Complementary and Acute

by Ella Lyons

  Anabelle went sweaty all over. She fumbled for her glass. “We’re not a couple.”

  “I didn’t mean couple couple. Just, you know…” She waved her hand.

  Anabelle took another drink of her milkshake. No, she didn’t know. “Do people think we’re a couple?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know, some might. Do you care?”

  Yes. “No. Just, I didn’t realize.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Blakely said. “Unless you’ve got a problem with Jac being gay.”

  “No,” Anabelle said forcefully, narrowing her eyes and glaring at Blakely. “Absolutely not.”

  “Just checking,” Blakely said. “I didn’t think so.”

  Anabelle didn’t answer, just busied herself with her shake, forcing herself not to snap at Blakely. It wasn’t her fault everything with Jac was so upside down and inside out.

  “Do you want to talk about math?” Blakely said, dragging Anabelle away from the rabbit hole she was wandering into. “The Pythagorean theorem and shit?”

  “Yeah,” Anabelle said, relieved. “Let’s talk about the Pythagorean theorem and shit.”

  “A squared plus B squared equals C squared.”

  Anabelle laughed, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “Doesn’t it just.”

  * * *

  By the time Anabelle got back to campus, her good mood had vanished as if someone off stage had snatched it out of her hands like an ineffectual prop. She said good-bye to Blakely at the entrance to her dorm, then headed to her own hall, half-hoping Jac would be in the room and half-terrified she would be. Her stomach was sour by the time she walked into her room to find Jac sitting on her bed, eating a bag of popcorn.

  “Hey,” Jac said brightly, her face lighting up. “Where have you been?”

  Anabelle drew up short, her hand still on the doorknob. “Dottie’s.”

  “You skipped class to go to Dottie’s?”

  “No,” Anabelle said. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “I skipped class and then I went to Dottie’s. After it, not because of it.”

  Jac grinned and held the popcorn bag out to Anabelle, and Anabelle had no idea what to make of that. She shook her head and went over to her closet to take her shoes off.

  “So you really did skip class? I can’t believe it.”

  “I really did,” Anabelle said flatly. “Blakely couldn’t believe it either.”

  Silence. Anabelle sprayed her shoes and set them on the shelf, then reached into her pocket and dug out her keys, placing them on her desk.

  “Who’s Blakely?”

  “A girl I know from Number Ninjas. We went for a milkshake at Dottie’s.”

  “So you skipped class to go out for milkshakes with some girl named Blakely. Wait, Blakely Coyle? Tall, red hair, brown eyes?”

  “Yep,” Anabelle said.

  “Well thanks for the invitation,” Jac said flatly, and that really was it. Anabelle whirled around to glare at Jac, who at least had the good sense to look startled.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Honest to God, Jacqueline, are you kidding me? Do you remember anything about last night?”

  “I—”

  “Do you remember stumbling back here two hours after curfew, drunk out of your mind? Do you remember throwing up all over the place?”

  Jac paled; she looked at the floor, like maybe she’d been stepping around a puddle of vomit all day and just hadn’t realized it.

  “Do you remember me on my knees, cleaning up your barf at one in the morning? No, you don’t, because you passed out. But I remember it, so don’t you dare give me shit for not going to class today. You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you.”

  For the longest moment, Jac didn’t say anything. She wiped her greasy fingers off on her jeans. Her mouth was a tight, pinched line, her eyes narrowed. “Looks like Dahlia was right,” she said finally.

  Anabelle’s entire body went rigid. “About what?”

  “About you.”

  “What did she say about me?” Anabelle said, and if her voice was shaking, it was nothing compared to the tremble in her hands.

  “She said my kitten had her claws out.”

  “Your kitten?”

  Jac shrugged and stood up, shoving her feet into her shoes. “Is there a dry cleaning bill you want me to take care of? Some cleaning supplies that need to be replaced?”

  Anabelle ignored the cheap jab. “Why are you talking about me with Dahlia?”

  “She’s my friend. I’ll talk about whatever I want with her.”

