The Thousand Mile Love Story

by Natalie Vivien

  “I resemble that remark,” said Robin with a wink. She glanced over at Andee, still grinning, and Andee tried not to meet her blue gaze…but couldn’t quite help herself.

  Her heart stilled, and then it began to race.

  She looked away.

  And all four women stared up at the house.

  “Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast Museum!” Tiffany sang, as the sign over the door creaked.

  “She’s the one with the rhyme, right?” said Jill, wrinkling her nose as she tried to remember the words. “Lizzie Borden… What is it?”

  “Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one.” Robin tilted her head to the side, shrugging. “Something like that.”

  “Great. An axe murderer,” sighed Jill, crossing her arms. “They built a bed and breakfast inside an axe murderer’s house.”

  “I mean, what better theme for a bed and breakfast?” said Tiffany cheerfully, placing her hands on the small of Jill’s back and practically shoving the woman up the front steps. “Why don’t you be a dear and get us all tickets, Jillie? The tours are on the hour!” she lilted. “That means we have, like, thirty minutes. Oh, and, Robin,” Tiff said, her eyes narrowed pointedly, “you should help Jill.”

  Robin opened and shut her mouth, and then she cast an apologetic glance to Andee.

  It was very obvious to everyone that Tiffany was about to give Andee one heck of a talking to.

  “Four tickets for an axe murderer’s house tour, coming up,” grumbled Jill, and together, she and Robin entered the foyer, the door complaining behind them.

  “Tiffany, before you even start,” said Andee, holding up her hands in preemptory protest, “give me some time to figure things out.” She searched Tiffany’s eyes as the smaller woman put her hands on her hips, green eyes flashing defiantly. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Robin about anything yet. So…calm down.”

  Andee breathed out, glancing up at the house again. It was a very pretty house. Andee would never have guessed that an axe murderer had lived there.

  “Right,” said Tiffany staunchly, threading her arm through Andee’s and hauling her down a stone path toward the back gardens.

  “Hey. Why am I your pet project, anyway?” said Andee, annoyance replacing her sadness. Which was good. Anything was better than that small, dark feeling of despair. She was on a road trip with her best friends, she kept trying to remind herself. But herself always offered this miserable reply: “You’re on a road trip with the woman who’s breaking your heart all over again.”

  “Andee, honey, you’ve always been my pet project,” said Tiffany then, stepping away from her. With her frilly little skirt and red hair springing every which way, she looked like a very stylish, very angry fairy. A comparison which, in spite of her conflicted emotions, caused Andee to smile.

  “So, great. I’m your pet project.” Andee threw her hands up into the air and slumped down on a wrought iron garden bench. It was terribly uncomfortable, but she crossed her legs, gazing at Tiffany with narrowed eyes.

  “Whatever happened this morning,” said Tiffany, accenting each word sharply, “you’re missing the point. I believe Robin when she said she didn’t cheat on you, and you have never believed her. Which is ridiculous.”

  “That word again—”

  “Listen. Robin’s never lied about anything a day in her life, but can I tell you something, missy?” said Tiffany, her voice growing louder. Andee winced. “Kimberly’s lied about a whole hell of a lot of things—”

  “What?”

  “And you’re taking Kimberly’s word over Robin’s?”

  “What are you even talking about?” Andee groaned, slumping against the garden bench. The ax murderer tour could not come fast enough.

  But Tiffany wasn’t finished yet.

  “You said, once upon a time,” said Tiffany, biting the words out, “that Kimberly told you Robin had been cheating on you for months. Hate to tell you this, Andee, but almost every word that comes out of Kimberly’s mouth is a lie, so it really stands to reason that she lied about that.”

  “But I don’t… She hasn’t…lied,” said Andee, confused.

  “Seriously, Andee! Kimberly’s put on this little act for you. You’ve never seen the real Kimberly,” said Tiffany, stepping forward and pulling at a curl of her red hair in frustration. “But I have. And I can tell you right now that she’s lied about more things, done more terrible things than you’d ever believe possible.” Tiffany went limp for a moment, her hands down at her sides.

