Twice in a Lifetime

by Clare Lydon

  “Sally!” her mom called up the stairs. “Harriet’s outside and she’s slamming that damn horn again!”

  “Coming!” Sally said, pulling her bedroom door shut and clomping down the stairs, her mom appraising her every step.

  “You look nice,” she said, smiling at her. “Is that a new shirt?”

  “Got it last weekend,” Sally replied, hating her mom’s interrogation — she could never just leave the house without comment. She couldn’t wait to leave home and go to college next year.

  Harriet was going this year, but she pushed that thought away.

  “The green suits you. And it’s got some beading on the shoulder, which makes a welcome change — a bit more girly than your usual style.” Her mom reached out her hand, touching the side of her cheek.

  Sally flinched. “Mom,” she said, hitching her tote bag up on her shoulder, gripping her weekend bag, which was heavier than she’d have liked.

  Her mom smiled. “You’re still my little girl, I’m allowed to touch you.”

  “I’m 17,” Sally countered.

  “Exactly.” Her mom paused. “So you’ll be back on Sunday?”

  “Monday,” Sally said. “I told you that.”

  “Right, I forgot.”

  The horn sounded again, and they both jumped.

  “Call me when you get there, and give my love to Harriet’s parents, okay?”

  Sally nodded, leaning over to kiss her mom’s cheek. “I will.” She yanked open the front door and caught a snatch of the music seeping out of Harriet’s car. It was their current favorite, Christina Aguilera.

  “Drive safe,” her mom said as Sally walked out to the car, throwing her bags in the back, before sinking into the passenger seat and slamming the door.

  “My mom loves you, despite the honking,” Sally said, glancing over at Harriet as she revved the engine and pulled away with a squeal of her tires. Harriet always drove too fast, because Harriet did everything too fast. Which was one of the reasons Sally loved her.

  “What can I say, parents love me,” Harriet replied, eyes on the road, then on Sally, then back. “I’m like some kind of parental catnip. They should give me out at teenage classes to reassure parents that nothing bad will happen to their precious offspring.”

  As if to un-illustrate her point, Harriet pumped on the brakes just a little too sharply as they arrived at an intersection and Sally, having not put her seat belt on yet, slammed her hand into the dashboard.

  “Sorry,” Harriet replied, turning left and heading toward the freeway that would take them to the lake, just the two of them and Harriet’s family.

  “Try not to kill me before we get there,” Sally said.

  ***

  They arrived two hours later, the drive pretty clear, just them and a smattering of weekenders all heading for the lakes. As they approached the house, Sally rolled her window down and breathed in the fresh country air, which smelled so clean and sweet. She wasn’t a runner, but out here, she always imagined tearing through the fields, the cool wind in her hair. Above them, the sky was a rich blue, while under them, the grass was scorched. It had been a relentless summer so far, and it showed no sign of ending.

  Harriet’s family’s house was on Lake Paw Paw, and Sally had fallen in love with it when she first came last year. It was set at the top of a perfectly manicured lawn that swept down to the lake, with a wide black front door and polished windows to either side. There were two jetties at the front of the house, a covered veranda that wrapped around its vast frontage, and a decking that stretched out to the right.

  Sally loved Harriet’s lake house, and wished her mom had one, too. But as holding onto their own house after her parents split had been enough of a struggle, she knew it was never going to happen.

  Sally had been here twice already last year, the first time as a guest of Daniel who she’d been seeing for a while before they’d fizzled out. But Daniel had led her to Harriet, for which she was forever grateful.

  The second time she’d visited, Harriet had taught her to smoke, taken her out on the family speedboat, and later, they’d lain on the front lawn till after midnight, staring at the stars and discussing their futures.

  But that was last year. This time around, they were a year older, a year wiser, a year down the track with their friendship. And they’d been getting closer — something had shifted. With every passing weekend they spent together, their friendship had deepened, for Sally at least. She hoped she wasn’t misreading the signs, but she guessed this weekend she’d find out for sure. She hoped they’d get a chance to lay together again, and that this time, the outcome would be slightly altered.

