Like I Love You (Love Wins (JMS Books))

by J. T. Marie

  But after an hour of driving, with the dark tarmac rolling out in front of her headlights and tractor trailers leaving her in their wake, the edge began to wear off a little. Dana felt her eyes droop and her energy sag. The clock read 11:30, and the night pressed in against her windows like cloth, suffocatingly close. Even with her air conditioner at full blast, the summer heat leached in around her, making her drowsy. She should stop and get some caffeine, but she didn’t dare—it was too late, and she didn’t want to drag the trip out even longer than she had to.

  She turned up the radio, blaring it to try and wake her up some, but past Fredericksburg the stations she was familiar with turned to static. She had to rummage through the tapes scattered on the passenger seat, looking for something good. Without turning on the overhead light, she grabbed a tape at random and jammed it into the tape deck. It turned out to be a mix tape Bethany had made for her last year, full of angsty indie female singers they’d discovered at college together. “How can you not be a dyke?” Dana wondered out loud. Then she cranked the volume even louder and sang along.

  Sometime later, she passed the exit for the school. “Love ya, losers!” she cried out, blowing a kiss as she drove by. Anything to keep herself alert and focused but God, she missed classes already.

  No, she corrected silently. I miss campus life. Screw classes. If I never see the inside of a schoolroom again, I’ll die happy. But I’d give anything to go back to rooming with Bethany.

  She’d only told her mother The Washington Post was hiring to make it sound as if there was a real reason to let her run off to visit Bethany in the dead of night, but she had no interest in working for a newspaper. With a literature degree? Please. She’d be better off at the Library of Congress…I’ll have to look into applying there, she thought, making a mental note. Now that would be the perfect job.

  Her mind drifted, playing out the scenario—the two of them living in the heart of the city, Bethany at the newspaper and herself in the copyright office, receiving copies of books by all her favorite authors that weren’t even published yet. At the end of the day, they’d come home to a shared apartment, where one of them would make dinner while the other poured glasses of wine or brewed espresso. Dana didn’t know if she liked straight up espresso, but maybe they’d splurge and invest in a cappuccino maker; those were tasty.

  When dinner was ready, they’d sit together on their apartment’s small balcony overlooking the city skyline as they ate and chatted to unwind. Dana couldn’t decide if they’d have a table and chairs or just a loveseat, and in the end thought, why not both? A little bistro dining set of wrought iron that seated two, and a wicker porch swing where they could cuddle afterward.

  Of course, in real life they weren’t cozy enough to “cuddle” just yet, but Dana could dream, couldn’t she? They’d be together as a couple, not just roommates, by the time they both had jobs in DC and were sharing an apartment there. Exactly how they’d hooked up, she didn’t know, but she would just skip over that for now. Cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Though now that Terrance was out of the picture, she hoped she might be one step closer to making her daydream a reality. She glanced at the dashboard clock—in another half an hour she’d reach Bethany’s and find out.

  * * * *

  It was almost one in the morning when Dana finally arrived at Bethany’s. She hadn’t visited the apartment before and didn’t really know what it was like, but she expected a cluster of small buildings in a gated community, perhaps, huddled together off the highway. She knew Bethany lived “upstairs,” whatever that meant, so in her mind she pictured a building similar to the dorm room they had shared the past two years.

  But the name of the complex should’ve clued her in. Fairlane Towers consisted of three long, tall high-rises that wouldn’t have looked out of place in New York City. Dana craned her neck as she slowed the car, trying to see to the top of the buildings, but they disappeared into the cloudy night sky. It took a good ten minutes of circling around before she figured out which building was Bethany’s, then another five to find the entrance to the underground parking garage beneath the first floor. She didn’t even bother to keep track of how long it took to find an empty visitor’s parking spot; everything seemed full. Of course, at this late hour, most everyone was home in bed, their cars parked, the spaces filled.

  “This isn’t an apartment, it’s a freaking hotel,” Dana muttered, locking her car. As she hiked to the nearest elevator, she wondered if she’d be allowed in building without a key.

