by Paula Mabbel
A twinge of guilt shot through me again. She knew I would remember Bryant telling me that Emily had tried to sleep with him one night when I’d been at the library and he’d stopped by. I didn’t want to believe him. Hell, at first I hadn’t believed him. She was a lesbian. But he’d been so convincing. Telling me I should forgive her because she was really drunk — I had bought it completely.
Naturally it’d made me angry and I’d confronted her. She told me that she couldn’t believe I would think she would do something like that to me. I asked her to prove she hadn’t. She refused. Told me that if I truly believed that about her there was no point. There was no trust.
So I’d moved out, hastily and without much thought. I’d left our dorm and moved right in with Bryant as he’d asked me to a week or so prior — a request that I’d refused until then.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, hoping she heard me, but didn’t turn it into a big deal.
“It’s been a while, Aub,” she nodded. “I’m over it.”
“I knew better,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want him to—”
“Be what he is?”
“Yes,” I nodded, admitting the truth. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, it’s not every day I get accused of trying to steal someone’s man,” she laughed. “Especially when I’d rather have the woman accusing me.”
I felt a small shudder again as she spoke the last part. Had I heard her correctly? Did she want me? Back then, even? How had I never known that?
“So, what are you cooking?” Sometimes it was easier for me to ignore what I heard or felt until I was ready to deal with it. This was one such time. “It smells good.”
“Chicken Alfredo with broccoli,” she smiled.
“That’s my favorite!” I hadn’t even tasted it in so long I’d forgotten how much I loved it. “It’s been forever since I’ve had it.”
“I know,” she grinned. “Well, I know it’s your favorite. I’m surprised you haven’t had it.”
“We didn’t eat a lot of pasta,” I admitted. “Bryant preferred meat and veggies.”
“Well, good thing he’s not here,” she laughed. “I doubt he preferred them with pasta and a heavy-duty delicious cheese sauce.”
“Not at all.” I couldn’t believe that the one time she cooked she was making my favorite meal. How had I walked away from a friend who was so good to me? “I hope that you are also making garlic bread.”
“No.” She shook her head, and I felt a tinge of disappointment. “I am, however, making cheesy garlic bread.”
“Oh, my God,” I squealed and jumped up and down in the kitchen like a child. “I love you, Em!” Leaning over, I kissed her cheek and felt her flinch. I quickly pulled back.
“You damn well should,” she told me, keeping herself busy to avoid what had just happened. “This is a lot of work.”
“You could have ordered in,” I reminded her.
“I wanted to do this,” she smiled, but wouldn’t look at me. “For you. I wanted to do this for you.”
“Thanks,” a few moments of awkward silence passed before I turned to the cabinet behind me. “I’ll set the table,” I offered, grabbing dishes and carrying them into the small dining room that was connected to her living room.
“Put out some wine glasses,” she yelled. “I picked up a bottle of the good stuff just for tonight.”
“I feel like a kid in the candy store,” I giggled. “You sure know how to make a bad day better.”
“I try,” she laughed.
“Emily, Queen of Stress Relief,” I teased.
“Well, if you want real stress relief, I have a few other things up my sleeve,” I heard her tease back and felt my body freeze. She was really pushing those comments that night, and I found myself not sure how to handle it.
“I bet,” I laughed it off and tried to change the conversation. “So, Bill thinks I have no shot at a damn thing,” I told her.
“So give it up,” she suggested, walking into the room carrying a dish of steaming hot pasta.
“And do what, Em?” I asked, unsure of how I’d live my life with no income.
“Go back to law school? Find true love? Move on without Bryant Welch and his assholeishness?”
“I have no money. No job. Nothing,” I told her.
“Stay here,” she offered. “We can work it out.”
“I can’t do that. I can’t be a permanent bother to you,” I said, shaking my head.
“Aub,” she began, her hand rested on my arm, “having you here is anything but a bother. I kinda enjoy it.”
“I don’t know.” I was reluctant, but I couldn’t explain why. “It seems like a lot to handle.”
“I promise.” She squeezed my upper arm and smiled at me. “I can handle anything you want to throw at me.” With a wink she turned back to the kitchen to grab the rest of the food, and I silently wondered what the hell was going on in my life.
*****
“This wine is phenomenal,” I admitted after about five glasses. “I think it’s going to my head.”
“That’s the point of drinking,” Emily laughed. “It helps you relax.”
Dinner had been amazing and afterwards we’d brought the bottle to the living room and plopped ourselves onto the sofa to watch a movie. She hadn’t made any more innuendos and had instead told me to just think about giving up and letting him win, since he was going to anyway.
I felt very fortunate to have a friend who would stand by me through something like this. Everyone else had completely abandoned me once they realized we were divorcing. In fact, several of my friends were on the character reference list that Bill had received from Bryant’s attorneys. People who had claimed to care about me were lining up in droves to tell the world how horrible I was to him.
“I don’t know how I ended up in this position, Em.” I felt my heart breaking yet again, this time over the friends I had lost. “Nobody took my side. Nobody.”
