by Harper Bliss
Micky brought over Amber’s green tea—and another double espresso for herself.
“It was amazing,” was the first thing she said. “My God, Amber, I feel like a different person. I’m tired and overwhelmed, and I’m pretty sure she won’t want to see me again, but still, it was A-mazing.” Micky was so glad she could utter these words to her best friend. Most of the tension slipped off her—making her feel even more tired.
Amber nodded. “That’s so great.” She wasn’t the type to say I told you so. “Why do you think she won’t want to see you again?”
“Erm, let’s see… Divorced mother of two who has never been with another woman meets incredibly hot expat banker who’s not looking for anything serious. Not exactly a match made in heaven.”
“I’m not saying you should marry her, but you know, you can be friendly with each other.”
“I sure wouldn’t mind spending another night with her,” Micky blurted out. She knocked back her espresso. This combination of feeling so wired while being bone-tired would soon catch up with her.
Then the front door opened and there she was. All freshly washed and suited up. Robin just gestured at Josephine behind the counter, then came over to Micky and Amber.
“Hi, ladies.” She painted a grin on her face.
Micky was momentarily stunned but then found the wherewithal to introduce Robin to Amber and vice versa.
“Do you want that to go or to stay, Robin?” Josephine shouted from behind the counter.
“To stay, please,” she said, causing a flood of relief to wash over Micky. “Do you mind if I join you?” Gosh, someone had suddenly become very polite. Maybe Robin was nervous about this as well.
“I’m just going to powder my nose.” Amber rose, taking her tea with her.
Why was this so mortifying? They were all adults. Why couldn’t they all just say what was what? Robin certainly hadn’t had a problem with that last night.
Micky mouthed “Thank you” to her friend, then tried to look at Robin but found that, when she did, it made her go all gooey on the inside.
“Look,” they both said at the same time.
But Micky was keen to let Robin do the talking, lest she say something she shouldn’t.
“I meant what I said this morning,” Robin went on, unperturbed. “I had a great time last night.”
Just then, Josephine brought over Robin’s beverage, creating another uncomfortable silence.
“Me too,” Micky said as soon as Josephine left. Thank goodness there was another customer and she didn’t hang around. Micky would have given a lot to have this conversation in private and not with Amber lurking a few tables away—and not at her place of work.
“Would you like to do it again some time?” Robin asked.
Micky’s heart leaped into her throat. “Er, well, uh, yes,” she stammered, “but I thought—”
“We can be friends with benefits,” Robin added.
Coincidentally, Micky knew what that meant. She’d been ironing in the living room one evening while Olivia was watching a silly rom com with exactly the same title. They’d had a conversation about it afterward. Friends with benefits? Really?
“Okay.” The hesitation in Micky’s voice was unmistakable.
“We should talk about this some more in a different setting.” Robin sipped from her coffee. “But the idea is to keep it casual. I don’t think either one of us is in a place right now to want more.” She fixed Micky with a stare that made her heart beat faster. “When can we talk properly? I’m sorry, but I need to get to work.” She sipped from her coffee again, suddenly in a hurry. Maybe it was being confronted with Micky in the clear light of day that was spooking her. “You know what? You have my number. Text me?”
Robin rose, drained the last of her cup—she always drank her coffee so fast—looked at Micky funnily for a second, as though deciding whether to kiss her or not, but then clearly decided against it.
“Sure. I’ll call you.”
“Great.” Robin quickly patted her on the shoulder, went to the counter to pay, and left.
Micky felt none the wiser for having seen Robin.
“And?” Amber was already sitting next to her again.
Micky just shrugged. “I really don’t know. She said to call her and something about being friends with benefits.”
“Hm.” Amber got that overly empathic expression on her face she so often wore. “What do you want, Micky?”
“I honestly have no fucking clue.” Micky needed time to think. She could do with not having a job right then, with having all the time in the world to mull this over. And to finally come to the one conclusion that she hadn’t allowed herself to reach yet: was she a lesbian or not?
“Chances are you’ll be seeing her again tomorrow. What are you going to say to her?”
“How does that even work?” Micky failed to reply to Amber’s question directly. “Being friends with benefits? You and I are best friends, Amber. Doesn’t that give us loads of benefits already?”
“You do have the benefit of all my free advice.” Amber shot her a silly smile.
“Yes, that’s true. I do remember you telling me to take this job and to reply with a resounding yes if a hot female customer were to flirt with me. So many benefits.” Micky was getting giddy with fatigue and a strange kind of weariness.
“All included in my friendship,” Amber said.
“I’d better get back to it. I won’t be at yoga this afternoon. I need a nap before the kids come home.” Micky inhaled deeply. When she walked to the counter, it was as though she could feel a tingle in all the places where Robin had touched her the night before.
CHAPTER NINE
“She didn’t come in for the rest of the week,” Micky said. She and Amber had only been at Kristin and Sheryl’s well-appointed apartment for ten minutes before the conversation had turned to Robin.
