by Kyle Autumn
I peek over at her. She’s sitting on the toilet seat lid, flicking through websites Google spit out after her search of stress management skills. Taking a bath was on the list, but she’s finding other things I can work on so I don’t panic anymore. The promise of not panicking anymore sounds far too good to be true, but I’ll do just about anything to keep the attacks at bay. I’d go so far as to say telling my parents I’m now a lesbian would be less scary than having another panic attack.
Am I a lesbian? Am I bisexual? Oh god. I don’t even know. Wait. Deep breath. I’m supposed to be relaxing. Not stressing. None of that matters right now, in this moment. I can’t worry about the future and what might happen, Patti says. I can only think about what’s happening right now. Which is why she always says that phrase to me. Which reminds me.
“Hey,” I quietly say to get her attention.
Absentmindedly, she says, “Yeah?” She’s still engrossed in whatever website she’s found about treating panic attacks. At least, I assume she’s still doing that.
“Wanna join me? I want to ask you something.”
By join, I mean the conversation. But she slips her shoes off, sets her phone on the counter with the screen still on, and starts to unzip her dress. That’s fine by me though. That kind of join works too.
Once her dress has fallen to the floor, she works her panties down, her gaze still glued to the phone. She swipes the screen to keep reading and then unhooks her bra. Completely naked, she finishes reading something on her phone before walking toward the tub. When she has a hand on the towel under my head, I sit forward so she can slip in behind me. The water level rises as she gets in, and the bubbles nearly touch my chin.
Wrapping her arms around me, she says, “I was just reading about the AWARE technique of overcoming panic attacks. It’s about—”
“Wait,” I say, laughing lightly. I appreciate her concern, but I want to focus on something good right now. “I said I want to ask you about something.”
“Oh, sorry.” She readjusts behind me. “What’s up?”
I run my fingers along her arms under the water. “I don’t know where your phrase came from. Why have you always said that to me?”
“Come back to now?” she asks, setting her chin on my shoulder. Her breath tickles my ear.
I tilt my head to the left and nod.
Her throat bobs as she swallows against my shoulder. Then she tilts her head the opposite way of mine and takes a deep breath. “My grandma used to say that to me. After my parents died, I’d wait by the door for them to come back. I was young, so I didn’t quite understand what death meant, so my grandma explained it as they’re no longer in my ‘now.’ They might be in my ‘later,’ but they weren’t here now, like she and my grandpa were. So she’d remind me to come back to now and be with her instead of waiting for my parents because they weren’t coming back.”
So much for relaxing. A tear slips down my right cheek, which she notices. She puts her lips on my cheek to catch the tear and kisses me.
“That’s such a sweet story,” I say. Then an oddly timed laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Ridiculously sad, but sweet.”
She laughs too, squeezing me tight. “I know, right? And you’re not supposed to be stressing out.”
I can’t help but smile at that. Then I face her and, in a soft, gentle tone, say, “Thank you.”
“For what?” she questions.
“Everything,” I say. “For running this bath. For lighting the candles. For Googling how to fix me. For being so attentive. For salvaging our first date. For not breaking up with me. For reminding me to—”
“What?” she asks, her eyebrows scrunched low on her forehead.
I look away from her. “Well, you didn’t let me finish.”
“Why are you thanking me for not breaking up with you?” She brings her hand out of the water to turn my face back to hers. “You said something similar at the hospital and I thought it was ridiculous then too.”
I open my mouth, but I close it when nothing comes out. Then I try again and finally say, “You said we needed to talk,” in a small voice. I swallow over a lump in my throat and wipe another tear from my eye. “What else could that mean?”
“Oh, Zed,” she sighs. “I promise you—the talk wasn’t about that. You are my woman through and through.” Squeezing me to her, she rubs my nose with hers and then kisses my lips. “Anything I was going to say earlier can wait until we get your stress level under control.”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved that we’re not breaking up or more stressed because she won’t tell me what’s going on with her. She’s right though. If it can wait right now, it should. I’m exhausted, and this bath is doing the relaxation trick. Especially with Patti’s warm body wrapped around me. So I nod. We’ll talk about it later.
“Hey,” Patti says, her eyes flashing wide and a smile curling her lips. “You know what else I read was good for relaxation?” She raises her eyebrows as she trails her fingers down my middle. All the way down until they reach my core.
I release a deep sigh, appreciating the way she’s thinking. Especially when one finger lands right on my clit. She knows exactly how and where to touch me, exactly how to please me. In the last several weeks, she’s become something of an expert. And I allow her expertise to relax me all the way to a shuddering, mind-blowing climax.
Then, when my eyes won’t stay open any longer, she helps me out of the tub, into a towel, and under the covers, where I fall right asleep in her arms—my favorite place in this whole world.
***
Patti
“How was your honeymoon?” Zo asks as she hugs Shiree the following Thursday at the bar. “I want to hear all about it!”
I share her enthusiasm, but it’s mostly because neither of us wants to talk about us. And Lyra, who’s sick tonight, isn’t here to distract Shiree with questions, so it’s fallen upon us to pick up the slack. And we can’t talk about Lyra, either. She hasn’t told Shiree about Blake yet, so that’s yet another secret we have to keep. Luckily, Zo seems happy to take the job of keeping Shiree distracted. Or she’s just more desperate than I am to keep the conversation away from our relationship right now.
