Worth the Wait

by Karelia Stetz-Waters

  She had always been a good swimmer. She wished Merritt could see her. You didn’t give me a chance, she thought as she surfaced, turned, and swam back. I messed up at eighteen. You can’t hold that against me forever. I won’t break your heart. She dove again, swimming down to the bottom of the pool—all eight feet of it—and sitting on the bottom. It wasn’t fair to do that to a plain girl. Merritt with her slim body, her perfect face, her shop, her freedom, her friends, her effortless talent at everything. Merritt could have a career on television without Marlene Crown or plastic surgery. She forced her eyes open. The chlorinated water burned away her tears. Far away she imagined music playing, a familiar song, one of DX’s softer ballads. Then it struck her: It was her phone!

  She surfaced in a rush and launched out of the water. She managed to touch accept despite dripping fingers.

  “Hello?”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “You’re worth it,” Merritt said.

  * * *

  A few minutes later Avery slid into the driver’s seat of her comped pink convertible. She was a bit drier, although the dry dress she had thrown on now stuck to her legs and her hair dripped down her back. But soon she was parking behind Hellenic Hardware. She crept up to the front doors, glancing up and down Burnside. Nothing stirred inside the shop, not even the intermittent blink of a security camera, but she heard a strain of music. Avery looked up. A story above her, Merritt sat in a windowsill, outlined by the orange glow of a lamp. Her back rested against the window frame. She had tucked one leg up in front of her, her chin on her knee. The tip of a cigarette or a joint glowed at her fingertips, but she wasn’t smoking. Only thinking. At least that was what it looked like from below.

  Avery stood for a long minute. As a teenager, she had always felt nervous before showing up at Merritt’s door. She had thought, What if I’m not good enough? What if she’s changed her mind?

  “So it’s a spectator sport?” The concrete wall carried Merritt’s voice like a tin-can telephone, quiet and yet right in her ear. Merritt looked down, her face in shadows. “What are you doing, Avery Crown?”

  What was she doing? Dan Ponza was somewhere in the city.

  “I’m coming up.”

  Merritt disappeared from the windowsill and returned a moment later.

  “Catch.” She tossed a set of keys.

  For an instant Avery saw them lit by the streetlight like a heavy snowflake. She felt more than thought that she would remember that image forever. Merritt’s keys frozen in the air. The glow of Merritt’s lamp. The strange sensation that she had once again become the person she was at sixteen. Then she caught the keys.

  Inside, Avery made her way past the front counter. Merritt met her at the foot of the narrow staircase, fully dressed, like someone who had had no intention of going to bed. Upstairs, the apartment looked like the home of a lonely bachelor. Avery wished she could decorate the place. Even shag lawn carpet would make it look cozier.

  “Why are you wet?” Merritt asked, putting her hands on Avery’s waist.

  “I was swimming.”

  “In this dress?”

  “In a different dress.”

  “I like it.”

  If Dan Ponza had followed her, his camera would be glued to the window.

  As if reading her mind, Merritt drew the curtains. Then she kissed her. It was wonderful. It was everything. And it was so not enough.

  “I want this,” Avery whispered.

  She pressed herself against Merritt. She felt the same searing desire she had felt in the Peculiarium, but now it was better and more unbearable because she knew soon Merritt would touch her. Surely sensing the urgency of her need, Merritt lifted the skirt of Avery’s dress over her head.

  “Come to bed,” Merritt said.

  Avery stepped out of her heels and followed Merritt into a bedroom that was as sparse as the rest of the apartment. One pillow. One end table. One sad torchère lamp in the corner.

  “Where are your antiques?” Avery asked.

  “I didn’t think I’d be here for so long.”

  “We’ll be gone soon,” Avery said. “It’s less than a month now. God, it’s only a few days really. I’m sorry you had to wait to move into the Elysium. I know how much you wanted to be there.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Merritt said. “I’m fine here. I’m fine tonight.”