Josephine, with her big mouth, had told Kristin at the change of shift on Thursday. “Micky’s a bit upset because her girlfriend hasn’t come in today,” she’d said.
The worst part of it was that it was true. Micky was genuinely thrown by Robin’s absence. What was she meant to do now? Text Robin like she had said? And what would she say? I’m ready for some more of the benefits that come with our flimsy friendship? The more Micky had thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a big romance, but well, maybe she was? Because what else was she going to do? Play the field?
“I’m sure she’ll come by tomorrow,” Kristin had said. But Robin hadn’t shown her face again. Micky had lingered after her shift, munching on a croissant at a table near the door, in case Robin’s work schedule had changed and she came in later.
Now it was Saturday evening, and they all sat gathered around Kristin and Sheryl’s table sipping excellent wine, and Micky didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want this dinner at her boss’s to be all about this, but truth be told, it was pretty much all Micky had been thinking about. Whether she wanted it to be or not, this was a huge deal for her.
“Why don’t you text her now?” Amber offered. “So we’ll all be here when she replies. You won’t be alone.”
Micky wanted to sink through the floor with embarrassment. But Kristin had been the one to ask her about it, and now here she sat, discussing Robin again.
“What would I say?” Micky looked up, straight into Sheryl’s face. Micky hadn’t spent a lot of time with Sheryl, and Kristin’s wife was still a bit of an enigma to her. They’d only exchanged pleasantries at The Pink Bean, but not much else. What must this woman think of her? This accomplished professor who sat there with one leg slung over the other, sipping her wine as though she knew all about wines and their grapes of origin.
Sheryl shot Micky an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you simply say hello,” she said.
“Look, ladies, I don’t want tonight to be all about me and this…” Micky had trouble qualifiying it. What was this anyway?
“Kristin
and I have been together for a long time. Please, do us the favor of being able to live vicariously through you for a bit.” Sheryl took a sip of wine. “This is exciting.”
“Micky is quite new to this,” Amber said.
“Quite?” Micky repeated. “Until a year ago, I was married to a man.”
“All the more reason to enjoy this delicious time of discovery.” Sheryl’s voice was matter-of-fact.
Micky had had ample sleep since her night with Robin. Her life had returned to normal, almost as though Micky hadn’t, for the very first time, touched another woman like that. In a way, it was comforting to be able to slip into the routine of everyday life. To wear that coat of normalcy. But it had happened, and when Robin failed to show at her regular time at The Pink Bean twice, Micky had to draw the obvious conclusion. Robin had probably met another friend with benefits—because how many of those could one person realistically have?
“I like her,” Micky admitted. She might as well. It was not often that she found herself in the company of lesbians who understood what she was going through. “But we’re very incompatible. So why even bother?”
“Focus on the first thing you said,” Kristin said. “You like her.”
“I’m forty-four years old. I can’t go texting a woman I have a crush on like that. It feels so… incredibly immature.”
“That’s not how I see it,” Sheryl said. “You’re doing the very brave thing of coming out later in life. That’s not easy. You have a lot to take into consideration, but in the end, you’re doing it for yourself, for your happiness. If you think Robin can bring you some happiness, why not try?”
“Moreover, you haven’t experienced your lesbian puberty,” Kristin added. “This is perfectly normal behavior for someone in your situation.”
“Text her,” Amber urged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“She doesn’t reply and then comes into the coffee shop on Monday and pretends we never even knew each other,” Micky was quick to say.
Kristin shook her head. “Worst case scenario: we lose a customer.”
“I’ve only been working at The Pink Bean for two weeks, and I would have already lost you a customer.”
“The Pink Bean has plenty of other customers,” Sheryl said.
“So you’re all saying I should text her?” Micky took a big gulp of wine.
“Yes” came the unified reply.
Micky felt a twinge of guilt when she reached into her purse for her phone. She was always admonishing her children when they used their phones in social situations—usually the dinner table. She liked to believe she had raised them better than that. But the pull of a smartphone—the dozen dopamine shots it delivered to the brain with every new notification that pinged and every new message that arrived—was irresistible to a teenager. Now to Micky as well.
“I’ll just say ‘Hey, how are you?’” Micky said, then did so. “There. Done.” She put her phone on the table. “Now, please, let’s talk about something else. The way we’ve been going on about my one-night stand, you’d think we were all still in college instead of being mature adults.” Micky raised her glass. “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Kristin, who appeared to be a domestic goddess as well as a pristine-looking, savvy businesswoman—Micky dreaded to think how much she paled in comparison to so much suave and expertise at life—had already served the mains of scrumptious home-made ravioli with wild mushrooms, and Micky still hadn’t received a text back.
As the night progressed and she’d poured more wine into her system, she’d adopted more of an oh-well attitude. At least her first time with a woman had been spectacular. At least she knew she wanted more. Robin wasn’t right for her anyway. Maybe now that she was more open to the idea of dating women, she should start the internet dating Amber was so against. Amber didn’t need to know.
