Neighborly Love

by Christine L'Amour

  But no. Amy was instead thinking about how stressed Meghan looked and about how much of that was her fault.

  She was the one who had gone to Meghan’s father. She was the one who had made Meghan’s problems explode into something worse. She couldn’t justify to herself, lying here and thinking about her sweet, supportive parents, how she had shouted at Meghan. Meghan’s problems—which involved thousands of dollars and a sudden coming out to a homophobic family—just couldn’t be compared to Amy’s.

  Amy felt ashamed. She had parents who had always been there for her and she had despaired over them kicking her out while knowing full well that they would never actually do it.

  She had sparked that fight when Meghan had been dead on her feet with stress and it had been so unfair.

  It ate her up, and she couldn’t believe that she had done it.

  She only lasted a day before she went back.

  ***

  She knocked on Meghan’s door with the mouthful of courage she had managed to scrape up from her frayed nerves and hoped to God that Meghan would answer her. What if she were still so angry, she wouldn’t even open the door for Amy? She bounced on her feet as she stood, trying not to fidget her way into an early grave.

  Meghan answered her door, and her eyes went wide when she saw who it was.

  “Hello,” Amy said, awkward. “Um, can we talk?”

  “Ye—yeah,” Meghan said, clearing her throat. “Come in, just, uh, don’t mind the mess. It’s been a busy day.”

  The apartment really was messy. There was a second laptop on top of the table that Amy had never seen before and sheaves of paper lying around all over the floor, like someone had dropped a pile and hadn’t bothered to pick it all up.

  “Sorry,” Amy said, shoulders drawing in. “I know you’re busy. I can come back later.”

  “No!” Meghan exclaimed, reaching out as if to grip her arms—but she faltered, and didn’t touch her. “Don’t think like that, I’m not—I’m not too busy for you. I’m glad to see you, actually. I was afraid you wouldn’t… that I wouldn’t.”

  Amy felt surprise at how hesitant Meghan seemed, like she was afraid of saying the wrong words. She didn’t like her like that, honestly; she liked Meghan tall and confident.

  “I owe you an apology,” Amy croaked out before she could lose her nerve. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I know I have a pretty lucky life, with my parents and with money—I didn’t have the right to act like that, like you were awful for not paying attention to my little problems when you have such huge things going on.” She drew herself up and braced herself. “And I—”

  “Amelia, no,” Meghan said, sounding wretched. She took a step forward as if against her way, as if she couldn’t do; Amy looked into her golden eyes and saw just how much her own words had hurt her, thought she couldn’t tell why. “Your problems aren’t little. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I didn’t want you to think that! You’re the one who was right that I didn’t pay enough attention to you.”

  Amy felt something break loose in herself at the words, something utterly relieved, like she had been half afraid, even as she believed what she had said, that Meghan would agree with her. But the feeling couldn’t last long, not when she remembered what she had tried to say and Meghan had interrupted.

  “Meghan, it’s my fault,” she said, voice breaking as she spoke. “What happened with your dad—it’s my fault. I got his number from you and called him, I met him, I tried to talk to him about you and it didn’t work, obviously, I just wanted to try something, but—something I said, something I did, it made him suspicious. That’s why when he walked in and saw me on your couch, he said I knew it. It’s my fault!”

  Meghan looked dumbfounded. Amy looked away, not wanting to see that look in her eyes again: the annoyance and the anger.

  “You… you called him?” Meghan asked her. “You went to him, you met him in person and tried to talk to him? To help me?”

  “Yeah,” Amy said with a grimace.

  “But Amy,” Meghan said, voice wet, “that’s exactly what I wanted you to do, and you went and did it and didn’t tell me.”

  “It didn’t work, and he got suspicious of you! I didn’t know you weren’t out to your family,” Amy told her, turning to look at her. Meghan’s eyes looked liquid—wet with tears and some emotion she couldn’t parse. “And it only made things worse for you—I was so ashamed I hid it from you.”

  Meghan surged forward and kissed her. Amy was too relieved, too boneless with the feel of Meghan touching her again, of Meghan’s mouth against her, to say anything. She lifted her arms and wound them around Meghan’s neck, letting herself fall freely when Meghan pushed her back against the wall of her living room.

  “I wanted you to do that,” Meghan told her in a harsh whisper, right against the shell of her ear. “I didn’t see—I didn’t think you trying to get me to rest was helping me, I wanted you to do something like that, to stand tall and go make a plan and do something. And I know it’s unfair, I realize now it was unfair to expect that of you, but you—you did it. And you didn’t tell me.”

  “It didn’t work,” Amy repeated, just to say something before she kissed her.

  Meghan tasted like coffee, and it suited Amy just fine. She kissed her deeply, fervently, cursing herself for being so stupid as to break up with this woman, before. What had she been thinking? She loved Meghan. She didn’t want to be apart from her. She didn’t know what she would do when she moved away and they lost their little Eden, their time at the green house.

  She had just started to fix up the violets Meghan had gotten her hands on and promptly drowned. She had liked that, like it was a dance between them. Green thumb, black thumb. It made her feel good to be better than business owner Meghan in something so small but so important as growing and life.

