“They’ll see you,” Merritt said.
“Ask what, sweetheart?” Avery turned Merritt gently, her hands on Merritt’s shoulders.
Merritt felt tears spill unbidden down her cheeks. “If you ask me to go home with you,” Merritt said as quietly as she could, “I’ll go. I won’t be able to say no. But if you leave again, I won’t make it, Avery. I’m not strong. I was wrong to push you away, and I want you so much…”
The part of Merritt that was still cognizant of the thirty or forty people watching her tried to suck back her tears and return her face to its usual cool. But her composure was a can of ball bearings spilled across the floor. She sobbed. She was a thirty-three-year-old woman crying at her prom. And Merritt did the only thing sad girls at prom can do. She ran. She didn’t need to see to flee. She had memorized every crack in the floor and every piece of hardware. Hellenic Hardware was as familiar as a lover. For years she had thought Hellenic Hardware was the only love that would last. After all these years of loneliness and longing, the thought that it might be Avery was too wonderful to hope for. It was like looking into the sun.
She knelt down and fumbled blindly for the lever that raised the garage doors. It would be a dramatic exit. She couldn’t help it. But she didn’t make it out either. Somehow Avery was in front of her, kneeling on the floor, taking Merritt’s hand off the lever. Then Avery’s arms were around her.
“I won’t leave. That’s why I’m here. To tell you. I won’t leave again. I just got the locket today. Sweetheart, I left the second I got it. It was rerouted through our PR firm. I left the wedding. DX landed a helicopter in your parking lot, and there is no show.”
“If you lose the show, you’ll hate me,” Merritt said, but she was already giving in to Avery’s embrace. It felt so good. She buried her face in Avery’s hair.
“The show is over.” Avery held her close. “I don’t hate you. I gave it up. I quit. I wanted to. And I didn’t give it up just for you. I love you so much that I would have, but I want my own life too. I want my own face and my own hair and my own phone. I don’t want to be managed. I want to be out, and I want you.”
Avery’s words sank in slowly. Merritt pulled away. It took her a moment to recognize the expression on Avery’s face. It was fear. Avery looked stricken. Her lips trembled. Her cheeks were pale.
“Please say yes, Merritt,” she said. “I know I’m late. I’m so, so late.” Avery clutched the back of Merritt’s head, holding their faces close enough to kiss. “Please don’t let me be too late. Please, Merritt. I know I don’t get another second chance. Give me one anyway.”
Slowly Merritt stood up and drew Avery up with her.
“I love you,” Avery said.
“I love you,” Merritt echoed.
“Do you love me enough?” Avery whispered.
Merritt wiped her eyes. “Enough for what?”
“To forgive me.”
Merritt kissed her, her lips still wet with their shared tears. Their kiss deepened. She’s here! Merritt thought.
“If you had only picked up your own phone, I would have told you that I’d be your trainer.” Merritt couldn’t help but laugh. At herself. At her life. At the crowd of Portlanders starting to wrestle with the desire to post the whole scene online and the desire to preserve safe space. “I would have been your cousin, your florist, your personal shopper.”
“But I want you to be my girl,” Avery said.
Merritt took Avery’s hand. They looked at each other. Avery laughed too.
“I’m a mess,” Avery said.
“Maybe we’re just right.” With that, Merritt turned to the crowd. She lifted Avery’s hand. “Please welcome the lovely Avery Crown.”
The crowd cheered.
“Old friends,” Merritt said.
Avery turned and rested her head on Merritt’s chest. “Old friends,” she said.
“You gave up the show,” Merritt said incredulously.
“You engraved the locket.” Avery touched her throat. “And those decorations. They’re so pink. They’re so bright.”
“I haven’t slept since you left,” Merritt said. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Avery squeezed Merritt tighter. “So you crafted.”
“I welded,” Merritt said with mock indignation. “Those trees are pure steel.”
* * *
That night Merritt took Avery to the apartment in the Elysium.
“You didn’t take down any of the decorations,” Avery said, looking around.
“Of course not. They reminded me of you.”
