Fusion

by Diana Kane

“Wow you weren’t kidding?” I look at Brooke, my eyes half lidded as I’m nearly asleep. We just put in one hell of a work out and I finally feel relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  “About what?”

  “She is hot.” I am too tired to follow.

  “Who?” I just want to drift off to sleep but Brooke is intent on talking.

  “Catherine. Wait you didn’t see her walk in on us?” Alarm surges through me and my eyes snap open, sleep the farthest thing from my mind now. I haven’t done anything wrong yet I want to run upstairs and explain. I stay planted in my bed though. I can’t keep playing this game with myself. I need to get over Catherine.

  “Are you making that up to mess with me? When?”

  “When you had me against the bar. I figured you knew she was there and didn’t care. You know I wouldn’t care.”

  “Great.” We spend the next few minutes laying there in silence, thoughts of Catherine streaming through my mind. “You staying tonight or do you have to go?” Brooke and I have discussed the Catherine situation, I just don’t want to discuss it more after I have just finished sleeping with her.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Either is fine. I’d like you to stay but that would mean getting up and out early.”

  “To avoid Catherine? She already knows I’m here.”

  “No because I have to work in the morning. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Brooke knows me well, even after nearly fifteen years and thousands of miles between us.

  “Are you trying to convince yourself of that? The you I dated would be trying to convince herself of that.” Brooke tilts my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Alex you haven’t done anything wrong.” I say nothing because every fiber in my body contradicts the notion that I am innocent. I really do want Brooke to stay so I’m not alone. “I can stay,” she says as she wraps herself around me. “Happy birthday.”

  Catherine

  Sleep is eluding me again. I am going to go insane, I am sure of it. I can’t get the image of Alex and the woman out of my head. I am very turned on. I try giving myself some release. but it isn’t working. I’m frustrated. The image of Alex stroking the stranger flashes through my mind, and I finally feel it. I go with it. I imagine how it would have played out had I seen it all, only the stranger is me. I imagine what it would feel like to have Alex go down on me, to fondle my breasts, to pull me in for a kiss by my hair. I imagine that my hand is Alex’s, her fingers stroking and fucking me. It isn’t long before my much sought after release hits me. I come hard and loud, certain that my closest neighbor has to have heard me. As my body calms itself, sleep finally takes me in her arms.

  *****

  I reach the kitchen in the morning just in time to see Alex ushering her guest out. I feel hurt and sad. I don’t want to argue about it though. Alex hasn’t done anything wrong.

  “Brooke.” Alex says her name, as if by saying it I’ll understand. The only reply I can make is a slight nod as I try not to relay the melancholy that I feel. “We dated a lifetime ago.” If they dated a lifetime ago it certainly looked like they never broke up. Alex is headed for the stairs.

  “Can we talk tonight? I really want to talk to you.” She stops.

  “Yeah, I can make sure I’m available.” She answers without looking back, and heads down the steps as soon as she agrees. There isn’t a point in talking to her tonight, I know.

  *****

  An air exchange malfunction at the hospital results in the last two cases of my day being cancelled. I know I will regret making up for those missed surgeries but today I am grateful. Evening staff are required to stay in case there is a trauma and with the hope that maintenance will be able to repair the air exchange quickly enough that some of the later scheduled cases can still go. I have plenty of time before Alex will be home so I stop at the market for supplies to make dinner. I head home and immediately get to work. I am nervous and need to stay busy so I won’t talk myself out of this.

  Alex arrives home just before six. I am just finishing our dinner of roasted chicken with red skinned potatoes and green beans. “Smells good. You didn’t have to make dinner though.”

  “I did. I haven’t had a lot of chances to since you moved in.”

  “Do you want to talk or eat?” I really need to talk first. Now that it looms in front of me I am becoming a nervous wreck. Plus I am unsure dinner will be comfortable if we don’t talk first. Then again I am unsure it will be if we do talk first.

  “You want to try both?” Alex is clearly ready to move this along.

  “I suppose we could.” We sit down to the meal and Alex starts eating. I watch her, too nervous to do anything else. She eventually looks up at me, her eyebrows raised.

  “What did you want to talk about?” This is it. If I don’t speak now I know I never will. My stomach clenches and my saliva turns to sand. Why didn’t I make myself a drink? Instead I reach for my glass of water and guzzle half of it before I begin.

  “Alex I don’t even know where to begin. I need you to let me get this out though.” I look at her and she nods, letting me know she understands and to continue. “I don’t have answers I guess is a good starting place. I am lost and confused. I feel like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. I miss you.” I pause and look down. I can’t look at her when I say this, any of it. My shame is too much to bear. “I haven’t been totally honest with you.” Alex sits down her fork. She stares at me waiting.

