by A. K. Rose
As they reached the one-mile to go marker, it was clear they’d make it. It wasn’t the most fun Turkey Trot ever, but they were nine short minutes from the finish line, and from completing a bonding experience that Cassie hoped would be the first of many. Certainly, if she had a future with Rachel, the three of them would hang out more. It was only natural. She hadn’t met Rachel’s best friend Kyle yet, but she’d heard all about him, and somehow that seemed a little less precarious, considering he wasn’t a romantic option.
“Wow, that was different,” Jessica breathed as they slowed to a walk to cross the finish line. “I don’t remember a time when I’ve run in rain that bad!”
“Yeah, I know,” Rachel replied as she tried to wipe the water off her face with her soaked running top—it was a futile effort. “I’m kind of glad we did it, though. Feels like we earned our dinner . . .”
As they stood in a small circle recapping the race—which basically meant discussing the horrific conditions and laughing—Cassie was relieved. Under less than pleasant conditions, they’d hung out peacefully, tension-free.
“Alright you two, I have to get out of here—I don’t want to show up in San Antonio with hypothermia. This was . . . fun?” Jess offered as she hugged Cassie, and then, as she turned to walk away, she pivoted and hugged Rachel. A turning point. She might still need a new dentist, but she could see what her friend saw in the tall brunette. Rachel was easy-going and intelligent, a calm personality, and Cassie needed that to balance out her uptight demeanor. They seemed like a good match, she thought to herself as she ran just a bit more to get to her car as soon as possible.
+ + +
“That was . . . different,” Cassie said as they settled into her Jeep, sinking into beach towels she’d laid over the seats before the race. She flipped the heater onto full blast, the chill of the forceful air making her recoil and turn it the dial back down until it the engine warmed up enough for the heater to work.
“It was, but it was kinda fun, too,” Rachel said, dabbing a hand towel on her face. They had at least thought ahead enough to bring plenty of towels.
“Yeah, it kinda was. It’s definitely a memory I won’t forget! Hey, I’ll drop you off at home so you can get ready, and then I was thinking of leaving at about eleven—is that okay?”
“Yep, should be fine . . . I have to admit, I was a little nervous about today, but if we can get through that crazy race in the rain, meeting your family should be a picnic in the park, right?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but they’re going to love you. They don’t know it yet, but I do, so it’s going to be fine.” Cassie realized immediately what she’d done. She had accidentally told Rachel she loved her, but it was vaguely couched in a general statement about her family. She’d let it go. This wasn’t the time. Maybe Rachel wouldn’t notice. Maybe it didn’t come out the way she thought it did.
Except, it came out exactly like she thought it did.
By now, Rachel had turned her attention to Cassie’s fidgeting fingers on the steering wheel, her pointers tapping out a nervous rhythm with no music in the background. She sat in silence, observing. This was a pivotal moment and she was uncertain how to handle it. She was pretty sure Cassie meant what she thought she meant, but what if she didn’t? What if it was a general statement, a familiar phrase; not “I love you,” but rather, love as in simple enjoyment, much like people “love” their extra hot caramel macchiatos, or their favorite baseball team, or their cars.
This woman—the complex head case with the blonde hair and specks of freckles under her eyes, the lawyer that was out to save the world, one child support case at a time—had stolen her heart. In the span of a month, Cassie had become a part of Rachel, a part she didn’t want to be without, and it was scary. She hadn’t felt this way about someone since Elise, and that had gone terribly wrong. Time stood still around them as she watched those fingers tap, as she considered how to respond. Finally, she realized she didn’t care. She was in love with Cassie. Sitting in that Jeep, soaked to the core, hair a matted mess, running clothes stuck to her like they’d been glued on, she had no choice. It was time.
“I don’t know if you meant what I think you meant by that statement, but I love you too.”
Cassie’s fingers stopped tapping as Rachel’s words hit her ears. Her mouth went dry, too, which was ironic considering how much water she’d involuntarily consumed over the past hour.
