by Robin Roseau
I was just recovering from her games. Do you really think what she did was right? She's some sort of weird stalker -- which I don't even get -- and now you're helping her? I don't get that, either.
I'm angry, and I'm hurt. In the past when I needed support, I would have gone to you, or maybe to Meryl. But now the three of you pulled the rug out from underneath me.
I don't know what to do.
Violetta
I thought perhaps that last line was the most important. I didn't know what to do.
* * * *
They wrote back. They tried to assure me the loved me, and they'd always be there for me. And then they tried to tell me they didn't say anything to me they haven't been saying for years, but I never listened.
They hoped I would listen to them this time.
But they didn't apologize.
* * * *
I received a text from Noelle, which I didn't particularly appreciate. "I hope you're okay."
I stared at that for a while then removed from my phone all evidence of her existence. I wasn't going to engage with her.
And then I sulked.
* * * *
And sulked.
* * * *
And sulked.
Reconciliation
I let that go on far longer than I should have. I knew it when I was doing it, but my emotions kept going through a circle of negativity, and I couldn't break out.
Finally I got sick of it. Frankly, it was the isolation and the fact I hadn't had a laugh in I didn't know how long.
I didn't respond to them, but I'd been getting short emails from The Marys every few days. They didn't say anything beyond something like, "Remember we love you," or "We miss you."
And while I had deleted evidence of Noelle from my phone, that didn't stop her from texting me periodically. She actually wasn't stalkerish about it. Persistent, yes, but it didn't feel creepy. They were innocuous messages, little tidbits from her daily life. "Eating a strawberry and thinking of you," or "Saw a woman in dark sunglasses and thought of you." But in a way they were all the same message. "When you're ready to talk, I'm here."
I made a reservation, and then I replied to her texts. "I will be at the White Orchid tomorrow at 6. Maybe I won't be eating alone."
Her reply was simple. "You won't be."
While preparing as for a date, I told myself I didn't know why I was dressing up. I told myself I didn't care how I looked for her. I was lying of course, and I knew it at the time. But I told myself I'd only invited her so I could tell her how she'd ruined my life.
Even while I was telling myself that, I knew I wasn't being fair, either.
I was intentionally late, although I couldn't bring myself to delay more than five minutes. I had reservations, after all, and I wouldn't want the restaurant to give my reservation to someone else.
Still, when I arrived at the restaurant, I was a little pissed off that Noelle wasn't waiting for me. If she thought being later than I was could earn her points, she was sadly mistaken. I presented myself to the hostess station, announced who I was, and then had my rug of anger yanked from underneath my feet.
"Of course, Violetta. Your other party is already seated."
Still, I managed to fume all the way to our table, an intimate setting in the corner, and I was sure it was the same table Noelle and I had enjoyed on our first date.
As I arrived, her back was to me, but she heard us approaching and stood, smiling tentatively. She took a half step towards me as I approached, but I veered around her and took my own seat. I thought she might have intended a hug, but I wasn't having it.
I fumed some more. She looked every bit as good as I always envisioned her. Couldn't she have the decency to look terrible? Shouldn't she look as bad as I felt?
"Is this the same table?" I asked as soon as the hostess was gone?"
"Yes. Thank you for inviting me, Violetta."
"To be clear, this isn't a date."
"Of course not. It's just two single lesbians with feelings for each other having an intimate dinner together."
"I don't have feelings for you."
"Of course you do. You can deny having any positive feelings, but I think that's a lie. But you definitely have some kind of feelings."
I didn't like that, so I said nothing. The waitress stopped by with water. I immediately asked for a pot of tea and an order of eggrolls. I looked across the table. "If you want any, order your own."
It was petty. I wouldn't actually eat both. Noelle declined. Then I said nothing, staring at the table until the tea arrived. The waitress poured our cups and asked if we needed time to decide.
"I'll order after the egg rolls," I declared.
"Very good," she said before stepping away.
I sipped from my tea, not looking across the table, but I could feel Noelle's eyes on me. For several minutes I said nothing, but then finally Noelle asked, "I don't know if you had something you wanted to say, or if I'm allowed to speak."
"I wasn't sure you knew how. The last time we were here, you didn't speak a word."
She cracked a smile, which I glanced up to see. Then I stared at my teacup again.
"The auction thing was pretty stupid," Noelle said. "Making you go on dates while you couldn't see... refusing to talk... It was stupid. I should have been braver."
I looked up. "You know, I'm not really upset about that. Yeah, it was weird, but..."
"You enjoyed it at the same time."
"Yeah."
"Can I say something without pissing you off?"
"I don't know. You don't have a successful history in the past."
"Funny." She offered a quick smile. "Do you have any idea how sexy and hot it was with you in those sunglasses?"
I felt a blush begin to form, and I hid behind the tea as I drank for a moment. By the time I set the cup down, Noelle was holding the pot, and she efficiently refilled my cup.
