by Erinne Bates
“Mm-hm,” I replied. I sat upright and stiff, conscious of every tiny bit of pressure each of her fingers individually placed on me. And then her head rested against my upper back as her arms circled my waist and clasped loosely in the front.
“I’m so sleepy, I could take a nap right here,” she said, “Is this okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I uttered. Feeling like her protector, I reached down and secured her hands against my body with my arm.
“Mm,” she murmured, then we rode the rest of the way in silence.
It was in this silence that things became clearer to me. Maybe it was the moon, maybe it was my imagination, but I received the confirmation I needed to tell Justine what my thoughts had been on the dock. What they had been regarding her. I wasn’t certain how to tell her, or what exactly to say, but I was positive I did not want to keep them to myself. And I wanted to tell her as soon as possible.
By the time we arrived home, it was nearly two in the morning. Oddly, my mom greeted us at the door with a message for Justine. I’m not sure of the conversation that took place between the two, but I did not hear Justine make her way up the stairs to her room for another twenty minutes. Her door closed and then all was silent. Disappointment rang through me. It was intensely overbearing, and I wasn’t sure how to dismantle it. I had been waiting – deliberately giving thought on making my feelings known to her in some pronounced manner – and she failed to show up. Justine was constantly taking me to the edge of something and I could never be certain if we were to keep going – or if all of it was only in my head. Had she come to my room, I planned to make a small and purposeful gesture: A kiss on the back of her neck as we lay together, that would not be mistaken as friendly.
Instead, I was left alone. Abandoned. Ignored. I was angry with my mom for interrupting our perfect evening. I felt as though I wanted to scream at her for ruining everything. Clutching my lamb I rolled over as a hot tear spill over the bridge of my nose.
A light tap on my door startled me.
“Are you asleep?” Justine entered my room without waiting for me to respond to her knock.
“Not yet,” I said, wiping the tear on my bedsheet before sitting up. My sadness was immediately gone. I just knew she came because she had been thinking the same thing I was. Our feelings for each other had to be mutual. I scooted over for her to join me, but instead, she stayed standing next to my bed.
“Your mum gave me a message when we got back. Tomorrow – I mean, later this morning -- I may have to go out of town to give some lessons.” I remained quiet, waiting for the good news. “And so I wanted to say goodbye in case I don’t get to see you.”
“But it’s Saturday. I’ll be here.” I was positive she wanted to ask me to join her since it was only one riding lesson. We could even spend the night somewhere along the way if it was really far. I was already envisioning our adventurous time together in a faraway city--
“I’ll probably leave before you wake and anyway it might be a few days that I don’t see you.”
“Oh,” I said, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. Truthfully, I no longer cared if it was hidden. Justine stood stiffly before me in the dark while I kept my eyes on her.
“And so… I wanted to say goodnight and sweet dreams,” she finally said, with a touch of awkwardness in her tone. When she bent forward to kiss my cheek I turned slightly towards her so that the very edges our mouths touched. It was nothing that one would normally be alarmed by -- an innocent err if one felt inclined to assess it- but I felt every nerve ending light up inside me. Justine gave a small laugh and touched the corner of her mouth with her tongue. She had noticed.
Chapter 5
I saw very little of Justine for the next few weeks. Sometimes she didn’t come home for days at a time, and when she did it was to do laundry and talk on the phone with her bedroom door closed. Justine once shared with me that Rick, the fiancé of the woman who owned the barn, would call her every time his fiancé went out of town so I figured it was probably Rick on the other end of the line. Once she agreed to meet him for dinner. She didn’t come home that evening, and I assumed she spent the night with him. I hated his face after that.
Her schedule became less predictable, and the times we normally spent together diminished. She stopped coming to my room in the middle of the night when she was childishly afraid of something that wasn’t there or needed to be soothed. Sometimes, I sensed she was agitated or pushed to her limit, and it made her seem unapproachable. Painfully, I had to force myself to let go of the earlier notions I had entertained. Obviously, nothing had been as I imagined and she was not feeling unexplainable butterflies and this urge to breathe each other’s air, as I was. I felt humiliated by my fantasies. And though I wouldn’t acknowledge it at the time, a tiny part of me felt resentment.
On an afternoon when I knew Justine was in her room, I brought her some hot tea and asked if she had time to visit.
“It’s not that I don’t want to visit with you, I just have so much going on I cannot get distracted,” she had replied, taking the warm cup from my hand and opening the door for me to step in. I was relieved to find her in a good mood. “I’d like for all of us to have dinner together tonight so I can share some big news.” My emotions sank. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear. “Thank you for making me tea. I could really use it,” she said and took a sip. Her expression turn puzzled.
“Em, which tea did you make? “she asked. She kept a variety of teas in one of the cupboards. Until she asked me I had forgotten they were even there.
“Oh there was some iced tea in the fridge and I heated it for you. Lipton’s, I think.”