  Andee spread her hands helplessly, forehead creased. It was true: she had always believed Kimberly. After Robin had cheated on her, Kimberly had been there for her. Kimberly had—

  “You know what Kimberly told me after everything fell apart for you and Robin?” said Tiffany. There was a grim resolve in her expression; Andee’s heart began to beat faster. “She said that she hoped that you were desperate enough to have sex with her now. With Kimberly. And that’s why she was there to comfort you, Andee. That’s the only reason.”

  “No,” said Andee, shaking her head, her eyes shut as she remembered Kimberly poised on the edge of her bed, holding her so tightly while she cried... “No.” She shook her head again. “She was dating Joanna at that point, Tiff,” said Andee, breathing out, hesitantly triumphant. “So you’re wrong.”

  Tiffany bent down in front of Andee, staring up at her, searching her face. “Andee,” she said quietly, “she’s cheated on Joanna more times than I can count. Than she could count.” She lowered her gaze and exhaled heavily. “She tried to have sex with me.”

  “What?” Andee stood, shaky, pacing away from Tiffany down the garden path before turning around and facing the redhead calmly. If Tiffany said that Kimberly had propositioned her, then that had to be true; Tiffany never lied. But what had happened with Robin was different... “Tiff,” she said then, clearly, steadily. “I know that Kimberly and you never saw eye to eye—”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Andee?” said Tiffany, staring up into Andee’s eyes with her own wide, unblinking ones.

  “Never.”

  Tiffany breathed out. “Everyone knows that Kimberly’s, like, the worst news in the whole history of news. Everyone,” she sighed, “but you. Because she always liked you. She wanted to hide that part of herself from you. And she succeeded. Because we don’t gossip in the Adventure Lezzies,” said Tiffany, holding up her hand quickly to still Andee’s protest. “We don’t talk shit about each other. I’m only telling you this now because it’s important for you to know.”

  “But, Tiff, Kimberly didn’t know it was me on the other end of the phone this morning,” said Andee, unconvinced. “There was no reason for her to lie about anything. She thought I was Robin. And she was talking about Monica getting back together with Robin—”

  “Andrea Shaw,” said Tiffany slowly, clearly, gritting her teeth. “Instead of assuming the worst again, why don’t you—for once in your life—actually ask Robin for some clarification?”

  “I’m going to, God…” huffed Andee, but Tiffany shook her head, reached up, wrapped her hands around Andee’s shoulders and squeezed.

  “Just do it really soon, okay? For me. So I don’t actually go gray prematurely,” sighed Tiffany, eyes flashing. “Get clarification. Just this once. Then you can go back to being ridiculous whenever you want, and I can stop worrying about you.”

  “I am not ridiculous,” Andee muttered, even as Tiffany raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow in disagreement. “I’m not,” said Andee again. But, even to herself, her voice sounded petulant and sullen.

  “A lot of stupid heartache in this world could be solved if people actually—I don’t know—communicated once in a while,” groaned Tiffany, throwing her hands up into the air, nail polish sparkling. “And with that…I rest my case!” Then, tottering on her high-heeled shoes, Tiffany turned and stalked back around toward the front of the bed and breakfast.<
br />
  Andee, after breathing out a very long sigh, had no choice but to follow.

  “…and to this day, no one knows whether she actually killed them,” said the man on the front porch, hands spread, as Jill and Robin looked on in interest.

  The tour guide wore an old-fashioned coat and bowtie, and his eyes sparkled over his generous white moustache. “Welcome to the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast Museum!” he said to Tiffany and Andee as they walked up to the steps to meet Jill and Robin—Jill standing in the center of the broad porch with her arms crossed, head to the side; Robin leaning against a porch railing post, head back and nose up as she considered the tour guide.

  “I’m Ralph,” said the man, taking Tiffany’s hand and shaking it firmly before taking Andee’s and shaking hers, too. Andee went to stand beside Robin, her head still reeling.