  The disappointment Avery had felt when Merritt strode out of the Peculiarium melted away beneath the heat of Merritt’s gaze. Her dark eyes burned with desire, and the care with which she moved seemed to bely an urgency that was not careful at all. Avery was so overwhelmed with wonder—she was here! Merritt was here!—she could barely unbutton Merritt’s shirt, but she did, and she cast it to the floor. They kissed for a long time while standing at the foot of Merritt’s bed.

  When Merritt drew away, Avery delicately nipped her bottom lip. “You’re so good at everything and you’re so cool and you know you’re intimidating.”

  “Are you intimidated now?” In one graceful move that Avery didn’t fully understand, Merritt fell backward on the bed, managing to carry Avery with her so gently Avery felt like she had been set down on a cloud. They lay side by side. Merritt held her, her embrace strong and light at the same time.

  Merritt shed her clothes, undressing while lying down and managing to still look graceful. Then she unhooked Avery’s bra and cradled one of Avery’s breasts in her hand. She stayed there for a long time, massaging Avery’s breasts, kissing one nipple and then the other, flicking the hardening flesh, rubbing it between her fingers. Avery felt her body grow more and more sensitive. Then very slowly Merritt kissed her way down Avery’s belly and slipped off her underwear. She pressed her lips to the curls above Avery’s sex and then lower. Avery thought she would faint with pleasure. Merritt was right there but so gentle. Merritt took her time as though there were no next step, as though this were the culmination of lesbian sex. Avery raised her hips. Merritt placed a hand on her belly and held her down.

  Avery undulated between peace and frantic need until Merritt found a rhythm that spoke to both. Merritt kissed her harder. Avery felt like a wave rising and rising until it was filled with sunlight and then breaking on itself. She clasped her hand to her mouth as she came, stifling a cry that would surely have called Ponza to the window.

  Avery sank into the mattress as she caught her breath. When she opened her eyes and again looked over, Merritt lay with one hand between her own legs, moving with an urgency Avery recognized.

  “It’s okay,” Merritt whispered. “You don’t have to do anything.” She closed her eyes, moving faster, digging her fingers in harder. “This is enough.”

  The strain on her face said it wasn’t.

  “Slow down,” Avery said. “Shh.”

  Avery closed her hand over Merritt’s, feeling the frantic jerking of her fingers, and eased it to a stop.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Shh,” Avery said again. “I think there are other ways.”

  She drew Merritt’s hand away, kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, and then slid down Merritt’s body until she lay between her legs. She gently parted them. “May I?”

  “You don’t have to. I want it. Don’t think I don’t want it, but it’s just…I don’t usually…I don’t let women because...It’s not you. Please know it’s not you. It’s just so…much more than I’m used to.”

  “Is that a no?” Avery leaned on one elbow.

  For the first time ever, Merritt looked timid. She shook her head. “It’s not a no. God, I’ve been thinking about it for days. I shouldn’t think about you like that when we’re filming, but if you go down on me…I won’t know what to do.”

  Avery laughed deep in her throat. “You don’t have to do anything. That’s the point. All you have to do is trust me.”

  Merritt’s body was swollen, beautiful, and complicated. And Avery wasn’t sure she trusted herself to satisfy Merritt. Merritt made love to her like a woman who had p
racticed her part to perfection. Maybe she had read Dr. Bingo Sterling’s book on cunnilingus. Avery wasn’t sure she remembered the lessons she had learned at Powell’s Books, and none of her other lovers had taught her much. But a career in television had taught her a few things. If the scene doesn’t play well, you changed tactic. If you got it almost perfect, go again. Go again. Go again. You’d know when you got it right.

  Avery dipped her tongue deeper into Merritt’s body. Then kissed, sucked, and released her clit. Merritt gave a surprised “Oh!” Then Avery shifted her kiss a little bit.

  “There!” Merritt said suddenly. “Harder. Slower.” Then, “Oh, faster! Yes. God, yes!” Her back arched. Her hands clutched the sheets. Then she fell back. “Yes,” she sighed, as though she had lost a fight she hadn’t wanted to win.

  But when their eyes finally met again, Merritt looked lost.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “Sweetheart,” Avery said. “We’re women. We cuddle.”