“It was so much fun! Fiji is gorgeous beyond words, you guys,” Shiree gushes. “And the alone time was…” She winks at us. It’s exaggerated, and I’m both happy for her and nauseated at the same time.
Zo cracks up though. It’s pretty fake, but I’m probably the only one who can tell.
“Tell me more!” she squeals. “I want to hear alllll about it!”
Shiree launches into a few tales about their travels, and I nurse my beer, leaning my elbows on our table. When it’s gone, I lift it up and signal that I’m going to get another. I can’t concentrate on what she’s saying anyway, so it’s best if I don’t have to pretend. Especially because I’m already pretending about so many other things.
When I get to the bar, I order another beer and wait for the bartender to get it. Once he returns with my bottle, I go to give him my debit card, but someone next to me shouts, “Put that one on my tab!” over the music.
I turn toward the voice and find Kimber two people down. She smiles at me, and I politely smile back before declining her offer.
“That’s okay.” I shake my head. “I got it.”
“I insist,” she says.
I weigh the pros and cons, but what are the cons of accepting a free drink from someone who knows I’m seeing someone already? Maybe it’s my foul mood, but I can’t think of a single one right now. So I give in and shrug.
Her smile gets wider as the bartender disappears to add my beer to her bill. While I’m pocketing my card, she steps around the two people between us and squeezes her body and her drink next to me and mine. It’s a tight fit, so I twist until I’m sideways to keep some space between us. That doesn’t stop her from hugging me though.
“Hey!” she shouts near my ear. “It’s good to see you drinking something other than coffe
e.” When she leans back, she’s still smiling.
I lean closer to her. “I don’t know if beer is a better option though!” I yell around a laugh. Then I pull back. “Thanks though.”
She grins again and props her elbow on the bar. “So, what are you up to tonight?”
“My friend just got back from her honeymoon, so she’s telling us all about it.” I hook a thumb in Shiree and Zo’s direction.
But Kimber’s shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I meant.” She leans in again, putting a hand on my shoulder for some leverage. “I meant,” she says right next to my ear, “what are you up to tonight?”
Oooh. I catch her drift now. And I immediately shake my head, slanting backwards so she can see me. “I’m still seeing someone,” I explain. “And I plan on keeping it that way with her. For, like, ever.”
Her mouth falls open, but yet again, she’s smiling. “Really?” she practically squeals.
I nod, taking a swallow of my beer.
She launches toward me for another hug. Then she follows my lead, sipping her drink. “I’m so happy for you!”
An involuntary smile splits my lips and spreads all over my face. I’m sure I look like a goofball, but that’s what Zo does to me. And I don’t even care.
“Aww, Patti. You so deserve that,” she gushes. Then her eyes go wide and she freezes. “Is she The One?”
Maybe it makes me sound lonely and pathetic that my barista knows more about my personal life than my best friends do. But it is what it is. I’ve told her about Zo and how much I love her, though I’ve never mentioned her name. And she has no idea that The One is the one who was at the coffee shop that morning we were there together. Which would probably make Zo happy. So much of me wants to point her out in the crowd though.
I won’t. But my gaze must slide in her direction anyway, because the next thing I know, Kimber’s looking her way. Then she swings her wide-eyed gaze back to me.
“Hey, she looks famil—oh!” Her mouth forms a perfectly round O, and she points in Zo’s direction. “The one from The Steam Room that day? She’s The One? She knows now?” she asks, referencing our previous run-in at the coffee shop.
I swat her hand down. “She’s not ready yet is all.” After a breath, I say, “There are some…complications.”
Kimber’s mouth forms a smaller O now. “Are you sure that’s it?”
“One hundred percent positive,” I tell her, no hesitation at all in my tense response.
She puts her hands up in front of chest. “Okay. Just looking out for you.”
I lower some of my defenses and relax my shoulders. And probably my facial expression. “Thanks. It’s going to be okay. I just have to be patient, and she’s worth it.”
As she takes a sip of her drink, I bring my bottle to my lips. And we both kind of smile at each other. Things are good, and they’ll only get better. Maybe I don’t know when yet, but they will. Except, when I look over at my friends, Zo’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes and Shiree has no clue as she yammers on.
“Look,” I say, reluctantly sliding my gaze back to Kimber. “I should probably get back to her and my friends. But I don’t have to make you promise not to—”
She mimes zipping her grinning lips and throwing a key away. So I don’t bother finishing my sentence. Instead, I give her a kind, relieved smile, say thanks once more for the beer by tipping it in her direction, and nod before heading back to our table. When I get there, Shiree’s in the middle of yet another honeymoon story, which I can’t say I’m sorry I missed. I love my friend, but my mind is certainly elsewhere.
She stops midsentence and looks at me. “You were gone a long time, lady. I thought you were bringing everyone drinks.” She’s smiling, so I don’t think she’s upset—just making an observation.
One Zo obviously made too, if her cool expression is anything to go by.