  She was, but only as far as the lobby. There a security guard paged Bethany, who had to come down and get her. “Can’t she just buzz me up or something?” Dana asked.

  The guard looked up from his John Grisham paperback, unamused. “You need an apartment key to access any floor above this one by elevator. Do you have an apartment key?”

  Dana frowned at him. “Obviously not. I could take the stairs.”

  “Stairwell’s locked.” He turned back to his book, dismissing her. “You need—”

  “A key.” Dana sighed. “I get the picture.”

  She didn’t have to wait too long; within a few minutes, the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Bethany stepped out into the lobby, curls wild around her pale face, her eyes rimmed red from crying. When she saw Dana, she rushed over to collapse in her friend’s arms. “You made it!”

  “I said I would.” Dana hugged Bethany as tight as she dared, savoring the moment. “God, I missed you. How are you doing?”

  Bethany sniffled against Dana’s shoulder. “Been better,” she admitted. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “This is a swanky place.” Dana looked around the lobby, taking in the crystal chandeliers, the plush carpets, the high-end furniture. “You must be making pretty good money as an intern to be able to afford living here.”

  “I’m subletting. It’s a lot cheaper.” Shooting a glance at the security guard, Bethany took Dana’s arm and pulled her to the elevator. “Come on. Let’s go back upstairs.”

  In the elevator car, Dana whistled to see the three rows of buttons. “Twenty-three floors? Damn.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bethany assured her, pressing the button for the fifteenth floor. “It’s fast. Did you park in the garage?”

  “I think I’m on the third level.” With a laugh, Dana asked, “Wasn’t that, what, gluttony or something in Dante’s Inferno? The third circle of hell?”

  Bethany smiled, a shadow of her former self peeking through her melancholy. “You should try getting out of there in the mornings. It really is hell.” Suddenly she grabbed Dana around the waist with both arms and hugged her again, fiercely this time. “I’ve missed us. You need to move up here, right now. Move in with me.”

  Wasn’t I just thinking the same thing earlier? Dana didn’t rush to accept the offer, though. She wasn’t even sure Bethany was being serious. Her friend was hurting, and she didn’t want anything that happened between them during the visit to be on the rebound. So she hesitated. “Bethy…”

  “I know, I know.” Bethany sighed and let Dana go. “Just…think about it, will you? While you’re here. If you like it, maybe we can make it work. I’d love to have you as a roomie again.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Though all Dana had heard was, I’d love to have you.

  * * * *

  The apartment was a small studio—kitchen, bathroom, and one large bedroom/living room combo that overlooked a large balcony with a breathtaking view of the Potomac River and, beyond, the Washington, DC, skyline. There were no curtains or shades; Bethany admitted, “I’m up so high, who’s going to be able to look in?” Nothing at all to disrupt the view. As soon as they stepped through the door, Bethany said, “Take a look.” Then she turned off the lights and the whole window came alive with lights from the city.

  Dropping her bag to the floor, Dana moved towards the window in a trance. Right in the middle the Washington Monument rose in a shaft of light; to one side was the Linco
ln Memorial all lit up and, beyond that, the Capitol Building shone brilliantly in the night. Dana also recognized the Jefferson Memorial, and a bridge spanning the river glittered with headlights, adding to the scene.

  “Bethy,” she sighed in awe, “this is…it’s gorgeous.”

  Her friend came up beside her and slipped a hand into Dana’s. “Isn’t it?” Bethany rested her head on Dana’s shoulder. “The view alone makes it worth the price I pay in rent, trust me. I know it’s small, but it’s bigger than our dorm room.”

  Dana looked around. “It is that.”

  “And there’s a kitchen,” Bethany pointed out, “which we didn’t have at college. And our own bathroom. My futon’s big enough for two. It folds out into a full-size bed.”

  She nodded at the sofa, which Dana now realized really was a futon. With a grin, Dana said, “You’re trying to sell this hard, aren’t you?”

