I snorted. Finally, Susan Miller finished what she was doing and said a polite hello to Laura, and went on her merry way, so I didn’t have to be introduced or make small talk.
Laura got stamps and mailed some things and then we were off to the bank to do the deposit. The bank wasn't attached to someone’s house, but it was just about the size of someone’s living room and there were only two tellers.
Laura chatted with the teller, who had known her since she was this big and wouldn’t stop telling stories about Laura when she was little, which Laura hated and I definitely enjoyed.
“Did you really have green hair? And an eyebrow ring?” I couldn’t imagine it. I tried to picture it and couldn’t. Although, if anyone could rock green hair, it would be Laura.
“Yes.” I stared really close above her left eyebrow and saw the tiniest little dot that might have been where a piece of metal once lived. Cool.
“What kind of green? Like, dark green, or light green?”
Laura glared at me.
“It was lime green, okay? Lime green. I had to bleach the shit out of it before I could get the color on and I think my scalp is still fried.” I tried to imagine a teenage Laura wandering around town with lime green hair and a surly expression on her face and couldn’t.
“Well, I’m learning all kinds of things about you, Laura Sterling. Are we going to see your high school math teacher at the grocery store?”
Laura rolled her eyes and pulled onto the road again, looking both ways.
“Probably.”
We did end up seeing her high school math teacher. And her English teacher. And her French teacher. Going through the grocery store with her was an experience. It took five times longer because she had to stop and chat with nearly everyone who passed us with a cart. I got introduced a few times, but people seemed more interested in Laura than me, which was fine.
She asked about their kids and jobs and plans for Christmas and listened and was soft and sweet and it was a whole other side of Laura I’d never seen. Yet another layer. At work she was quick and decisive and mostly kept her head down.
“Oh my god, no more,” she said, when we reached the other side of the store. “Seriously, if I see one more person from high school, I'm going to lose my mind. A lot of these people were assholes to me and now they pretend we were buddies and it’s like no, Courtney, you treated me like shit for four years.” I laughed under my breath as she threw several cans of cranberry sauce in the cart.
“Doesn’t your dad make fresh sauce?” I asked. I’d already had it the other night.
“Yeah, but people love the canned stuff, so here we are. We’re also doing mac and cheese next week and he wanted to make sure we had some options for anyone who’s vegan, so I have to find vegan cheese here somewhere.” I highly doubted the store had vegan cheese, but I was proved wrong when we found it in the natural section.
“Well, would you look at that,” she said, grabbing several packages and sticking them in the cart. “Do you need anything?”
“Nope.” My (perishable) groceries were in the walk-in freezer at the inn, and anything that could keep was in my trunk. I’d snuck a few of the snacks up to my room and put a few drinks in the fridge. At least those wouldn’t go to waste.
Laura sighed as we made our way to the checkout area and then took everything out to her car.
“Okay, that’s done. How about we drop this off at the inn and then we can do whatever we want. I can show you the wonders of rural Maine.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“As long as there are no bears. Are there bears here?”
Laura laughed. “I mean, sure, people go bear hunting, but I’ve never seen one. It’s not a problem we really deal with. Deer and moose on the other hand? Yes.”
We’d only had deer where I grew up. You had to be so careful driving on certain roads at night.
“What about reindeer?” I asked.
“Haha, very funny, this isn’t the North Pole, Colden.”
“Well, Maine is basically Canada, so what do I know?”
She rolled her eyes and groaned as we drove back to the inn.
Laura and I dragged everything through the back and made our escape again before anyone noticed.
“Seriously, I have no idea how we pulled that off,” she said in a hushed voice, as if angry relatives or her parents could hear her.
“Did you grow up here?” I knew from talking to Laina that the family lived in the gorgeous house next door to the inn, and several other relatives lived in houses down the street, or nearby.
“Yup. They all assumed I would come back after college. Even asked me if I’d do the marketing and handle the website and so forth, but I said that wasn’t what I wanted. Let’s just say it didn’t go over well.” It was difficult to reconcile that story with all the people I’d met. They didn’t seem pushy at all, but maybe the pressure had been more passive aggressive. More subtle.
“Don’t you have enough relatives to run the place?” It seemed like there were plenty of Sterlings around already.
“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be me. I’m an only child and they’d wanted it for me ever since I was little. I’d grown up running up and down those stairs and playing hide-and-seek in the empty rooms. The inn was like my playground, but I grew up. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. Firstly, it’s a fuck ton of responsibility, and I just don’t have the passion for it. I didn’t think I should do something that my heart wasn’t in. My parents told me that I’d learn to love it. I disagreed.” My dad had always told me that I could do whatever I wanted and he’d support me. I asked him if he meant anything and he said anything legal, but other than that, if I was doing what I truly wanted to, that didn’t hurt me or anyone else? He was in.
“How long did it take them to get over it?”
Laura gave me a look. “They didn’t get over it. They’re just sneakier about their guilt trips now.” I hadn’t seen any, but maybe because I’d been so self-absorbed in the past few days. I made a note to pay attention more to Laina and Laura’s interactions.
