by Heidi Lowe
“You lied to me,” I went on. “You said it was all bullshit what they said about you being a home-wrecker.”
She wasn't smiling now, nor did she look so full of herself. “I'm not a home-wrecker.”
“Oh yeah, so what do you call someone who sleeps with another woman's husband?”
“It was a really bad time for me, Sabrina. Some bad shit was going on in my life.”
“You think it was a bed of roses for Denny? She had a life-threatening disease, for God's sake!” I felt the car swerve as we narrowly missed colliding with an SUV. Obviously she couldn't multitask – drive and try to justify her disgusting behavior. “You know what, just forget it. Forget it all.”
In a huff I turned my back to her, arms folded, and looked out the window instead.
“Baby, I can explain.”
The use of the word came so unexpectedly, and sounded so genuine, so pleading, that it made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. We'd never spoken to each other like that before, and she must have known that doing so would thaw me. She was right, only she couldn't see the effect her words had, as she couldn't see my face.
“I don't think you can.”
We didn't speak for the remainder of the journey. Only when she pulled into her driveway did I speak again, and only to tell her goodnight. But as I let myself into my house, she forced her way in.
“Casey, look, it's late and I'm tired. Can we do this another night?” We stood in the hallway, my eyes avoiding hers.
“No, we're doing this now.” The force in her voice made me look at her, and I saw the will in her eyes. She was going to have her say whether I liked it or not.
I glanced nervously at the staircase. “All right, but could you keep your voice down? We're not alone here.”
She gripped my arm and dragged me into the living-room, pushing the door up behind us. “About a year and a half ago, this guy I went on one date with started stalking me. I met him at a coffee shop, and he was really persistent, so I said what the hell. But the asshole couldn't take the hint when I said I wasn't interested. Then he started showing up at the studio every day, with flowers. And then the bastard shows up outside my house!”
“What happened?”
“It went on for three months, and it really spooked me. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, couldn't leave the house. I even considered getting myself a gun. So I talked to Tony. I knew he had some tenuous ties to the mob. Asked him about hooking me up with a weapon. He wanted to know what it was for, so I told him. He came round every day for a week, waiting for the guy to show up, and then when he finally did, he beat the crap out of him. The guy never showed his face again. I was so grateful to Tony, and one thing led to another... None of it was planned.”
“Goddammit, Casey! I get that people make mistakes, but what the fuck was that about tonight? You were teasing Denny.”
She covered her face with her hands and sighed. “Denny brings out the worst in me. You know what I overheard her saying in the grocery store, when all of that was going down? She said I deserved everything I got. Said the guy was doing everyone a favor by scaring me into staying at home.”
“So you got back at her by sleeping with her husband?” I couldn't keep the displeasure from my voice. I expected it from someone like Denny; but she wasn't my girlfriend, Casey was. And I didn't want to think she was capable of that kind of spite.
“Maybe subconsciously, but believe me, Sabrina, it wasn't planned. And I regretted it immediately after.”
“The way you were grinning at her tonight, that didn't look like someone who regretted what they'd done, Casey.” I shook my head, shooting her a wounded look. “I'm just... disappointed. It was a low blow. It makes me question the kind of person I'm dating...”
She responded with a more severely wounded look, and it almost broke my heart to see it. “Don't say that.” She took my hand in hers and pressed a light kiss to it. “I'm sorry I lied to you, but this is exactly why. I didn't want you to think of me like that.”
I couldn't rip my hand away, even though doing so would have made my statement for me. I didn't have the heart to. Even now, her touch could turn me to jelly. But I needed her to know that I wasn't okay with any of this – not her past, but the pleasure she got from unsettling Denny.
“I'm going to need some time,” I said, finally reclaiming my hand.
She opened her mouth, looking as though she was going to protest, but then nodded slowly, her brown eyes solemn.
As she left, she turned back and said, “I just hope you're still in love with me when you're done.”
That was the big test, wasn't it? Could I still love her in spite of her repugnant behavior?
I slept restlessly that night, as I often did when Casey hampered my thoughts. My head was telling me one thing – run a mile – but my heart was telling me another – everyone deserves a second chance. Trying to hear both sides out only led to tossing and turning. When the morning arrived, I was in a crabby mood, no desire to get out of bed and face the day.
Unfortunately, I wasn't the only person who'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, spotting Adrian at the table.
“Morning,” I grumbled, reaching for the coffee pot. When I got no reply I looked at him through the corner of my eye. Just as I suspected, he was shooting me a look of daggers. A regular occurrence in this house, and it was getting pretty old. I sighed. “What's wrong with you now?”
“My mom's a lesbian whore, that's what's wrong!” he growled.
Between my lack of sleep, my relationship woes, and now this, I couldn't have stopped myself snapping if I'd wanted to. I hurled my coffee cup across the room, and it smashed against the wall, making Adrian jump in his seat.
“Listen, you little shit! Whatever I do, and with whom I do it, is none of your goddamn business.”
He stared at me open-mouthed, as though he was looking at a crazy woman. Pretty accurate, considering that was exactly how I felt at that moment, like someone off her meds.
