by Clare Lydon
“We’re old friends,” Sally replied. “We knew each other from school and we’re just catching up.” Not really a lie, almost true. She glanced up at Harriet, who was nodding her head, but the fact she too looked like a rabbit trapped in the headlights wasn’t lost on Sally.
“Old school friends, how gorgeous.” Paula leaned in. “In a time of more innocence, before you realized you preferred Martha to Arthur.” She grinned at her own joke, as Sally gave her a rigid smile, and Harriet cast her gaze down to the table.
Paula leaned back, her eyes narrowing. “Or not, as the vibe I’m picking up tells me.” Her face fell. “You know she’s gay, right?” she asked Harriet.
Harriet spluttered, nodding her head. “I was aware,” she said.
Sally, on the other hand, buried her face in her hands wondering what she was going to do with her aunt. When she came up for air, she shook her head. “Paula! If you’re going to be back in my life, we need to have words. You’re not going to embarrass me every time we meet, are you?”
“Is every other time okay?” Paula grinned a wide smile, nudging Sally with her arm. “Kidding! You and your dad are so easy to rile up.” She paused, resting her chin in her right palm, rocking her index finger back and forth. “But I’m picking something up here, something more between you two. Was there something between you at school, something going on even back then?”
Sally shook her head to deny it, but she couldn’t get any words out of her mouth.
Meanwhile, Harriet was just blushing a deep shade of purple.
“I’ll take that silence and the color of your cheeks to mean yes.” She paused. “Is there something going on now?” She put a hand to her mouth. “Am I crashing a date? Oh god, I am, aren’t I? Trust Paula, to wade in with size ten boots. You know, you’d think I’d get this, considering I’m gay too, but sometimes, you’re still my niece and not a grown woman with a love life, you know?”
She began to laugh. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me. And you’re a dark horse,” she said, wagging a finger in Sally’s direction. “You said nothing yesterday while I sat and regaled you about my sorry love life. Yet here you were all along with this gorgeous woman waiting in the wings.” She stopped, assessing Harriet. “You’re very cute when you’re embarrassed, you know.”
Sally shook her head, a wry smile on her face. She looked over at Harriet, catching her eye and wincing.
Harriet gave her a knowing smile, showing they would ride this out together.
“There’s nothing going on, Paula, we’re just catching up on old times.” Sally tried to put as much conviction into her voice as possible, but she wasn’t sure she achieved it.
“Sweetheart, life’s too short to be flying under the radar. Go after what you want, grab it by the horns, spread your wings, your legs, whatever,” Paula told her. “And you two make such a cute couple. I take it this is on the down-low, seeing as your dad didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”
“You’re not crashing a date, believe me,” Sally said, questioning now whether that was true.
Paula’s face was still set to grin. “You know, when people say the words ‘believe me,’ it normally means they’re lying. It’s like when people say ‘no offense,’ just before they’re about to offend you.” She smiled broadly. “But don’t worry, I’ll pretend I’ve never seen you; your secret’s safe with me.” She gave Sally an exaggerated wink and sat back on her stool, crossing her arms, very pleased with herself.
“I give up with you,” Sally said, shaking her head. “So who are you meeting tonight, Aunty?” Sally’s use of the term was intentional.
Paula narrowed her eyes. “I see what you’re doing,” she said, smiling. “I’m meeting up with my ex Jolene — she lives around here, she introduced me to this bar, actually. You like it?”
Sally nodded. “It’s cool, I love this area, too.”
“I’m renting here, looking to buy.” Paula glanced at Harriet. “So you live around here, Harriet?”
Harriet nodded, still coughing. “Lincoln Park, just on the lake,” she replied.
Paula’s face spelled impressed. “Very nice,” she said, before tapping Sally’s arm. “You’ve done well, kid.”
“There’s nothing—”
“—I know, going on. You’re just friends. Yadda yadda yadda.”
At that moment, a woman walked in with long flowing blonde hair, dressed in jeans, a checkered shirt, and cowboy boots. Paula’s face lit up when she saw her, and the hug they exchanged lasted a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Jolene, meet my niece Sally and her friend, Harriet,” Paula said, punctuating the word “friend” with wide eyes and air quotes.
Sally sighed. She really was the epitome of an embarrassing aunt.
Paula stood up, indicating with her head to Jolene they were on the move.
“I’ll leave you kids to it, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She gave Sally a wink. “I’ll email you next week about bank details, okay?”
Sally nodded. “Okay.”
“Great to meet you, Harriet!” Paula said, before joining Jolene at a table by the far wall, engaging the waiter in more chat.
They both waited a few beats before they dared to look at each other, Sally shaking her head as their eyes met.
“I don’t really know what to say about what just happened,” she said. “So that’s Paula, and she’s a bit of a character.”
Harriet’s body shook as she laughed. “Understatement of the year.”
Chapter Seventeen
The evening flew by, with Harriet regaling Sally with stories of her life, her business, and Joanna, leaving out the bits about how she really wanted to find someone to share it all with. She hadn’t been thinking that before Sally walked back into her life this week, but now, those thoughts were meandering through her mind like an uninvited guest, waving their arms just to make sure she was sitting up and taking notice.
