Fake It Till You Make It

by M. Ullrich

  “This is the usual for you?” Harper wiped away an errant laughter-caused tear.

  “Pretty much.” Genevieve shrugged and changed lanes. “I used to say if it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have none at all, but I’ve come to realize it’s not bad luck. I just have my own special brand.”

  They fell silent as Genevieve maneuvered about the parkway. Trees passed the window in blurry streaks. Harper had switched on the radio to a popular station, and they sang and bopped along to their favorite songs. By the time they’d reached their exit, they were all smiles.

  “Just make like you’re heading to work. I don’t live very far from the office. Any big plans for Thanksgiving?” Harper said.

  “Going home to have dinner with my family. What about you?”

  “Nothing, really, just a quiet day at home with the parade and the dog show.”

  “No company?”

  “No company.”

  Genevieve wanted to ask more, but she also wanted to be respectful of Harper’s privacy. Even though Harper seemed content with her holiday plans, that wasn’t enough for Genevieve.

  “Do you prefer it that way?” She hoped the sad image she had of Harper sitting at dinner table alone was inaccurate.

  “It’s better than conversations with distant relatives or awkwardly trying to fit in at a friend’s dinner party.” Genevieve wasn’t sure if Harper’s smile was forced or not. “I get to stay in my pajamas all day and eat whatever I want in whatever order I want. It’s not so bad. I even start with dessert for breakfast,” Harper said with a lopsided grin.

  Genevieve nodded, unsure of what to say. She kept looking between the road and Harper with an uneasiness settling in her chest. Her lips were in a tight pout for the remainder of the drive. As she pulled up to Harper’s home, she wasn’t surprised to see that Harper had a nice house, but she hadn’t expected such immaculate and expansive landscaping. “Wow…”

  “What?” Harper looked bemused.

  “I bet this is beautiful in the summer.” Genevieve looked at the variety of trees, shrubbery, and slightly shriveled plants. She could picture just how colorful it’d appear on a sunny June day. She could easily get lost in the fantasy of sitting on the covered front porch, drinking a tea and reading a worn paperback.

  “It is.” She climbed out of the van and pulled her suitcase out of the back. “Thanks again, Genevieve,” Harper said. “I owe you one.”

  “You owe me nothing.” Genevieve shook her head. “I was happy to help.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, you make the van look good,” Harper said with a wink. “See you Monday.”

  Genevieve said a coy good-bye and watched until Harper entered her house safely. She finally released a long breath and turned back toward the highway. She replayed Harper’s wink over and over again as she drove. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Harper was flirting with her.

  Step Eleven

  Be Open to New Experiences

  Genevieve saw the word organic everywhere she looked. She couldn’t navigate the produce section or the fresh meats without seeing those seven letters plastered across every display. Was the difference really worth the extra forty-seven cents a pound? Maybe it was time for her to explore more food options than pricey takeout and cold cereal. This was the first time Genevieve had gone food shopping since moving to Asbury, and she was loath to admit that she wasn’t doing it for herself. Food shopping was much more pleasant when you were doing it for someone else.

  She scanned the area where several signs for fresh turkey were lined up, but she didn’t see one package of poultry. Genevieve looked around for a staff member to help her.

  “Excuse me?” she called out to a middle-aged man behind the butcher counter. Judging by the multitude of stains on his long white coat and his disgruntled look, he’d had a busy day. “Do you have any fresh turkey breast left?”

  “The day before Thanksgiving?” he scoffed. “We put out the last of it about an hour ago. Good luck.” He disappeared behind large swinging doors.

  She mumbled under her breath. “Thanks.”

  “And here I thought I was the only last-minute shopper in this store,” said a gentle voice behind Genevieve. She turned to see an attractive brunette eyeing her cart, half-filled with Thanksgiving essentials. Genevieve looked at the other woman’s cart, and the first thing she noticed was a fresh turkey.

  “Looks like your last minute shopping was much more successful than mine.”