"Feeding you," she continued. "Oh my god. It was everything I could do to hold myself back from mauling you, right here in the restaurant."
"Stop," I said, embarrassed. Although to be honest, I didn't want her to stop.
"I don't think so," she said. "I don't think you have any idea how sexy you really are."
"I'm not."
"Yeah, right. I did all that because you're boring."
I didn't have a response for that.
The egg rolls arrived before either of us spoke again. The waitress dropped them off along with little plates for each of us. I transferred one of the egg rolls to my plate and told her, "That one is yours, if you want it."
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Are you giving this to me because I called you sexy?"
"No," I said. I ladled a little fish sauce and bit in. Once my mouth was clear, I said, "But maybe because you called me hot."
I got a bark of laughter for that.
We finished our egg rolls without any further competition. Then we looked at each other. I felt quite awkward. I couldn't tell what Noelle felt. She carried a smile. Not a broad smile, but a smile nevertheless.
The waitress returned and asked if we knew what we'd like for dinner. "I ordered last time," I declared.
"And did a fine job of it," Noelle replied. "Perhaps you would do so again?"
"All right." I didn't bother with the menu but ordered two dishes, different dishes from last time. The waitress checked our tea, saw the pot was getting low, and promised another one shortly.
"May I say something?" I nodded, and she continued. "Violetta, I'm really sorry. I'm sorry for how I reacted. I was young and stupid. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to do what I wanted to do. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I destroyed our chance to be together. And I'm sorry it's taken me 17 more years before I finally apologized. I have no excuse. I'm really, really sorry."
I stared into my teacup while she said all that. When it sounded like she was done, I looked up at her. She was watching me carefully, and I could tell she had no clue how I was going to
respond. Frankly, neither did I.
"You don't apologize for more recent events?"
"No, actually. I know what I did was weird, but I was trying to kickstart something. I didn't know how else." Then she offered a tentative smile. "And frankly, it was fun. Maybe it was wrong, but it was fun, and you enjoyed it, too. Am I really supposed to apologize for that?"
"I suppose not," I admitted. "All right then."
She watched me for a minute before asking, "What does that mean? All right then?"
"I suppose it means thank you for apologizing. It doesn't make sense to carry a grudge. So I guess it means I accept your apology."
"I think it means more than that, doesn't it?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Because you find me sexy, don't you?"
"Don't push."
"Violetta, I have to."
"Why?"
"Because if we walk away from this meal without agreeing that we're dating, I think I'll die."
"I think the fact that we're talking is doing pretty damned well."
"Color me greedy. I want it all."
"Well, I need more time."
"Time."
"Yes. However, if you text, I'll respond."
"You will."
"Yes. I will. But if you push me up against a wall, I'm going to respond poorly."
"All right," she said. "May I call?"
"Pushing..."
"May I?"
"I don't know."
She smiled. "Then I'll take that as yes, but not every night."
I didn't immediately contradict her, and she smiled.
Our meal arrived. We each took a little of each dish and ate quietly for a while. Finally I asked, "You know. I don't know what you do for a living."
We made small talk for the rest of the meal, avoiding difficult topics. She was sweet and charming, and she got me to laugh a few times. They were my first laughs in weeks.
Then it was time for the check, and the waitress came to the table with a credit card receipt already filled out. She handed it to Noelle, thanked us for coming tonight, and invited us back soon. Then she walked away.
"Hey!" I complained.
Noelle smiled. "You snooze, you lose."
"When did you give her your card?"
"Before you arrived."
"You little cheat!"
"Yep." Then she smiled sweetly at me.
She'd put me off balance, but I managed to say, "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I wouldn't suppose you're feeling thankful enough you'll let me hold your hand when I walk you to your car?"
"No, I'm not," I said. I stood up, collected my purse, and then waited for her. I didn't give her my hand.
Once on the sidewalk, we turned to each other. I offered a half a smile and held out my hand, gesturing with my head. "My car is this way."
She smiled broadly and took my hand, and together we walked to my car, not saying anything. At my car door, though, I told her, "Don't even try to kiss me."
"Hug?"
"Hug," I agreed.
And so she pulled me into her arms, wrapping around me and laying her cheek against mine. And damn, but she felt good.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm not giving up."
"All right," I said.
She released me, but her hands slid down my arms so she was cupping my fingers. "Please call Meryl."
"I will."
"And The Marys."
I nodded. "I will."
"Are you sure about that kiss?"
I laughed. "Yes."
"I'm going to call."
"All right."
She began backing away. We watched each other. Then finally she turned around, but I called out her name. She turned back.
"Do you really intend to ask me out?"
"Yes."
"You want a, um. A relationship?"
"Yes."
"Like, a romantic relationship."
"Yes, Violetta. A romantic relationship, one that begins with kisses and includes wild, amazing sex. And before you ask the next question, yes, an exclusive romantic relationship. Get used to the idea, and dump anyone else you're seeing, because I'm not taking no for an answer. And I don't think you want me to."