  “I don’t want to move away,” Amy admitted, breathless, as Meghan shoved a thigh between hers and rode it high. She felt the touch like it was a live wire, like all her nerve endings were coming alive with it. “I can’t stay, it’s not my apartment, but.”

  “I’ll visit you,” Meghan said with a groan, clutching at Amy’s hipbones with her hands, white-knuckled. “Every weekend, twice a week—please, a bit higher, ah.”

  Amy liked Meghan like this. She liked her asking for it, she liked that ah in her breathless voice. And she was feeling just confident and wild enough to take what she wanted. She twisted them around until Meghan’ back hit the wall, punching a laugh and a moan out of the woman, and bit at the exposed neck in front of her. Meghan’s hips bucked forward, pressing the harsh line of her jeans against Amy’s thigh, and she moaned again.

  “It won’t be the same,” Amy whispered against her neck. “We won’t be taking care of the plants together.”

  “I’ll water your plants for you, drown them all for you,” Meghan said, only paying half attention to the words coming out of her mouth. “Amy, please, will you take my damn jeans away, the fabric is too harsh—”

  “But it feels good, doesn’t it?” Amy whispered, riding her thigh higher and higher until she heard the hitch on Meghan’s breath. Their hips rocked together, against each other, thought Amy was more focused on Meghan’s pleasure than her own. She stopped clutching at the other woman’s hair and lowered her hands to her waist. She slipped her fingers up her dark, wine colored sweater, wanting it off but liking the color against Meghan’s pale skin too much to do it.

  Her own fingers were ice cold against the warm skin she was touching, since she had come from the street, and Meghan bit out a curse at the feeling of it—Amy felt her skin rise in goosebumps and felt something smug rise in herself at the feel of it.

  “Christ,” Meghan panted out, “where is this coming from?”

  “I don’t know,” Amy admitted. “I’ll probably be a bit mortified after we’re done, just, ah, just don’t mock me for it.”

  “Mock you?” Meghan asked her, finally opening the eyes she had closed in pleasure
. Her pupils were blown wide, the golden of her eyes a dark disk around them. “I love it.”

  Amy felt her body wake up at the words, and she started to ride Meghan’s thigh in earnest.

  The control she had had before slipped easily from her fingers and Meghan took it back easily, sliding her hands down to Amy’s backside so she could press the shorter woman against her. There was something so satisfying in doing what they were doing like this, bucking against each other against the wall. They had slept together on a bed will all their clothes off, but this was, in a way, more fun—the two of them were letting go, hands clutching at each other’s clothes without taking them off, their bodies moving together like they were made to do it, desperate and hungry.

  Amy liked the image of Meghan against the wall with her fancy wine-colored sweater bunched up above her lacy black bra very much.

  They came together their breaths mingling between them, mouths pressed on a fierce kiss.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They relocated to the bed and had another go, because they were still fired up and because Meghan wanted to give back as good as she had gotten. She loved Amy in her white sheets, had loved it when Amy had admitted to her that their first time had been her first time, and she took her time now, her touch lingering and her kisses languid.

  Then they cuddled under the thick blankets, and dragged Meghan’s laptop up to them so they could amuse themselves with funny videos. They were both hungry, but neither wanted to move.

  “Thank you for coming back,” Meghan whispered after a few content minutes. “I should have gone after you when you left.”

  “I waited for you,” Amy admitted, and Meghan thought it was so sweet. The fact that Amy was a romantic had kind of snuck up on her, but now she was going to take advantage of it as much as she could.

  “I should have,” Meghan repeated, fiercer this time. “I was stupid, really. I should have listened to you. I still don’t know how on Earth I’m going to fix my problems, but even Carlos, who usually indulges my bag habits, told me I should rest a bit. I shouldn’t have dismissed you…”

  Amy shrugged minutely, but the smile on her face was satisfied.

  “Maybe we should talk more,” Amy said. “About what we expect from each other, you know? So this doesn’t happen again. I mean, I also didn’t realize what it was you wanted from me and got upset when you didn’t understand me. And I promise not to do something behind your back like I did with your dad. I think I was so desperate to do something that…”

  Meghan didn’t hear the rest of her words. She was too busy having an epiphany.

  Something about the words behind your back and maybe the fact that she had actually slept over four hours the night before for the first time in a week brought to her an idea which seemed terribly, deliciously, wonderfully obvious now that she had thought of it.

  “Amy,” Meghan started, a smiling blooming on her face like it hadn’t in days—confident and sure, Meghan back in her element, “I know what I’m going to do.”

  Amy stared at her, eyes wide. “What? Really? What are you going to do? You mean regarding your father, right, not, uh, lunch?”

  Meghan laughed, delighted.

  “Both! Let’s order sushi, I want to celebrate!”

  ***

  Meghan went to her family home with Amy, because she wasn’t the sort of person to hide, for all that she had been desperate enough to try it, back when she had first been booted out of the closet to her parents. Now that she was feeling tall and secure, she went with her hand clasped on Amy’s, her best jacket, and a rainbow bracelet around her wrist.

  Just as she and her little brother had agreed, he was the one who opened the door to her, so as to make it impossible for their father to kick Amy out. After she was already in, rules of decorum and sheer embarrassment would probably keep them from doing it.