  Her cheeks heated up just thinking that, and when she glanced over at Harriet as she pulled into the long, graveled driveway, her friend gave her a grin.

  “Ready for the weekend of your life?”

  Sally gulped down a nervous smile and nodded. “Ready,” she replied.

  ***

  No sooner had they arrived at the lake house and said hello to Mr and Mrs Locke in the grand wood-paneled living room, than they were told what time dinner would be and what time they were expected.

  Sally winced when she heard it: she wasn’t sure she’d brought any clothes that might be deemed formal enough, and she didn’t want Harriet’s parents looking down on her. Harriet’s parents were nothing like Sally’s, which fascinated her. They weren’t crazy rich, but they were a class above her family, using cutlery that couldn’t be put in the dishwasher.

  “But we have plans tonight,” Harriet replied, her face curling into a snarl. Sally loved that face in particular, it told people not to fuck with Harriet — even her mother. Sally would never have dared try that at home. “We can’t make dinner at that time.”

  Her mother gave her a steely look. “Fine. But if you’re not eating with us, you’ll have to eat in the kitchen. I’ll have Robert whip you up something first then and leave it on the side or in the fridge, okay?”

  Harriet nodded, her attention already shifted, exactly the same as her mother’s. “Sure.”

  She took Sally’s hand and tugged her out of the stuffy living room, Sally’s attention drawn to her hand in Harriet’s, her whole body pulsing with the contact.

  She’d spent the last few months battling with her emotions, but she was finally ready to face up to them. Did it mean she was a lesbian or bisexual? She had no idea. But striding up the stairs of the lake house, hand in hand, she knew her feelings for Harriet were real. She wanted to do more than just spend time with Harriet: she wanted to kiss her, to hold her.

  She wanted to sleep with her, whatever that meant.

  The thought of Harriet’s hand between her legs made her go weak. The thought of her mouth on hers? She wasn’t sure she’d live through it, because right now, her hand in hers was almost giving her heart failure.

  “Did I tell you about Daniel?” Harriet said as they reached the top of the stairs and walked along the magnolia-painted hallway, every surface pristine.

  However, if the hallways were neutral, Harriet’s bedroom was anything but. That was a riot of posters and colors, with Blink 182 sneering at them, along with Macy Gray and a very punk-looking Pink.

  As soon as they got inside, Harriet lit an incense burner on top of her white dressing table, and the slow release of lavender filled the room. She flung open both the windows of her dual-aspect bedroom, before sinking onto her old-fashioned copper bed, her loose brown hair falling around her, splayed like a fan.

  Sally opted for Harriet’s red Ikea sofabed — it seemed the safer place to be. “What were you saying about Daniel?” she asked. She knew he was working in New York, which was way cool. She’d love to do that when she was older.

  “He’s got a boyfriend, says he’s bi,” Harriet replied, staring up at her ceiling. “It’s the one time I thought the dork might be a bit cool.”

  Sally gripped the sofa’s arm, trying hard to remember to breathe. Harriet thought Daniel was cool for being
bi?

  “Daniel’s bi?”

  Harriet turned her head now, grinning. “Bi, gay, whatever. I can just imagine Mom’s face if she finds out: her golden boy with another man.” Harriet laughed. “It’d really put her liberal morals to the test.”

  Sally was still clinging to the sofa, not trusting her hand not to shake if she didn’t. “Has he told them?”

  “No, he’s too chicken, he wouldn’t dare. Plus, he’s in New York, so why cause a fuss when you don’t have to? He let it slip to me because, well, Dan’s not known for his ability to keep secrets.” She grinned at Sally. “But don’t you think everyone’s a little bit gay? Or bi, even? I mean, I like some girls and some guys, it’s no big deal these days, is it? It’s not like we’re living in the 1960s.”

  Time stood still as Harriet spoke, Sally watching her mouth intently.

  And that mouth: it was full, glossy, and so kissable. And out of it had come some beautiful words.