  She knew that she had a penchant for being… Well. “Melancholy” was a fitting adjective. Andee was a pessimist, had always been a pessimist. It’s not as if she enjoyed thinking things wouldn’t go her way. They just didn’t, and it was better to assume so than to be disappointed.

  But as she glanced sidelong at Robin—Robin, who didn’t even know the meaning of the word “pessimism;” Robin, whose plans always fell effortlessly into place because she knew they would and acted like they would—Andee wondered if she could bring herself to ask for clarification about that phone call.

  This was the part of the day in which she was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed over her early-morning theatrics.

  She followed the group into the house, lingering at the back of the line. Only the four of them had paid for this particular tour, and they stood together in the foyer as Ralph shut the door behind them. Then the women followed him throughout the rooms and hallways.

  The house was lovely. And at the end of the tour—based upon the snippets that Andee had managed to pay attention to—she really did wonder whether Lizzie Borden had been framed.

  And, she realized with a dawning strangeness in her stomach…there was a certain someone else in their party who might be just as innocent.

  “So, you see,” said Ralph, grinning at their little group when they stood once again in the foyer, “she may or may not have given those forty whacks. But we’ll never truly know.” The women applauded. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing a little. “Any questions, ladies?”

  Jill stepped forward, grinning broadly as she cleared her throat. “What do you know what about all those rumors that Lizzie Borden was a lesbian?”

  “Ah, the ‘Lezzie Lizzie’ stories,” said the man, steepling his fingers before him with one brow raised and a mischievous smile playing over his lips. “I happen to think they’re true…”

  Robin pulled her phone out of her pocket, silencing the ringer and frowning at the screen. She glanced quickly at Andee, who looked away, and then she muttered something about a client, excusing herself and stepping out of the house.

  Andee’s stomach began to sink. A client…

  Or was it Kimberly?

  Or…Monica?

  Andee hated this. She hated feeling suspicious. She didn’t want to think like this. She would have given everything not to. But she’d been through so much and had been so hurt. She didn’t know what to think, or who to believe.

  Tiffany insisted that Kimberly had cheated on Joanna. And Tiff wouldn’t lie, but this new reality was at war with Andee’s experience. Kimberly was always so attentive, so doting on her wife. Kimberly loved Joanna with all of her heart.

  Andee wracked her brains, trying to think back on more than ten years of history that she now had to look at with different, newly opened eyes.

  “What do you think?” said Tiffany, holding up a mug from inside the tiny room that functioned as the museum gift shop. The mug read “I survived forty whacks” and had an axe emblazoned in red print on the side. “Classy, right?” said Tiffany with a wide grin, and Andee smiled, too, nodding.

  “Yeah,” she said distractedly, glancing out at Robin through the front window of the house. Robin paced back and forth on the porch, clearly agitated as she spoke in low tones into her cell phone.

  Andee swallowed, breathing out as she shifted her weight, as she took her own cell phone out of her pocket. She had an idea. Yes, she needed to talk to Robin about all of this. But if Robin wasn’t talking to Kimberly, then Andee would.

  Andee pressed the number 7, Kimberly’s speed dial number, and waited.

  “Hey, pretty lady!” said Kimberly after the second ring. Andee held the phone to her ear and smiled, glancing out the window at Robin, still pacing on the porch, still grasping her own cell.

  Okay, so she wasn’t talking to Kimberly. Robin might be talking to anyone, anyone in the world.

  She might not be talking to Monica.

  And, anyway, why did Andee care so much about this phone call? Robin had the right to speak to whomever she wanted to…

  She breathed out, let herself through the front door and trotted down the steps, toward the back gardens.

  “Hey,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Um… Kim, this is really weird. I’m sorry. But today has been pretty strange…”

  “Tell me about it,” Kimberly laughed warmly. “I’m dealing with two Bridezillas here!”

  “Oh,” said Andee, feeling utterly miserable.

  Elizabeth and Heather.

  Kimberly had gone to the venue early to help Elizabeth and Heather with their last-minute wedding plans. Andee hadn’t even thought to ask about the brides. She was being selfish again.