  “Thanks,” Meghan said with a grin, ruffling his hair. “Now go on up to your room, young man, I don’t want your baby ears tarnished by our parents’ shitty ideas.”

  “I live here,” Andy said dryly, but respected her veiled ask for privacy and bounded away and up the stairs to his room. She had no doubt he would be listening in anyway, but it was sweet that he pretended for her.

  She led Amy in, who was peering around curiously at the walls, which were filled with photographs. There were some of Meghan graduating college and others of her in trips with friends, but also older ones: Meghan on a bike, Meghan toddling around, and matching ones for her brother.

  They went to the kitchen. The house wasn’t that big and there was no dining room, the dining table shoved in a corner of the more spacious kitchen, and her parents were definitely there. They always were—it was where they lingered, not the living room.

  Both of them looked up at Meghan, who had called them saying she wanted to make amends, with bright eyes… which definitely dimmed when they caught sight of Amy standing half a step behind her.

  “Meghan, please,” her mother admonished.

  “I know, lying is bad,” Meghan said with a smile, pushing a chair back for Amy to sit, then sat herself. “It’s obvious I wasn’t entirely truthful when I said I wanted to make amends. I admit I hoped one of you would grow a conscience and tell me you needed to make amends, but of course that didn’t happen.”

  “Then I hope you’re here with my money,” her father snapped, clearly at his wit’s end. He loved her, she knew, but prejudice, fear, and righteousness had their hold on him. She could work through that and get her father back, she thought, just not in the current situation.

  “No, actually,” Amy said loudly, starting the older couple with her loud and clear voice. They hadn’t really expected her to speak to them. “What you did to Meghan was unfair and stupid, and we’re not standing for it. What? Did you imagine Meghan would cower and accept everything you said so easily?”

  “You’re getting your money back,” Meghan reassured the man. “Just not everything at once and only after two months since you know my press isn’t doing well.”

  “You don’t get to do that,” her father argued, face growing red. “It’s my money! You can’t just keep it!”

  “You don’t get to lord it over me, and effectively lord my life’s work over me, when it’s clearly about my sexuality instead,” Meghan snapped back, and her father was startled back and into silence. “I get that you were frustrated with how I was treating this, that you were afraid I wasn’t going to give it back and you wanted to push me, but you crossed the line. You know how important this publishing house is to me. You know how much I’ve bled to open it and to keep it going in the face of these multi-billion-dollar companies around. You don’t get to take it from me because you’re homophobic.”

  “Meghan, it’s not like that,” her mother tried, growing a bit desperate. “Your father told you about the health insurance, didn’t he? We need something to help us!”

  “I help you,” Meghan said. “I’ve paid your health insurance for years, Mom.”

  “Then I’ll take the money,” her father snapped, standing up. “I told you I would!”

  “It’s true you have access to her bank accounts,” Amy said reasonably. “Well… to some of her bank accounts.”

  “I opened a new one with a different bank and transferred everything I have over,” Meghan said with a sharp smile. “Seems a bit obvious in hindsight, but it had just never occurred to me that I could do something like this and not tell you. But, well, I’m not really going behind your back, am I? It’s not like I’m young and unsure and a new business owner who needs help from her accountant dad anymore. I can very well have my own damn bank accounts without you meddling in them anymore.”

  Her father’s face went from red to purple. He was angry, but worse: humiliated. There was nothing he could do.

  “You’ll get your money, Dad,” Meghan said, standing up as her father sat down heavily again. “I’ll give you back in increments, over the coming months, with interest, even, so you won�
�t complain. And I liked your idea about moving somewhere cheaper to get rent from this apartment. Thanks for that. I’ll see you guys later.”

  She walked out without a word, Amy following on her heels with a smile on her face like she had just witnessed the most satisfying thing in the world. As they approached the front door and the staircase next to it, Meghan caught sight of her little brother, who was perched on top of the stairs but rapidly making his way down to her as she got closer.

  She sent him a look, but he shrugged, unrepentant.

  “Damn,” he said in a very low voice. “I hope they react better when they learn I’m gay.”

  Meghan laughed, delighted, and ruffled his hair. Amy hid her laughter behind her hands, her eyes sparkling, and leaned against Meghan’s side.

  Epilogue

  Amy’s parents were ecstatic when they learned of the plan to move closer to the community college, even if none of them were excited about the community college itself. Loving and supportive as they had always been, they offered to cover rent for Amy while she searched for a job and even some of the classes as she studied. Amy, who had never said no to a kindness done to her, accepted it.

  Chelsea got to keep her supremely affordable apartment and her incredibly accommodating roommates, because Amy had someone else to move in with her. Meghan found someone to rent her apartment quickly enough—a divorced woman with three poodles with whom she had hit it off immediately—and was glad to have the rent as extra money. Both she and Amy mourned the heated swimming pool, which they finally visited after this whole debacle, and the greenhouse.

  Things weren’t perfect and they still fought, of course, and misunderstood each other and worked too much and didn’t see each other nearly as much as they wanted to for two people living together. But they were happy, because they were together.