Finding Home

by Sarah Collins

Two hours and several drinks later, Dylan relishes the fact that they’re missing the burlesque show. She was looking forward to it, but the alcohol somehow convinced her going home with a random woman would be even better.

  They talked about traveling, professions, and favorite drinks. It was pretty basic conversation, but enough to keep Dylan interested. Susan is an educated, attractive woman. So when she asked Dylan to come home with her, how could she refuse?

  Slightly inebriated, but not enough to be out of it, they stumble towards a second floor apartment door on the west side of town. It’s a nice place, especially for a middle school teacher’s paygrade. Susan pulls out her keys, leaning heavily against the frame as she tries to unlock it.

  “Stupid lock,” she murmurs. “Never can get it open.”

  “Let me try,” Dylan says. She takes the keys, jimmies the knob a few times, and they nearly go flying inside.

  Dylan wobbles, holding onto Susan to balance herself. Being here is a bad idea. Dylan knows it—both heart and brain. She doesn’t know this woman; doesn’t even like this woman, not like that, but here she is. Standing in the middle of her living room about to fuck her thoughts away.

  And that’s what it is. With Naomi today—was that really only today?—it was so much…more. It meant something. It felt important. When she came, she could feel pure bliss and love flowing to the very tips of her limbs. But here she knows they will do nothing more than have a quick fuck. It’ll satisfy Susan’s needs, and hopefully take Dylan’s mind off the comic tragedy that’s shaping up to be her life.

  Susan turns towards her, not even bothering with the lights. Her words aren’t slurred, but thick enough to belie her sobriety. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

  “Okay,” she nods. “That sounds good.”

  To her heartbroken self, it really does sound good. Wrong, but good. She pulls off her shirt and bra as she follows Susan into the bedroom at the very back of the apartment. It’s cold, and her nipples show it. The space, while organized, contains so much more clutter than Naomi’s. It’s bigger, too, with two bedrooms. Maybe it’s a good thing everything looks so different. She wants to fuck right now, not reminisce.

  Susan starts pulling off her clothes as soon as they enter the room. Her breasts are large, waist trim, and thighs solid. The space between her legs stands completely bare, showing her very essence. Dylan swears she can tell how wet Susan is even in the darkened room. No one would ever question her beauty. They’d be blind not to see it.

  But Dylan doesn’t feel it. There’s no quickening of her pulse, no jolt through her body. She convinces herself it’s because of nerves or stress, not the fact that she’s never had sex with a damn near stranger before. Not because she misses Naomi more than she craves another person’s touch.

  Susan wordlessly pushes Dylan backwards across the room until she falls against the bed. Her tall, perfectly naked body soon hovers over her. What Dylan had with Naomi was give-and-take. This feels more like being dominated. In any other circumstance, she might enjoy it. Now, however, she feels claustrophobic and trapped in a movie that isn’t really her life.

  The woman begins sucking against Dylan’s neck and her hands push up the white t-shirt to pinch and roll her nipples between two fingers. Things progress quickly, so quickly that Dylan barely has time to keep up.

  “I want you,” Susan mutters between bites to Dylan’s hipbones. “You are so sexy.”

  “Oh,” Dylan stutters. “Thanks.”

  “Take these off.” Susan tugs at the top of Dylan’s jeans. “I bet you look even better naked.”

  She lifts her hips off the bed just enough for her pants to be discarded on the floor. Susan firmly rubs across her underwear. It feels good, but not like before. “I love it when women wear briefs.”

  “Yeah?” Dylan swallows, trying to quell her doubts. “How come?”

  “The dichotomy is wonderful,” Susan moans. She presses her mouth against the cloth-covered space between Dylan’s legs. “I want you to leave them on.”

  Thank god, Dylan thinks to herself. But then Susan pulls the blue briefs to the side, exposing her sensitive skin to the cool air. With Naomi, she’d already be dripping wet. She knows she’s not even close to that right now, despite Susan’s grade-A efforts.

  As soon as Susan’s firm tongue makes contact with her lips, her body goes rigid of its own accord. It knows this isn’t right; that this isn’t want Dylan wants. Dylan knows that, too, but she isn’t ready to give up trying. Not yet.