“It’s my legacy,” she said. “But I don’t want it.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” I said.
“Is that a JFK quote?”
“No, it’s from Spiderman.”
Laura snorted and kept driving.
“So, there are only like six places for lunch, so I will let you decide. There is pizza, a pub, a café with sandwiches and stuff, a disgusting chain restaurant, and a Thai place.” I settled on the pub, since I was feeling like I wanted something warm and comforting.
Laura parked the car and we got a table at the pub. It was a tiny place, but they played good music and had a great mixed-drinks menu.
“The French onion soup here is to die for,” Laura said. “It’s what I always get when I’m here.” That sounded perfect, so we both ordered that and salads and got drinks.
“Were you out in high school?” I asked. I knew so little about her.
“No, it wasn’t until college. You?”
“Yeah, but only to a few friends, and my dad. Once I got to college I went a little wild.” Oh, those had been the days.
“Oh, really? I would have liked to see that.” She sipped her drink smirked at me.
“Let’s just say if there was a girl on campus who liked girls or girl-adjacent people, I probably made out with her.” And did other stuff. So what, I’d been a slut for a while. No regrets. Well, except for a few times, but I learned from all those experiences.
“Wow. I’m a little jealous.”
Was she jealous of me or the girls I made out with? I didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
“I was a little more subdued in college. I didn’t want anything to distract me from my goals. Boring, I know, but I was a lot more uptight back then.”
“You used to be more uptight?”
“Shut up, yes. I wasn’t much fun to be around.” I sipped at my drink so I wouldn’t say something m
ean. “I can hear you making comments in your head. You might not be saying them out loud, but they’re all over your face.”
“I’m sorry that I can’t control what my face does. I’ve tried and it doesn’t work.” I’d always been like that. I was one of the worst liars in the entire world, mostly because I couldn’t hide my emotions.
“Fine, let’s talk about something else. When did you figure out your gender?”
“That came later. I thought I was a cis lesbian for a long time, but then I became friends with a lot of trans and nonbinary people, yes, I kissed a lot of them too, and I started thinking and questioning and it sort of came at me slowly. I stuck with the same pronouns I’d had for a long time, but then someone used ‘they’ for me and I heard it and I realized that I liked it. So then I experimented with using that exclusively, but there were still times when I ached to be called ‘she’ so then I just kind of switched back and forth. It sounds confusing, but believe me, it was worse for me than it was for anyone else. My dad used to ask me every day what I was using and he’d write it down to make sure he didn’t slip up. Even though it wouldn’t have mattered if he did. I knew he was doing his best and he loved me.” Talking about Dad wasn’t easy. I usually cried when I did, which was why I didn’t, most of the time.
“What happened to him? If it’s not too hard to talk about.”
“Brain tumor.” That was pretty much the end of the conversation with most people.
“I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”
The soup arrived and saved me from having to go on about my horrible life. Laura and I were consumed with trying to eat the soup that was thick with bread and gooey cheese. Not the easiest to eat, but it was so freaking good. Exactly what I’d needed.
“Do you want to talk about your dad, or do you want to talk about something else?” Laura asked, as she ate her salad.
“Something else, please.” I was glad she’d asked instead of barging ahead.
“Okay, are you going to play Christmas Charades tonight? I mean, you don’t really have an option, but if you really want to get out of it, I can tell them you have a migraine.” I stared at her. I’d forgotten about the activities.
“Is it possible to watch without participating?” Because it honestly sounded amazing. With her family, it was bound to be hilarious as well.
“Nope. You don’t get to just watch. The only one who’s exempt is Gen, because it can get pretty loud and raucous. She likes to watch, though, and sometimes guesses, as long as she has her headphones on.”
“Damn.” I guess I wasn’t getting out of it unless I was willing to lie about having a migraine or something else. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough. You know it won’t be too high-pressure. Just silly fun with the Sterlings. Some people take it too far, but you can just ignore them.”
“Do you get competitive?” I asked. I bet she did. She was ruthless when it came to work, so why would this be different?
“Let’s just say my team always wins. One way or another.”
“Story checks out,” I said, as we both finished our soup and salads.
“Do you want to get something sweet?” I said, and I flinched at the way it came out. Almost sexual. Ew, I didn’t want to do anything sexual with Laura.
“I could definitely go for something,” she said, grabbing the dessert menu. “What about pie? Cake?”
“I doubt it will be as good as your dad’s, but I could go for some cake.” I’d had far too many cookies in the past few days. I had been neglecting cake as my favorite dessert.
“Want to try the apple spice cake with cream cheese frosting?” That sounded perfect, so we ordered a slice each.
“You didn’t want to share?” Laura asked.
“No, I never want to share cake. Other things, yes, but never cake. I get my own piece.”
She leaned one elbow on the table and sat forward.
“What kind of things would you share?”
“Mostly everything but cake. I mean, I know I’m an only child, but I do know how to share.”
She laughed a little.