“I did,” she reminded me. “Unless I’m a nobody, that should count.”
“It does,” I leaned over, placing my hand on hers. “It means everything. I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you do, Aub,” she argued. “You are a good person.”
“I wasn’t good to you.” I could feel the buzz from the alcohol taking over my thoughts. “I was rude and mean and I don’t deserve you to care about me.”
“You can’t just stop loving someone when they do something stupid,” she pointed out. “If you could, then you’d walk away from the douchenugget and move on.”
“Douchenugget?”
“Don’t judge my words,” she laughed.
“I actually like it,” I admitted. “What I did wasn’t stupid, it was cruel.”
“Yes, it was,” she agreed. “But I still love you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just do.”
“I’m glad,” I admitted to her. “You are all I have.”
“Well, trust me,” she giggled. “I’m enough.”
Tears began to fall before I could stop them and before I knew it I was full-on crying.
“I’m such a failure,” I kept repeating, drunk and feeling sorry for myself.
Emily pulled my head onto her shoulder and put her arm around me. Quietly she whispered positive words, things that I needed to hear. She told me that I was not a failure. That many women are blinded by love and make mistakes. That I could change my destiny and be anything that I wanted to be.
All of it meant more than I’d ever be able to tell her. Knowing that she was such a good friend and always there to support me was what kept me going.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said for the twentieth time since dinner had ended.
“You’re welcome,” she pulled me closer into her. “I wanted you to have a special night.”
“I did,” I told her. “It was amazing. I just wish I could give you a special night.”
“You do Aub,” she laughed. “Just
being here and being you.”
“That’s not much,” I snorted through sniffles. “I’m broke. Homeless. Jobless. And I’m thinking I’m a little overdressed,” I looked down at the elaborate skirt and top I was wearing. Appropriate for dining with socialites but not so much for movies on the couch.”
“Well, you are always welcome to remove the clothes,” she teased.
I had made a point to not say anything during my stay at her place, even when she joked about her feelings for me. I didn’t want to make things awkward. I didn’t want to ruin the only friendship I had left.
But a little too much wine ensured that I would be unable to stop myself. I had to ask. I had to know.
“Are you serious when you say those things?” My voice was small and barely audible.
“What things?”
“About me,” I told her. “Wanting me. Fucking me. Naked me.”
“I don’t believe I’ve said anything of those things,” she spoke softly. “I simply hinted at them.”
“Well, are you serious when you hint at them?”
“Of course,” she answered. “But not to the point where I’d push it. Aubrey, I know you aren’t into women. I just think it’s okay for me to share that I think you are absolutely sexy and if you were I’d be first in line.”
“Oh,” I whispered, leaning forward and ending up with my head on her lap. Emily didn’t flinch and instead just brushed her fingers through my hair. “I think I’m drunk.”
“I think so,” she laughed, still combing through my hair. “Does it bother you?”
“What? Being drunk? I’m just not used to it.”
“No, not that,” she told me. “When I say those things. Does it bother you?”
“No, not really,” I admitted, being completely honest. “I just wondered if you were joking.”
“I don’t joke about things like that.” Her answer was clear. “But I can stop if it’s a problem.”
“Stop telling me I’m sexy and wanted? Why? I haven’t heard that in years.”
“That’s a shame, Aubrey Welch. You deserve to hear that every day.” I felt my eyes getting heavier as I listened to her talk. “No one should ever make you feel unloved or unwanted.”
“You are so good to me, Emily,” I managed to say before dozing off. “You take such good care of me.”
“I will always take care of you,” she whispered as I felt myself falling into a dark abyss. “As long as you will let me.”
*****
“Mornin’!” I heard Emily’s chipper voice before I could open my eyes. “Sleep good?”
She was standing over my bed with a cup of coffee, something I seldom even drank. How the hell could she be so happy when I felt like I’d been hit by a semi truck and then hit again?
“Maybe I should try again and see,” I grumbled.
“You never were a morning person, were you?” She laughed as she set the cup on the bedside table and walked over to the windows. “Sorry to disappoint you, sunshine, but you aren’t going to lie in bed feeling bad all day.” Suddenly my eyes were assaulted by sunlight as she slipped open the curtains.
“You are evil,” I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face. “Pure evil.”
“I can be,” she laughed again. “But you have to ask for that.”
“What if I asked for a dark room and quiet?”
“You’d be shit outta luck.” She sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “Now you can either sit up, drink that coffee and hear the plans I have for us today, or—”
“Or I can sleep and forget that today exists,” I suggested.
“Or I can crawl into that bed with you and wake you up the way I prefer,” she giggled.
I felt something stir inside of me at her suggestion, but I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Probably the lack of sex in my life getting to me. Even the hint at being touched attracted me, regardless of the person speaking of it.
“Would it at least be quiet?” I asked, hoping to convince her to let me sleep longer.
“Hmmm, probably not,” she told me. “Maybe for a minute, until you started moaning.” The stirring feeling popped up again and left me curious. Why would I be reacting? I’d never been attracted to a woman in my life.
