Girl Love Happens : Season One

by T. B. Markinson

  “Coward.” I grazed her cheek with a finger on my way out of the restroom.

  Mom sat at a four-person booth along the back wall with a clear view of the front door, her usual preference. She always acted like she was constantly embroiled in the board game Risk, vying for ways to conquer territories, or in her case, people. My parents were solidly middle class. This suited my father, an airline pilot. Mom, the aerobics instructor, didn’t crave money—just respect and admiration.

  “There you two are. I thought you’d fallen in, Tegan,” she joked and was about to launch into what I assumed was another mortifying childhood story.

  “What shall we order?” I scooped up the menu and started listing possibilities. “Chicken tenders, ribs, fish and chips, the Monte Cristo—”

  Mom banged a fist on the table like a judge silencing a courtroom. “Absolutely not. A sandwich drenched in batter, fried, and then coated with powdered sugar. Not only will it kill you, but it’s disgusting. I recommend the grilled chicken salad.”

  I nodded, pretending to agree.

  The waitress, dressed in a green Bennigan’s polo and acid-washed jeans from the 80s, arrived. “You ready to order?” Her bubbly personality practically fizzed onto the floor as she popped her gum.

  I tilted my head for Mom to go first. “Grilled chicken salad.”

  I nudged Gemma’s leg, and she requested the French dip. I hadn’t seen that on the menu and nearly changed my mind.

  Bubbles rounded to me, her mouth forming an airhead O. “The Monte Cristo, please.” I handed the book-like menu to the waitress.

  Mom straightened her spine. “She’ll have the grilled chicken salad.”

  “No, I won’t. The Monte Cristo.”

  Bubbles furrowed her pale brow and sought my mother’s clarification. “So the Monte Cristo or salad?”

  “Monte Cristo.” I locked eyes with Bubbles.

  Mother took a deep breath and then shrugged.

  The waitress dashed for safety.

  “A moment on the lips—”

  “Forever on the hips.” I smiled sweetly. “I know.”

  “I was going to say your tits.” She motioned to my double-Ds. Even before she became obsessed with exercise, Mom hadn’t been large. Since becoming a Jane Fonda wannabe, she didn’t have any tits at all, and most never saw her washboard stomach. It was her chest, or lack of one, that stood out, so to speak, and I gathered from all the cracks she made about my breasts, it irked the woman. Was this why I was so neurotic all the time? To avoid upsetting my mom even when she wasn’t present?

  Mom innocently gulped her water.

  Under the table, Gemma placed a hand on my knee. “I haven’t seen Mr. Ferber since moving-in day. How is he?”

  Mom’s face clouded over momentarily until the fakeness seeped back in. “He’s good. Flying everywhere. With two kids in college now… well, you know.” She pursed her lips, and it felt like her most honest reaction of the day so far.

  Were my parents in trouble financially? We’d never had a lot of money, but we’d never had to worry about money either. At least I didn’t think we did. Did Glen guess this? Was that why he’d worked so hard for a scholarship? All along I thought he just wanted to escape my mother’s grasp. Not that there was a lot of fighting in our house, partly because my father was gone most days of the week and everyone else, including Mom, had lives outside of the house.

  Gemma bobbed her head, seeming much wiser than her nineteen years.

  “How’s Glen?” I asked.

  “He’s not coming home for summer.” She stated the news as if she were reporting the local high school football scores.

  Glen’s determination to stay away vexed Mom, considering the lengths she went to portraying her mother-of-the-century image—the perfect mom whose kids didn’t appreciate everything she did for them. I had heard it enough times during my nineteen years.

  “I got an internship in Denver this summer,” I added fuel to the fire.

  However, it brought a smile to her face. Denver was only a forty-five-minute commute. “Where?”

  “At a hospital.”

  “You’ll be changing bedpans all summer?” The glee on her face was off-putting.

  “It’ll be a good experience for me,” I spoke to my lap.

  “Does this internship pay?” she asked. Glen and I weren’t expected to chip in on bills, but we had to pay for our own fun, and we both had started working during high school.