“Why do they always say that about only children? Like we never interacted with anyone. I mean, I had my cousins all around all the time. I might not have any siblings, but I was around plenty of other kids and was taught to share.” I didn’t like the way I felt when she talked about her big family. When I’d been growing up it hadn’t been that much of a big deal that I wasn’t from a big family, but as I’d gotten older, the difference between my family and someone else’s got starker. It was even worse now. I felt like most of the time I had nothing to talk about. I didn’t have nieces or nephews or cousins or sisters or brothers or parents or grandparents. None of it. I wasn’t going to be spending any holidays with anyone. I spent my holidays alone and trying not to cry. This was the first year that I’d felt kind of okay about being alone and here I was, still alone, and just more aware of it.
“Are you okay?” Laura reached out and touched my arm. I didn’t pull away.
“I mean, no. Honestly. I just have my moments when I get sad. I was just having a moment. It will pass.” Our cake arrived, which broke up the moment a little.
“I’m sorry. I can talk about my family less if it bothers you.” I stabbed my fork into the cake.
“No, it’s fine. I can’t avoid everyone who has a family. It’s fine.” The cake was delicious, but I wasn’t enjoying it.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and I wished she’d stop apologizing.
“Are you going to be glad to get back to work?” she asked, after a few moments of tense silence.
“Yeah, I think so.” I did miss work, even if it stressed me out. It gave me something to do during the day, and by the time I got home I was usually so exhausted that I didn’t have time to think about my sad and miserable existence. Maybe I should get a dog or something. Or perhaps a pig.
“I’m looking forward to the rush of new year’s submissions. That should be good.”
I cringed. “You know what that means? Lots of garbage. Should we do Worst Of again?” In an effort to maintain sanity when filtering through submissions, we picked the best of the worst that came through the inbox and made up little certificates each quarter and had a little ceremony with donuts and coffee and we all dressed up in gowns and suits and finery as if it was an awards show and we all gave little acceptance speeches. It was totally dorky and fun, but I loved it.
“Absolutely, the year wouldn't be the same without it.” That got us on a less fraught conversation topic and we reminisced about the most awful submissions we’d ever gotten. That included several that had come in the mail with strange gifts, including a hand-drawn portrait of our boss that looked like it was drawn by a disturbed child, but the author was a middle-aged man.
We finished our lunch and I wasn’t ready to go back to the inn, and I didn’t think she was either.
“Want to see my high school?” she asked, as we got in the car.
“Yeah, I do,” I said, and it was the truth. I did. I wanted to know what Laura was like when she’d been an awkward teenager in this small town where she was related to so many people.
Laura drove and finally arrived at her alma mater, Seaside High School. Of course it was called that.
“What’s your mascot?” I asked, as we sat in the car in the empty parking lot.
Laura pointed to the sign. “Tigers.”
“Oh, that’s boring. I would have thought it was the lobsters or moose or mosquitoes or something.”
Laura laughed.
“I’m just picturing the guy who wore the tiger costume dressing up as a mosquito.” She laughed so hard that tears ran down her face and it made me laugh, seeing her like that.
“You said you were uptight in high school?” I said, after we’d both calmed down.
“Yeah, little bit. Would you believe I was the vice president of the student council, won the spelling bee, and also was the secretary of the National
Honor Society?”
“This is shocking information,” I said in a deadpan voice.
“I know, I know. I’m predictable. What were you like in high school?”
High school felt like it was a million years ago, even though it wasn’t that long.
“I don't know, I wasn’t anything special. I had friends and I hung out and read a bunch of books, but I wasn’t in any clubs or anything. I kind of drifted around.” I was boring.
“I bet a lot of people had crushes on you.”
I looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Was that a joke?
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Or if they did, no one told me. I tried to date guys, but I had two dates and one bad kiss and that was it for me. I decided that I wasn’t going to be with anyone and then I kissed a girl and the world opened up.” I’d been sixteen and it was kind of a joke between me and one of my friends. It was a sleepover and she’d been drinking (I hadn’t) and she dared me to kiss her and I realized that fuck yes, I really wanted to kiss her. So I did.
The next day, I mentioned the kiss and either she didn’t remember, or she pretended not to. We drifted apart when she joined the track team and abandoned me for people who enjoyed running. Part of me wanted to go on social media and see what she was doing right now.
Laura and I talked more about high school and she told me about her clubs and how she was an overachiever because she was an only child and always wanted her parent’s approval. I’d never felt that pressure from my dad, so I had a hard time relating.
“When did you decide to go against what they had planned for you?” I asked.
“Before I went to college. I mean, that’s when I decided, but it took me a while to actually tell them that. My mother cried.”
I gaped.
“She cried?” I couldn’t picture Laina crying about anything.
“Yup. And my dad was silent. My dad is almost never silent.” That was true as far as I’d seen.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it was bad. And every now and then they like to remind me and give me a little dig about how they’d love it if I would move back. I come and visit at least once a month, but it’s not enough for them.” I’d had no idea about that. Just a week ago, she’d been my annoying coworker and now she was a whole person with a story, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
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