by H. L. Logan
When I got in the door of King’s Tooth, the bar was already crowded with students—and Faye, waiting at a table near the back. My heart sped up and my face got a little hot. Faye was waiting there. For me. And she was wearing a nicer jacket than the tweed one she usually had on. Did that mean anything? Or was it just that the weather was getting colder?
My eyes were still on her when a security guard stopped me in my tracks. “You can’t come in here.”
“Excuse me?” I fumbled for my ID.
“I’m sure you’re legal, miss, but your friend there isn’t.” He gestured at Gretchen.
Shit. I hadn’t thought twice about bringing a baby into a bar. I made a face at Faye, hoping it got across the message come over here and help me out. She squinted to look at us closer, then stood up, leaving a nearly-full pint glass on the table.
“She won’t be any trouble.” I stuck Gretchen’s soother in her mouth. “She’s really quiet, especially when she’s got this thing.”
The guard glared at her with unconcealed distaste. “No under-twenty-ones.”
When Faye reached us, she barely glanced at the guard. I’d expected her to persuade the guy to let us in, but instead she grabbed my arm. “I wasn’t thinking when I invited you here. Let’s go somewhere else.”
Shivering from the contact with her hand, I would’ve agreed to anything she suggested. “Where do you want to go?”
* * *
Sitting in a parking lot drinking juice boxes wasn’t exactly the most romantic first-non-date activity I could think of.
But with Gretchen sleeping peacefully in her car seat in the back, Faye and I could have a grown-up discussion uninterrupted in the front. And for me at least, Faye’s presence was the most important part.
Since we couldn’t get our hands on any more adult drinks, she’d shyly pulled the juice boxes out of her trunk. Apparently she kept them on hand for days when she didn’t have time to eat, to keep her blood sugar from dropping too low.
“So I’ve been developing the outline for my thesis.” I paused to take a pull on the straw. “Dr. O’Neill’s been helping quite a bit… although he doesn’t bring the postcolonial perspective I was hoping you would.”
Faye stared forward, her profile silhouetted in the quickly darkening night. Even the outline of her was sexy as fuck as she replied, “That’s why we’ve met tonight.” Just break my heart, why don’t you?
“I’ve been considering a lot of the concepts you taught in that 201 class. Exoticism, metanarrative…”
“Right, you did take that class.” She gave a small smile. “Nice to know I got through to someone. Sometimes it feels like the students are only thinking about what kegger they’re going to that night.”
“I kept every note I took,” I said.
“Did you decide to include Giovanni in your analysis?”
“No, I actually decided to take it in another direction.” I’d been able to focus much better now that my head wasn’t clouded by Faye’s beauty. “I’m comparing Adrienne Rich with Audre Lorde in their approach to identity, sexuality, and politics.”
“Narrowing it down is good.” Faye turned to face me, the shadows playing on her face in a way that made my stomach flop over. “What kind of comparison, though?”
“I haven’t exactly gotten that far.” And I wasn’t going to while I was this close to Faye. Fuck, the longer she looked at me, the harder it was to breathe. “I’ve just been reading and rereading the poems, waiting for something to jump out at me.”
“Any favorite lines?”
I gulped. “You’re really going to put me on the spot?”
Faye laughed softly. “I’m not asking you to recite an entire poem, but if anything jumped out to you enough to stick in your mind, that could be a good starting point.”
“Well…” I’d been buried in poetry books for most of the week. “Whatever happens with us,” I blurted, “your body will haunt mine.” Faye was silent, and I grimaced in immediate realization of what I’d just said to her. “That’s Adrienne Rich. The unnumbered poem from Twenty-One Love Poems. Not, you know, you. Your body.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t think you were talking about my body.”
I hung my head. Could I humiliate myself any more? If I opened my mouth again, I was pretty sure I’d manage it.
“Do you remember any more after that?”
“Umm… tender, delicate your lovemaking…” I clapped my hand over my mouth.
“I see.” Although she was trying to sound professional, she was clearly restraining another laugh. “So what does that mean to you? Whatever happens with us, your body…”
“It means I need to start over because I am not writing about that.”
Faye’s lips twitched. “Fair enough.”
Things had almost been looking okay for me a few minutes ago, and now they couldn’t get any worse. “Could we talk about something else, maybe? Or definitely?”
Faye let out a chuckle now. “All right. How’d you get into studying English?”
Now, there was a more neutral topic. “I was always into books,” I said. “I loved them as a kid. Got made fun of a bit when I was a little older, so I stopped reading during my early teens. I started reading again when I was babysitting those younger cousins of mine. I’d claim to have the books out for them, but fact is I was more interested than they were.
“One day I read a kids’ book to my cousin until she fell asleep, and I didn’t want to put the book down. I stayed up reading it until way past her bedtime. My aunt and uncle got home and found me still there, reading that stupid book with a flashlight.
“They laughed at me, and… nothing happened. The world didn’t end because I got teased a little. I realized I’d been denying myself one of my biggest pleasures in life because I was worried about what people thought. And I decided not to do that anymore.”