“I did mean it, I just didn’t mean to say it that way,” she replied finally, “I am so much in love with you, and I’m so taken aback by it. I’ve been trying to be cool, but as you know by now, ‘cool’ is not my default setting. And now of course, I don’t know exactly what to say next . . .”
“Say you’re happy, and say you’ll be back to pick me up in an hour,” Rachel helped, hopping out of the passenger seat as they arrived at her house.
“I’m happy and I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Cassie obliged with a smile, her eyes trained on the sopping wet mess she’d just dropped off. Rachel had closed the door, but appeared outside the driver’s side window in a flash, signaling with a fisted hand moving in a circular motion for Cassie to roll down her window.
“Good answer. You’re getting better at this,” Rachel said, bending to plunge her head through the downed window, rain still pounding with reckless abandon, quickly covering the plastic of the Jeep’s doorframe. A quick kiss, and she was gone in a flash.
I don’t know what I did to get so lucky, Cassie thought as she backed out of the flat driveway. I hope my family doesn’t fuck it up. Please, God, or master of the universe, or whatever spirit helped me find this woman, do not let my family fuck it up.
THIRTEEN
“Are you ready for this?” Cassie asked, a thumb on the door handle that led to the inside of her mother’s house. It was perhaps a little too late for that question, but she asked it anyway, the familiar red brick of the porch surrounding them, a metal Lone Star hanging proudly above the door. She felt almost like she was sixteen again, bringing a boy home to pass the “mom test,” except she wasn’t, she didn’t have a boy, and she couldn’t care less what her mother really thought.
“What if I said ‘no’?” Rachel asked playfully, knowing it would be fine—they were together, that’s all that mattered—but couldn’t resist a little jab in the moment.
“I’d say let’s go; we can go back to Austin.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time! How bad can they be? I’ve told you about my family . . . there’s no way yours is worse. Let’s go, counselor.”
“We’re here,” Cassie announced to no one in particular as they entered the one-level home, familiar music playing in the background. Oh God, Cassie thought, she’s already playing Christmas music. When no one greeted in return, she realized it was a blessing. “They must be in the game room . . . want to see the house before being bombarded?” Cassie took Rachel’s hand and added with a wink, “Wanna see my room?”
A silent nod in return and they were down the hall, rounding the bend to the bedroom of her youth.
“This is it,” Cassie started, crossing under the threshold to see something she didn’t expect. Her room had been turned into what appeared to be a craft room. “But, uh, this isn’t quite how I left it. It looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here!”
“It’s . . . lovely? Is this where you brooded as a young girl, surrounded by art supplies and construction paper?!” Rachel laughed, amused at the purpose of the back bedroom. It was definitely a craft room, complete with jars of glitter, reams of colored paper, and half-finished greeting cards pinned to a bulletin board. A deeper look revealed a Cricket machine for creating said cards.
“It definitely is something, huh? I always wanted to bring a girl here, but I never did, and wow . . . I just didn’t expect this.”
Understanding they wouldn’t be alone long, and wanting to give Cassie something she never had, Rachel stepped forward to close the space that had developed between them as th
ey’d surveyed the contents of the room. She backed them against the only empty wall space that existed, a big smile on her face, and worked her thigh in between Cassie’s legs, effectively pinning her in place. “And, what would you have done, if you’d gotten a girl here?”
Cassie thought briefly, but didn’t have a chance to respond. Before she could say anything, lips were on hers, the sweet smell of Rachel’s conditioner filling her senses, a warm feeling developing in her core. For a moment, she wasn’t in the bedroom of her youth, about to introduce her other half to her family.
“Oh, there you are!” The familiar voice appeared just as things were getting good, just as Cassie had let go and was enjoying a fantasy she’d never fulfilled, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Cassie dismissed awkwardly. Thank God it was just her sister. “Claire, this is . . .”
“Rachel, hi!” Claire offered, her hand held out for a shake that she changed to a big hug at the last second.
“Hi. It sounds cliché, but I’ve heard a lot about you . . . all good things . . . sorry you saw that . . .”