Merritt led Avery down the long lawn carpet into the bedroom. She touched the switch that turned the curtains into the northern lights. Looking at the crazy decor, she knew the truth. “I would have waited forever because I love you.”
“I love you,” Avery whispered.
“They’re not bad,” Merritt added. “These curtains. The lamps. I feel like I’m somewhere special. I am.”
Slowly, Merritt turned Avery around and unbuttoned the back of Avery’s dress with the care of an antiques dealer.
“How many buttons does the dress have?” Avery asked as Merritt slipped it off Avery’s hips.
“I don’t know. Twenty maybe.” She turned Avery back to her and kissed her. “Why?”
“Alistair cut me out of a Delicata Vagrant wedding dress. I think that’s a felony in California.”
“Was he mad that you quit?”
“He understood.”
Merritt kissed Avery’s forehead, then her neck, then the curve of her shoulder. And as much as she needed Avery’s skin on hers, she couldn’t rush. This was her lover, her friend. Hers and not hers. Merritt unhooked Avery’s bra and eased her lace underwear down to the floor. Then Avery undid each button on Merritt’s shirt, and with each button Merritt felt her desire grow. And when Avery unhooked the button on her slacks and the zipper, touching her more than undressing required, Merritt wanted to pick Avery up and press her against the wall. She wanted to pull Avery down onto the green carpet. She wanted to hear Avery beg. At the same time, she felt shy. She wanted to be claimed, loved, handled. She wanted Avery to lead her to pleasure. Merritt leaned forward, her forehead resting against Avery’s shoulder, frozen in place by a flood of feelings.
“Come here,” Avery said.
The bed sparkled with heart-shaped sequins. Avery turned down the covers. It felt different kissing Avery now that she was out. Their kiss felt deeper. Avery’s body felt closer. Her desire felt more urgent and more patient at the same time.
“I’ll never leave,” Avery whispered as she kissed her way down Merritt’s chest. Avery lingered on both her breasts, kissing Merritt’s nipples until Merritt arched to meet her. Then she kissed down Merritt’s stomach, parted Merritt’s legs, and stroked her open with her fingers. Merritt held her breath as Avery pursed her lips, holding Merritt’s clit in velvet softness, encompassing her completely in the most intimate embrace. Avery stayed like that for a few seconds longer than Merritt thought she could bear; then Avery sucked, pulling a cry from deep within Merritt’s chest. Avery circled that bright swelling with her tongue, and Merritt felt breathless and dreamy at the same time.
A jumble of memories filled Merritt’s mind: the Vale cafeteria, Avery’s first car, the deck of the yacht, Uncle Oli waving from his balcony. Then Avery’s kisses grew more forceful, and Merritt could not think of anything besides pleasure. Avery penetrated Merritt with her tongue and drew Merritt’s whole sex into her mouth. The feeling was irresistible. And it wasn’t just the physical pleasure. Avery kissed Merritt as though she were guided by Merritt’s racing heart. Merritt didn’t have to resist, and Avery nursed every pulse of Merritt’s orgasm and then held her, kissing her temple, her forehead, and her hair. When Merritt had relaxed completely, Avery nuzzled her neck and said, “Was that really so hard, my love, to just give in?” Avery traced a heart on Merritt’s chest. “If you have glaciers and power lines, I love them all. I love all of you.”
>
Then Merritt was ready to take the lead again, not because it was easier to hide her heart on top, but because Avery’s chest was flushed with desire. And Merritt knew exactly how to comfort that need and to stoke it. She knew Avery, and she loved her. This beautiful woman. Her lover. Her future. Her oldest friend.
Epilogue
Merritt Lessing stood behind the camera watching Avery on a small screen. Avery stood near a window in the old factory building, staring out over the river.
“It’s been worth it,” she said, “because we’re here, because we made it.”
Avery was playing Faith Cohen, a homeless woman trying to make her way back to her mother in Baltimore. She’d arrived, and in a devastating tribute to the plight of the homeless and the destruction of inner cities, she had found her childhood home replaced by a burned-out warehouse. Even the crew had teared up at Avery’s performance. Avery’s silent-movie-star beauty played perfectly in the bleak landscape.