  Come on. Get it together.

  She clenches her eyes, trying to focus on the valiant effort happening between her thighs. Truth be told, Susan is really fucking good at this. But Dylan… Fuck. She just can’t get her mind off Naomi. Her laugh. Her smell. The way she makes her feel. The way her tongue does that thing that gets her off in mere minutes.

  This isn’t right. She shouldn’t be halfway naked on a stranger’s bed. It isn’t fair to her or to Susan.

  God. What a fucking mess.

  She covers her eyes with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she says, barely choking out the words. “I can’t do this.”

  The woman freezes mid-lick. She pulls away concerned. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman. Really,” Dylan replies, extricating herself from the heap on the bed to sit up. “Easily one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. But I can’t do this.”

  Susan’s face goes soft. It’s like she already knows what’s coming. “The age old it’s not you, it’s me?”

  Dylan sighs. “Something like that.”

  Susan locates a silk robe by the bed and slides her arms inside. There is no anger, no frustration when she speaks. “I’m sorry this isn’t what you expected.“

  “I don’t even know what I expected.” Dylan admits. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my fucked-up mess of a life.”

  “Don’t,” Susan says, holding up a hand. “I’m just looking for a quick fuck, not a lifetime of love. You can’t help not wanting that tonight. I get it.”

  “Well that’s reassuring.” Dylan laughs slightly. “Maybe in another world.”

  “Maybe so.” Susan smiles. “You’re still sexy, even when you’re thinking about someone else.”

  “That obvious?”

  “I know a lovesick puppy when I see one.” Standing, she walks to the nightstand and grabs a joint from the drawer. “You smoke? I don’t often, but now seems like a good time. We can talk about her over a few hits.”

  “A weed-smoking middle school teacher. Never thought I’d see the day,” Dylan jokes. “I think I already know what I should do. Thank you, though.”

  The quick flame briefly lights up the room. Susan inhales deeply, releasing a pungent herb cloud. “She’s a lucky girl.”

  She hangs her head. “I’m sorry about all this. Again.”

  “And again—don’t be.” Susan waves her hand in the air as if brushing it off. “I’m already over it. You should be too.”

  “If you insist,” Dylan replies, surprisingly smiling. This could’ve gone much worse; she’s glad it didn’t. She stands from the bed and pulls on her pants. “I’m gonna head out. Enjoy it for me.”

  Susan pulls her lips from the joint, blowing out another small ball of smoke. “I’ll enjoy it enough for the both of us.”

  At the door, she turns to look at Susan sitting cross-legged on the bed. She really is beautiful and smart and so much more. Maybe in another world it really would’ve worked out. But not this one, not now. “It was nice meeting you, Susan.”

  “I’d say the same, but you know.” Susan grins playfully. “Good luck.”

  As Dylan steps into the night, she knows she’ll need all the luck she can get.

  Chapter 8

  For almost a week, Dylan works on her engine to make sure it’ll make it to her next destination. She’s used to being alone; this few-week interruption shouldn’t be messing her up so badly. But here she is, still replaying every second with Naomi
in her head despite avoiding things that’ll remind her of the other woman. No rugged coffee boils, hobo stew, or sitting right inside the open side door of her van.

  Instead, she spent the last days trekking around looking for the tallest mountain, the clearest ponds, the neatest rocks. She pulled out her low-set camping chair and plopped it directly in the shallow edge of a pond. She sat there, letting the water lap over her bare legs and against her stomach as she cast her fishing line. A little over a year ago, Davie would’ve been splashing around scaring off all the fish. This time, she caught a beauty after only half an hour. But it still wasn’t enough. It all still reminded her of Naomi too much.

  A sharp part of the engine catches her finger.

  “Dammit,” she mutters, dumbly sticking it in her mouth to sooth the pain before getting right back to work.