“Why be sorry? I’m glad you came—we could use some new blood at these things.” Claire was a free spirit; she didn’t care what her sister did with her love life as long as she was happy. She could tell immediately, Cass was happy. “Did my sister give you the full briefing on who’s who and who’s most likely to be drunk before dinner?”
“Clairey, come on, don’t scare her.”
“Scare her? Honey, did you not prepare her?”
“Okay, you two are making me a little nervous, what do I need to know?” Rachel asked, sinking onto a rolling stool not unlike the one she was so comfortable using at work.
“Okay,” Cassie started, still leaning against the wall, still a little shaken up by being walked in on by Claire, “here’s the rundown. Mom is going to grill you about your five-year plan, what you want from your life, that sort of thing. It doesn’t really have to do with me per se; she does that to everyone. Ever since Dad died, she has been really big into having your life in order. Aunt Susie is a little loopy—she has mild dementia—so I can’t really say what she might do, but just smile big and laugh at whatever she says. Just go along with it,” Cassie paused, taking stock, trying to see if she was scaring her girlfriend. Sensing no obvious discomfort, she continued, “Our cousin George is a conspiracy theorist, so he’s likely to want to tell you all the ways the government is controlling our lives, just try not to be alone with him, okay? Everyone else is pretty okay, except Uncle Jim. Jim is fine if he’s not drinking, but the thing is, he’s always drinking. Apparently, he never drank in his youth, but then he went to Vietnam and came back a different person. So, he drinks, and when he drinks . . . he gets a little . . . huggy. He’s harmless, but he goes around hugging everyone and telling them how much he loves them.” Cassie looked at her sister, gauging if she’d said enough, and decided to stop. If she kept going, there was no way Rachel would want to stay. She’d said the worst of it, anyway. “So, do you still want to stay?”
“Well, you make a compelling argument against it, but yeah, for some reason, I’m in. Let’s go meet the cast of characters, shall we?”
+ + +
As they walked through a narrow hallway, framed photos from Cassie and Claire’s youth littering the walls, Rachel leaned in and offered a whispered thought, “You know, you’re the prettier sister.”
Blushing, Cassie smiled and took a deep breath. It was going to be okay.
“There you are! Introduce me to your lovely friend.” Cassie’s mother Marion was an interesting character. She’d retired from teaching the year prior, and being a busybody with time on her hands, had busied herself in everyone else’s business. Cassie managed to deflect her inquiries for the most part, keeping their conversations civil and shallow, a weekly phone call about as much as she could manage. She loved her mother, she just didn’t want her in all of the details of her life, especially as her life was becoming more and more how she wanted it to be.
“Mom,” Cassie started, giving her mom a hug and a kiss on her cheek. “This is Rachel Gifford, she’s my . . .”
“. . . girlfriend,” Rachel finished, right hand extended in Marion’s direction.
“Don’t be silly, child, give me a hug!” Marion was a Texas momma, no question. For whatever reason, she appeared to also be on her best behavior. “Welcome—I’m glad you could make it. I’ve been waiting for years for Cassie to bring someone home. Y’all come with me, everyone’s in the game room. There’s an intense Trivial Pursuit match going right now.”
Marion Hollander escorted them through her house with conviction. It was a holiday; both of her girls were home. She was happy. “Everyone,” she announced, “this is Rachel, she’s with Cassie. Let’s be sure to make her feel at home, okay?”
Rachel gave a half wave to a crowd of people and tried to see if she could determine which of the figures in the room were Aunt Susie and Uncle Jim, or George, the conspiracy theorist. It didn’t take long to figure out the Jim connection; he was in front of her in a split second, giving her a big hug, and asking her how she felt about the Viet Cong.
“Rach,” Cassie said loudly as she grabbed Rachel’s arm to extricate her from the long hug her uncle was providing, “let’s go get some drinks, huh?”
“Okay, sure. Nice to meet you, Jim.”
“You too, Rachel,” Jim replied, giving Cassie a wink of approval.
