“Thirty? And you were worried about Karen at nearly forty…”
“Neely isn’t a contender.”
“What does that even mean?”
“She’s way too young. I could never build a relationship with someone that much younger than me. But it was nice to feel attractive. Wanted.”
“Wait, you said you don’t want a relationship.”
The ferry had docked, and they were making their way off in the crowd reverse-commuting to work.
“I don’t. She’s fun, Brooke. And she takes me at face value, she doesn’t judge.”
“Okay, I get the message.”
“And she’s very sensual. When she touched me on the dance floor, I…well, if we’d been in bed, I probably would’ve come.” Charley thought she’d said that quietly enough to Brooke, but several people near them looked at her. “Come on.” She pulled Brooke’s coat sleeve. “Let’s get to the bus and finish this on the trail.”
“Oh, no you don’t. Who is Joanna?”
“Gym Woman. Come on.” Charley looped her arm with Brooke’s and pulled her through the crowd toward the bus.
“Is there anyone else you forgot to mention?” Brooke asked testily as they settled into the front seat of the S57 bus.
“I didn’t plan on any of this, okay?”
“But apparently you planned on not sharing any of it with me.”
Charley looked out the window.
“Am I really that bad?”
Charley rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. Do you?”
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the short trip to the gates of the Greenbelt Conservancy. Once they were on the trail, Charley felt herself relax, just the slightest bit. She inhaled the warm air, everything around them smelling so pungent, deep scents of autumn rising from the wooded land around them.
After a few minutes, Brooke broke the silence. “Okay, maybe I’m overbearing sometimes, I get that. But I feel like all we’ve done for the past two weeks is piss each other off and then apologize. I was going to have a nice day shopping today and maybe go to a movie or sit in that champagne bar on Fifty-Fourth Street. Why are we here?”
“Because Annie made us do this. And because it’s our pattern. One of us does something stupid, the other one has to step in, we kiss and make up.”
Brooke adjusted her backpack. “We might as well be married to each other.”
“We never would’ve made it as a married couple. That’s why I broke up with you when we went home after freshman year. Do you want to hear about Joanna or not?”
They walked on toward Lake Ohrbach. As painful as it was, Charley admitted to Brooke that the encounter with Karen had made it abundantly clear that when she’d shut the door of her life after Tricia, it was so airtight that she couldn’t breathe, and the ease with which Neely kicked it open and walked through it stole what little breath she had left.
“So why did you walk out on Karen, then?”
“She’s still too raw after her breakup. I’m not a hand-holder and I won’t be a rebound.”
Brooke nodded. “Okay. She did talk all about her ex after you left.”
I knew it. My assessment of her was spot-on.
“So, Neely’s gonna be the one you eat cheese and crackers in bed with?” Brooke smirked.
Charley laughed. “Probably not. I just know I like her. And we’re going out again Friday night.”
“Hmmm…And you will call me Saturday morning?”
“Yes.”
“That leaves Joanna? And you’re workin’ real hard to avoid telling me how you really feel about her.”
Charley picked up several pine cones and flung them at Brooke.
Brooke put her arms up in defense. “Hey, not judging, so you have to tell me.”
“I have no idea.”
Brooke emitted the sound of a buzzer. “Wrong answer, Cassandra. You know exactly how you feel. You haven’t talked about anyone in years, and you brought her up at dinner, so that means she cut through your fortress and made an impression on you. She’s on your radar.”
Charley sighed. “She’s…” She painted a full picture of Joanna, from the aloofness with which she’d first treated Charley right down to the blue Speedo that hugged every curve and every plane of her body like a second skin.
“Not that you noticed. And?”
“Well, aside from being drop-dead handsome? I could get lost in her eyes.”
“Ask her out.”
“I did. She said no.”
Brooke laughed incredulously. “Wait. You’ve gone from being Punxsutawney Phil to Carrie Bradshaw? In one week?”
“Okay, so I really took your advice to heart. I got two women, and I’ve been too busy to talk to you.”
“You are a piece of work sometimes, Owens. If Joanna said no, you had one night at home to call me.”
“Then she said yes.” They’d arrived at the lake and walked the perimeter of its thin strip of beach toward two small boulders that were barely discernible in the fringe of tall dune grass.
“Oh, I’m so confused.”
Charley repeated the two short conversations to Brooke, the one in which Joanna turned her down in the hallway, and the one in which she came to the sauna and accepted the invitation for coffee.
“Toxic, huh?”
“And she thinks my mother is funny.” Charley sat on one of the boulders and pulled two foil-wrapped packets from her bag, then tossed one to Brooke.
“Well, she’s right about that.”
“You don’t go out with someone because you think her mother is funny.”
“No, you go out with someone because you find her irresistibly attractive. So check that box on your scorecard.” Brooke brushed the boulder off, sat down, and unwrapped her bagel, licking her thumb when she got cold melted cheese on it. “Why do you suppose she’s toxic?”
Charley focused on the lake. “I don’t know. This woman is enigmatic. Something about her reminds me of—” Charley caught herself before she said Tricia.
“Please don’t say Tricia.”
“Fine, I won’t.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes at Charley. “How much older than you is she?”