“No worries,” Shiree says, waving it off. “I’ll go get some. A Sea Breeze for me. Zo, you want another?”
She nods vigorously as I take a sip of my beer, and I nearly choke on it. Shiree doesn’t seem to notice before she goes to the bar for more drinks. Which leaves me alone with my girlfriend no one knows about. Except for Kimber. But I trust her, so I’m not worried about that.
I don’t have time to wonder if I’m relieved that someone knows or nervous that someone else might have overheard something that’d make them put two and two together though. Zo leans across the table, folding her arms on top of it, and flicks her gaze over at Kimber.
“Have a nice chat?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at me. Her tone is only slightly accusatory.
I bring my bottle to my lips, take a swig, and nod. “She thought it was funny to see me drinking something other than coffee.”
Her eyebrows go up even higher on her forehead. “That’s it?”
Shrugging, I say, “Yeah. What did you think it was?”
She holds my stare for a few nearly uncomfortable moments before she shrugs. “Like Shiree pointed out, you were gone a while. And you looked pretty friendly.”
“She’s a friendly person, Zed.” I put my beer on the table a little too hard, and it clanks when it hits the wood. “Do you not trust me?”
She releases a deep breath and sits back in her chair, her hands staying on the table, palms down. With her gaze on me, she says, “Of course I do.” Then she mumbles something like, “It’s her I don’t trust.”
I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s what she said, so I leave it alone. I don’t need her to trust anyone else as long as she trusts me. This whole thing is new to her, and she’s never been this serious—especially this fast—with someone before. So I get it, but I won’t entertain it.
“All that matters is that I love you,” I say loud enough so only she can hear me, covering on of her hand with mine.
She jerks away from my touch and then downs the last drops of her drink in preparation for the next one, avoiding my gaze. My immediate reaction is to feel hurt that she’d reject me like that. But, after a tense, painful moment, I remember where we are. Who we’re with. What we’re doing here. I remember that we have to hide who we are. What we feel. How much we care.
I remember again how much is at stake. What we have to lose. What—rather, who—we might destroy with our secret.
One of us has to drive, so I decide to stop for the night. Plus, drinking when I’m in a shitty mood only puts me in a shittier mood. So I slide my bottle to the side. Then I lean closer to her, ready to admit the rest of what happened. That I told someone about us and she was happy for us. That the whole world won’t end or come crashing down on her just because we’re together. But I think better of it. This isn’t the time or the place, and Shiree’s probably—
“Now, we’re topped off,” she says cheerily as she joins us again. She slides Zo’s drink to her, which she accepts but doesn’t drink any of it right away.
Instead, she gazes down at the floor, clearly all in her head about something. I want to tell her that alcohol is definitely on the “don’t” list when anxiety and panic attacks are the norm. As far as I know, she hasn’t started the medication. Thank goodness. But she’s a grown woman. She can make her choices. And, like an obedient dog, I’ll be there to see her through them.
Shiree looks between us both. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Zo and I say at the same time.
Zo was doing great at deflecting earlier, but I guess it’s my turn.
“I think Lyra’s finally seeing someone,” I tell Shiree, knowing that’ll move this in a new direction. And I’m not wrong.
Shiree that’s that bit of info and runs with it, seemingly pleased that her “just sex” advice must have finally helped her move on from Roger. Which works as far as averting her from the truth of the matter goes. However, I’m just not sure how long that’s going to last.
I’m not sure how long any of it is going to last.
Chapter 12
Zo
&n
bsp; It’s amazing what sleep can do for your perspective on things. And for a hangover, but that’s beside the point. I’ve been getting enough sleep lately because Patti and I haven’t been having sleepovers every night. Our sleepovers weren’t all that full of sleep. Now, I can actually go to bed at a decent hour.
However, I don’t sleep as well as I do when we’re together. I sleep, but it’s fitful. I wake up and forget she’s not here, so I end up staying awake for a while. Then I fall back into a dreamless, restless sleep.
So I’m sleeping, but it’s not great. And that’s not great for my anxiety and panic attacks. Luckily, I haven’t had one of those since the last one that put me in the ER a month and a half ago, but that doesn’t mean another one isn’t on the horizon. It’s just been easier to manage now that Patti and I have cooled things off a bit. Not officially in any capacity. It’s how things seem to have shaken out right now. She has a big project at work due soon, so she’s used our time apart for that. And I’ve used it for not having panic attacks. And that’s about it.
She’s skipped a couple of Thirsty Thursdays, and she’s even missed a few Friday dinners. But she wasn’t always consistent with being at dinner in the first place, so my parents haven’t thought much of it. Especially because she told them how busy she is at work right now. I’m worried that she’s using it more as an excuse though. So I finally cave in and go over to her place after another Friday dinner without her.
When I bang on her door, I hear her footsteps start to head in my direction. She must take a second to look through the peephole, because the doorknob turns slightly, there’s a momentary pause, and then it turns again. As soon as the door is open enough for me to see her, I’m nearly brought to tears.
“What happened?” I ask, a sob escaping my lips. I’ve turned into a blubbering mess in a matter of seconds.