Portland’s infant film scene was growing up. The director had already had one hit that had broken out of the indie film scene into the mainstream. This one was slated for the Oscars.
“Cut,” the director called. “That’s—” He scrolled back through the last seconds of footage, listening with three fingers pressed to his headset. “It’s perfect. That’s a wrap, folks. Well done!”
The crowd of actors and crew members cheered. A safe distance away from the equipment, someone popped a champagne cork. Some of Avery’s costars rushed over and hugged her.
A moment later Avery flew into Merritt’s arms. “How was it?” she asked breathlessly.
“You are incredible!” Merritt said.
Avery planted a kiss on Merritt’s lips. “I thought you were working today.”
“And miss the wrap?”
“I told you it would be another day before we finished the warehouse scenes.”
“And I knew you’d be fabulous and finish early. Anyway, I have a surprise for you,” Merritt said.
It had all worked out perfectly, although she had been so eager to see Avery’s delight she had almost spilled the secret a dozen times. Merritt glanced up at the concrete balcony that overhung the warehouse floor.
Alistair leaned on the railing, his golden hair smoothed perfectly over his forehead.
“You were amazing, my dear,” he called down.
“Alistair!” Avery beamed. “How…?” She looked at Merritt. “Alistair, you’re supposed to be eating oysters in Boise or pigs’ feet in Santa Cruz.”
“Oysters in Santa Cruz and pigs’ feet in Kansas City.”
Alistair had launched the top-grossing food show, Food Cart Fool. And with Alistair’s promise that she’d never have to be away from Iliana for more than twenty days at a time, Lei-Ling had joined him. They were perfect. Tiny, adventuresome Lei-Ling popping sea urchins in her mouth like Cheetos. Alistair, the mining-town boy who wanted to live on See’s chocolates and King Cobra, squeezing his eyes shut as he placed garlic-roasted crickets on his tongue.
Alistair jogged down a flight of apocalyptic-looking stairs and hugged them both.
“You two,” he said. “Look at you. You’re disgustingly cute.”
* * *
The wrap party for Silver Eye Productions was hosted in Merritt and Avery’s new home. After Avery had returned, Merritt and Avery had lived in the Elysium for a few months. Merritt had teased Avery that she had too many shoes to live in an apartment, but when Merritt was being serious, she said she thought Iliana was right. It was time for her to start anew, to let the chi move through her, to rent Oli’s apartment to someone who would make new memories there. Lei-Ling and Iliana—or rather Mrs. and Mrs. Koslov-Wu—seemed like the perfect people for the job.
Avery and Merritt had bought a craftsman-style bungalow at the foot of Mount Tabor, near the path. Together they had installed Portland keepsakes and antique chandeliers. Merritt had installed a mantel from a Columbia River steamboat. Avery had bought glowing lamps in the shape of mushrooms—for the nature—and strung the houseplants with twinkling lights. They both loved it.
Now the backyard was lit with garlands of iridescent glass grapes. More antique chandeliers hung from tree branches. (The Land of Lamps had a never-ending supply.) Merritt had adorned the chandeliers with LED candles that flickered like the candles of yesteryear…only without the fire hazard. Platters of food and bottles of wine and Sadfire whiskey were passed up and down long tables set under an enormous willow tree. Behind the smell of salmon, barbecue, and vegan mushroom cassoulet, Merritt thought she smelled a hint of fall in the air. It was September again, this time a beautiful one. The air was warm and the river was slow. Dry leaves were starting to crunch underfoot. There was cool dew on the morning grass. The rains would start soon, but for the first time in her life, autumn did not make Merritt sad.
“No Global Body Biscuits?” Alistair asked as he raised a drink. “And no crickets. Thank, God!”
Lei-Ling and Iliana sat a few seats down the long table. Lei-Ling regaled a cameraman from the Portland production company with her visions for the next Food Cart Fool episode. He laughed as she described the exotic delicacies she would spring on Alistair. Iliana talked to one of the stunt doubles from Avery’s film. She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips.