“You are a pushy sort, aren’t you?”
“Well, I went to a lot of trouble to plan what we were going to do today,” she argued. “I don’t intend to miss it.”
“So what are we doing today, Miss Chipper?” I groaned again, trying to sit up.
“We are going to meet with the admissions department,” she clapped. “WE are going to talk to them about you going back to school!”
“Are you serious?” Her tenaciousness could be annoying. What if I wasn’t ready for that? “Today?”
“Yep!” She pulled the blankets off of me and I pretended not to notice the way she looked at me.
I was lying in the bed in nothing but a tank top and shorts, my normal sleeping attire. I preferred comfort, but the look on her face told me that she liked the appearance. Bryant never had. He told me I looked like a teenage boy dressed like that and he preferred I be in lingerie. Since he was seldom home when I went to sleep, he lost that argument.
“What if I don’t want to?” I argued, ignoring her stare.
“Well, I don’t think I asked,” she laughed, bringing her attention back to my face.
“I could roll over and go back to sleep,” I reminded her. “Ignore you.”
“I told you,” she giggled. “I’ll crawl into that bed and make sure I wake you up.”
“It might be more appealing than admissions officer meetings.” Shaking my head, I wondered how I managed to get myself into doing things I didn’t really want to do. “I’m tired and hung over and look like shit.”
“I don’t think you could look like shit,” she said softly. “Now get up before I make good on my word.”
“You wouldn’t,” I provoked.
“Oh yes,” she argued. “I would. In fact, I would enjoy doing so.”
I wanted to challenge her. Would she really jump in the bed and try to touch me? Would I let her? The way she looked at me and spoke softly when referencing my appearance told me that she would most definitely try if given the opportunity. But would I have let her do it?
I wasn’t sure. I mean, Emily was beautiful. Dark and mysterious. Long black hair. Tan skin. A hint of her Hispanic roots showing. But she was female. I’d never had any interest in females.
However, I felt chills cover me as I looked up and saw her once more skimming her eyes across my body. She was attracted to me. Seriously attracted. In a way that no one had been in a long time. All of my flaws. The freckles dotting my skin. The pale shade I remained even when I tanned. All of it.
The longing in her eyes told me so. That’s probably why I did it. I wanted to see. To feel what it was like to be wanted. To be approached like that. I had no intention of following through.
I rolled over, placing the pillow over my head and pretending I was going back to sleep.
“Aub,” she whispered, an almost plea with me. I knew what she was saying. She wanted it to be real. But she didn’t want it to be real. I knew that very well. “Get up?” she asked quietly. Begging me in her own way to stop if I was only joking.
I felt a clench between my thighs. An ache I was unfamiliar with. A desire that I’d not felt in so long I had almost forgotten what it was like. Dampness that was unmistakable. I was aroused. By my best and only friend. A woman who I’d never imagined wanting to touch. Yet in that moment, I wanted nothing more than for her to touch me.
“Oh, okay,” I grumbled, turning over and sitting up.
I wasn’t sure what was harder to handle, the disappointment on her face or the same feeling inside of me. Something big had just almost happened, and I felt pretty sure it just might happen again.
*****
“I did it.” I couldn’t believe I’d followed through.
“I’m so proud of you.” Emily
hugged me, closer and tighter than was the norm.
Ever since that morning after we’d been drinking, things between us had changed slightly. We sat closer. We spoke more personally. There was more affection. Longer hugs. Lingering cheek kisses. Touches.
Nothing else had happened. We hadn’t taken it to that level. Not yet. But the tension between us could have been cut with a knife.
Emily had dragged me to the admissions office and I’d spoken with them. After looking at my transcripts they’d all but begged me to enroll, so I’d started the process. We’d left there and I’d gone to Bill’s office and told him to sign off on the divorce. I no longer wanted to fight.
That particular day I’d done one more thing to advance my life. I’d gone and sold the things I owned that were worth money — unimportant things like designer clothes and handbags — and I’d opened my own savings account. Emily was certain this was a big step as financial aid would no doubt leave me with extra money.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” I pointed out, running my fingers along her jaw. “You’ve done so much for me. So much I didn’t deserve.”
I saw the shudder of her body as my skin touched hers. I wanted to pull her closer and let her know she was safe, but I couldn’t. We hadn’t made any moves towards that.
Sometimes I told myself it was just sex I needed. To feel the touch of another. To feel the release of tension. I’d been without a very long time. Other times, I was certain it was the person.
Being in the midst of a divorce made it hard for me to understand my own feelings, but hers were clear. She smiled more. She laughed more. She looked at me as though I were the last person on earth.
Maybe that’s why I’d kept a little distance. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t happen. She didn’t deserve that.
But that day, that day I felt like being close. I loved her. In whatever way that it was, I loved her. And I wanted to touch her, to feel her touch me.
“Aub,” she whispered.
“Shh,” I told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Don’t.”
“But I…” I didn’t want her to continue. I didn’t need to hear what she was about to say. Instead I slipped my head sideways and pressed my lips against hers. “Aub,” she pleaded.