“So it was an amicable divorce?” Micky heard Sheryl ask. She’d zoned out of the conversation for a second. The professor sure liked to ask the pertinent questions.
“As amicable as a divorce can be,” Micky said. “But Darren and I didn’t want to create a hostile environment for the kids.” Though, for a while, despite their best intentions, of course they had. Telling your kids that their home is being ripped apart will always be hostile.
“And the reason for the divorce was?” The more Sheryl drank of that exquisite wine she served, the more probing her questions became.
“Not what you might think.” Micky gave a nervous chuckle. “Our marriage just didn’t work anymore. It hadn’t for a while. The thought of having to stay with Darren for the rest of my life in what, perhaps for most people, looked like a perfectly acceptable union, depressed the hell out of me. When I first realized we were more like best friends than anything else, I thought, well, that works for me. Turned out it didn’t. We grew more distant. Darren works very long hours. I was always at home. The kids grew up. Then I woke up one day and had a long hard look at my life and wondered why the hell I was throwing it away.”
“Good for you.” Sheryl raised her glass.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” Micky remembered the agony of waking up every morning and having to drag herself through another dreadful day of everything being exactly the same—and the complete opposite of how she wanted it to be.
“But in the end, one of the best,” Amber said.
Micky looked at her best friend. “Of course, Amber here, with all her psychic gifts, had seen it coming from miles away.”
“I guess I got a first hint of how unhappy you were when you started talking about exactly how hot Claire Underwood is in House of Cards.” Amber turned to Kristin and Sheryl. “The monologues I’ve sat through on the subject.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” Micky said in her defense. “Besides, any creature with a pulse thinks Claire Underwood is the hottest woman to have ever graced the small screen. It’s pretty universal.”
“While there’s definitely some truth in that,” Sheryl said, “it must have given you an inkling of how you really felt about women?”
“Yes, when did you know?” Kristin asked.
Wow. All inhibitions were cast aside now. This was the sort of subject Micky never addressed, apart from a halfhearted conversation with Amber. But Amber always knew when to stop—probably because she wasn’t a big consumer of alcohol like the other people at this table.
“Really know? Not that long ago. But I have to admit I was in denial for a very long time. I was also happily married for almost two decades. It just, I don’t know, never really occurred to me.” Micky glanced at Amber. “Even though, all the while, my very best friend was a lesbian.”
“Talk about being in denial,” Amber said. “Denial is probably not even the correct word to describe how deep you had buried your true desires.”
“Better late than never,” Sheryl said. “I applaud your courage. I dread to think how many women in your position don’t take any steps and just continue with their passionless lives.”
“What about you guys? How long have you been together?” Micky felt like talking about something other than herself.
“We’ll be celebrating our twenty years together next year,” Kristin said, placing a hand on Sheryl’s shoulder. “Gush about me all you want, honey.” She pecked Sheryl on the cheek. “I’m going to get dessert ready.”
“Do you need a hand with that?” Amber asked. She wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as Micky was. She didn’t wait for Kristin’s reply, and they both disappeared into the kitchen together.
“Twenty years,” Micky repeated. “I’m so in awe of that.” They must have gotten together around the same time she and Darren had met—a lifetime ago.
“As corny as it sounds, I guess we’re soul mates. Kristin has been the one and only for me for twenty years now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
That did sound corny, but also very beautiful.
“Let me tell you something
, Micky.” Sheryl leaned over the table. She was obviously the biggest drinker of the pair. “It’s important to surround yourself with like-minded people. It really is. Of course, times are different now. Everything is much more open and accepted, but if I hadn’t had the support network I had when I was younger, I wouldn’t be sitting here with my partner of twenty years today. You were lucky to have Amber, and now you have us as well, okay?”
“Okay,” Micky said. She wasn’t that tipsy to know that sometimes, under the influence, some people were prone to make big declarations. Or maybe this was just the kind of person Sheryl was. Sitting here in her and Kristin’s home, Amber by her side, Micky felt as though she had started a new chapter in her life. “At least I’m out at work,” she joked.
“No news from Robin yet, huh?” Sheryl sank back into her chair.
“It’s okay. Not having to sit at home and obsess about it on my own while my children are in their rooms doing God knows what really helps.”
Amber and Kristin emerged from the kitchen, each carrying a plate.
“Apple crumble for dessert,” Kristin said. “I hope there’s some room left in your bellies.”
Micky might not have the tiniest bit of appetite left after the scrumptious meal Kristin had already served, but what she had plenty of space for in her heart and in her life, were new friends like these.
CHAPTER TEN
The first thing Micky did when she woke up on Sunday morning, was reach for her phone. When she’d arrived home late the night before, she’d drunkenly taken it into the bedroom with her. She still hadn’t received a text back from Robin, which, despite having had a wonderful evening last night, didn’t sit right with her. Why the silence? If Robin wanted to be friends—be it with benefits or not—shouldn’t she at least have the courtesy to text back?