  I shook my head. “It’s only a few hours a week and will look good on my resume. But I have another movie theater job lined up for the summer—also in Denver.”

  “My, you will be busy.” She smacked her lips.

  “Gemma got an internship with the football team.”

  Mom asked Gemma, “In Denver?”

  “Yes.”

  “On the coaching staff?” It was hard to decipher if she was kidding or clueless. Maybe it was a glimmer of hope that she wasn’t as old-fashioned as I thought.

  Gemma laughed. “I wish. I’ll be a gopher in the marketing department. I’ll probably spend my summer fetching coffees.”

  Mom drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “Everyone has to start somewhere. At least you won’t be cleaning shit.” She stopped and then asked, “Where will you be living?”

  This was the thorny subject I’d hope to push off for a couple more weeks. Gem and I had reserved an apartment for the summer, but we weren’t moving until June first. I had planned to divulge the news to Mom on June second.

  “Two other girls will be in Denver, so the four of us got an apartment just outside of the city.” There was no way I was going to tell her Jenny and Bernie were the other girls. I leaned back for the waitress to set down my infamous sandwich. The fried bread, jam, and powdered sugar made my mouth water.

  Mom hesitated until the server left. “All four of you will be in one apartment. That should be interesting.” Again she sipped her water and said under her breath, “It’s better that way.” She forked some salad into her mouth. My usually energetic mother looked frail and alone. It was as if I was getting a glimpse of my mother twenty years from now. I shuddered.

  Gemma and I both heard her, but when I glanced at Gemma she gave a quick shake of the head. Probably right. This lunch was fraught with enough tension. I didn’t need to rock a boat that’d already sprung several leaks.

  “How big is the apartment? I’m assuming you two are ready to have rooms of your own after living on top of each other for the past nine months.”

  Gemma choked on her water, and I had to force my jaw upward with my hand.

  “Uh, it’s much more spacious than what we’re used to. It’ll seem like a mansion.” A two-bedroom mansion. Even though it was outside of Denver, Gem and I couldn’t afford a larger place. Besides, we wanted to continue sleeping in the same bed—hopefully one larger than the ones in our dorm.

  Gemma’s relieved sigh settled the guilt whirling inside for lying by omission.

  We ate in silence, fortunately. My sandwich was much better than I envisioned, especially because I’d ordered it to piss off my mother. Powdered sugar on a sandwich—weird. After one bite I was singing a different song to the tune of Holy jamoly this is scrumptious and sinful. And I’d been on a roll when it came to sin. Another thing I had no intention of confessing to my Bible-thumping mother.

  After Gemma demolished her French dip, she excused herself to use the restroom. I ogled her tight ass out of the corner of my eye. Maybe I should start running if it means I’d get an ass like that. Of course, Gem said she liked my curves, and Mom loved to point out I had curves coming out the ying-yang. Should I share about all the hours Gemma spent caressing, kissing, and licking my curves, especially my ta-tas?

  Mom cleared her throat. Did she catch me checking out Gem’s ass or guess the commentary running through my lesbian sex-crazed mind?

  I peeked at her face, but she had her eyes trained on the water glass she cleaved with both hands. “Are you good fri
ends with Jenny?”

  “Yeah, she’s great.” It was easy to guess where this conversation was heading, but I thought if I tried being extra positive, I could head her off the scent.

  “I don’t think she’s good for you.”

  I squared my shoulders but managed to say cheerily, “Why’s that?”

  “You know why.” She leveled her frosty blue eyes on mine.

  “Not sure I do.” I innocently slanted my head, giving my best puppy dog impression.

  Mom leaned over the table and whispered, “She’s a lesbian.”

  “How do you know?” I spoke softly.

  “It’s obvious.”

  “How?”

  “Oh, please.” She waved her hand. “I’ve protected you so there’s no way you’d notice when it comes to these types, but most people can tell with one look.”

  It took everything I had not to explode into laughter. Moments ago, I had been checking out my girlfriend’s ass right under her nose.