  “I don’t know when it happened, when it started. I do know when I realized it was there.” I know I’m not making sense, Alex’s expression making that clear. She waits patiently though, kind enough to honor my request to let me talk. “I guess I should lead by confessing that the night that we almost kissed, that wasn’t all you. I wanted to kiss you, so badly. I don’t know when that feeling developed, but it was there. It terrified me. I know you are comfortable being out, but that isn’t a skin that I’ve ever worn. I’m being honest when I tell you that I’ve never felt that way about a woman before. You ran before I could process or talk to you. You were the only person I wanted to talk to. I wanted to tell you the next morning, but you just blamed it all on yourself. It was easy for me to let you. I immediately regretted that decision and have felt very ashamed about it since. I planned to tell you that morning after I showered, I couldn’t stand the self loathing, but Taylor was here.” I stop to gather my thoughts and try to rein in my emotions. The tears win though and I am trying not to sob as I continue.

  “I am so lost right now. I don’t understand what this means. These feelings have never been a part of my identity. I tried talking to Taylor about it on the way to the airport, hoping she could provide some clarity. The only thing she really gave me was a warning. I needed to know and be sure about what I wanted before I talked to you or I’d risk losing you forever. I never planned to lead you on, please believe me. I have no desire to hurt you anymore than I have. I care about you. I am certain of that. I know I am having feelings for you that are past the point of being platonic. I just don’t know about the rest. I don’t want to lead you down a path and realize in a week or a month that I’ve made a mistake.” I finally look up at her. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Alex stares at me, unreadable. The silence is more than I can take, but I let her process. “What do you want me to say?” Her voice is barely a whisper. It is clear that my confession has shaken her.

  “Anything, please. What are you thinking right now?” My heart is pounding, fear cascades through me and the room feels like it is 20 degrees warmer than it was a minute ago.

  “Honestly? So many things. I’m pissed because you lied to me, that you let me believe that everything was entirely my fault. That you let me feel like I am a terrible person, that I had violated some boundary. I am sad and hurting because you are hurting and have been going through this alone. I’ve never wanted that for you. I’m glad that you feel something but I am confused as to what I’m supposed to do with that knowledge.” It is
my turn to stare at Alex. “Now I’m scared, scared that since I know this I will start to hope. Hope leads to heartache.”

  We sit in silence. I’m not sure for how long. Dinner has been forgotten. My tears continue to pour out of me. Eventually I hear the sound of Alex sliding her chair back. She makes her way to me. I rise to meet her. She embraces me, the contact with her an intoxicant I’ve never known.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. I start to pull away, cupping her face in my hands. A tear falls down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb and draw her face towards mine, I have to know. Alex stops me, searching my eyes. “Catherine…I can’t.” She breaks free from my arms and retreats to her apartment. The void her rejection tears through me bringing a new wave of tears. This time I don’t fight it and the sobs take over.

  Alexis

  Catherine said she wanted to talk not stagger me with a truth bomb. My mind is in overdrive. My emotions battling each other. One minute I want to run upstairs and pin her to the wall, claim her mouth with my own. Then I remember the agony she suffered in front of me and tell myself I need to give her space. I try to put myself in her shoes but cannot, I’ve always known I was gay. I don’t feel anger toward her anymore. I may not understand exactly what she is going through but I know I never thought I’d see Catherine reduced to the wreck she was when I pulled away from her. Rejecting her like that is one of the hardest things I have ever done. The hope in her face erased by my rebuff, her collapse and agonized wail as I walked away. I physically ache each time I replay the scene in my head. After an hour of the same thoughts ruminating in my mind only one thing seems clear, I need to move out. Living here is no longer the right thing for either of us. Catherine’s suffering is more than I can stand.

  I grab my laptop and start searching for an immediate occupancy rental near work. The sooner I am out of here the sooner Catherine can start to heal. I find several options so I start making a list. It is too late to call any of the numbers tonight.

  *****

  I arrive at work the next morning to discover that we are over staffed. Still rattled by Catherine’s words last night and needing to find a new home, I volunteer to leave. By 9 am I am released for the day. I immediately get to work calling the numbers on my list.

  The search is tedious. I don’t require extravagance, just a reasonable amount of space in a place that is clean, a nice neighborhood, and something away from the students. By noon I am convinced that I will never find something. My phone rings while I am eating lunch. It isn’t a number I recognize immediately. After three rings I realize it might be a return call from one of the classifieds I’ve contacted. I answer to hear the soft voice of a woman who identifies herself as Lydia. We talk about the rental for a few minutes, I get the address and agree to meet her there in half an hour.

  I arrive at the property twenty minutes later. I want a chance to check out the surrounding area before I meet with Lydia. I am excited when I realize that the house is located in what is locally known as “Dyke Heights”. The neighborhood is nice, seems to be well kept and looks like it will be fairly quiet.