"There isn't anyone to dump," I said. "Do you think I'd be here with you tonight if there were?"
"No. I was making a point. Have I made it?"
"Yes, Noelle. You have."
"Good. Good night, Violetta."
"Good night."
I climbed into my car, started the engine, then stared out the window for a while. I found my phone and wrote a text.
Do you like ice cream?
It took a minute before the reply came.
I love ice cream.
I hear Cub has a lot of choices of ice cream.
I've noticed that myself.
I'm going to Cub. To pick ice cream. Then I'm going home to eat it. Maybe you'll help me.
I'll see you in the frozen food section.
* * * *
I parked at the grocery store. There were no new messages on my phone, but I sent one of my own.
This is just ice cream. It's not an invitation to my bedroom.
I'm already contemplating the choices. If you don't get here soon, I'll have picked something out by the time you get here.
You better not!
* * * *
She didn't get an invitation to my bedroom. But I may have gotten a good night kiss. I might have gotten a lot of good night kisses.
She was a damned good kisser.
The Marys
"Are you guys at home?"
"Yes."
"Good, because I'm in your driveway."
"Well, that's stupid, because we're in the house. You should be in the house. Don't you think?"
"The next sound you hear will be me, knocking at your door."
It was Marybeth who let me in. I stepped past her, and she said, "Maryann will be right downstairs."
"Did I interrupt something?"
"Yep. You know us. Horny little devils. Can't keep our hands off each other. I had her naked and writhing on the kitchen countertop when the phone rang. I decided a ringing phone was more important than what I was doing."
"Ha, ha," I said. "What was really going on?"
"You know me. I don't let her wear clothes when we're home alone together."
"Fine, don't tell me," I said.
"Oh, relax. Ever seen Maryann in the kitchen?"
"Yeah. She rolls in the supplies while she's cooking. Oh. What's she making?"
"Just cookies. Flour everywhere. She looked really cute."
I smiled and let Marybeth draw me into the living room. She offered something to drink, but I declined.
It was only another minute before Maryann appeared. There was still a smudge of flower on her cheek, but the remaining evidence was gone. Unlike Marybeth, who had let me into the house without a hug, Maryann wouldn't have it, and she pulled me from the sofa and squeezed me tightly.
"I'm glad to see you."
"Me too," I admitted.
Finally she released me, and we took our customary places on their sofa.
"I'm not staying long," I said. "Just a few minutes, really. I wanted to say this in person." I paused, biting my lip. "Let me say it all before you respond."
"Of course," said Marybeth. There wasn't any "of course" about it, but maybe they'd let me get it all out.
"I didn't like being blindsided," I said. "On the other hand, you have been telling me everything you said that night, and so has Meryl. I haven't been listening. And I think you're probably right about all of it."
"So we're forgiven?"
"You see? I knew you couldn't wait until I was done," I said. "You don't need to be forgiven. I just needed time. And I need to know if you're mad at me."
"Of course not," Maryann said. "Worried, but not mad."
"There's no more reason to worry." I smiled. "We're good?"
"We're good," they s
aid, and I got pulled into another hug.
Once it was over, I said, "So. Um."
"Oh, I love it when she starts something with 'so, um'," said Maryann. "This should be good."
"I had dinner with Noelle last night."
They both began smiling.
"We're going to take it slow," I added.
Maryann laughed. "If by slow you mean she didn't stay the night, then sure. If by slow you mean you haven't already engaged in some lip mauling, then don't lie to us."
"There may have been lip mauling," I admitted. "And maybe a little panting."
"Good."
"But we don't really know each other," I added. "And I'm concerned she has this idea of me that isn't accurate. I think she remembers me from high school."
"Right. So she didn't spend a month courting you already."
I stared at Marybeth. I hadn't even thought about that. She began to grin. "Got you with that one, didn't I?"
"I suppose you did." I thought about the implications. "She can't possibly know me. And even if she does, I don't know her. Texting isn't the same, is it? And that's all we had."
"That's fair," Maryann said. "When are you seeing her again?"
I smiled. "She's coming to dinner. I'm on the way home with the groceries. That's why I can't stay."
They both grinned, and I'd never been thrown out of their house faster.
* * * *
It was some hours later that I found myself smiling. "I told The Marys we were taking it slow."
Noelle smiled.
"Is that what you call this?" she asked. She pointedly lifted the bedcovers and looked down at my naked body beside hers. "Why, Violetta, there's not a stitch of clothes between us. I don't think we're very good at taking it slow."
"What are you talking about? It took us 17 years."
"I suppose it did," she agreed.
I snuggled closer. "Are you staying?"
"Yes."
"Good."
About the Author
A writer by avocation, Robin has a renaissance interest in many areas. A bit of a gypsy, Robin has called a few places home and has traveled widely. A love of the outdoors, animals in general and experimenting with world cuisines, Robin and partner share their home with a menagerie of pets and guests, although sometimes it is difficult to discern who is whom.