  The hand in hers squeezed. “I’m lonely,” Bethany admitted. “It isn’t just Terrance, either, so don’t say I’m just upset. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.”

  “Taking in a roommate?” Dana asked.

  Bethany shook her head, ruffling her curls. “Not just any roommate. You.”

  “So what did happen between you and Terrance?” Dana wanted to know.

  With a sigh, Bethany led Dana to the futon, where they sat facing each other. “I told you, he’s a jerk.”

  “Well, yeah.” Dana laughed, hoping to elicit a smile from her friend, but no dice. “I’ve been telling you that for years. How’d you finally figure it out?”

  Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Bethany mumbled, “Called his phone and some other girl answered. He tried telling me it was his cousin but I know it wasn’t. I mean, hello. We’ve been dating since high school. I know all his cousins.”

  “So who was it?”

  “What the fuck do I care?” Bethany spat with uncharacteristic vehemence. “I’m through with him. The lying, cheating bastard. Men suck.”

  Dana took both of Bethany’s hands in hers. “Preaching to the choir, sister. What’d he say when you told him?”

  The tears in Bethany’s eyes overflowed, spilling down her cheeks. “That’s just it! He…he…he didn’t seem to care!”

  “What?!” Dana couldn’t believe it. “No way!”

  “He said maybe I’m right,” Bethany sobbed. “Maybe we do need time apart, because I’m up here and he’s back home, and I can’t expect him to wait around forever.”

  Dana couldn’t believe it. “He didn’t actually say that, did he?”

  Bethany nodded through her tears.

  “God. You’re better off without him.” Pulling Bethany into a hug, Dana held her as she cried.

  Finally the storm abated somewhat, and Bethany sighed into Dana’s damp shoulder. She felt so right in Dana’s arms—why couldn’t she see that? Didn’t she feel it, too? Dana wanted to kiss away her tears, show her how special she was, how wrong and stupid Terrance had been to abuse her trust and throw her aside. But she didn’t dare do anything more than rub Bethany’s back in a soothing motion and croon softly in her friend’s ear.

  That was all they were, for now. Friends. If that’s what she needs from me, then that’s what I’ll be for her.

  “You’re right,” Bethany said softly. “What do I need him for? I still have you.”

  Dana hoped that would be enough.

  Chapter 3: Just Friends

  August 1994

  A summer together in the high-rise apartment overlooking the DC skyline turned into a year. Dana got a job as a barista at a coffeehouse just off the Beltway—she still thought it was a waste of her degree, but at least it was a step up from slinging fries, and she liked being around bohemian, artsy types all day, even if most of them were pretentious.

  As she watched them sitting at the little bistro tables scattered about the cafe, with their paperbacks and laptops, playing at being literary, she toyed with the idea of doing something along the same lines. Not sitting on the other side of the counter, necessarily—she still didn’t particularly care for espresso—but maybe writing? She could write.

  When Bethany’s internship was up, she wasn’t offered a permanent position with The Post. “Fuck them,” she muttered, consoling herself with another glass of wine over dinner. “This is really good wine.”

  “Isn’t it?” Dana agreed. She’d bought the bottle on her way home from the coffeehouse in hopes of hearing good news, but when Bethany came home struggling to hold back tears, she popped the cork anyway in commiseration. Now there was only an inch or so left in the bottom, both their glasses were empty, and Dana’s head was beginning to throb with a dull ache, not unlike a rotted tooth. She would hate herself in the morning.

  But at the moment, she savored the press of Bethany’s leg alongside hers where they sat curled together on the futon, and the way Bethany kept touching her knee every few minutes when talking, as if to punctuate a point. Too bad she hadn’t thought to buy two bottles of the merlot. If she had, Dana thought things between them could’ve been…persuaded to the next level. Bethany did get touchy-feely when drunk.

  And she drank more than half the bottle herself. Dana was only along for the ride. Unlike someone she could mention, she still had a job to go to in the morning.

  With a sigh, Bethany downed the contents of her glass and peered into the bottom, as if expecting more to magically appear. “I was positive they were going to keep me on, you know? I guess it’s time to start looking for something else. I’m sure I’ll find another job.”