  “I know a place. Follow me.” She tilted her head to the side and walked away. Genevieve stood still for a moment before following this stranger who was a member of some elite poultry club.

  After weaving in and out of the small groups of people crowding the store’s aisles, they came to stop at the end of a refrigerated section. The sign on the endcap boasted Fresh Farm-Raised Organic Turkey. Genevieve hesitated momentarily when she saw the price was seventy-five cents more a pound, but her desperation for turkey outweighed her light wallet.

  “Pricey, I know, but this is the only place in the area that has anything fresh.”

  “No, it’s great, thank you.” She finally took a moment to look at her fellow shopper turned savior. The stranger was very attractive. Her makeup was impeccable, and warm, cozy clothing hugged every curve. She had the kind of long, thick hair that bounced with an effortless wave.

  The woman smiled shyly. “What brings you to the market so last minute? I just found out my mother had a fight with my aunt and wants to have Thanksgiving with just us.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m ecstatic, can’t you tell?” Genevieve couldn’t help but laugh.

  Genevieve hesitated. She was talking to a complete stranger, so surely she could be a little more honest about her intentions and situation. “Someone I care for very deeply was planning on spending Thanksgiving alone.” Genevieve pushed wisps of hair from her face. “That didn’t sit very well with me.”

  “That’s awfully kind of you.” She leaned forward a bit.

  “I’m Gen.” She put out her hand. “And you are?”

  “Melanie.” They shook hands briefly and shared a friendly smile. “This is going to sound a little forward, but I’ve got a fresh bird in my cart and need to start preparations soon. So, this person you care for…boyfriend or girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” Genevieve mulled the answer over and in a split second swell of bravery, said, “But I think about what could be.”

  “Ah.” Melanie snapped her fingers. “I was going to ask for your number.”

  Genevieve was shocked. That surprise must’ve been broadcast across her face because Melanie started to laugh and bowed her head, effectively hiding her blush. “W-why?”

  “Because.” Melanie slid her hands into the back pockets of her snug jeans. Genevieve was afraid she wouldn’t elaborate, but she did. “You’re cute, like really cute, and kind. I would’ve bit that butcher’s head off if he had talked to me like that.” She giggled lightly.

  “Thank you, I’m flattered but…”

  “I know, I know. I’ll tell you what, Gen. I’m going to give you my number anyway.” She pulled a pen and slip of paper from her purse and started to scribble away. “Because you’re not taken yet.” She winked and said good-bye before heading toward the registers.

  Genevieve stood still in a sea of shoppers, one hand resting on her cart and the other gripping tightly to a scrap of paper. Did she just…? Genevieve thought. She looked at the phone number in her hand and smiled. For the first time, someone had paid that kind of attention to her, aside from the same men who’d hoot and whistle at her every time she’d walk by or into the local bar in Milan. She’d never really been hit on before. Genevieve considered her admirer. Yes, she’s definitely attractive, she thought with a smirk.

  She made her way through the rest of her shopping list with a skip to her step.

  *

  “Hey, guys!” Genevieve greeted her coworkers brightly and loudly enough to be heard over th
e robust chatter that filled the small pub.

  “Look who finally decided to take us up on our invitation!” Matthew stood and hugged Genevieve.

  Maxine pushed Matthew out of the way and enveloped Genevieve in a robust hug. “How are you, kid?”

  “I’m doing well.” Genevieve removed her coat and sat at the cozy round table. Maxine and Matthew were the only two of the six coworkers she really knew at the table, but she recognized the others as designers from the graphics department. She was thankful that one particular coworker was absent. “No Clarissa?”

  “Wish she was here?” Maxine said.

  “Yes, I’m devastated.”

  “Actually, she doesn’t come out with us very often. I can’t even remember the last time,” Matthew said, sitting back in his chair.

  “Really? You two seem so close at work. I was convinced you were each other’s wingman, or wingwoman, whatever you’d call it.”