With a quirky smile on her face, Justine set the cup down and approached me. Wrapping her arms around my shoulders, she hugged me for the very first time. Not like a hug of greetings or goodbyes, but a deeply connecting type of hug that made all of the hurt, resentment, and suffering fall away. In that moment, everything was forgiven. I’ve never forgotten the way her hands pressed against my back, and the surprise I felt at their strength.
“Let’s take three deep breaths together and then I will get back to my work, ok?” she said softly and put her forehead against mine. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands so I put them on my hips, but she took them in hers while we counted out our three breaths. “See you at dinner,” she said and kissed my forehead.
That evening as we all sat together around the dinner table, and mom proudly served us her famous meatloaf (the one meal I disliked more than any other) Justine beamed as she announced she had been officially invited to travel with an Olympic equestrian team as one of their lead trainers. She explained that she had already been to Ohio, Texas, and all over Florida with them during the past few weeks. Inwardly I sighed in relief that it wasn’t Rick who had taken her from me. In a few weeks, however, she would be moving out to join her team, who were already in Atlanta. I picked tiny pieces of onion out of my meatloaf to distract myself from unwanted emotions trying to surface. I feigned my happiness for her as best I could.
As soon as I could I rushed to my room, shut my door and sat in the center of the room. I took out my journal, which had been ignored since Justine moved in, and poured my soul out onto its pages. I didn’t write of imagined love this time, but of real pain.
For the first time in my life, I ditched school during lunch period the next day and drove home. Desperate to feel comforted, I curled myself up on the couch to watch one of my favorite movies, The Color Purple. Having seen the movie several times, I knew at certain scenes I could have a good cry, and just maybe it would help release the intense ache I felt.
As I watched a scene I had watched a dozen times before, when Shug Avery sang Miss Celie’s Blues, then later kissed Celie after her show, and the next day Celie said, “Shug like honey. And now I’s just like a bee…” I gasped loudly.
I began to shake. This was how I felt about Justine, but… what did that really mean? What did that mean abou
t me? About the type of person I was? I thought about movies I had seen depicting women in relationships with other women. Was that the type of person I was?
“No,” I said out loud, hoping to convince myself it couldn’t be true, but at that very moment, I knew that it was. Tears filled my eyes as I slid off the couch onto my hands and knees. I felt like I was choking. I couldn’t inhale. I couldn’t exhale. I couldn’t move. All I could do was see Justine’s face in my mind and know that l wanted to be with her the way I had seen in those movies and there was nothing left I could deny or hide from myself.
There was no way I was going to tell her how I felt, now. How would she react if she knew the truth as I now knew it? I no longer thought of her as wanting the same as I. I felt both fear and shame of being perceived as predatory or worse: Perverse. I had little faith that I wasn’t both.
Right then a key turned in the lock and the front door opened. I wiped my face frantically before even looking to see who it was. I already knew.
“What’s wrong?” Justine immediately came toward me and knelt down.
“The movie,” I lied, “It always makes me cry.” I tried to laugh as we exchanged cheek kisses. Without any further consideration, she left me sitting on the floor and began climbing the stairs to her room.
“We’re going to have to watch it together sometime,” she called from halfway up, “though I think you could just recite it to me by now.”
A few moments later she called down for me to join her.
I sat on the edge of her bed feeling numb while she stood at her desk and went through papers that she pulled from a worn briefcase.
“Do you know where I’ve been?” she asked.
“No. With a man?” I could not bring myself to say Rick’s name.
“What?” she said sharply, turning to face me. “No, I was not with a man. I have been signing contracts and making arrangements to start my new job.”
This time I could not muster enough from within to fake being happy for her. Instead, my chin dropped and I fidgeted with my fingers. A new tear ran down my cheek.
“What’s this?” she asked, joining me on the bed. “What’s really going on? Did something happen at school? You aren’t supposed to be home yet, are you?”
I took a deep breath and said, “I feel really sad you are leaving,”
“You’re crying because I’m leaving?” She urged me to lie back and curled up next to me. She touched the tear that had slid down my face. “Do you know you are the only best friend that I have?” I shook my head. “Well, you know now. And just because I am not here to protect you from your mother’s famous meatloaf doesn’t mean I won’t be carrying you here” --she touched her chest where her heart was— ”every single day.”
I smiled. She really did know how to make me feel better. She yawned, causing me to yawn too. “I’m exhausted from loading horses all morning and driving for the past six hours. Do you want to take a nap with me?” she asked softly. I nodded and turned toward her as she put her arm under my neck and urged me to lay against her chest. As usual, she was asleep very quickly, but I stayed awake and listened to her beating heart.
During dinner, Justine told us more about her new position. My parents also confessed to thinking she had met and was spending time with a man. I was relieved when she confirmed a second time there was no man in her life.
“In fact,” she had stated, “most men on the team are gay so it wasn’t an option even if I had been looking.”
After my parents retired to their room, Justine asked me if I would come to her room for a special celebration. She was drinking wine and offered me a taste. Before I could refuse, she handed me an empty glass but poured only a little. It was sweet and dark. I had never had a proper glass of wine before then...not really. In seventh grade, I had some with Colleen Wilks who was supposed to be babysitting me while my parents went away for a weekend, but I didn’t count that. This seemed more formal. Justine asked me to think of a toast.