  She plans on heading deeper into the Midwest, spending the upcoming summer months in Montana or the Dakotas. She obviously hasn’t decided on a solid destination, but she did decide to leave within the next few days. Naomi won’t be with her, but she chooses not to think about that. It’s time to move on; to heal her heart with the sights and sounds of a new landscape. With time—maybe weeks or months—she’ll feel nearly back to normal if she goes on with her day-to-day life. Sitting around moping in Idaho and picking up strangers, however, won’t exactly help her get over the woman that nearly stole her heart.

  She stares down at the metal parts under the hood. The transmission looks good, but a few rubber lines show signs of near-dry rot. Hopefully they’ll hold for a few hundred more miles. She can’t afford to replace them until she picks up her next gig. Maybe she’ll just go to Montana to ride out the summer. It’s close enough for the van to make it, but far enough away from Naomi to keep her mind occupied with something other than the dark-haired woman.

  She could just break into her emergency fund and fix the pipes now, though. Then she could drive even further, maybe to the east coast, and settle along the beach. There are pros and cons for every location, but she really does love being on the coast during the summer months. She’ll be able to surf or snorkel between work shifts and adventures. Maybe even find a good spot to park on the beach and have a few bonfires…the idea easily wins her over.

  After wiping her greasy hands on an old towel, she slams the hood shut and pulls out her phone to check the time. There’s a notification for a new text. Her brow scrunches. She definitely didn’t plan on talking to anyone today, and she’s not sure if she’s in the right headspace to do so. Especially not if it’s her mother begging her to move home and settle down again.

  She clicks on her inbox. Immediately, her heart pounds nearly out of her chest. Naomi.

  What could she possibly want? Dylan held out hope for the first few days after leaving Naomi’s apartment. She didn’t want to break her own resolve, but she was hoping Naomi would. That maybe she’d somehow scout Dylan out and tell her just how wrong she was and how badly she really wanted to travel with her. But as the days passed, her hope dwindled. Now, seven days later, she’s not sure what Naomi could possibly say. Maybe she left something in Dylan’s van and wants it back before she leaves. Or maybe she just wants to break her heart one last time.

  She shakes her head. No need to get ahead of herself. She can’t handle being crushed twice.

  With shaking hands, she opens the message.

  Hey…Can we talk? It reads. I really want to see you.

  Dylan bounces between possible scenarios. She could say no or just ignore the message and be on her merry way to the next place with no strings attached. With time, she may not even feel how bad this hurts anymore. She could move past it, move on to someone and somewhere else. Or she could say yes and hear Naomi out. It could turn out to be another heartbreak or worse. But there’s the slightest chance it could end up being the best decision of her life.

  Curiosity gets the best of her. She quickly punches out her response.

  Where?

  The reply is almost instantaneous.

  My place? You don’t even have to come inside if that’s too much.

  Dylan looks down at her grease covered pants and partially changed oil. I’ll be there in a few hours.

  Her phone buzzes seconds later. Perfect. See you soon.

  Dylan’s heart pounds. Her fingers hover over the buttons, but she decides to leave it at that. Part—most?—of her wants to pack up and go over there right now to see what Naomi needs. She still cares about her. Still wants her. But the other part of her wants to continue on her path of healing, to leave Naomi hanging and skip town.

  Of course, she knows she won’t do that. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to.

  Her hands shake as she screws a cap back on the engine and shuts the hood. It’ll take forever to get this grease off. May as well start getting ready now.

  Dylan showers off with her emergency hose hooked to the backend of her van before climbing inside to get dressed. Even though she doesn’t want to come across as eager, she still makes sure she looks presentable—khaki chinos, short sleeve button-down, and a dollop of product to tame her hair. She didn’t even look this nice on their first date, but she also wasn’t trying to prove herself so much then either.

  She pulls up the Naomi’s apartment around seven o’clock. They hadn’t agreed on a time, but she came as soon as she finished the engine work. Not too early, but not too late either. After parking, she stares at her phone a moment to gather her thoughts. Her hands feel clammy. For a second she forgets how to breathe. This is it—now or never. Literally.

  I’m outside.