  “I thought I was your friend.”

  “I thought you were too,” Jac cried. “But you’ve done nothing but ride my ass since we got back to school.”

  “Ride your ass? What the—what have I been riding your ass about?”

  “My classes! The stupid Number Ninjas! Last night! I don’t need it from you, Annie. I’m getting enough of it from my parents, okay, the last thing I need is you riding my ass about it too.”

  “I’m not riding your ass, Jac! I’m worried about you.”

  “Well don’t be, all right? I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you? Like you took care of yourself last night.”

  Jac stood up and started snatching things off the dresser and shoving them into her pockets: keys, wallet, phone, lip balm.

  “Where are you going?” Anabelle said desperately, moving between Jac and the door. She couldn’t let Jac leave, she just couldn’t. Even if they were fighting, at least Jac was talking to her. At least she was here.

  “None of your business.”

  Anabelle recoiled like Jac had slapped her face. She watched helplessly as Jac grabbed a bag from the closet and started jamming clothes into it. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat, and the thought that had been nagging at her for the past two weeks came bubbling up. Anabelle spit the words out, unable to stop herself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Jac looked up from her haphazard packing. “Tell you what?”

  “That you’re gay. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Jac sighed, and straightened up, dropping her bag to the floor. “Anabelle.”

  “Did you think I’d disapprove? Or that I’d love you any less? Did you honestly think those things about me, Jac? Because I can’t…I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know what to do or how to stop it, or what to say to make you stay.”

  “You’re not losing me, Annie. You couldn’t.”

  “It feels like I am,” Anabelle said desperately. Now that she’d started talking, she couldn’t stop. Every terrifying thought that had been nudging the back of her mind for the last two weeks was tumbling out of her mouth, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “You’re never here, you have all these other friends…”

  “I’m allowed to have other friends.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

  “It would do both of us good to have other friends, you know.”

  Anabelle flinched. “Oh.”

  “Oh come on, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not replacing you. It’s just…this part of my life can’t be about you.”

  “I didn’t say it needed to be about me. I just want to be a part of it.”

  “You can’t,” Jac said, and it was the look on her face that scared Anabelle more than anything that had come before. As familiar as Jac was—and she was, as familiar to Anabelle as her own skin, as necessary as her own heartbeat—in that moment, she felt like a stranger. “I need you to not be a part of it.”

  “But why?” Anabelle said. She was pleading. She was pathetic. No wonder Jac wanted away from her. Anabelle tried to swallow her words, but they wouldn’t fit down her throat. “Why can’t I be a part of it? That’s not fair.”

  Jac laughed humorlessly, and heaved her bag onto her shoulder. “It’s not about being fair, Anabelle. Trust me, none of this is fair.”  r />
  “Please don’t go. Please let’s just talk, okay? I miss you.”

  “I just…I need some space, okay?”

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you. Well, I am a little, but not for the reason you think.” Jac ran a hand through her hair and gave Anabelle a sad, weary smile. “It’s fine, okay? I just need a day or two.”

  “A day or two? Where are you going?” As soon as she said it, she knew. “You’re going to Dahlia’s, aren’t you?” Her voice cracked; panic colored the edges of her vision.

  “I’ll text you, okay?”

  “You won’t,” Anabelle said miserably.

  “I will,” Jac promised. She paused in the doorway, then caught Anabelle’s fingers with her own and squeezed them. Then she slipped out the door and Anabelle was left quite alone.

  * * *

  Jac didn’t come home the next day or the next, though she did text Anabelle on Monday to tell her the dining hall had tater tots. Anabelle didn’t reply. Everything was so jumbled up, and her room was so quiet. Anabelle missed Jac’s shoes all over the place, and her hair ties strewn over every flat surface. She missed her jokes and her demands to be cuddled, and the way she covered her mouth when she laughed, always self-conscious about the little gap between her front teeth.

  Anabelle turned back to the Number Ninjas practice. This was something she understood. Numbers were always the same. Numbers didn’t pretend to be one thing, and then turn out to be something else entirely.