All right, I was still working on that. But at least I’d grown the ovaries to read whenever and whatever I wanted.
“So you came to Beasley and decided to study poetry.” A gentle smile tugged at Faye’s lips.
I rolled my head back against the seat. “You’re laughing at me again.”
“Thought you didn’t mind that.”
Ugh… “Could I ask for another change of subject, or would that be too much?”
“Sure,” Faye said. “Like what?”
“I’m curious about your ex.” I had to stop myself from covering my mouth. I really had to work on not blurting shit out like that!
Luckily Faye wasn’t freaking out on me. “What would you like to know?”
Everything, really. “How’d you know it was her who sent that lady?”
“Because she’d texted me a few days earlier and I never answered. This wasn’t the first time this happened. She doesn’t take rejection well, to put it lightly. When I used to tell her to go pound sand, she’d get back at me in even worse ways.”
“So it was the timing.” Made sense. “Why’d you break up?”
I was probably getting way too personal, but Faye appeared to be an open book tonight. “She’s crazy, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“She’d have to be if she left you.” Oh, I needed to cut the tongue out of my mouth to save myself some dignity! I could’ve cried from my shame over what I’d just said.
Faye was polite enough to overlook my idiocy. “I left her,” she said. “We were only dating, not living together, so it was a matter of a phone call rather than any actual leaving.”
“But why?”
“I came across her chat logs. Turns out she was of the opinion that English professors are ‘soft-bellied word nerds’ who get into this profession because they’re not fit for real jobs.”
“Uh, what?”
Faye nodded. “When I confronted her, she claimed she was just trying to sound cool to her friend and didn’t believe that at all. But at that point, a lot of other stuff started to make sense… like how she’d always refused to come to a facu
lty dinner, and how she never mentioned my job when she introduced me to her friends.”
“That’s so bizarre.” I was even offended on a personal level. I could call myself a word nerd if I wanted, but I wasn’t about to let anyone use it as an actual insult. “What did she do, if she was such a prize?”
“She’s an actor,” Faye groaned. “And not a very successful one, either. I don’t think she got paid more than a hundred bucks for a gig in the whole time we were together.” She shook her head. “My place was a mansion compared to hers.”
“Must’ve been jealous.”
“Oh, I think so. Insecure about her own life, so she tore her own girlfriend down to make herself feel better.”
“She’d freak out if she ever went to my hometown. I grew up near an actual movie star. My sister and her were good friends.”
“Who?”
“Callie Hinderbrook.”
Faye’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Wow, she’s amazing.”
“I know. She’s really great in real life, too.”
A quiet whining sound came from the back, and both of us turned instantly to check on Gretchen. We were close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from her head as we peered into the car seat.
Gretchen was fine, but I wasn’t. As we turned to the front again, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at Faye. Her features were so distinguished, yet there was a softness to them I hadn’t seen when we first met. She wasn’t only the super-intelligent deconstructor of postcolonial literature who’d intimidated me so much in the 201 lecture. She was… relatable.
And I liked her.
My hand landed on her, grabbing it off the gearshift. I stared at it, knowing my initial impulse to bring it to my lips was completely inappropriate, but unsure of what else to do with it. With her looking at me in confusion, I squeezed that hand, unwilling to let it go.
For such an innocent gesture, it was sure doing a lot. Heat rushed through me, growing with every passing second that our hands touched. The longer the touch went on, the more exhilarated I felt. I wanted Faye. Needed her. And it seemed like maybe, maybe, I had a chance with her.
“Your ex was a fucking moron,” I said hoarsely.
Gently, she extricated her hand from mine. “We should go home.”
8
Faye
So the woman I’d spent the past week dreaming about was into me, too. So what?
Did it really matter if our first official non-thesis-or-baby-related hang-out had gone better than I could’ve hoped? If her annoying ditziness was actually cute when I let myself see it that way? If she was able to recite beautiful verses of feminist poetry off the top of her head?
If she was adorably shy about her crush on me?
No, I told myself as I spun the wheel to bring my car into the driveway. She wasn’t for me.
I had to stop visualizing the two of us reading great works of literature to each other by a fireplace. Get rid of the idea of her getting her Ph.D. and co-authoring groundbreaking essays with me.
At the very least, it couldn’t happen now.
As soon as I shut the apartment door behind me, I picked up the phone.
Jaz answered on the first ring. “Faye? Is something wrong with Gretchen?”
“No, she’s here with me. I’m about to change her diaper and feed her.” I marveled for the millionth time at how quickly this had become normal to me. Things I had never imagined a few weeks ago were just everyday routine.
“So what’s up?”
I balanced Gretchen on my hip for the moment, wanting to give this conversation my full attention. “Jaz… I’ve been thinking about professors and students, and the relationships they can have with each other. If a student were to be interested in a professor…” She attempted to say something, but I shushed her. “Just listen for now.”
“Okay,” she squeaked.