  Harriet thought we were all a bit gay, which was the conclusion Sally was coming to as well. At least, she was definitely a bit gay. And if Daniel could have a boyfriend, did it mean Harriet might consider having a girlfriend? And would she consider her?

  Harriet’s mouth moved again, her eyes searching Sally’s face.

  Sally tuned back into the room, the colors refocusing again as she came back to the present from her Harriet daydream. Only, maybe it wasn’t such a daydream at all now.

  Which only made everything a little more scary.

  “Sorry?” Sally said, furrowing her brow.

  “I said, what do you think? Are we all a little bit gay?” Harriet’s emerald eyes were on her, and she gulped before she answered.

  “Maybe we are,” she replied, the words coming out far meeker than she meant them to. She gathered herself, trying to appear a little more off the cuff. “Labels are so uncool. I mean, who cares?”

  “Exactly,” Harriet said, running a hand through her hair. “Did you think my mom was even less interested in us this time around than she was last?”

  Sally shrugged: Harriet and her mother’s relationship had long been a mystery to her. At times, she longed for something similar herself; her mom’s constant intrusion in her life was a thorn in her side. However, this other extreme didn’t seem what she wanted, either.

  “She seemed like normal,” Sally said, rubbing her index finger and thumb together.

  “I heard her talking about the dinner party she was having tomorrow night, which means she’s going to be caught up doing that.” Harriet cocked her head. “So tonight, we could take whatever Robert’s made us for dinner down to the lake, have a picnic, and watch the sun set. What do you say?”

  Sally nodded. “Sounds awesome.” Plus, it meant a night with Harriet, who thought everyone was a little bit gay. “So what’ll we do till then?”

  Sally yawned, stretching her arms above her head, her green top riding up above her belly button. She closed her eyes and blocked out the world, but when she looked back, she could have sworn Harriet’s eyes were on her exposed midriff. When she caught her looking, Harriet looked away, then cleared her throat, standing up.

  “We can just hang out here for an hour, listen to some music? There are some dope new tracks on this new CD I bought.”

  Sally nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Harriet looked at her like she wanted to ask her a question, but then she shook her head, thinking better of it. “I’ll run downstairs and get us a soda. What would you like?”

  “Sprite would be cool,” Sally said, the heat of Harriet’s stare still marking her skin.

  “Be right back.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “So how much did you drink, exactly?” Harriet asked, a gentle smile creasing her face, her eyes smiling. She always did have kind eyes, even when they’d been telling Sally things she didn’t want to know. Like the fact their relationship wasn’t working anymore.

  Sally shook her head. “I lost count after the first couple, but not as many as her.”

  “She sounds like quite the character, I’d love to meet her.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” Sally replied. “Let’s just say she tried to drown me when I was little, and today she tried to drown me again, but this time with alcohol.”

  They were walking along Ohio Street Beach, at Sally’s request, to get a little fresh air. In preparation, she’d had a shower in the most upmarket bathroom she’d ever encountered, replete with huge mosaic tiles. Then she’d drunk enough weapons-grade coffee to make her hair stand on end, followed by four Advil. Operation Refresh had sort of worked, if you discounted the fact she still felt like she’d just been hit by a truck.

  Still, a fresh paint of make-up, some clean clothes, and she was presentable. And the story of her long lunch that had stretched far into the afternoon appeared to have tickled Harriet, too.

  “I really do have to stress again, though, this isn’t me,” Sally said, as they walked, the summer air still warm to the touch. To their left lay Lake Michigan, along with sand, empty sun loungers, umbrellas in the retreat position. To their right, the city’s architecture twinkled, some buildings still housing workers chained to their desks. Up ahead, Navy Pier whooped and hollered as tourists rode the illuminated big wheel and ate cotton candy, just as Sally recalled doing as a kid.

  And, as a teenager, with Harriet Locke.

  Harriet guided Sally over to a wooden bench and they sat side by side, Harriet giving her some more water to drink, along with a smile.