Safely tucked into a corner by a punchbowl and various bowls full of chips and crackers, Cassie apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she offered with a half-smile, ladling punch into a red Solo cup before pulling a travel-sized bottle of vodka from her pocket, pouring its entirety into the punch. “I hope you’re not too uncomfortable. This should help. Mom doesn’t serve alcohol, but it works its way into things by powers outside of her control . . .”
“I’m fine, really,” Rachel confirmed. Cassie’s family may have been a little eccentric, but so far, those she’d met had been welcoming.
“Rachel, right?”
The tap on her shoulder was startling. Rachel jumped slightly in her skin as she turned to face the voice calling her name, plastering that prize-winning smile on her face at the last minute. She could do meet-and-greets. No problem.
“Yep, hi.”
“I’m Stuart, Jim’s son . . . don’t worry, I’m not going to hug you,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh, aware that his father’s reputation preceded him.
“Hey Stu,” Cassie said, “how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you at one of these things in a long time.”
“Yeah, well, you know why! I try to lay low, but I heard you were coming so I wanted to be here. I’m good though, everything’s good.”
“Wow, I’m honored. I’m glad you’re doing well. How’s Jennifer?”
“Oh,” Stuart started, his eyes trained on the floor, hands jammed into the pockets of his khaki trousers, “not so good, honestly.”
As she watched Stuart’s expression change, Rachel felt out of place at this gathering for the first time. “Hey you know, let me let you two talk . . . I’ll go meet everyone else, okay?”
“No, no. You don’t have to leave, really,” Stuart protested, but in truth, he hoped she’d give him some alone time with Cassie.
“It’s okay, y’all talk. You haven’t seen each other in a while. I’ll go mingle.”
As she walked away, Stuart couldn’t help survey the dentist’s figure—she was in good shape, he thought, and those legs were top shelf. He gave Cassie an approving look before verbalizing his thoughts. “Nice job, Cass. She’s hot.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Cassie was uncomfortable. Her cousin was surveying the looks of her girlfriend. She remembered why she was hesitant to bring Rachel home. The dynamic could never feel normal. The women judged her for being with a woman and the men judged her date based on how attractive she was. It was a lose/lose situation. “So, what’s up
with Jennifer? Everything okay with you two?”
“Can we take a walk? I don’t want to talk about this here—wanna go outside for a few minutes?”
+ + +
As he closed the door to his aunt’s house behind him, Stuart exhaled loudly and opened an umbrella, gesturing for Cassie to step under it with him. It was raining in Houston, though not as strongly as it had been when they’d left Austin.
“So, I’m sorry to interrupt you, Cass. I just don’t know who else to talk to about this. We were always close growing up . . . I know we’ve sort of drifted apart over the years, mostly because we grew up, but I’ve always felt like I could tell you anything.”
They were half a block away from the house at this point, the rows of brick homes packed into the streetscape with predictability, lawns brown from winter dormancy, Christmas lights already up on most, decorative turkey flags waving from flag holders. Cassie wondered why people bothered to have a flag for every occasion—it seemed silly, but who was she to judge?
“Of course you can. What’s going on? I’m starting to worry.”
“Well, Jennifer’s been having an affair. With her boss. She doesn’t know I know.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cassie said with sincerity, her arm wrapping around her cousin’s shoulder for moral support.
“And, I obviously don’t want to stay married.”
“Sure. Is she here? Today?”
“Yeah, she is. That’s why I didn’t want to talk inside. I felt like if she saw me talking to my cousin the lawyer, she might be suspicious that I know something.” Stuart seemed truly pained by this admission.
“Okay, so, are you asking me for legal advice or female advice, or no advice?”
“I guess,” Stuart started, biting his lower lip as he thought, “legal advice. What should I do, Cass? I want to make sure I get my half, but I also want to make sure Kevin gets a fair shake in this. I want to be able to see him, you know? I know that mothers usually get full custody, but I don’t want that. I want fifty-fifty custody.”