by Meg Napier
Her phone’s vibration demanded her attention. The text from Mike read, “Get on unemployment now. The lines are going to be insane. Everyone on the tasting room staff is going to be told this, but you’re hearing it first since you’re my manager.”
Ignoring the flash of warmth from being told she belonged to someone, Alice immediately typed, “And the brewery staff?”
“Significantly reduced. My sister works at NIH and is helping me figure out the best way to keep the operation running safely.”
“Friends in high places, am I right?” She didn’t feel any of the levity she was trying to convey.
“My biggest concern, aside from the team, is the summer launch. Obviously, the tasting party will have to be cancelled, but I’m not about to let those bacteria cultures go to waste.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t even think about Beach Beer!”
Another weight now hung around her neck, since the sour beer had been her idea in the first place.
“Don’t worry about it. If I can get in there and make sure the machines still run and the cultures are fine, we should be able to get by. I’ve got shop managers flooding my inbox with reassurances of continuing orders from our main line. Once this whole thing clears up, you’ll be back here baking bread, pouring beer, and keeping Kelli in line. You’ve always got a place with me if you want it.”
The flash of warmth within her blossomed into a small fire. This time, she sat with it, letting it overwhelm her. Sure, a job was a job, but Locksmith was the closest thing she had to a loving family.
Not letting her tears fall, she answered, “Thanks, Mike. Much appreciated.”
“Sure thing. Anything changes, I’ll keep you posted.”
She shoved her phone in her back pocket, trudged to her bed, picked up her pillow and screamed into it, releasing all the frustration and anxiety into the thin cloth.
“Apples, yogurt, cheese, wine, ground meat, toilet paper—”
“Incoming call from Charlie!” her phone chirped.
Meg tore herself away from the grocery list she was compiling and held the phone in her palm. With a deep breath, she answered.
“Well, this is unexpected.”
“Hello to you too, Meg.” The deep, sonorous voice filled her ear. He had always attracted women with that voice.
Just not her.
“How’s retirement?” she asked.
“Pleasant chitchat from you?”
“Indulge me. I’m a lonely old woman, after all.”
She heard him chuckle. “I know you too well to know you’re never lonely and God knows you’re not old.”
“You’re too kind, but we both know we’re approaching the time when we can start receiving Social Security checks.”
“No need to remind me.”
“Why’d you call, Charlie?”
“Can’t a man call his former wife just to say hello?”
“You know, you could call me your ex-wife. No harm in that.”
“That consonant makes it sound like the relationship is final. It’s not, not for me at least. It’s simply changed.”
Meg gripped the phone tightly and shut her eyes. Labeling her relationship with Charlie as “complicated” would be an understatement. Theirs had been a mutually beneficial partnership: together they’d rubbed elbows with some of the most powerful people and secured important posts for themselves, building a tidy nest of security for each other. Neither of them could say they’d done anything entirely on their own, which was a big reason they’d never quite be parted from each other.
“Fine, former husband of mine. You’re not one to call without at least some sort of purpose. What’s going on?”
“Have you checked the Post ?”
“I read today’s paper, yes. Senate’s going on recess again and the Secretary of State is making a fool of himself. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I meant the alert. You know, online.”
“No. Should I?”
“Yes. Go ahead and read it. I’ve got time.”
She put him on speaker and opened the newspaper’s app. In white letters against a bright red background, she read, “MD governor issues shelter-in-place order.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Charlie asked.
Meg’s brain went into overdrive. Managing crises was one of her numerous talents
“I’ll have to get to the store today to stock up, but otherwise I’ll be fine.”
“Make sure you get enough chocolate-covered espresso beans to last you through the month.”
Meg rolled her eyes and smiled. “Kicked the habit after 2014. What about you and your family? Everyone on your end going to be okay?”
She thought about him alone in his condo on Connecticut Avenue. Of course, he kept his bookcases well-stocked and there was no shortage of documentaries for him to watch. Still, she couldn’t suppress the twinge of concern; Charlie was a charming man who adored having people over, no matter the reason.
“Oh, sure. Siblings will be fine, but I can’t imagine what my nieces and nephews are going to do. Makes me grateful we never went the kids route.”
“We had kids. We just called them ‘candidates.’”
That got a hearty laugh from Charlie. “Well, you take care. I’m sure you’ve everything under control.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Take care of yourself.”
The line went dead and Meg stared off into space. She now consciously kept Charlie a secret. How could anyone understand what he meant to her? Their relationship had been profound and enduring but it defied labels. He was her partner in politics, her closest friend, her occasional adviser, and her ex-husband. There was love, certainly, though they weren’t lovers.
Late last year, Meg had gone to women’s-only mixers and fumbled for words of introduction. She couldn’t exactly tell people that she’d divorced a man and still loved him dearly, even though she knew deep in her core she was meant to be with a woman. It was far easier to say, “I’m new here” and let the conversation flow past her.