  “You know, we don’t have to go to this fancy restaurant if you don’t want to — I won’t be offended. We can just get a hot dog on the pier, or go to a local bar if that’s what you’d prefer. Just say the word.”

  “Would you mind?” Sally asked.

  Harriet shook her head. “I’ll call to cancel and let’s just see where the night takes us. No pressure, okay?”

  Sally nodded, glad to be taken care of. “Sounds great.”

  Harriet made the call.

  Sally’s shoulders unclenched, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Was going to dinner with me such a terrible thought?” Harriet asked, turning to face Sally.

  “It’s not that,” Sally said, as a couple walked by with an empty stroller, the man with a toddler on his shoulders. “It’s just I’ve sat in a restaurant for long enough today. But thanks for understanding.”

  “Of course.”

  They were silent for a few moments with their thoughts before Harriet spoke again.

  “You know, if you’d told me last week I’d be sitting on a bench with you, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

  “Me neither.” Sally shuddered as she spoke: she still remembered the tears when Harriet had come home and told her they couldn’t carry on, because long distance was too hard and she didn’t want to be tied down at college.

  Not even three months of long distance and they’d fallen apart at the seams.

  But now, 17 years on, she was sure she could be zen about it, couldn’t she?

  “It was all a very long time ago.”

  Harriet nodded, staring out to the lake. “I know, half a lifetime.” She paused. “It doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you over the years, though.”

  “I’d be sad if I didn’t at least warrant a thought.”

  “I considered looking you up on Facebook, but wondered if that seemed desperate.”

  Sally didn’t like to admit the amount of times she’d held her breath, wondering if this new friend request was from Harriet: but it never was.

  She laid a hand on Harriet’s thigh, and stared at it, as did Harriet. She used to put a hand on her thigh all the time once, but not anymore. She licked her lips, glancing up briefly at Harriet. Was this okay? Could they touch each other casually, like it had never meant anything different? The blood rushing around her body told her it still held something for her, but she ignored it.

  “I think slates are wiped after a certain amount of time, aren’t th
ey? Some people hold on to emotions for far too long, and they fester and breed.” Sally squeezed Harriet’s thigh, before moving her hand. “We were young and naive, that’s all — it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Harriet glanced up at Sally. “So is there anyone now?”

  Sally shook her head. “No, not for a while.” She thought back to Casey, to what might have been. She and Casey had been together for three years, having met six months after she split up with Todd.

  “There was someone — Casey — my first long-term relationship with a woman. It was good while it lasted, we even moved in together, but we split up a while ago.

  “She’s the reason I moved to New York, actually. I needed to get away, take a break from Chicago. There’s only so much a city can support, and it saw me through my marriage to Todd, and then my first big relationship with a woman, and subsequent break-up.” Sally paused, remembering, feeling the hurt all over again.

  “Break-ups with women leave you far more scarred than break-ups with men.” She fixed Harriet with her gaze as she spoke. “You’d think I’d remember that much, wouldn’t you?”

  Harriet looked away at her words, and Sally felt bad when she saw that — she hadn’t meant that to come out quite as harsh as it had. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t a dig.”

  Harriet let out a muffled sigh in response. “You don’t mince your words, do you?” She paused. “So you ran off to New York with a broken heart?”

  “Something like that,” Sally replied. “I threw myself into starting my own design start-up and set up base in Queens, seeing as that was the area of New York I could afford. Just.” She laughed at the absurdity of that. “Maybe I should have stayed in Chicago, the rents are cheaper and I might have been able to get a foothold quicker in a smaller place.

  “But I don’t regret it — I’ve made some great friends in New York, and it was a good change of pace. And now my aunt wants to put money in my business, I might finally be able to give it the push it deserves.”

  “What do you design?” Harriet asked.

  “Greetings cards — not the Hallmark variety, but the bespoke, hand-made style. I don’t make up cheesy rhymes, much to my friend Taylor’s sadness. I sell them to shops, galleries, gift shops, book stores — anywhere that will take them.”