  Across the room, Blakely caught Anabelle’s eye. “You okay?” she mouthed, nodding at Anabelle’s phone.

  Anabelle nodded and smiled, pushing her phone away. She was glad she and Blakely were friends now. Blakely was lovely, and easy to talk to, and had a wicked sense of humor…but she wasn’t Jac.

  After extracting promises from the girls that they would in fact work through the practice sheets Anabelle had handed out, Anabelle called practice to an end. Everyone except Blakely made a dash for the door, probably in a hurry to get to the dining hall for tater tots.

  Blakely hung back. “You going for tater tots?”

  “Ugh, I don’t know,” Anabelle said. “I’m not really feeling tater tots.”

  “Me either,” Blakely said. “I was actually thinking about going into town for a burger or something.”

  “Yeah?” Anabelle glanced at her sidelong. “I could eat a burger.”

  Blakely’s face lit up. “Really?”

  Getting off campus sounded like exactly the thing Anabelle needed. She’d avoided the dining hall all weekend, subsisting off crackers and chips from the vending machines in the lobby of her dorm, not particularly wanting to be confronted with Jac and Dahlia. Two days of it had left her grumpy and even more anxious that usual. She nodded and swung her bag over her shoulder. “Dottie’s?”

  “Absolutely,” Blakely said. “After you.”

  Chapter Four

  Unfortunately, Dottie’s was closed due to some sort of extensive melting situation in the walk-in freezer, which meant that Anabelle had somehow allowed herself to be dragged into The Flying Horse, a dimly lit karaoke bar next door. The floor was grimy and the lights watery, but the burgers were good and the fries hot. When Blakely ordered a beer with her dinner, Anabelle didn’t try to stop her.

  “Does this bother you?” Blakely asked, nodding at the sweating bottle. Truth be told, the water rings were bothering Anabelle more than the beer itself.

  She shook her head. “Not really, no. Though I’m surprised they let you order it.”

  Blakely rolled her eyes. “They never card here.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Nope. Why, do you want something?”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to Anabelle, but really, what was stopping her from it? What was the worst that could happen? She was able to turn her stupid brain off for a night? “I don’t know, maybe?”

  Blakely laughed and held up her drink, signaling their waitress. “Love, can you bring us another of these?”

  “I don’t want something that tastes bad,” Anabelle said quickly. Blakely laughed again; she really did have such a quick, ready laugh. It was nice.

  “Okay, not a beer,” Blakely said. “Something else? Something that tastes good?”

  The waitress barely flicked her eyes over Anabelle. Anabelle sat up straighter and tried to look like someone who was old enough to order something alcoholic, not that she knew what that even looked like.

  “We’ve got a watermelon punch that basically just tastes like lemonade.”

  Blakely caught Anabelle’s eye and shrugged. “Yeah?”

  “Sure,” Anabelle said with a certainty she didn’t feel.

  Two minutes later, the waitress plonked a mason jar down in front of Anabelle. It was full to the brim with something that did in fact look a lot like pink lemonade.

  Blakely waggled her eyebrows. “Nervous?”

  “No,” Anabelle said, and to prove it she took a huge swallow of her drink. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable agony, but instead, there was just delight. Sweet, watermelon and lemonade delight. “Oh.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “Oh no, that’s trouble.”

  “No,” Anabelle said. “It’s really tasty.”

  “That’ll get you into trouble,” Blakely said. “Just be careful with it, okay?”

  No, it wasn’t okay. Anabelle was tired of being careful. She was tired of thinking and analyzing and keeping everything and everyone in order. If Jac could do what she wanted with no regard for the consequences, Anabelle could too. She took another gulp, down-to-her-bones sick of being careful.

  “Want some?” she said, holding out the jar to Blakely. “It’s really good.”

  “No, I think I’m done drinking for tonight.”

  “Why?” Anabelle asked. If this was drinking, she could see why people were so delighted by it. Already her stomach felt warm, and her limbs a little looser. She took another drink.