“And you have no right talking to me like that. Got it?” The words sounded like they came from my mouth, but they didn't sound like my words. So alien, as if someone else was speaking them in my voice. Filled with more attitude than I had ever possessed, I knew they were Casey's influence.
Adrian's gulp was visible. “You said you were just friends.” His voice had now lost all of its strength.
“We're together. Happy now? Full disclosure: Your mother likes girls now.” My rage soon began to recede. I swept up the broken bits of porcelain.
“So, so what does this mean?”
“I don't know.” My shoulders sagged. “We're just seeing where this thing is going.”
“And what does that mean for me?”
“Nothing will change around here, Adrian. She won't be moving in, if that's what you're asking. No sleepovers either.”
He gulped back his OJ and didn't say anything else, his face unreadable. I didn't know whether that was his way of waving the white flag, accepting my terms; but his silence, his lack of an expression made a welcome change from his usual form. Eventually he finished his breakfast and mumbled something about going to the park to play basketball, then left moments later.
I let out a long breath, one I didn't know I'd been holding. Now, with time to reflect, remorse engulfed me. Adrian had said some pretty awful things to me over the years (though not as bad as that morning), but I'd never gone at him like that. I'd always been able to maintain composure. It could only have been a product of Casey's influence. Maybe it was a good thing we were taking some time out.
It took me four days of having no contact with Casey to realize that time out was a terrible thing! She was like a drug, the addiction I needed to hide from my loved ones. I was foolish to think I could simply turn off my feelings for her like a tap. Foolish to think my body wouldn't crave the high she provided.
I stood in the produce isle of the supermarket, checking over a
pumpkin before dropping it into my shopping trolley. I wanted to try this new pumpkin soup recipe I'd found online. The soup was a part of my genius plan to win over Casey. She'd mentioned her love for it more than once, and I knew she would appreciate the gesture (even if it was inedible).
It was a Thursday afternoon. All around me the stay-at-home moms pushed their trolleys, their young kids stuffed into the seats, demanding candy and toys and generally making a nuisance. I smiled to myself, thankful that that chapter of my life was over (though, with teen-Adrian, I'd entered a worse one). I reached for a cantaloupe melon, and felt a tap on the shoulder. I spun around to find Rachel hovering behind me, her lips pursed. It was the first time I'd seen her in a couple of weeks, which made her opening sentence all the more bizarre.
“Are you here on your own?” she asked, looking around us.
I frowned at her. “And hello to you too, Rachel.”
“Your girlfriend isn't lurking around here is she?”
“Do you mean Casey? No, she's not here. What–”
“So you're not even going to deny it? You're sleeping with the town slut and you're not denying it? Wow, what's happened to you?”
My grip on the melon was so tight I thought it would burst. It took everything I had not to hurl it at Rachel's head. That would have been the most gratifying thing I'd done all week.
“I'd really appreciate it if you didn't speak that way about Casey,” I said, my tone level, but my temper anything but.
“I hope you know the company you keep reflects on you and your family.”
“What are you getting at?”
“All I'm saying is that this type of union makes a lot of people uncomfortable. And when people get uncomfortable, they create distance... Just think about that and decide whether she's worth it.”
I squinted my eyes at her, trying to figure out whether she was old-fashioned homophobic, or just loathed Casey. Or both. Whatever her problem was, I was done hearing about it.
I shook my head and let out a little laugh. Then, leaning close to her so that only she would hear my words, I said, “The woman gives such good head it's like she invented the act herself. So yeah, I'd say she's totally worth it.”
Leaving her standing there, mouth ajar, as I trotted off to continue shopping, I felt victorious, more so than I ever would have had I thrown a melon at her. The confrontation only made me long for Casey more.
It was Conrad who opened the door for me that evening, when I arrived at Casey's house clutching my third attempt at pumpkin soup. His cellphone pressed to his ear, as usual, he ushered me inside and took the container from me.
“She's upstairs,” he whispered, covering the mouthpiece.
Laughter filtered from the living-room as I ascended the stairs. It sounded like the usual gang. Her bedroom door was ajar when I reached the room. Through the crack I saw her kneeling on the bed, a sea of papers surrounding her as she scrutinized them. Her long hair was in a loose bun on top of her head, fallen strands hung around her face. She looked so beautiful when she was deep in thought. I stood there watching her for some time before I made my presence known.
“I still am,” was the first thing I said when I stepped into the room.
She looked up with a half smile, half frown. “You still are what?”
“In love with you... but not for lack of trying.”
Now the smile replaced the frown in its entirety. “What can I say, I'm impossible not to love.”
“I'm sure your other neighbors would disagree.”
She chuckled then brushed all the papers off the bed and onto the floor, where they fluttered every which way. She outstretched her hand and I teetered toward her, before she pulled me down beside her. She buried her face in my neck, laying light kisses on my flesh, sending a shiver along my spine.
“Here's where we differ: I don't try to stop loving you. I'm completely fine with you having my heart.”
I drew her into a lazy kiss, and let my lips hover on hers. How easy it was to forget the outside world and all the assholes that lived in it, when I was with her. She was the only thing that mattered.