  Merritt moved toward her so tentatively, it might as well have been her who nearly cracked her ribs in a bicycle accident. But when she rolled into Avery’s embrace, her whole body fit perfectly, and Merritt buried her face in Avery’s hair and sighed. It was only as Merritt slowly relaxed that Avery thought she might have made a terrible mistake, the one she apparently could not escape making. She had lured Merritt in, and she had touched something fragile beneath Merritt’s bold swagger. And she was leaving in less than four weeks. You’ll break my heart. Go again.

  Chapter 23

  Okay, we want hipster cemetery,” Greg said.

  Filming in a cemetery seemed a little sacrilegious Merritt thought—especially filming in Uncle Oli’s cemetery—but she was too happy to care. She could still feel the exact moment when she’d given herself over to Avery completely, trusting Avery to bring her to climax and to hold her afterward. Even as she’d arched off the bed, suspended in that movement when orgasm was inevitable and so far away all at the same time, she knew Avery wouldn’t say what other women had said: Can you only come on top? It takes you so long. Are you even turned on? It was unfair, really. Who could come with a woman holding a stopwatch over the bed? Avery made her feel like time disappeared and the only thing Avery wanted to do for eternity was to captivate her with that irresistible kiss.

  Now Merritt and Avery were back at work, the King & Crown crew carrying equipment past them on their way to the perfectly photogenic cemetery location, but in some way everything had changed. Everything was new. The sun was brighter and softer at the same time. The air smelled sweeter. The crew’s voices belonged to another world. Merritt and Avery wandered as far away as they could. Their hands were so close they were almost touching. Beside them, the headstones were set in couples. Loving husband. Loving wife.

  “Uncle Oli is here,” Merritt said. “On the far side with the economical plots.”

  “Do you hate us filming here?”

  “I thought I would, but Oli would like it. He was always complaining that no one paid attention to old gay men. It was all boys, boys, boys. Dead gay men get even less attention.”

  Avery laughed and took off the enormous sun hat Tami had given her. They slipped behind a mausoleum.

  “Was it all right last night?” Avery asked.

  Merritt smiled down at her shoes, her hair falling in her eyes. She was glad she’d been too busy to cut it. King & Crown liked the look, and she needed someplace to hide.

  “You are trouble, Avery Crown.”

  If Avery were a regular girl and there weren’t a film crew coming up behind them, she would have leaned back against warm stone of the mausoleum, drawn Avery to her, and kissed her. Maybe there were dead lesbians hidden among the pioneer tombstones. Maybe they would cheer them on. Maybe it would be okay to bring that heat and life into the still air.

  Everything else Merritt wanted to say sounded like one of Iliana’s self-help books. You make me feel safe. I live in gratitude. In case Avery couldn’t hear it in her voice, she added, “It was amazing. It’s never been like that for me. I…I don’t let women go down on me. Not since my ex about three years back.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s so close, so intimate.”

  “Isn’t sex supposed to be intimate?” Avery said, looking at Merritt with a searching smile.

  “I’m not good at that part. But last night…” Merritt shook her head. She couldn’t stop smiling. She wanted Avery again. She wanted her more than she had ever wanted a woman. And at the same time, she felt like a schoolgirl. “Last night I thought I would—” Fly? Faint? Explode? Scream? Sing? “I had a good time with you,” she managed.

  Avery slapped her arm lightly, the kind of flirtatious touch that turned into a caress and meant everything from a girl you had just slept with.

  “I had a pleasant evening with you too, Miss Lessing,” Avery said with playful formality.

  They kept walking, their feet crackling in the dry grass.

  “I was worried I’d get it wrong,” Avery whispered a moment later. “I read a book on it when we were at Vale. It was called Cunnilingus! You Can! by Dr. Bingo Sterling.”

  Merritt was so full of giddy joy, her laughter burst out. “No? Cunnilingus! You Can!? Dr. Bingo?”

  “Yes.” Avery laughed too. “I was practicing for you.” She glanced away, as though suddenly there was so much between them. “I would have loved to have been your first.”

  “You were amazing. Dr. Bingo did right by you,” Merritt said.