  “I’m just going to keep an eye on you tonight, I think.”

  “I don’t need someone to keep an eye on me.”

  “All the same…”

  “Suit yourself,” Anabelle said. She drained her glass and swiveled around to look for their waitress. “Yoo-hoo!”

  “Oh shit.” Blakely was examining the greasy menu. “There’s moonshine in that.”

  Anabelle licked her lips. “Moonshine is good.”

  “Moonshine is like, 100% alcohol.”

  “It’s good.”

  “I bet it is. Here, Anabelle—”

  “Yoo-hoo!” Anabelle waved her empty glass at the waitress. “Can I have another of these please?”

  “Anabelle, honey, eat something.”

  Having finally gotten their waitress caught up with the program, Anabelle turned back to Blakely. She felt her whole face melt into a smile. “Blakely.”

  Blakely shook her head, grinning. “Anabelle.”

  “Blakely, you’re pretty.”

  “Thank you, Anabelle.”

  “Am I pretty?”

  “Very pretty.”

  “Am I?” Anabelle asked, suddenly quite urgent. “Do you think so? Jac moved out.”

  “She didn’t move out. She’s just staying with Dahlia for a couple of days.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dahlia told me.”

  Anabelle recoiled. “You’re friends with her?”

  “I’m friends with lots of people.”

  “I don’t like her very—oh, thank you,” Anabelle said, as their waitress appeared with another jar of watermelon punch. Anabelle bent forward to peer at her nametag. “Kara. Thank you, Kara.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Kara, you’re very pretty.”

  Kara looked over at Blakely, which Anabelle found quite rude. Anabelle had just paid her a compliment; the polite th
ing to do was accept it.

  “Uh, thanks,” Kara said before disappearing from the table.

  Anabelle frowned at her back. “That was quite rude.”

  Blakely pushed her basket of fries across the table. “Eat something, babe.”

  For a while, Anabelle alternated sips of punch with fries from Blakely’s dinner. She squinted at Blakely, sure she’d been about to say something important before Kara came over to be rude.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “You’re going to just hate me in the morning.”

  “I could never hate you! You’re lovely.”

  “Thanks,” Blakely said, grinning. “Your head is okay?”

  “My head feels great. Better than it has in ages, to be honest. It’s always so full, you know? So full, and just going around and around and around, and I wish I could stop it but I can’t, but I guess this moonshine can, because I feel really great.”

  “I’m glad. If anyone deserves a night off, it’s you.”

  “Oh no, don’t say that,” Anabelle said. She shook her head sadly. “I don’t deserve nice things.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I’m not a very nice friend, I don’t think. Jac didn’t even tell me before she decided she was a lesbian, did you know? She didn’t even ask me.”

  “Well,” Blakely said, dragging the word out and making it about a mile long. Anabelle liked that about her, the way she talked so slowly, like there was a speed limit on her sentences. “I don’t think she really decided to be a lesbian. I think it’s just something she is.”

  “But she didn’t even talk to me about it,” Anabelle said. “We didn’t make a list or anything.”

  “A list?”

  “Pros and cons.”

  “To being a lesbian?”

  Anabelle nodded. “We always make a list. Well, I make a list and Jac lets me.”

  “What would you have put on this list?”

  “Dunno,” Anabelle said. She finished her drink and wiped the rim of the lid with her finger. “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like her being a lesbian?”

  “I don’t like Dahlia.” Anabelle spat the word out. “Is she really your friend?”

  “She’s not all bad. Just a bit prickly.”

  “Prickly like a…” Anabelle bit her lip, trying to think of something prickly. “Hedgehog.”

  “Hedgehogs are pretty cute, though.”

  “Well Dahlia isn’t cute,” Anabelle said, except she was. Dahlia was beautiful, which was part of the problem. And there it was again, the thread Anabelle didn’t dare tug lest the whole knot in her chest unravel. She slapped her hand on the table. “I want to go dancing!”