“I brought pumpkin soup. Made it from scratch. My way of getting back into your good graces.”
“There's only one thing I want to eat right now,” she said, raising a cheeky eyebrow. The next thing I knew she'd thrown me against the bed and straddled me, my arms pinned above my head.
I didn't try to break free. Didn't want to. “But your friends are downstairs.”
“They know better than anyone how much I need this.” She released my arms for a moment as she whipped off her t-shirt. I ran my hands along her smooth, chiseled stomach, smiling with pride that this was all mine. That she was all mine. When had I gotten so lucky?
It didn't take long for that luck to run out. Just as Casey began to unbutton my pants, Conrad sauntered into the room.
“I'm sure whatever this is,” he started, waving his hand dismissively at our attempt at love-making, “is interesting, but if we don't leave within the next ten minutes we'll miss our flight.”
“All right, all right, I'm coming. Just give me five minutes,” Casey said.
“You've got three.” With that Conrad turned on his heel and sauntered back out.
With her hands pinning my arms at the wrists, she leaned down – her breasts lightly grazing mine – kissed me on the nose then said, “I'm good, but even I couldn't make you cum in three minutes.”
When she climbed off me I sat up. “What flight?” I asked.
“Last minute photo-shoot in Milan.” She groaned. “I love Italy, but she has the worst timing. I'd rather stay here with you. That's what you do to me.”
She kissed me again, determined to make it last, like it was a permanent farewell kiss.
“I've never been.” I tried to play down my disappointment at her impending departure, and also at the fact that I was stuck in boring old Florida, but I could feel a sulk coming on.
“Maybe we could go together someday.” She got up and pulled me to my feet. “These are going to be the longest five days of my life.”
I didn't care about the future, I just wanted her in the here and now. She'd worked me into such a state of yearning, that I would have no choice but to satiate myself when I got home. But I could see it in her eyes that she felt bad leaving me, and telling her how wet she'd made me would have only made her feel worse.
“And mine,” I said.
The whispers and scowling commenced the following day, presumably once Rachel and Denny had had enough time to spread their vicious rumors. Rumors about my indecency with the tramp of the town, the strumpet of the street, the harlot of the hamlet. Spreading their homophobia and infecting the neighbors, making me and Casey out to be villains, despite the fact that our “union” wasn't hurting anyone.
When Monday afternoon arrived, the day before Casey was set to return, I'd just got back from getting my car serviced. I parked up in the driveway and stepped out, a bag of pastries in my hand. I heard voices approaching, and when I looked around I recognized a couple of the women who lived on the street, out for their regular power walks. One of those women was Ellen.
“Hi ladies,” I said amicably, waving. This was standard practice, which was usually met with an equally jovial greeting, even an inquiry about my son, or how work was going.
The women looked at each other quizzically, as though I'd spoken in a language they didn't understand. And when they returned their gaze to me, they nodded at me in some kind of half-hearted greeting, but powered on.
“She's got a nerve talking to us like nothing happened,” Ellen said, the minute their backs were to me.
“They're all like that, the gays. They think it's business as usual, like we should treat them normally.”
“I'm more concerned with her chosen mate than I am with her sexual proclivities. I never did trust that one. I always thought it suspect that she divorced a man as powerful as her husband.”
Their gossip
faded into the distance with them. Even if it hadn't, I would have blocked out their voices. I didn't think it was possible for two people to be so insulting in the space of a few seconds. But I'd clearly underestimated people's capacity for hatred.
A ball lodged in my throat as I fought back the urge to cry. Nasty comments very rarely made me so emotional; it must have been a combination of the vitriol and missing Casey that had got to me. I hurried inside before anyone could see how distressed those vultures had made me. I didn't want them to think their cold-shouldering was effective.
I fired off a text to Casey about how much I was looking forward to her touch, her kiss, her scent again. We'd been messaging each other her whole trip, pretty much as soon as she'd touched down in Milano Malpensa Airport. What I held back from her was the rising discontent on our street – the type she'd been experiencing ever since her arrival to Azalea Avenue, the type she'd gotten used to – that was now aimed at me.
Just as I hit send, Adrian came crashing into the house.
“This is bullshit!”
I came running into the hallway to find him huffing and puffing, red-faced and murderous. He tossed his backpack to the floor.
“What's wrong?” I left several feet between us, afraid that his latest outburst was aimed at me, as most of them were.
“They cut me from the basketball team. I'm one of the best shooting guards they've ever had, they said so themselves.”
“I don't understand. Why would they cut you? There must be a reason.” I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but knowing Adrian, I suspected he'd probably pissed off his coach and got himself kicked off.
“Yeah, they gave me a reason.” He put reason in air quotes. “They said due to my newness they had to take me off and offer the place to another kid who'd been in the school more than a year.”
“What?” Now I was close to reaching his levels of rage. “But they can't do that. You've been on the team for four months; why are they saying this now?”
“I asked them and they said you knew the rules, that you knew this was a possibility.” He growled. “Mom, I can't be off the team. That's not fair.”