by A. E. Radley
Lauren's rich laughter didn't hurt Dana's feelings. It felt like she was laughing with Dana, not at her. "It sounds like you're too mature for the freshman fuck-up year. Impulsive doesn't have to mean making poor choices all of the time. It just means allowing yourself to pursue what feels right in the moment. Like getting in a strange girl's pickup truck and exploring the parkway at night."
The fluttering inside of Dana increased to a riot. Her heart thumped in her chest. "Yeah, this has been pretty amazing."
The arm on her shoulder tugged her closer. "It's almost Christmas. You're going home?"
"Yeah. My sister will be home, too. First time I've seen her in almost two years. She's in college too, but in New York."
"Fancy."
"That's the best way to describe Jill. She's like...everything I'm not. Impulsive and brave and beautiful and--"
"You're beautiful," Lauren said softly. "Why do you think I looked for you at all those parties?"
The riot became a tsunami. Dana's insides burned and crackled with fear and something else. Something new. "Um..."
"Look! A shooting star!"
Dana followed the line of Lauren's long, elegant finger. How had she missed those fingers before? They were thin and pale, the fingernail short and painted in some color she couldn't discern in the dark. Just beyond was a flash in the sky, silver streaking hot. She'd never been out all night with a stranger before. She'd never hung out in the bed of a pickup before. She'd never felt so flustered, so chaotic inside before.
She gasped when Lauren leaned in and whispered: "Close your eyes and make a wish." The hot, teasing breath in the shell of her ear made Dana's pulse rocket and her nipples tighten into painful points. She shut her eyelids and was going to make a wish when Lauren kissed her.
It wasn't Dana's first kiss, but it sure as hell felt like it. The soft press of Lauren's lips was all she could focus on. How it was so different than the indifferent boyfriends she'd had in high school, few as they'd been. Dana forgot to breathe, hovering in the moment as long as she was able to. When she finally did inhale it was a gasp, her lips falling open and Lauren taking it as approval, as an invitation. It was.
Dana was going home tomorrow. To her mom's cookie making and her dad's late night politics, to Jill, the older sister she'd admired and missed. It would be good to be rooted again. Dana needed her childhood bedroom and the comfort of the habits found at home. The semester, which should have flown by, had dragged, and had dragged her with it. She felt tired and thin and she wanted a space where she could just think and feel safe during a time when hope and magic seemed possible.
But until tomorrow, she let herself get lost in the kiss.
CHAPTER 2
Dana stopped in Statesville, NC on her way home. It wasn't the halfway point between Western Carolina University and Raleigh, but it felt like progress and more importantly, it had a cafe she really liked. After being seated and ordering pancakes, coffee, and snagging a local paper, Dana settled in.
She'd only slept for four hours despite getting to her room at five in the morning. It wasn't that she was eager to get home, it was that her mind couldn't slow down long enough for sleep to be restful. Driving made for good thinking, especially on the long stretches of I-40, so she may as well think about the kiss and head home at the same time.
Coffee in hand, she dumped extra creamer in until it was a light tan, grateful that the freshman fifteen had been dodged thus far. Dana picked up the paper and stared at the print but didn't see it. Black letters swirled and buzzed because she was concentrating too much on the memory of Lauren's kiss. She'd kissed a girl. Or been kissed by one. Did it matter which? What mattered was they'd kissed for over an hour, hands roaming under sweatshirts and thighs tangling in the back of that pickup until ultimately Lauren had broken it off, laughed into the night like a wolf howls, and dropped Dana off with a peck and a promise that if she was interested when she returned from holiday, maybe they'd run into each other.
A maybe. Not a phone number or an email. Just a maybe, as if Lauren had guessed it'd been Dana's first time kissing a girl.
As if she'd known how Dana would be left reeling, filled with heat and doubts and confusion.
Her fingers went to press on her lips, but then she remembered she was in public and drank her coffee instead. She was going home for the holidays and instead of being the reassuring and constant Christmas had always been, everything had been upended. Did she tell her mom and dad? Did she want to kiss Lauren again? Was she a lesbian?
Jesus. Dana continued to stare at the paper, trying to force normalcy back into her life. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know how she felt. All she knew was that in the back of the pickup truck, with Lauren's hands touching her all over, she'd felt smashed open like the pecans her father placed in their nutcracker's mouth, crashing it down to expose the meat inside.
She needed guidance. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Andy, her best friend. He was still in New York, having decided to pursue the cliche dream of moving to the big city and become an actor. So far, she knew, he'd been working three jobs and sharing a two bedroom apartment with six other people. But he was happy and he'd always known what he wanted. She'd always envied that about him. Maybe he could help her figure out what this meant.
Typing the words was hard, though. Putting it out there in the world, even via text message, made it real. Something that actually happened. Her fingers flew before she could second guess herself.
Last night I kissed a girl.
She waited, staring at the screen, as if she could make him respond faster. Of course, it was morning and he might be working or sleeping in after a late-night acting class. But Andy was typically glued to his phone and much better at being available than she was.
Her phone buzzed.