“It’s fine if it happens. Similar interests, perhaps a shared sexuality, it’s only natural that it would cross a person’s mind.” Like it had mine. “Thing is, professors are busy people, and sometimes they have other things going on in their lives. They might not be in a place for any kind of relationship. As wonderful as the student may be, it simply isn’t always possible.”
Jaz’s voice got even smaller. “Oh.”
“You understand, don’t you?”
“I do.” She swallowed. “But are you saying if that professor, hypothetically, didn’t have all these outside obligations…”
The baby wriggled in my arm, and I remembered the urgency of changing the diaper she was wearing. “I can’t answer that right now.” I grabbed the towel Jaz had allocated for this purpose and laid Gretchen down on it. “You’re okay though, right? You’ll still keep babysitting and everything?”
“Of course.” Disappointment hung over Jaz’s voice, but she made an effort to sound like she wasn’t bothered. “You know I adore that kid. Even if she moved out to her mom’s, I’d probably drive two hours to go babysit her.”
“Right.” Why was it so strange for Jaz to imagine Gretchen living with my sister? That was my goal here. That was why I was spending so much time hunting for Amanda. Just… hearing it from someone else felt funny.
“So… see you Monday?” Jaz asked.
“Monday morning, bright and early.”
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up before realizing what was wrong with the end of that call.
I’d been doing the pretending-to-be-cheerful thing, too.
* * *
The drive out to Johnston was peaceful, at least by the new standards I’d formed since Gretchen came into my life. She only spent about twenty minutes screaming, and didn’t even throw up once.
When I arrived, I tucked her into her sling. I had a vague memory that Wesley worked at a community center. That gave me a place to start, even if I might have to try a couple of them. There was also the chance that he might not be working today. On the bright side, the town was only a little bigger than Sargasso.
The first community center I tried had no idea who I was talking about. At the second, the woman at the front desk said he used to work there but left a while ago.
“Is he still in town?” I asked. “Do you have any way to reach him?”
The woman examined me. “What do you want with Wesley?”
“Just to talk to him. He used to date my sister.”
“Hmm.” Apparently that was enough of a reason. “You’re in luck—he works just down the street. And if he’s not in today, I can give you his number.”
Ten minutes later, I was at the entrance of Wesley’s community center. Although we’d only met a few times, and they’d been together at least a year and a half ago, I instantly recognized his shaved head and the gleaming smile that contrasted so nicely with his dark skin. People flowed around us as I tried to talk to him.
“You’re in town?” he asked, looking at me quizzically.
“I came looking for you, actually. I thought you might have some way to find my sister.”
Wesley paused as he slid a clipboard to a guest, who wrote down her name. “What do you mean, find Amanda? She’s missing?”
“Not missing,” I said quickly. “I just can’t find her.”
He pulled the clipboard back, blinking at me. “How long has it been? Have you gone to the cops?”
“No, no. It’s not like that. She just doesn’t want to be found.” I gave her a quick rundown of the situation. His eyes popped when I said she’d had a baby. And by the end of my story, his concern was still as strong.
“So she could be lying dead in an alley somewhere,” he said. “She needs help, not guilt trips.”
I crossed my arms. “The cops aren’t going to give a damn if a grown woman isn’t answering her phone. Besides, I’m trying to keep this baby out of the foster system. I’m doing my level best to find Amanda in the meantime. Am I right to think you can’t help me with that?”
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said. “I haven’t heard
from her in a long time.” His eyes were downcast. “Maybe whatever man she left me for would have a better idea.”
“She left you for someone else?”
Wesley shrugged. “That’s my best guess, anyway. She just disappeared, stopped answering my texts, blocked me on social media.”
“I never knew why you two split up,” I said slowly. “Always thought she did something to make you leave. It seemed like a shame. You were good for her.”
“Thank you. Let me know if I can do anything else for you, okay?”
“I will,” I said. “I know you care.”
“More than care.” Wesley’s eyes were pained. “I loved that woman. It just wasn’t good enough for her.”
* * *
That night, Gretchen gurgled as I placed her in the bassinet I’d reluctantly bought a few days earlier. Despite myself, I smiled and bent to place a kiss on her forehead. With her big eyes staring up at me, she flailed helpless limbs in my direction.
“What, you want a hug?” I picked her up and held her for a second, then put her back. “That’s all you’re getting. It’s bedtime… even if I know you’re going to wake me up wanting formula in about an hour.”
She giggled, and I tucked the blanket around her.
I put the baby monitor in the crib, switched off the bedroom light, and headed for the shower. I’d initially been nervous about leaving Gretchen alone for even five minutes, but Jaz said it was okay for a very short time if she was sleeping.
Jaz seemed to be on my mind a lot these days, I thought as I tested the water. It was… strange, to say the least. Usually I could keep myself in check better than that.
Even yesterday, I hadn’t thought about her as much as I was doing tonight. Of course, yesterday was before she’d taken my hand and held it like that. The sparks that’d leapt between us showed there was some kind of connection there. Some kind of chemistry.
In that moment in my car, I’d almost, almost let myself go and let her in.