styling my blonde hair. Including my other little bit! And doing my make up. And the rest. We're not hung up about our different categories, we're too busy celebrating them. How can I ever repay her for bringing such joy into my life?

"You're so caring and giving, Chloe."

"You're the same."

"What? I made you a mini skirt. That's not much."

"You spent forever making it perfect. You know why I want to wear it. You understand me."

"I just know how to sew."

"There you go again, Steffanie. You remind me of an African girl."

"How come?"

"Your humility. Quietly listening, learning and teaching."

"Quietly? And I haven't taught you a thing, Chloe."

"Don't you believe it. I learn from everything I see and hear."

"Not from me. I'm just your bitch."

"My bitch is my rock. She holds my heart."

That's nice. Although I still think she's bigging me up.

"I'm in the bed,
high on love,
with no clothes on,
Tutu's up,
little flirt,
with her hand on."

"Oh yeah. Now that one feels brilliant too."

"Shut it and kiss me, bitch."

"Love you, Tutu."

"Love you too, my dear bitch."

We're going to kiss and make love now.

The nicest way of all to mix up all our different categories.

~

End