  A few minutes after my arrival the front door opens and Lydia greets me. She is probably in her mid 70’s, shorter than me, and a little thick. She has short silver hair, glasses and a warm smile. We shake hands and she welcomes me into the house. It is warm and smells of fresh baked cookies. She offers me something to drink and as she leaves to get me a glass of water I take in my surroundings. The living room offers a lot to take in. My attention is drawn to a wall covered in photos. Some hold Lydia with two young women who resemble her enough that I assume they are her daughters. Others show Lydia with a woman closer to her own age, perhaps a sister. Others show Lydia with four teenagers, who I guess are her grandchildren. My observation is interrupted by Lydia returning with the water and offering me a seat.

  We talk for a while, too long if I am honest. I am anxious to see the apartment, find out if it will meet my needs and move on if it won’t. The day is passing quickly and I still need to sort this out. Unfortunately Lydia seems to want to know all about where I work, what I do for a living, and what interests I have. I learn that she is a retired professor, she has four grandchildren and that her partner died a little over a year ago from breast cancer. I glance at the photo of Lydia with the woman of similar age.

  “Yes, that was my Clara,” Lydia informs me, my glance having been spotted. My heart breaks a little for the loss this kind woman has endured.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I am unsure what else to say. I feel for Lydia but am not close enough to her to offer any real condolence.

  “Oh don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.” I realize I like Lydia. She is feisty. If I could chose a grandmother, I think I’d chose Lydia. We sit in silence for a few moments before Lydia suggests looking at the apartment.

  The apartment itself sits over the top of the garage. Lydia informs me that it was originally built to offer one of her daughters a private living space while she went to school. After that she and her partner had been renting it to graduate students. The most recent tenant graduated in December and had moved out. It is available immediately and is furnished with a couch, full size bed and a dresser. Rent would include all utilities. So far everything sounds good.

  We enter the garage and make our way up a set of stairs on the right. The door opens into a small entryway that is a large enough space for coat hooks on the wall, a small storage cabinet and a washer and dryer. The short hall ends at a large open space that is comprised of the living room and kitchenette. The two rooms are separated by a small island bar with a set of barstools. The walls and carpet are neutral in color. The sofa is grey. Not a lot of personality, but it would work. The bedroom is tiny compared to the one at Catherine’s, but given how little I typically sleep it would suffice. The bathroom is tiny as well but would meet my needs. I doubt that I will find anything that will check off as many of my requirements as this place does. I also like the idea of having a lesbian landlord and not sharing my walls with strangers.

  “So what would the lease length be?” I am hoping to avoid a year long lease just in case I end up not liking the place.

  “Well I don’t know. Typically the students are here and they just let me know when they would be leaving. Some stayed for years, others for a few months. I’ve never really drawn up any formal paperwork with them before.”

  I am shocked. This is unheard of anymore. “Well I really don’t know how long I will be here. I haven’t rented in a long time. I was hoping to avoid a year long commitment, maybe get something month to month.”

  “I see. So you want to move in right away but don’t want a lengthy commitment.” It was a statement, not a question. “What are you running from? Bad breakup?” Lydia isn’t just feisty, she is smart. It makes me like her even more.

  I look at the floor, a slight sting of shame filling me, like I have been busted by my grandmother doing something I know I shouldn’t. “Something like that I suppose.”

  Lydia looks at me a moment. I can’t tell if she is assessing me or if she is thinking. “I’ve been there before and didn’t have a place to go. Tell you what, we can make month to month work. All I ask is that you give me at least a months notice if you are going to move out.”

  I smile at Lydia. “Would I be able to move in tomorrow?”

  “Dear you can move in today as long as you have the rent and deposit.”

  We go back into the house where I write Lydia a check and she gives me a set of keys. I thank her and head back to Catherine’s to start packing.

  Catherine

  I lie in bed staring into the dark. All I can think about is Alex. All day during clinic today I was distracted by thoughts of her, our conversation from the previous night replaying in my head. I had bared myself to her and she rejected me. Still what I want more than anything is to go to her, to make my way downstairs, take her in my arms and capture the kiss that had eluded me. I didn’t see her at all today and I mi
ssed her. Still I lie tethered to my bed, unable to force the movement, unable to confront the woman who does not want me. I know she has Brooke now, and the self pity I feel for letting my own opportunity pass is nearly too much to bear. It is just after 4 am. I get up and make my way through my morning routine, never seeing Alex.

  *****

  I have four cases today. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, but I’m so distracted that I don’t feel up to doing any of them. Despite this I know that once I scrub in all thoughts will be on the surgery at hand, a welcome respite from the torrent of thoughts in my head.

  I get to the room at 7:30 and start reviewing the patient films. Erin is there already preparing for the case. She is alone, which strikes me as odd. A few minutes later someone I’ve never met arrives. Erin seems to know him though.

  “Hey Mike what are you doing here?”

  “Alex called in sick so I’m filling in for her.” He has my attention. Alex is sick? I want to rush home and take care of her, but know that isn’t an option.