“Um…,” I stammered. I knew nothing of making toasts. “Good luck,” I said and raised my glass.
“To our friendship and our companionship,” she said back to me. “May it last all of time.” She took a sip from her glass so I took one from mine.
“When do you leave?” I asked her.
“Three to six weeks. It’s all being scheduled,” Justine replied. “Why? Are you eager for me to go?” I assured her I definitely was not.
“When will you come back?” I asked. She refilled my empty glass, ignoring my question. After refilling her glass, she hooked her arm through mine and took a sip.
“When?” I asked a second time.
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s what’s called a circuit and what we’ll do is travel from location to location trying to qualify for more events. There’ll be sponsors to acquire, and tournaments, and hoytee-toytee dinner parties –“
“Hoytee – toytee?” I had never heard that phrase before.
“Yes, and for your information, your toilet is called a Loo, so put that on your list of funny things I say.” She poked my arm teasingly.
Feeling a slight lightheadedness from the wine, I sat down on her bed. Justine gathered up papers from her desktop and placed them neatly in a grey binder that lay next to me.
She then began to undress but did not turn her back to me. I averted my eyes. I never thought of Justine as modest, but I had never before seen her completely topless.
“Do they look ok?” she asked, standing in front of me as she unclasped her bra and tossed it on the back of her chair.
“Yeah,” I said, staring at her bra draped over the chair, feeling heat sweeping across my cheeks.
“Well you’re not looking so I’m not sure how you would know,” she then said with a slight touch of laughter in her voice. It was that very tone that never failed to lure me from the inhibitions that kept me from engaging with her in the way she wanted. Slowly I let my eyes wander over toward her breasts. Her nipples were rosy in color and slightly erect. I had never seen anything so feminine and beautiful. I nodded my head instead of speaking and gulped down the remainder of the wine in my glass.
“Can I see yours?” She put a blue sweatshirt on and stood before me.
Slowly, I lifted my shirt. Everything was beginning to feel surreal, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or my elevated heart rate. Justine was once again decisively affecting every move. Wanting to comply, I tried to be resolute, waiting for her to make her intentions clear.
“All the way,” she said, helping me pull my shirt over my head. I wore a gray cotton sports bra that suddenly was impossible to get out of. Justine grew impatient and helped me remove it as well. She knelt so that she was eye level with my breasts. Silently, she took her time looking at them.
“They’re perfect,” she concluded, then handed my top back to me. I had no idea what her purpose was for this examination of each other, but I must admit she had a way of normalizing her most obscure actions. The last thing I wanted to do was appear shy or naive. Besides, deep down I was enjoying it.
“How did you get this job?” I asked her while she removed her riding pants and climbed into loose-fitting boxer shorts. I did not turn away this time while I memorized the shape of her thighs. Justine sat beside me on the bed.
“Two years ago, I was on an Olympic team,” she began. “And then my horse went lame, and I had to quit.” I could see there was still a lot of pain for her as she spoke of it. “I went home to my mother and father and I nearly went to bed for a month. It broke me, Calli. It really did.” She filled her glass with the remaining wine, “Then one day I met the Brody’s when they were on holiday in Ireland, and we stayed in touch, and eventually they offered to sponsor me so that I could begin teaching lessons here at the stables while making connections in the States.”
“Are you going to ride again?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “That time is over, but apparently I am worth a lot of money as an i
nstructor,” she said grinning and poking me in the arm again. “Will you miss me?” I only nodded because I desperately wanted to tell her how much.
“Look at my legs!” she suddenly exclaimed grabbing my hand and placing it just above her knee. “Do they feel strong to you?”
“What?” I was beginning to feel confused and like things were getting strange again. Justine started to explain how much stronger her thighs used to be when she was in training, but instead of listening I was thinking of my own feelings - my promise to tell Justine and my sudden cowardice when--
“—Have you ever been kissed?” she asked.
All chaos in my head halted and the room became deafeningly silent. Not the type of silence that calms, like a newly borne blade of grass that emerges from the frozen earth to meet Spring’s first sun. It was more like the silence that comes after a firecracker has exploded too close to your ear and all you hear is a loud empty echo with a distant ringing.
“Yes.”
I realized I was holding my breath and tried to let it out slowly without being noticeable.
“Show me,” she said. Obediently, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
“No. Really show me.”
Before I could respond she pressed her lips to mine. Afraid to move, I waited for her to guide me.
“Kiss me,” she attempted to demand of me, but I also heard a soft pleading in her voice, and that’s when I reached behind her neck and pressed my lips hard against hers. When they parted I explored her mouth until her tongue began to engage with mine. As the room spun, I could hear my breathing, but when I could hear hers as well, I pulled her closer to me, deepening our kiss. Justine let out a sigh just as our mouths and our lips and our tongues and even our bodies were in perfect sync. It was the moment electricity shot through me like I had never before experienced. My stomach felt as though I was in a never-ending free fall. Her hands slid up my arms and cupped my face, catching me. Then, without warning, she tensed and pulled away.