  Matthew snorted. “Hardly. We share stories, sure, but Clarissa is pretty private, believe it or not.”

  “What about you?” Genevieve said, turning in her chair to face Maxine.

  Maxine popped a pretzel in her mouth and chewed slowly. “I’ve known Clarissa for a long time now, and I’d agree with Matthew. She’s private, and a lot of what you see at work is for show. Her role as the head of Sex and Relationships is just that—a role.”

  “A role she fills very well,” Matthew said, leaning forward. “Do you have any idea how many pairs of panties have been mailed to the office?”

  Genevieve grew uncomfortable with how closely this conversation resembled gossip, so she filed this information away and turned her full attention back to their celebrations.

  “So, you guys do this every year?”

  “Every year,” a middle-aged blonde said. “I’m Pauline, by the way.” She extended her hand. Genevieve took it quickly, surprised by a firm grip. “This is Ron and Steve.” She nodded to the two men beside her.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Genevieve said meekly.

  “We started this a few years ago, when we were all reminiscing about our wild college days and how the night before Thanksgiving was the night to go out.”

  “Why was this night so special? Thank you.” Genevieve smiled at Matthew as he set a cold pint of beer down in front of her.

  “Did you go away to college?” Pauline said.

  “No.”

  “That explains it. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the day everyone comes home from school, so it’s like a reunion every year.” Pauline popped a few complimentary peanuts in her mouth and chewed. “We’re not in college anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

  “Where did you go to school, Gen?” Maxine’s question was innocent, but Genevieve had been very vague when it came to any talk of her past.

  Genevieve bought herself an extra moment by sipping her beer. “A small community college by me.”

  “Lots of good ol’ boys chasing your skirt, I’m sure.” Matthew nudged her with his elbow.

  “Not really.” With Jeremy by her side, not one guy would be willing to risk a confrontation by talking to her.

  “What about women?” Pauline said.

  “Oh, God no. I lived in a very straightlaced area, in every sense.”

  Pauline shuddered, and the table erupted with laughter.

  “Living here must be a nice change, then,” Steve said.

  Genevieve nodded. “Very nice.” She debated whether to tell them about her run-in at the store earlier, but she wasn’t sure the story would be as juicy to them.

  Maxine caught not just her smile, but she must’ve also noticed Genevieve’s conflict. “What’s that look about?” Maxine said, sliding her chair closer to Genevieve.

  Genevieve kept her eyes down and tried to hide her growing smile. “Nothing really.”

  “Okay, seriously,” Matthew said, holding up his hand. “Spill.”

  Genevieve took a deep breath. “I sort of got hit on at the grocery store today.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, feigning a nonchalant attitude. Meanwhile, her insides were shaking with anticipation for the group’s reaction. Surprisingly, Steve was the first to acknowledge her.

  “Oh,” he said with a sigh. “I love random moments like that. They’re so romantic.”

  “The romance factor depends on the aisle they were in,” Matthew said, earning an eye roll from Maxine. “What? Like you could find an iota of romance in being hit on while standing in front of a wall of raw meat!”

  “Turkeys,” Genevieve said.

  “What?” several people from around the table asked at once.

  “We were standing in front of turkeys, and she gave me her number.” Genevieve took a long sip of her beer. “That was after she told me I was ‘really cute.’” She smiled broadly at the not-so-distant memory.

  Matthew brushed away the comment with a hand flourish. “We know you’re cute, but what did she look like?”

  “Beautiful. Long hair so brown, it was nearly black. A few inches taller than me and curvy, with gorgeous green eyes and the most adorable freckles.” Genevieve’s smile faltered slightly when she realized nothing she said felt odd or unnatural. She wasn’t faking any of this.

  “Are you going to call her?” Pauline said, her voice piercing the heavy silence that engulfed their table.

  Genevieve swallowed roughly. “I don’t think so. She’s not really my type.”