  Dana smiled wryly. “Yeah, because everyone’s hiring French majors these days.”

  The words were out before she could stop them. When she realized what she had said, she looked up at her friend, appalled and ready to apologize, and saw Bethany’s lower lip trembling under fresh tears. “Bethy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “No, you’re right.” Bethany tried to set her wine glass aside, but she missed the end table and it crashed to the hardwood floor and shattered. Her tears spilled over at the sound. “Fuck!”

  Instantly Dana was untangling her legs from Bethany’s as she stood. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” Dana assured her. “It’s only a glass. Calm down.”

  Covering her face with her hands, Bethany fell onto the futon and cried into the cushions. “I should’ve never been a French major! I should’ve gone into something practical—my mother’s always telling me that. Business, or computers, or marketing, something like that.”

  Dana squatted by the table and picked up the stem of the glass, then began to gingerly pluck the larger pieces up with her forefinger and thumb, careful not to cut herself on the jagged edges. “If you majored in anything else, you would’ve hated it. You did what you loved. I did, too. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Except look at us,” Bethany muttered. “School’s over, Dana. In case you didn’t notice, we graduated last year. We’re supposed to have it all figured out by now.”

  “Oh, God,” Dana groaned. “If that’s the case, shoot me now. I might as well go back to school.”

  Through her tears, Bethany giggled. “What, and become a professional student?”

  Dana shrugged. “It’ll put off my student loans for a while.” Suddenly the idea wasn’t half-bad.

  Sitting up, Bethany dried her eyes on her shirtsleeves and blinked owlishly at Dana. “What would you study?”

  “I don’t know,” Dana admitted. “I’d have to think about—ow!”

  A bright bead of blood bubbled up from the tip of the forefinger on her right hand where she nicked herself on a shard of broken glass. She stuck her finger in her mouth but damn, it hurt.

  Bethany slid off the futon to kneel beside her. “Are you okay?”

  “Careful,” Dana warned. “There’s still glass everywhere.”

  Bethany took Dana’s hand in both her own and peered at the fi
nger. Her fingers were overly warm, her breath alcoholic and heady as it fanned Dana’s cheek. When she squeezed Dana’s finger, another bead of blood dribbled out of the cut. “I think you might need to get this stitched.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Dana tried to pull her hand away, but Bethany didn’t let go.

  “There’s an urgent care place down the street,” Bethany said. “I can drive—”

  “You’re drunk.” Dana laughed. “We both are. We’re not driving anywhere tonight. I’ll just wrap it up and—”

  “Bleed all over the place.” Bethany struggled to her feet, then helped Dana stand, too. “Come on, I’ll drive slow.”

  Dana sighed. She could tell this wasn’t going to end until she agreed to go somewhere and have her hand looked at, so she conceded defeat. “Fine. Get my purse. I’ll drive, I had less to drink than you did, but you’ll have to shift the gears. I can’t drive stick like this.”

  Standing on her toes, Bethany kissed Dana’s cheek. Her lips left a damp imprint behind. “Deal.”

  * * * *

  Bethany may have been kidding about her professional student remark, but Dana couldn’t stop thinking about it. During her senior year at college, she couldn’t wait to graduate, and now that she had, the real world wasn’t turning out to be anything like she had imagined. She didn’t want to make cappuccinos for the rest of her life, and her student loans would be out of deferment soon. How was she supposed to pay the bills and survive on a barista’s minimum wage salary?

  Now Bethany was in the same boat, looking for jobs where they didn’t exist. No one wanted liberal arts majors. Dana should consider going back to school, not only to put off repaying her loans but also to get a degree she could use. She didn’t think she could stomach another four-year undergraduate degree, but Master’s programs only took two years to complete. Surely she could find something somewhere she might like to do.

  What I like to do is live with Bethany, she thought ruefully, but no one’s paying me to do that. Hell, another couple months when her savings run out, and we won’t even have that if she doesn’t find something new.