Merritt heard her ask, “So how does someone get into stunt doubling?”
“You’re too old,” Merritt called out.
“I practice,” Iliana called back cheerfully. “Unlike some people. If you practice, you’re never too old.”
Avery leaned against Merritt, taking her hand beneath the table and laying her head on Merritt’s shoulder. The band struck up. It was not DX but a local Portland band: six men with their hair tied up in topknots and very well-trimmed beards. That was probably for the best. Nothing would get set on fire. Anyway, Avery and Merritt were going on vacation with DX and Tony in Taha’a, but not without a stop at the oldest brick house in America.
“So what’s next?” Merritt asked quietly.
“You,” Avery said. “In our bed.”
“I mean what film?” Merritt kissed Avery’s nose. “You nailed your auditions. Which one will you take?”
“I don’t know.” Avery gazed up at the twilight sky. “I always worried about what next. What if King and Crown went off the air? What if I never got another audition? I’m not worried anymore. You’re my next.”
Merritt pulled her closer. “You’re my always,” she whispered into Avery’s hair.
Their friends said they were corny. The word unbearable got thrown around, but Merritt didn’t care. Plus, most of her single friends had told her that she and Avery gave them hope. You two, Vita had said. If you two could sort it out after fifteen years, maybe we’ll all make it in the end.
Us? Merritt had protested. Iliana and Lei-Ling aren’t enough to give you hope?
But she knew what Vita meant. Fifteen years. She did not feel like they had been dating for just over a year. She felt like they had been together since they were sixteen. They had just lost each other in the confusion of growing up, and now they had found each other again. For good. For always. Each day sweeter than the last.
“Hey, what’s going on with Hellenic Hardware?” Alistair asked, clinking his glass against Merritt’s to get her attention.
“It’s still going strong,” Merritt said. “But I’m thinking of doing a little rebranding. A little more theater, a little more staging…Avery’s helping me.”
Merritt had started by keeping the Nostalgia-rom trees. It had just felt right. Everyone kept a little bit of their prom with them. What they hoped for. What they loved. What they lost. Where they went next, and how it all worked out in a way they could never have guessed at eighteen.
Also by Karelia Stetz-Waters
Something True
For Good
Acknowledgments
I used to think that writing was a solitary activity, ideally done in a tower by candlelight. Now I know that wri
ting a book, like all worthwhile pursuits, takes a village, and the most important people in that village are the readers. Thank you, readers! Thank you for your e-mails, letters, and posts. Thank you for telling me how my books touched you. Thank you for reading. You’re why I write!
Thank you to my writing partners, Alison Clement and Susan Rodgers, for your critique, encouragement, friendship, and community. Thank you to Bill and the Interzone for providing us with a place to meet. If I ever run out of quirky characters, I’ll just take my eyes of the screen and look around.
Thank you to Anna Burke for reading my work and letting me fan-girl all over your novels. I’m kind of jealous that you’re that young and that talented, but I’ll let it slide if you keep writing.
Thank you to all my friends and colleagues at Linn-Benton Community College and to all the friends, near and far, who make my life rich. Thank you to the singers—LP, the Revivalists, the Decemberists, Tegan and Sara, and so many more—whose music inspired me as I worked. Thank you to Sam Guy for help with social media, publicity, and generally keeping me up-to-date with the 21st Century.
Thank you to Portland—Stumptown, Bridgetown, P-Town, PDX, the Rose City, my urban love—for being just as curious and delightful as in the book. (Don’t forget to visit the Peculiarium, folks!) Thank you to Old Portland Hardware & Architectural for being the model for Hellenic Hardware, although Hippo Hardware played a role too. That’s where the Land of Lamps comes from.
Thank you to director Dean Devlin and his crew for letting me hang out on set and learn just enough about film production to get the details wrong. Sorry, guys! I’m sure King & Crown is using the wrong cameras (but it’s romance; we’re in it for the feels). Thank you to John Friendlander for telling me to wear a vest with lots of pockets when I went on set, so I looked like the crew. I think it worked.
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