  Within moments, Naomi emerges from the building like she was eagerly waiting for Dylan to arrive the entire time. A light yellow dress accentuates her dark hair and bronze skin perfectly, along with showing off those killer legs Dylan just can’t resist. If this is the last time they ever meet…it’s going to be hard saying goodbye.

  Dylan steps out of her van nervously and walks to the front where Naomi stands. A heavy silence hangs in the few feet between them. Their eyes meet, then bounce away. Dylan rubs the back of her neck and then rams her hands in her pockets. Naomi anxiously crosses her legs and undoes them just as quickly.

  “Thank you,” Naomi hesitantly starts. “For coming to see me.”

  “Yeah. Well,” Dylan replies, shrugging slightly. “Just want to hear what you had to say.”

  “Fair enough.” Naomi swallows thickly. Seconds tick by slowly before she speaks again. “I quit.”

  Dylan’s brow scrunches. “What?”

  “My job,” Naomi clarifies. “I quit.”

  Dylan readjusts her stance. Her arms uncross and she leans against the side of her van. Does this mean… “When? Why?”

  “This morning.” Naomi studies her fingernails harder than she studied for anything in college. “I walked right out halfway through our morning briefing.”

  Dylan still doesn’t comprehend. “But why? Why now?”

  The air feels electric, pricking against their very skin. Dylan knows what she hopes Naomi is going to say. But will she? It’s all in Naomi’s hands now, and she knows it.

  Naomi forces one last breath of air through her nose. “I quit because I want to go with you.”

  Her mouth opens and closes, speechless. The silence is deafening. Did she really just hear that? Does Naomi, brash and soft and sweet Naomi, really want to go with her? Be with her for the foreseeable future? Is this even real? God, this could be it. She could be getting what she’s hoped and wished for over the past month. This could be it.

  Shit…is she even ready for this? Is she ready to settle in with someone and travel the country in such a close space with another human? What is she even thinking right now? Of course she’s ready for that. Of course she’s ready for Naomi being with her everywhere, all the time.

  “Do you still want me to?” Naomi looks increasingly hopeful, concerned and then embarrassed. Her cheeks tinge pink. Her brown eyes water. Dylan still can’t force out
any words.

  “I understand,” Naomi says, blinking away the impeding tears. “I shouldn’t have waited this long. I just—I fucking miss you Dylan. I’ve barely known you for what—a month? But I can’t stop thinking about you. You pervade my every thought. My couch still smells like you. You’re in every dream, every thought. And you were right,” Naomi scoffs lightly at herself. “I wouldn’t be throwing away my life. I’d be gaining a pretty damn good one.”

  Dylan, on the verge of tears, steps forward and cups Naomi’s cheeks. Their mouths meet with an all-consuming fervor unfelt before. Tongues touch, teeth bite and pull, lips suck and meld and taste the very essence of each other. It’s an attempt to make up for the past week; a promise for the rest of forever. Tongues and mouths and taste and tears mingle until they aren’t sure whose is whose anymore.

  Dylan finally pulls away, ever so slightly, with the biggest smile on her face. Their foreheads stay pressed together.

  “Yes, yes,” she says. “A hundred times yes. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I—god, I can’t believe this is real.”

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Naomi says. She cups the back of Dylan’s neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  Naomi’s brow crinkles. “For what?”

  “For pressuring you into something you weren’t ready to do. For,” Dylan tries to swallow her emotions. But they come freely, the tears and the feelings and the warmth spreading through her limbs. She breathes in Naomi, takes in her touch and beauty. Thinks about their brief past and sprawling future. She just— “ I love you, Naomi.”

  The shorter woman breaks out the biggest smile, enough to light up the night around them. She presses small kisses against Dylan’s lips. “I love you too.”

  Dylan sucks in a breath. “Really?”

  “Really,” Naomi earnestly says. She pulls Dylan closer in her arms. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about just how much I love you.”

  “I can’t believe this is real.” Dylan shakes her head. She never would’ve guessed that everything she ever wanted—and lost—could come back to her just the way she wanted it to. Even though she hoped and wished and dreamed for it so often in the past week, she never believed it would happen like this. Not in a million years. “I can’t believe it.”