  “It’s you who’s amazing. Ever since we were in high school, you were just better than other people at everything. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d hate you.”

  Merritt bumped Avery’s shoulder with hers. “There are lots of things I’m not good at.” Getting women to stay, she thought, a hint of wistfulness touching her heart like a cool breeze.

  From across the cemetery, Alistair called, “Avery,” with a slight hesitation in his voice. “Where are you? Remember you’re working this set.”

  “Come on,” Avery said to Merritt. “DX says I’m nine-to-fiving it. She makes it sound like I’m in prison.”

  Beyond the mausoleum, the crew had covered a set of gravestones in plastic marigolds and sugar skulls.

  “Don’t worry. We have permission from the family. Day of the Dead.” Greg handed Merritt a little skeleton figurine riding a bicycle with a beer in hand. “Merritt picks this up and says, ‘Classic Portland. They have IPA in the afterlife.’”

  “Day of the Dead isn’t until October,” Merritt pointed out.

  “We’re running in October,” Greg said.

  “And the wildfire smoke from California,” Gould said. “It’s given this whole season an autumn feel.”

  That was true, Merritt thought. Time was flying by so quickly. She wondered why she had resisted Avery. She’d missed days that she could have been stretched out across her bed with Avery leaning over her, her touch firm and gentle at the same time. Days she could have caressed Avery’s body, from the soles of her feet to her signature hair. Avery had been right about summer flings. Time changed. Moments lasted. But they didn’t last long enough.

  “Avery, you’ll pick up this mask and chase Alistair to that tree there,” Greg said.

  The crew took their places. Merritt could imagine the shot as it would appear in the camera. They filmed the usual half dozen takes. Then the sun was in Gould’s lens. Then it was right behind a cross.

  “We’re moving,” Greg said.

  Merritt knew enough not to offer to help move the equipment.

  “You’d still get it done sooner if you worked together,” Merritt called to the crew.

  “Unions kick ass for the working class,” Setter called back.

  Finally, the flowers had been moved, and the mask had been worn. Alistair chased Avery across the grass, his blond hair glowing in the sunlight. Merritt picked up her skeleton hipster.

  Greg said, “I don’t know. Post-production might cut this. We�
��ll have to get marketing to see if it’s going to play Satanic to the Bible Belt.”

  The crew didn’t groan. Avery and Alistair shrugged. By the time they packed up, the shadows of tombstones were stretching across the grass. Alistair gave Avery a single, almost imperceptible nod. Still Merritt could read it clearly. Go on, he seemed to be saying, and behind that, Be careful.

  “Stay,” Merritt whispered to Avery. “I’ll drive you back in my truck.”

  Once the vans had pulled away, Merritt took a blanket out of her cab. “I want to show you something.”

  Beyond the cemetery, a huge field sloped and rolled. The grass came up to their knees. Below them, the Sunset Highway was a ribbon of gray. A distant row of trees obscured houses in the northwest hills. As they walked, the cemetery slipped from view. When they were out of sight, Merritt brushed Avery’s hand. To her surprise, Avery took it.

  “We have to go all the way out to the middle,” Merritt said.

  She knew the field well. She had paced it all summer after Uncle Oli died. Then she had slogged across it in the rain of winter. Now she only visited in the spring, when the field was covered in wildflowers.

  In the center of the field, Merritt settled the blanket on the grass. She sat down and gestured for Avery to join her.

  “See?” Merritt said.

  Avery looked around. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” Acres of wild grass surrounded them. From where they sat, the grass made a wall around them. Only their heads rose up above the sea of yellow-green.

  “I used to come out here after my uncle died. I wanted to keep him in an urn at Hellenic Hardware, but Iliana said I was stuck in the past.”

  “What was it like after he died?”

  “The shop was a mess. He’d let the books slide. I didn’t know what to do. I was eighteen. Before he died I thought I’d go to community college, study business, maybe open my own shop in ten years. Then Hellenic Hardware was all mine. But Oli had a mortgage on the shop. He had suppliers he hadn’t paid. He had medical bills. And I didn’t have enough money to rent an apartment. Kurt wanted to go back to his family in Florida.”