I'm fine, thanks for asking. I do miss you. I wish you'd learn to get straight to the point. This response, followed by a gif of a man laughing like a maniac, helped Dana smile. The grin allowed her shoulders drop, the tense muscles in them seeming to sigh with relief. Relaxing made it easier to eat her pancakes and ignore the butterflies that were rampant in her tummy.
Dana: Hi, Andy. I miss you. I hope you're well. I've got some news.
Andy: Girl, I heard through the grapevine that you've been kissing girls. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?
She snorted and licked some whipped cream from her fork. This had been a good choice. Andy managed to diffuse every situation with humor. If she could laugh, all the chaos in her mind was less intimidating. Kissing a girl still scared the shit out of her, but she'd managed to step back from "frenzied" to "moderately horrified." Dana could work with "moderately horrified."
I can't believe you heard so fast. But yeah, last night.
His first reply was another gif, this time of a girl leaning in, as if hanging on to every word. Do tell more. I need deets plz.
Dana: I helped her safely pee. She rewarded me with a kiss.
A long pause. Okay, is this some weird mountain shit? I think you're too isolated if you are mixing pee with kisses on a first date. Also, how does one unsafely pee?
On second thought, maybe Andy isn't the right one to talk to about this, Dana thought with a smirk.
Dana: When you're a woman in the woods at a frat party, peeing can be treacherous.
Ah, yes. Good ol' frat boys. Say no more. A long pause. I mean about peeing. I need you to say a lot more about kissing a girl.
She hesitated, biting her lip. It just happened. And now I feel like I'm going crazy.
A gif of a unicorn farting a rainbow. Crazy gay?
Dana: I don't know. I've never kissed a girl before.
Andy: But you've wanted to.
Dana's breath hitched. A period, not a question mark. He was saying it like a fact. Had she wanted to? The answer was in her. The nutcracker's mouth clenched harder. Deeper cracks in her shell. The meat underneath, trembled as it was exposed.
Yes. Yes, she'd wanted to kiss a girl befor
e. Not all girls. Just one. But she'd worked hard, with diligence and effort, to rationalize her feelings. Dana had written them off time and time again. Because Margot was her older sister's best friend. Margot was Bridget's Andy, and there was an understanding that you absolutely, under no circumstances ever, kissed your sister's best friend.
You there? Andy texted. He'd never been one for patience, which made him an odd best friend to have. Dana was used to thinking things out, looking at them from every perspective, and then usually rejecting them to save herself time and hurt. Western Carolina had been a choice to try and break from that.
Dana: I'm here. And yes, I've wanted to.
Andy: I KNEW IT.
Her breath hitched and she didn't know why. What do you mean?
Oh plz. You had eyes for Margot Dowd since you were like, twelve.
Dana forced her fingers to release their tight grip on her phone. The consequence was seeing how her hands trembled. It took several tries and erased autocorrects to reply. She was just a cool girl.
Andy: A cool girl you wanted to smooch. Are you okay? Are we not joking anymore?
She should be laughing. She texted him for this, and just moments before, it had felt okay. What had changed? Why did Dana suddenly feel persecuted? Like she should run? I don't know. I'm very confused.
Another gif of a hug. She wished he'd just be real for a moment, but she supposed she'd asked for this response by hiding behind a text, so she'd have to accept how he chose to respond.
Andy: Of course you're confused. Did you like the kiss?
Dana: Yes.
Andy: Do you want to kiss her again?
Dana considered. She'd enjoyed the night with Lauren. It had been intoxicating to be with someone new, to speak so openly as if tomorrow wasn't going to come, and to kiss just because they could. But ultimately, she thought she liked the opportunity Lauren had presented her with--a chance to feel free, like someone else--more than she felt any need to see Lauren again. I wouldn't say no, but I don't think I'll seek her out.
Andy: Okay, so what now? Are you a lesbian?
Dana: I don't know. To both questions.
Andy: Are you going to tell your family?
This was at the core of it. She could tell her family, say words out loud, set things in motion. Dana could say what happened and feel out the reactions. Telling them she'd kissed a girl and enjoyed it wasn't the same as coming out of the closet. But was it the right step?
Dana: I don't think so. I needed to tell someone, but now that I've told you, I'm good.
Andy: Let me know if you need anything.
Dana: One more thing. How obvious was it I liked Margot?
A gif of an arched, knowing eyebrow. It was real obvious. Like, neon sign obvious.
With a crash, every memory Dana had of Margot was tainted. When Margot taught her how to take care of her nails, keeping them clean and painting them...had the older girl suspected her attraction back then? When Margot had offered to drive Dana to prom, even though she was just meeting Andy there...had Margot known? Had she been taking pity on Dana? It was already a constant, mortifying thing to be the clinging younger sister. Dana felt sick, her stomach twisting, at the thought that she'd been the clinging younger sister...with an obvious, incurable crush.
Her one saving grace was that when Margot and Bridget had left for college, Margot had disappeared from their lives. Her parents were diplomats, something that had always been wildly cool to Dana, and Margot spent her holidays flying to places like India and Nepal. Bridget never really spoke about Margot when she came home, either. At least I'll never see her again. God, I'm so embarrassed.
Andy: Don't be. We're all dummies with our first crushes. No one is immune!