A series of sharp knocks on her door interrupted her idleness. Without thinking, she opened the door to find an exasperated Alice, who shoved a clenched fist in front of her.
“I brought a spare bandana you can have until you get a mask, in case you’re going out.”
Meg’s heart beat pleasantly faster.
Chapter 4
“Can I come in?”
Yes, she was inviting herself over. Yes, she was intruding on someone else’s time and turf. Yes, Meg was well within her rights to refuse her. Even so, she hoped Meg would let her in.
“Normally, I’d oblige, but I am, in fact, out to get supplies. With the shelter-in-place order, we’ve got to get to the grocery store while the gettin’s good. Would you like to join me?”
Sharing a cup of tea with a beautiful stranger was one thing; actually getting groceries together was entirely different. It was so normal and yet so intimate. Alice didn’t want to be alone, nor did she want to keep Meg from taking care of herself. In as nonchalant a tone as she could muster, she said, “Sure. Might as well pick up a few things for myself.”
She watched Meg grab an assortment of tote bags, step outside, and lock her door. Alice followed behind her and tried not to ogle her broad hips and shapely legs as she walked. What kind of life led a person to maintain effortless, elegant posture while walking with such purpose? It was the kind of walk that queens probably had to learn.
It made Alice want both to be Meg and to be with Meg.
When they got to the nondescript Camry, Alice couldn’t help but remark, “Hope you’re not going to Whole Foods.”
“Why’s that?” Meg answered while pulling out of the parking space.
“I don’t have Whole Foods money.”
Meg laughed. “You’ve got me confused with someone else. I’m still a poor girl from Texas, and while I appreciate the finer things in life, those prices still make me internally cry.”
Another layer peeled fr
om the mysterious onion that is Meg, Alice thought. “What was that like?”
They passed a deserted neighborhood that on any normal day would be bustling with shoppers and strolling families. Restaurant employees were putting up signs in their storefront windows. The shelter-in-place order hadn’t yet gone into effect, but already the landscape was altered.
“I guess it was like a normal life, only the summers were hotter than hell. We didn’t get a television until I left home, though. Had to watch the moon landing at a friend’s house.”
They turned into the nearly empty parking lot and Alice held up both bandanas. “Pink or purple? I swear they’re clean.”
Meg took the pink one and tied it around her head. They looked at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter. “This looks ridiculous,” Alice said.
“Yeah well, better to be ridiculous than reckless.”
They got out of the car, Meg with the tote bags in hand, and headed to the entrance. Alice went to pull a cart from the waiting line while Meg dug around her purse before brandishing a wet wipe. As she wiped down the handlebar, Alice asked, “Were you a Girl Scout or are you just a germaphobe?”
Meg tossed the used wipe in the nearby trashcan and answered, “Both, actually, though this is a habit I picked up on campaigns. Someone else carries the candidates’ hand sanitizer or wet wipes.”
Meg moved quickly through the produce department, selecting apples, mandarin oranges, bananas, and five grapefruits. Alice tried to keep up with her, noting Meg’s efficiency. “Moms carry diaper bags and baby wipes all the time, so once more women started campaigning, we all started carrying wet wipes or sanitizer with us.”
“Did you ever get any pushback?” Alice asked and tried not to shiver as they traveled down the dairy aisle.
Meg picked up a carton of coffee creamer. “Not really. When leadership makes a change and encourages rather than demands, people lower on the org chart generally follow suit.”
The pair ventured to the back of the store and Meg surveyed the fish selection. When an older woman drew close to them by the counter, Meg turned towards the woman and, in a tone that was more statement than request, asked, “Ma’am, can you please stand back from us? We’re nearly finished here”
Alice, who had encountered plenty of disgruntled female customers in her time in the tasting room, tensed and prepared for the inevitable explosion. To her surprise, the woman backed up from them and said, “Not a problem. This distancing thing is tough to remember to do.”
Alice observed the faint wrinkles near Meg’s eyes get more pronounced and knew she was smiling. “Thank you so much. We appreciate it.” She directed her attention back to the fish and chose a large, vibrantly colored salmon fillet. She placed it in the cart and strode towards the poultry section.
Alice, remembering how her legs worked, caught up with Meg. “Seriously, Meg. How did you do that?”
“Do what?” Meg answered nonchalantly.
“That, back there. I mean, you got that lady to move. How did you do that?”
“I asked politely,” she said, picking up a package of chicken thighs.
“You and I both know that wasn’t a request. You demanded she move back from us and she just did it.”
“Don’t people do what you ask them to?”
Alice shrugged. “At work, sure. I’m the manager, and if I’m not willing to get in the weeds alongside the team, they’d resent me. But that doesn’t happen much when I’m not wearing my manager’s cap, so to speak.”
“No one likes to have demands made on them, so I reframe my demand as a charming yet firm request.”
“Wish I’d learned that,” Alice muttered.
“Why haven’t you? Didn’t your parents teach you that?”