Charley realized where Brooke was coming from. Her coterie of friends had never liked that Tricia was thirteen years her senior. “I’m starving,” she said, taking a bite of her everything bagel with cheese and bacon on it. “This is such a bad breakfast after such a good hike. Did you bring the hard-boiled eggs?”
“Charley!”
She held out her hand and Brooke took a Ziploc bag out of her backpack and tossed it to her.
“I already peeled them for you. And we need a hearty breakfast after this hike. Plus, we still have to get back to the ferry.”
“Thank you. She’s about our age.”
“Well, well, well, Scarecrow. Playing with a little fire, are we? Our age, which might mean she can see right through you. Is she single? Maybe she’s as scared and vulnerable as you are.”
Charley snorted, the sip of coffee she’d just taken from her thermos almost coming out her nose. “I’m none of those things!”
“Said the frightened woman who’s been hiding in her apartment for three years.” Brooke leaned back, her face to the sun. “I do love it here.”
“Me, too.” Charley set her thermos in the tall grass.
“And we’ve been coming here, what, twenty years?”
“Easily.”
“Sharing all kinds of things with each other.”
Charley sighed, defeated. “I really don’t know how I feel about her, Brooke.”
“Is she single?”
“Don’t know.”
“Is she even gay?”
Charley looked at Brooke like she was the village idiot.
“You asked her out. We’ve been trying to get you to do this for two years, and out of nowhere, you take someone on. Two someones. But this woman’s obviously having quite an effect on you. Please tell me it’s not because she’s li
ke Tricia. No one was as difficult as Tricia.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your assessment.”
Brooke shook her head. “I kept my counsel for years, sweetie. I sure don’t want to see you get involved with another demanding woman.”
“Can I let you know what she’s like Tuesday?”
“Coffee’s on Monday?
“After Anita’s class.” Charley began gathering things into her backpack. “Come on, let’s walk around the lake.”
Brooke found a long piece of broken tree branch in the grass and decided it would work as a walking stick. “You know everyone’s going to want to hear all about Neely and Joanna at the next dinner after all the work we put in trying to find someone for you.”
“No. Absolutely not. And don’t you say a word to anyone.”
“Oh, come on, that’s cruel!”
“I’m not ready to share this with anyone else. Not until I know what I’m doing, anyway.”
“All right, I can give you three weeks before I let it all out of the bag at our October dinner. Maybe you’ll be in love by then.”
“Now who’s being cruel.”
Brooke chuckled. “Or maybe you’ll just be in heat. Where’s the security guard taking you Friday night?”
“You could refer to her as a writer.”
“When she publishes something, I will.”
“She wants to go dancing again. But I’m not so sure I can handle another night like that with her friends.” Charley looked at Brooke. “They’re just so… Were we so dramatic and bitchy and life or death about everything?”
“You don’t remember? Of course we were. It’s what you do until you’re forty and you realize you haven’t done anything with your life, and then you become cranky.”
“Hmm.” Charley checked her phone’s bus app now that they were close enough to civilization that she could get one bar, and it showed that the S57 was nearly at their bus stop. They hustled across the street.
On the ferry back to Manhattan, they sat against each other on the open-air upper deck, basking in the sun like a couple of seals on a rock. Charley’s phone dinged. It was Neely, sending the website with her short story. Charley hit the link, looked at it, and showed it to Brooke. “See? Published.”
Brooke nodded. “Fine. You’re dating an author. A very young author.”
Charley texted her back. Thanks! Will read when I’m home.
Neely: Let me know what u think. And when do I get to see yrs?
Really?
Neely: I showed you mine.
Charley chuckled. Okay. Give me your email.
When they got back to Bowling Green, Brooke headed outside in search of a cab. “I’m going home to shower and then to Bloomingdale’s. I already know your answer, but I’ll ask anyway. You wanna come?”
Charley wrinkled her nose. “I know you want to be buried there, but if I never set foot in that store again, or any retail store, for that matter, I’d be fine.”
“You know what Jamie said when we started looking for women for you,” Brooke said as she hugged Charley good-bye. “Too bad L.L. Bean doesn’t carry a line of lesbians. We’d have found someone for you right away.”
When she got home, Charley emailed Neely, attaching the first original five chapters and the rewrites.
I thought you should see the chapters I wrote twenty years ago before you look at what I’m reconstructing. Be gentle.
Part of her was surprised she was so easily trusting this work to someone she’d only just started talking to, but she felt Neely would treat it respectfully. She made a mental note to tell Brooke she’d begun working on the manuscript again. She didn’t want to hide anything else from her now. A few minutes later, the buoy tone sounded.
Neely: looking forward to reading!
Charley’s leg muscles had tightened on the subway ride home and her knee was beginning to throb after the morning’s workout, so she took two Tylenol, went to the bedroom closet, and grabbed the webbed strap she used to stretch every day. It had been a gift from the physical therapist who’d helped her through rehab. Bob heard the strap snapping off the rack and vaulted onto the bed as she lifted her leg and counted to thirty. He hunkered down as close to the strap as he could, waiting for it to move when she lowered her leg. Then he pounced and Charley laughed as she raised her leg again, watching Bob, now an eight-pound weight, go with it, his claws and teeth sunk into the lime green quarry. He chased the strap through the entire set of stretches, much to Charley’s amusement.