A flurry of emojis, ending in multiple hearts. She'd told Andy and it hadn't ruined her. It hadn't clarified much and she still felt like she was drifting along with a secret, but the initial panic had subsided. Mostly, she switched from eating pancakes to avoid her emotions to eating them because of her emotions. A good, reliable, eat-your-feelings stack of carbs. Drowned in syrup.
When she finished, sticky fingered and over-full, Dana couldn't put it off any longer. It was time for the second half of the drive, and she'd want to leave soon if she was going to avoid the afternoon traffic in Greensboro. Funny how she'd been itching to go home, and now she was putting it off. But when the waitress dropped off the bill while wearing a Santa hat, Dana reminded herself that Christmas was a time of comfort and family.
Something she desperately needed right now. Also, she could bury all her angst over Margot probably having known about her crush all those years under piles of eat-her-shame Christmas cookies.
CHAPTER 3
Home was how she remembered. Her mother had filled every room with cinnamon scented candles and tiny Santas. The banister leading to her old room upstairs was wrapped in fake pine garland, its obvious fake green bright and cheerful. Her mother, whose love for Christmas was so large she had a closet of twenty-four Christmas sweaters, a new one for each day leading up to the big one, was in full-on holiday mode.
Dana's father, smiling and tolerant, started spiking Dana's eggnog, even if it was in the afternoon, to help bolster her against the Christmas blitz. Bridget still wasn't home, but that was okay. Between cooking and visiting and eating and watching Christmas movies all day, Dana was able to suppress the kiss, hide from her lingering mortification over Margot, and pretend like she was just a normal kid coming home for Christmas after a first semester at school.
Despite the fact that, when she was alone in her old twin bed, she felt anything but normal. Dana spent hours analyzing each time Margot had been kind to her, had paid her the least amount of attention, and it was awful. She may as well whip herself with the way Dana saw through new eyes how pitiful she must have been. Andy was right--it was almost impossible to not look like an ass with a first crush. But she'd followed Margot and Bridget around for almost five years. Five years made for a pot filled with shame.
It almost made her afraid to see Bridget, though of course, her sister wouldn't have known. Bridget would have said something, would have called her out, if she'd noticed. Dana felt her worry with Bridget coming from a place of potential: If she told Bridget she'd kissed a girl, that she was interested in kissing more girls maybe, would Bridget get angry about Margot? Would she figure it out? Why did this feel so complicated? How did a simple kiss send her into this tailspin?
Her mother had bought her new Christmas pajamas and, in true freshman spirit, Dana had taken to wearing them all day. Like leaving her room to see her family and grab some food. They were flannel and comfortable and not being dressed gave her an excuse to hide in the den with her father, laughing at "A Christmas Story." Which meant that when her mother came flying into the room exclaiming, "Bridget's home and I think she's brought someone with her!" Dana was still lounging in pajamas that hadn't been washed. They did have cute kittens in Santa hats, though, so hopefully Bridget's new boyfriend could overlook it. And, if Dana was very lucky, her, at least until she could get cleaned up and make a better impression.
Her mother was wringing her hands. "She didn't tell me she was bringing anyone! I didn't think she was seeing anyone! Hal, do you think it’s serious? What if they're engaged? What if she's pregnant?"
Dana's father, who lived in a world of perpetual wry amusement, looked at his wife. "Maybe, Val, she's shivering with cold while we discuss her entire future. Would you like me to get the door?"
"Oh, shit!" Her mother cursed, then looked at Dana as if just now seeing her there. "I mean, fiddlesticks!" And hurried off to get the door.
Dana turned to her father. "Did you know she was bringing someone?"
"Nope. But Bridget's always brought home those who needed a bit more help, and Christmas is the time for giving. The more, the merrier."
Dana leaned back and chewed on his words for a minute. "What do you mean, those who needed more help?"
"You remember Margot, do
n't you? You used to follow her around like a lost puppy."
Inside, Dana thought she died a little. That her father's words had managed to slice her spleen or something and now horror and shame were going to leech into her system, poisoning her until she died. "Um, I sort of remember Margot."
Her father raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything about the obvious lie. "She spent so much time here because her folks were so busy. Nice folks, but never in town. Margot would've had to homeschool and travel until graduation if we hadn't let her stay here so often."
"Now she travels to see them, though."
"Sure. Now she's an adult and can make those choices. Before, her choices were limited. Bridget wanted to help her. Let's go meet the new stray, shall we?"
Dana smiled and pulled her greasy hair into a bun. Pajamas, bun...yeah, this was going to be a real kicker of a first impression. Still, Christmas was a time of joy and it was reassuring to know that Bridget was helping someone out. It didn't hurt that someone new would keep everyone's attention off her. Dana could glide, unnoticed, through the holiday and work out her feelings on her own.
She followed her father through the house, up the stairs, where she could hear her mother's high-pitched I'm-so-excited voice. Bridget's was there, too, almost an exact decibel match for their mother. No wonder. Since leaving for school, Bridget hardly ever came home. Dana felt a small glow of excitement begin to build in her tummy. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her sister. It would be nice to let go of all the other distractions and just focus on family.