  “Associating with people like that isn’t good. Especially in the long run. People might confuse you—”

  “They’ll think I’m a lesbian.” Oh man, it felt good to say it, even though I was only messing with her.

  She put a finger on her lips. “Shush!”

  Gemma approached the table and hesitated. She’d make an excellent people barometer. One whiff and she had a good sense of the situation. Cautiously she retook her seat, leaving more space between us than previously. Her return nipped the conversation in the bud, but it played over and over in my mind during the rest of the meal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The car ride back passed almost in complete silence. Observing Mom’s body hunched over the steering wheel and the way I sat in my seat with my back to her, Gemma didn’t engage either of us in idle conversation. Occasionally, I regarded the side mirror and spied Gemma’s complacent face taking in the scenery. Once, she caught me staring and winked so only I could see. Her daring move emboldened me, and I slipped my right hand along the side of my chair and wiggled my fingertips to get her attention. Gemma rested her head against the back of my seat and gave my hand a quick squeeze.

  Mom dropped us off in front of the dorms. Her eyes gaped like they were a million miles away. I sensed I was missing something. A smidgeon of remorse forced me to stand outside and wave like an idiot until she was out of sight.

  “You okay?” Gemma bumped my shoulder when it was safe.

  “I don’t know. That was really weird.” I continued to stare at the road where her car had once been. She was heading toward the center of town, not the highway. Why?

  A frown marred Gemma’s face. This made the sick feeling in my gut churn into full-blown worry.

  “What?” I asked.

  Gemma gazed at the storm clouds over the foothills. “I think she’s extremely unhappy.”

  “My dad travels a lot,” I said as if trying to pinpoint the source of unhappiness. “And I’m not at home anymore.”

  “That could be it.” She about-faced on her heel to go inside.

  I trailed her inside the lobby. “Do you think it’s something more?”

  “No idea. I’ve only interacted with her a few times. But to show up insisting it was Mother’s Day—that’s bizarre.”

  “What’s your gut say?”

  Gemma avoided answering by saying, “Speaking of guts. How’s your stomach handling the fried powdered sugar and jam goodness? Thanks for offering a bite—oh wait, you didn’t.”

  “Me? You knew I wanted some of your French dip and you scarfed it down before I could say a word.”

  “How was I supposed to know you wanted some?”

  “I want everything of yours. Haven’t I made that clear?” I scanned her face to see if she caught I was only partly teasing. Her knowing smile was enough confirmation.

  We made it to the stairwell and our footsteps cast unsettling echoes.

  “Sorry about not sharing, but what was I supposed to do? No one was talking. I’m the quiet one, remember?” Gemma jerked a thumb at her chest, emphasizing the point. “I had no choice but to scarf the sandwich.”

  “When I’m around my mother, I’m not myself—”

  Gemma butted in. “No, you aren’t. You’re filled to the brim with anger and resentment. It’s not good, and it’s awkward to be around.”

  “Am I that bad?” I reached for the handrail and pirouetted to see her face two steps below.

  “Yes.” Her honesty stung, but I couldn’t lay blame.

  I then dared to ask the question I already knew the answer to but prayed I was wrong. “Do you think my mom picks up on it?” I rested my head against the cement wall in the stairwell.

  “Was that rhetorical?”

  I sighed.

  “Put it this way. The waitress picked up on it, and she’s not exactly rocket scientist material.”

  I scratched at a fleck of peeling paint. “It’s not that I want to hurt my mom’s feelings. Most of the time, I don’t know how to act because she can be so combative and rude. Like the comment about my tits.” I jiggled the girls.

  Gemma hopped up one step and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know. But maybe you can try a little harder to not let her get to you. At the end of the day, she’ll always be your mom. It’s up to the two of you to decide what type of relationship you want: friendly or combative. Or hell, somewhere in the middle would be better than all-out war.”

  “Why are you always so wise?” Of course, family situations were easier for Gemma. Her parents accepted her completely. The way they’d reacted to Gemma coming out was proof Gem’s family was the opposite of mine.