But for now, Sally only needed to know the ups of Harriet’s life, not the downs, because tonight was a performance, wasn’t it? If Sally was staying in Harriet’s life, if there was any possibility of that, maybe then Harriet might open up a little more. But she lived in New York, so the chances were slim. A Facebook friend, maybe; a new Instagram follower.
Even if tonight had only reinforced the fact that Harriet would like it to be so much more, that the feelings were still there.
They’d skirted around too much emotional stuff, around too many references to their past, because what was the point? They’d both moved on with their lives, they were both in different places now. Their meeting had been a great nostalgia trip, a chance to mend old wounds. But it was coming to a close now, which is why Harriet had suggested another drink after dinner.
Sally had hesitated, her eyes alight with emotion, before finally agreeing.
So now, here they were, ensconced in a cocktail bar just off Michigan Street, Old-Fashioneds in front of them, Harriet not wanting to touch hers. Because every sip meant she was one sip closer to losing Sally again, and that thought sent an avalanche of despair tumbling through her system.
However, she did what she always did, in true Locke-family style: she pushed it away.
Inside, though, she was quietly falling apart.
“Exciting times for you, then?” Harriet said, running her index finger up and down her glass. “Investment in your business and a crazy aunt back in your life. Has Chicago lived up to your expectations?” Harriet was hoping it had exceeded them, hoping she’d exceeded them.
Sally held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary, before nodding, her eyes dropping to Harriet’s mouth before she looked away. “It’s been a whirlwind few days, that’s for sure — seeing my dad, my aunt, and my mom tomorrow. I can’t even believe I only left New York 48 hours ago. So much has happened since, I barely know what to think. My life’s been turned upside down by my aunt, and even though she says she’s going to be a silent partner, somehow the words silent and Paula don�
�t really go together, do they?”
Harriet shook her head. “Not really.”
Sally tilted hers. “Plus, meeting you again has been an unexpected bonus.”
“It has?”
Sally nodded. “I sometimes imagined meeting you again, and what I might say to you, how I might act. In my visions, somehow you’d always become this hotshot attorney, like something from Netflix’s latest box office drama.”
“Jeez — am I a disappointment?”
“You could never be a disappointment to me,” Sally replied.
Harriet’s breathing shifted at those words, her tongue snaking along her bottom lip as she processed what Sally had just said. She wasn’t sure she agreed, not when it came to Sally.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said. “But I’m not sure I deserve it.” She paused, her eyes searching Sally’s, looking for what she wasn’t sure. Permission? Desire? A combination of both?
“You know, we could finish these and go back to my place for a nightcap if you like? I have a great view over the lake, and I’d love to show you it.” Did that sound like a line? She’d be the first to admit she’d used it before, but it had never meant so much.
Because this wasn’t just anybody.
This was Sally.
Sally’s gaze flicked down to her glass, before reaching back up to Harriet. She narrowed her eyes as she gently shook her head. “You know, there was a time when I would have jumped at that opportunity, when I was in mourning for you. But then I chose to go the other way and marry a man.”
“Don’t do that again,” Harriet said, reaching out for Sally’s hand across the table. Sally watched intently as Harriet intertwined their fingers. Just the touch of Sally’s hand was enough to make Harriet’s heart falter, but she tried not to think about it. Tried not to think how this could all be over again before it had even begun.
“I’m not planning to,” Sally said, with a smile. “But if we go back to your place, we both know where it’s going. And these days, I’m protective of my heart — it’s just the way things are.”
“What about what your aunt said earlier?”
Harriet’s heart was thumping in her chest. She desperately wanted Sally to come back to her apartment — surely she could feel the heat between them, too?
Sally sat up at that, eyeing Harriet like she’d gone mad. “You’re really bringing Paula into this conversation?”
“Okay, bad choice,” Harriet replied, giving her a wry smile. “But her sentiment was right — the one about taking chances, taking the bull by the horns.”
Sally pursed her lips but didn’t reply.
“The point is, I think she was right when she said there was something here. There is something here.” Harriet paused. “If there’s not, why are we sitting in a low-lit booth holding hands at 11pm — it’s not something I do with most of my friends.”
“It’s not?” Sally said, her voice innocent. “Me and my friends do this all the time.”
They locked eyes again and Harriet gulped. Their eyes were doing the Argentine tango, yet their bodies were still, like the water at the lake house in the dead of night.
“But you get what I’m saying. There’s always been more to us, Sally, you know that.”
Sally let out a low sigh. “I do, but what’s the point? Like I say, I’m protective of my heart. And if we go home tonight and sleep together, it’s probably going to be great.”
“At least we’re agreed on that.” Of that, Harriet had no doubt.
“But then what?” Sally pulled her hand away and Harriet looked down, desolate. “Don’t give me that look,” Sally continued. “We sleep together, I wake up, I go back to New York and I’m fucked up. And then it’s you again, floating through my system, but you don’t live nearby and I can’t do anything about it.
“I can’t do that again, I don’t want to do that again. I want something that’s real next time I start with someone, something that can work. And that begins with at least living in the same city.”