Twenty minutes later, Bob was flat out against the pillow and Charley, feeling much looser, rested on the quilt, its warmth and softness reminding her of being wrapped up with someone. Joanna flooded her mind. Closing her eyes, she imagined Joanna’s arms encircling her, pulling her securely to her. She could see her lithe form, all her curves, her flat belly, and wondered what she might feel like hewed to Charley’s back and butt as they lay in bed together, their legs entwined. Will she be there tomorrow night? And is Brooke right, is she as vulnerable as I’ve been feeling? Can she see right through me? Neely was sweet, but sweet had never been a part of Charley’s palette. She needed to be challenged in her relationships. Startling herself that she was thinking “relationship,” she sat up. Bing peeked around the corner of the bedroom door and meowed irritably. Grateful for the diversion from her disturbing thought, she scooped him up and made her way to the kitchen.
After feeding the cats, her curiosity led her to the computer where she opened the website link that Neely had sent her on the ferry and found herself looking at the cover of the Virginia Quarterly Magazine where her latest short story had been published. Twenty minutes later, she sat overwhelmed by the piece, knowing it had come from a deep well within Neely, yet she had made it so universal. The language was stunning, the structure was masterful, the point driven home so unassumingly from the very first word that she realized it slipped the rug right out from under you when you reached the final sentence, leaving you standing on nothing but your own emotions.
She wanted to tell Neely what she thought before the goose bumps settled, and sat down to email her, but found one from her instead. She hesitated to open it in case it was in reply to the chapters she’d sent earlier. She wasn’t nearly in Neely’s league as a writer. Finally, she clicked on it.
Okay, wow…you should’ve sent that novel out. I can see what yr trying to do w/rewrites and it’ll work. But I will be honest. You’ve lost some of yr elasticity, but technique and style come back, it’s like batting practice. I would be more than happy to edit for you while you work. I’ve already made some changes in margins. May I send them? Also, noted some ideas. We could work together one night a wk, like Tues? No football on then. I checked.
Charley wasn’t sure if she was being rescued or if Neely was merely being kind. Either way, she was going to grab the life preserver, figuring Neely wouldn’t waste her time if there wasn’t something there.
I would love your help. Yes, send changes! And your story knocked me out. I want to read more. See you Monday.
Charley sat at the computer waiting, and a few minutes later, Neely’s edits arrived. She opened the attachment and began reading.
Chapter Eight
The weather channel reported a cool morning with a bracing breeze. Charley’s open windows confirmed it. She had to admit fall was really here as she slipped a pair of khakis over her bathing suit and draped a sweater over her shoulders. She and Brooke just might have hit the last perfect day of Indian summer for their impromptu hike yesterday. Heading to the Y, she began a mental to-do list. Emily was at the top, back after her bout with the flu. A call to her mother would be next.
Standing outside the doors for a few minutes, Charley watched Neely at the desk and felt a sense of awe at her creative skills. She liked her, of that she was certain. Neely was funny, kind, and intelligent. And handsome. And so young. But she couldn’t lead her on when it was becoming obvious to her that it was the writer in Neely who was captivating her.
After all, it wasn’t her face Charley saw when she closed her eyes at night. She was going to have to address that.
She walked into the building, aware of what had changed between them, but unsure of how to handle it.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“It was probably too late for you to look at my edits last night—”
“No, it wasn’t. They were…you’re brilliant.”
Neely smiled. “Workin’ with good material. You okay for getting together Tuesday nights? That is, if you really do want my help. I don’t want to intrude on your process if you don’t.”
“Yes, I do!” Charley jumped at Neely’s offer. “I want whatever you can give me.”
Neely’s grin shifted the landscape.
“About the work. Flirt!” Charley headed for the stairs, Neely’s laughter following her.
Forgoing laps, she left right after class, knowing Emily would’ve come in early loaded down with receipts and notes not only from the trip, but from the days spent at home nursing the flu. She’d managed to send a barrage of emails to Charley concerning meetings she needed moved around and ones to set up for the remainder of the week and had even phoned her Monday and Tuesday. It was clear from her gravelly voice and foggy demeanor, though, that the antibiotics were laying her low, but she’d promised to be in today. Charley knew Emily well enough to know she’d be in fighting form regardless of how she looked or felt, so she wasn’t surprised to see her standing in her office door looking crisp and chic in a gray pinstriped suit and gray heels, two fat files in her hand.
“Don’t hate me,” she said, handing the files off to Charley.
Her bag still on her shoulder, Charley riffled through the first file, which was full of receipts. “Listen, Lady Bountiful, if you didn’t take all these trips and pick up the tab everywhere, I might not have a job, so don’t apologize. How are you feeling?” Charley set her bag down, put the first file on the desk, and opened the other one to peruse the contents.
“Like shit, but I couldn’t watch any more of those annoying morning shows. Plus, if I’m keeping food down, I can’t justify staying in bed.”
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