Alice looked away. “I don’t really like to talk about my childhood. Can we please not mention it?”
Meg placed a hand on her shoulder. “See? You’re learning my wicked ways.”
Arriving back at the apartment, Meg asked, “Why didn’t you get anything for yourself?”
Alice looked down, embarrassed. She had a lot to do to get the fliers ready and find a computer to file for unemployment. Before she went shopping, she’d need to carefully check her budget and figure out how long she could go before getting desperate.
Alice sighed heavily. “I’ll go later and pick up a few things.”
Meg parked and turned off the car.
“That’s that woman’s sigh,” Meg said, popping the trunk open.
“‘Woman’s sigh?’” Alice got out and grabbed some of the bags.
“The sigh of a woman faced with a long day ahead of her. Men have them, too, but in my experience, they don’t add ‘dishes’ or ‘laundry’ to theirs.”
Alice laughed and followed Meg to her apartment. “I’ve heard they’re getting better about participating in household labor, but I wouldn’t know for sure.”
“Not many men in your life?”
“Plenty, but none of them have stayed in an apartment with me.”
She knew it was an answer that could be taken many ways; Alice had phrased it that way intentionally. She hadn’t yet figured out the best way to simply state she was gay, even though she knew she should come out and declare it. She knew not to be ashamed of herself, but she still harbored fears of others’ opinions upon receiving the information.
They silently put the groceries away together, Meg pointing where in the cupboards different items went. Alice noted her silence and searched for something else to say.
Meg beat her to it: “So what are all the things on your plate today?”
Alice stretched her arms over her head. “Drafting the flier, counting mailboxes, reassessing my budget, and something else that’s going to take all day.”
Meg tilted her head forward. “Something else?”
Alice closed her eyes and turned away. She took great pride in her work, and to have it taken from her bruised her ego. She quietly answered, “I have to file for unemployment.”
“I was wondering when that would happen. I’m really sorry, Alice. Would you like to use my computer? It’ll probably be easier than trying to do it on your phone.”
Before Alice could politely decline, Meg walked across the living room and opened a door next to the balcony. “Technically, this is supposed to be a bedroom. I turned it into my office. Please make yourself at home.”
“But I—”
“I insist, dear.”
Alice peered over Meg’s shoulder and saw a clean desk with a desktop and heavy-duty printer on it. While this would be useful, she didn’t want to continue invading Meg’s day. Most importantly, she didn’t want to be a charity case.
“I don’t want to impose,” Alice said weakly.
Meg gently pushed her into the chair. “You’re not imposing; I’m offering. You need help and I like having you around. Let me do this for you, please.”
Alice swallowed and nodded. Meg leaned over and typed in her password. A closeup of an “I Voted” sticker glared back at her. “Interesting wallpaper choice,” Alice commented.
“Reminds me of my life’s work; call me sentimental.
Meg squeezed her shoulders and left the room. Alice opened the internet browser, took a deep breath, and embarked on her journey with the Maryland Department of Labor.
Meg was sitting on the couch with one of her glossy photo books open on her lap but paid it no attention. She really had had a pleasant morning with Alice and was glad for the company. She genuinely loved helping people, and since she didn’t have any descendants or interns, she grabbed the opportunity when it presented itself. Being honest with herself, though, Meg had to admit that this—whatever it was—was different.
She’d understood Alice’s statement about not having men sleep over. Sure, it could be taken many ways, but Meg assumed she’d meant that she didn’t get into romantic entanglements with men. Of course, assumptions were not definitive, but Meg was more than confident she had understood
Alice correctly. Did she dare hope that Alice regarded her as more than a charitable crone?
During her marriage, she and Charlie had come to an understanding, one that was nearly impossible to explain nowadays. For him to achieve his goals, having a wife on his arm at cocktail parties elevated his standing among the political and judicial old guard. Meg provided that end of the bargain while he provided both security and a wide berth for her to set her mind to whatever she pleased.
Though they both agreed to direct their respective romantic energies elsewhere, Meg hadn’t pursued hers for a host of reasons. She had spent too many years subverting her own sexuality and feared inadvertently outing another person. For years, her work and friendship with Charlie provided her with enough joy and exasperation to fill her days.
But while the country celebrated the ruling in the Obergefell v. Hodges case with spontaneous marriages, she and Charlie quietly dissolved theirs. They’d held hands as they signed the paperwork and walked out to an outburst of love and rainbows. Charlie shed a tear and squeezed her hand, saying, “I am eternally grateful to have lived long enough to see this day and to know you will fully and safely live your life openly.”
Instead of retorting with a quip about housing and employment discrimination, she hugged him and hailed a cab.
“Ugh, the system is already backed up!”
Meg shook her head and walked to her office. “Having trouble?”
Alice turned to her and replied, “Apparently I’m not the only person in the state who now needs unemployment. I’m in an online waiting room and the website says to not refresh. I’m sorry, but if I’m going to be using your computer to do this, I’ll probably be chained here a while.”