Harriet sat back, sighing. “Can I rewind to the bit where you said we could spend the night together and it’d be great?”
“And what happens after?” Sally threw her hands up in the air. “Do you never think one step ahead? I’m sure you have to do it for business.”
Harriet looked away, pursing her lips. “This isn’t business, though, is it?” she said, sitting up straight.
“No, it’s our lives, which is an even bigger deal.”
But Harriet couldn’t leave it at that. This wasn’t rational after all, it wasn’t something that could be worked out over a drink. This was something inside, something she was feeling. It was alive, vibrant, real. Harriet didn’t want to turn her back on it again.
She’d already made that mistake once before, assuming their lives couldn’t ever gel.
And on that point, she’d been so, so wrong.
“But what about if we try long distance?” She reached over for Sally’s hand again, but this time, there was a slight resistance. Still, Harriet didn’t let go. “Plenty of people do it every day, don’t they?”
Sally scrunched her eyebrows together, momentarily lost for words. It didn’t last long. “Are you seriously suggesting that, after what happened with us before?” she said, her eyes wide.
Harriet winced, dipping her head, feeling like she’d been slapped in the face.
“I can’t even believe you’d bring it up. Absence makes the heart break way more than it makes it grow fonder.” Sally paused, shaking her head, her cheeks turning red as she spoke. “You remember what happened when we were kids, or would you like me to remind you? We got together, you went to college, we tried long distance, and then you bailed. Is that the way the story went or did I get it wrong?”
Harriet shook her head as quietly as she could manage. It felt like Sally had been shouting at her, but when she glanced around, nobody was looking their way. Perhaps the volume had just been in her mind.
“No, that’s exactly what happened, everything you say is spot-on.” Harriet dared to look at Sally again, her deep blue eyes watery, her face older and wiser than before. Harriet knew at that second she’d never stopped loving her, and that she desperately wanted to again.
“I guess not all the slate can ever be wiped clean, can it?”
“I guess not.” Sally took a large slug of her cocktail before she continued, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before pulling out a tissue to blow her nose. “If you want a relationship to work, you have to be present: physically present. And we can’t be. Long distance killed my parents’ marriage, and it killed us before — and it took me years to recover from both. I can’t put myself through that again, especially not with you. Particularly not with you.”
Harriet sat back, taking a pull on her cocktail: if she was honest, she felt like drinking the whole damn thing. Sally saw no way back for them, and she couldn’t say she blamed her. Everything she was saying was true.
But if that was the case, why did Harriet’s body still light up every time Sally touched her, or even looked her way? Why had her world gone into the biggest tailspin of her life ever since they’d met again just two days ago?
“I guess we could say our timing’s always been off, hasn’t it?” Sally added, her face layered with emotion.
Harriet wracked her brain for a solution, but none came. She had to concede, didn’t she? “You could definitely say that,” she said, her shoulders sagging, her spirit out for the count.
“But we can keep in touch, on social media, email. And I can meet you for dinner next time you come to New York.” But Sally’s tone held no conviction, her eyes searching Harriet’s face, almost like she was begging to be rescued. Was that true? Harriet just didn’t know, and that was killing her.
“You’re saying all or nothing? We can’t even try?” Harriet desperately wanted Sally to see it from her side.
Sally closed her eyes. “I don’t see how this can work when we live in differ
ent places. So let’s just call it a night and keep in touch.” She paused, squeezing Harriet’s hand. “We were doing just fine before we met each other again, weren’t we? Can’t we just be friends?”
As Sally stared into her eyes, Harriet gulped, and she knew the answer.
No, they could never be friends. Not really. They should only ever be lovers, and she’d give anything to try to be lovers on a level playing field now that they were adults. No ifs and buts, no parents in the way, no college on the horizon. But it looked like Sally was shutting down that avenue before they even tried.
“That’s just the thing, I’m not sure I was getting on that fine. You’ve shaken things up this weekend, made me see things differently. What if I want to see where that goes?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, H.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to be honest.”
Sally gulped, then her eyes dropped to Harriet’s mouth, then back up again. “Honesty is way over-rated, you know that?”
Harriet grasped Sally’s hand, putting it to her chest. “Just tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me you don’t feel this, too, and I’ll leave it. But don’t just walk away because it didn’t work for your parents, or because you’re afraid. You should only walk away if you feel nothing. And if you do, I’ll respect that, of course I will.”
She looked down, then brought Sally’s hand up to her mouth and gave it the lightest kiss; contact with just this slightest part of Sally’s body left her giddy. Harriet’s mind swam; her body swooshed one way, then the other, and when she looked up, Sally’s eyes were closed.
Had it affected her, too? Harriet hoped so.
“Just tell me that didn’t make your heart stutter. Tell me I’m nothing, that this is nothing.” Harriet drank in the sight of Sally sitting opposite her, just in case this was one of their very last times together. Her gorgeous russet hair, her pale skin, her face the shape of a heart just before it breaks.
Sally opened her eyes and gulped. Her lips glistened as she opened them to speak, and Harriet recalled all the times she’d kissed them before, how Sally always tasted of hope.