  “She sounds like my type,” Pauline said.

  “What is your type?” Matthew said.

  Harper immediately popped into her mind. “I prefer less feminine women.”

  “So you like butch women,” Maxine said proudly.

  Genevieve tried to apply the word to Harper, and it just didn’t fit. “Not necessarily,” she said gently, careful not to offend Maxine. “A little more on the masculine side, but a bit softer.” She flicked a peanut into her mouth.

  “Like Harper!” Ron said, and Genevieve choked.

  Both Matthew and Maxine started patting her on the back. She could breathe, but she couldn’t shake the tickle causing her to choke, which also made her unable to speak. No amount of hand waving or head shaking would make them stop pounding her back. Finally, she pushed away from the table.

  “I’m okay!” Genevieve took a deep breath. She coughed a few more times and cleared her throat roughly.

  “A lesbian choking on nuts,” Matthew said. “That’s not something you see every day.”

  Step Twelve

  Show Off Your Talents

  “Yes, Mom,” Genevieve said for the fifth time. “I know, everyone will be there and Grandma was expecting me.” Genevieve rolled her eyes before double-checking the seal on one of the many Tupperware containers on her passenger seat.

  “I still don’t understand why you’d choose not to be with your family on Thanksgiving.”

  “Mom, I’m not choosing against my family, I’m just choosing to be a good friend.”

  “Is this because of the fight you had with Jeremy?”

  Genevieve nearly slammed on the brakes as she approached a red light. “He told you about that?”

  “He didn’t go into detail, but he told me his visit was a bit rocky at first. I just don’t want something like that to keep you from coming home.”

  Genevieve sighed. “I told you, I’m just being a good friend.”

  “You could’ve brought your friend here!”

  At this, Genevieve laughed heartily. “No, Mom, I couldn’t, but I know you would’ve fed her if I did. Listen, I have to go,” she said as she parked her car. “I love you and happy Thanksgiving.” Genevieve ended the phone call and looked out her car window.

  She wasn’t entirely sure why she had come to this decision. She shook her head and laughed at herself. She knew exactly why she had. Genevieve was a victim of the sad look of resignation that shone in Harper’s dreamy gray eyes when she talked about spending the holiday alone. Harper had even sounded sullen as she wis
hed everyone at the office a happy Thanksgiving.

  Harper showed unwavering generosity toward the people in her life, and Genevieve felt she deserved the same in return. She couldn’t leave Harper to celebrate alone. Now she just hoped surprising Harper wasn’t a terrible idea.

  Genevieve gathered all of her containers, saying a silent prayer of thanks that her mother had taught her how to prepare the annual meal, and went up Harper’s front walk. Genevieve grew more apprehensive with each step. What if Harper had invited someone over already? What if she preferred spending Thanksgiving alone? Genevieve stood frozen in place, staring at Harper’s front door. She saw a shadow passing by the window, so she knocked tentatively.

  As Harper opened the door, a comically puzzled look overtook her face. “Genevieve?”

  “Harper.” Genevieve was nearly breathless from nerves, straining to hold on to the stacked containers. She had prepared an entire meal, packed it up, and driven the short distance to Harper’s home, but never once considered what she’d say once she arrived. “I forgot wine.”

  Harper looked at Genevieve and smiled. “Of course you did. You don’t like wine, but I’m more curious about what you remembered.”

  “I have everything else covered, I mean, just in case you wanted some company and a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner?” Genevieve shifted from side to side. She waited patiently for Harper’s verdict, but the meal in her hands grew heavier with each passing moment.

  “You know I’m a fan of good company.”

  “What about the food?”

  “Just an added bonus, I guess.” They looked into one another’s eyes, and Genevieve’s chest tightened pleasurably. “Come in.” Harper stepped to the side.

  Harper’s home had an open layout. She’d decorated in clean, neutral colors that kept the space light. It felt distinctly like Harper. “I hope you weren’t cooking. Where should I put these?”