  “Some of us were born this way.” She ducked in time, preventing my hand from walloping her head. “Ha! Too slow.”

  “I’ll show you slow. The last one to the room has to do the other’s laundry for a month.” I shot up the remaining two flights with Gemma hot on my heels. Somehow, she reached the exit first, blocking me. “You cheated!” I accused.

  “How?” She bent over to catch her breath. “You set the rules and took off without waiting for us both to start at the same time. You, my dear, cheated.”

  The stairwell was deserted on the fifth floor. Most residents on our floor used the elevator; however, I was convinced the contraption was on its last leg and I preferred the exercise. “Come here.” I tugged the collar of her shirt to pull Gemma into a kiss, while at the same time backing her against the wall. It was the type of kiss that said in less than three minutes we would be naked and fucking.

  The door creaked. “Well, well, well… you two can’t keep your hands off each other, can you?” April’s gravelly tone assaulted my ears.

  This was the second time April had stumbled upon us kissing. The first time on Walt’s Hill caused me, Play-it-Safe Tegan, to go into a full-fledged panic, and I nearly wrecked my relationship. But I was getting used to the idea of people knowing about Gem and me. Mostly.

  I squared my shoulders and was about to say, “Jealous?” but then Erik appeared around the door with an odd expression. Mostly shock, but there was another emotion underlying the disbelief. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though.

  “You see, Erik. That’s what I mean. You’ve been barking up the wrong tree this whole time.” April tsked. “You’d think you two would be more discreet. What will everyone think?” April scouted over one shoulder and scrutinized the stairwell. “Safe, this time. But what about the next?”

  April wasn’t entirely innocent when it came to liaisons with women. Although, I was fairly certain her fling with Jenny was more for the experience, not love or desire to be with a girl. Of course, I would never out her publicly. That went against my lesbian code.

  Without April taking note, Gemma moved to shield me. “Hi, Erik. How are you?” She acted like they were buds, which I assumed was for my benefit. An attempt to ease the awkwardness from the situation. I saw Erik in class, but I’d been intentionally keeping him away from Gem. April monopolizing his time helped imme
nsely.

  “G-good,” he stammered. “You?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Let’s go, Erik. I think we’ve seen enough.” April led him by the hand as they descended the stairs.

  Erik rubbernecked over his shoulder. His eyes moved to Gemma and then to me. “See ya in class, Tegan.” He bowed his head slightly, giving the impression of a man walking to his own execution.

  I hustled Gemma into the deserted hallway and whispered, “What’s with today? All the weirdness?”

  “You okay?”

  Inside our room, I let loose. “Gemma! Stop asking me that every time we get busted.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the closet doors. “It wasn’t the best timing, but it was bound to happen, really.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked.

  “Because I can’t keep my hands off you.” I swept her into my arms with too much force, and when we collided, we both let out a rush of air. My head conked against the door. “Sorry.” I rubbed the soreness.

  “I don’t mind.” She scraped a blonde strand off my cheek. “The bruises are well worth it.”

  “You make it sound like I abuse you.” I laughed.

  “You’re kinda hard on both of us. How’s your head?”

  “Luckily, I have a thick skull. Now, where were we this morning before being so rudely interrupted?”

  A sinful hunger glowed in Gemma’s eyes. “I don’t remember the exact position, but I believe you were on the bed.”

  I moved toward the bed and flopped down on top of my floral bedspread. “Like this?” I tipped my head to the side to see her reaction.

  Gemma put a forefinger over her mouth, examining my position. “Not quite. If memory serves correctly, you were naked.”

  “Right.” I sat up and shed my shirt.

  “Getting warmer,” Gemma said.

  “I’m sure you are.” I winked. “It’d be faster if you helped.”

  “And miss the show? No way.” Gemma hauled a desk chair to the middle of the room.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be?” I rose and approached.

  “Now who’s stalling?” Gemma waggled a finger.

  I batted her hand to the side and mounted her lap.