  She ran her hand over her face and sighed, leaning against a crabapple tree. She made herself a promise in that moment… She was going to be better than this. She was better than this. This trip was not The Andee and Robin Show. It was about Elizabeth and Heather.

  “How are they?” she managed then, and Kimberly spent the next five minutes regaling her with stories about the wedding-related mix-ups and adventures of the last few days.

  “Andee?” called Tiffany from somewhere near the front of the house. Apparently she and Jill had finished up in the gift shop. “Andee, we’re ready to get going—”

  “Five seconds!” Andee shouted, and then she lowered her voice. “Kim, this is important,” she murmured, breathing out. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Who is Monica?”

  “M-Monica?” There was something off in Kimberly’s tone. Andee heard it, noted it, and her heart beat faster. Kimberly cleared her throat on the other end of the line, and then Andee heard a door open and shut. “Um, well, you know… Monica was the one. In college. That…time,” said Kimberly, trailing off. She sounded pained.

  “I answered Robin’s phone this morning,” said Andee softly, feeling the blood drain out of her face. She leaned harder against the tree. “Monica wants to…wants to see Robin again?”

  “This isn’t really the time or place to be having this conversation, And,” said Kimberly chuckling, but her voice was tense.

  “Andee, we’ve got to go!” yelled Tiffany at the top of her lungs, leaning on the weak, tinny car horn. “I so have to get this fixed,” said Tiffany, and Andee pushed off from the tree, keeping herself out of sight.

  “Kim…” Andee wasn’t sure what to say. Kimberly was right: this was not the proper time or subject matter for a phone call. Andee glanced up at the reconstructed barn behind the house, the barn where Lizzie Borden had supposedly eaten an apple while her parents were chopped apart in the house. And Andee took a deep breath.

  “Listen, And—we’ll talk about it when you get here, yeah?” said Kimberly easily then, the smooth confidence back in her voice.

  “But what about—” Andee began.

  But Tiffany was pounding on the horn now, making a series of short, angry honks.

  “I’m coming!” Andee bellowed, groaning and rolling her eyes.

  “Who’s on the phone with you?” came a muttered voice on the other end of the line.

  “I’ll call you back later,” whisp
ered Kimberly, and then the call ended.

  “Great.” Andee slid the phone back into her pocket and ran her hands through her hair. She glanced back up at the barn as the high-pitched car horn assaulted her eardrums.

  Lizzie Borden may or may not have eaten an apple in the barn loft that night.

  No one would ever know.

  ---

  “How in the world,” said Robin, sweeping her arms to take in the majesty of the town before them, “could you even consider a road trip starring the Adventure Lezzies if we did not, in fact, make a pit stop in Provincetown?” She grinned mischievously.

  There was a sea breeze in the air, and Andee tasted salt on her lips as she inhaled deeply.

  “So this is where we’re staying tonight. And then, tomorrow, Vermont!” Robin leaned back on the bench seat, casting a sidelong glance at Andee. “But tonight? We party.”

  Andee was in no mood to party. But they were in Provincetown, the gay capital of the world (or one of them, anyway), and it was the tourist season, the time of celebration and—well—partying.

  Tiffany drove through the packed streets, the scent of the ocean, of fish, and of a million different kinds of cologne saturating the air. The houses were painted in pretty pastel shades, and there were bright signs advertising souvenirs and books, whale watches and seafood.

  Everywhere Andee looked, gay and lesbian couples walked down the sidewalks or crossed the streets holding hands, some kissing… Those two men back there looked as if they had been trying to accomplish something a little more…complex, but they had ducked down a path toward a pier and had probably found themselves a more secluded place.

  Well, good for them, Andee thought.

  Then she sighed, cradling her chin in her hands and wondering what she could possibly do to lighten her glum mood.

  She was highly aware of Robin sitting next to her, silently considering her. Robin had made funny conversation with her all the way from the Lizzie Borden house to Provincetown, and Andee had tried to respond appropriately. Had tried to force herself to be upbeat. They were a group of lesbian best friends in Provincetown. This was destined to be a day that would live in infamy among them forever.