“Hey!”
“Just kidding. And it’s totally normal. So, come over around 8?”
“I’ll bring takeout,” I said. “Until then.”
“Until then, dude.” I ended the call, wondering whether there had been a touch of hurt in her voice, or if I was manufacturing it because I felt bad at going disappearos on her and everyone else. I’d made sure to call Alyssa at least once a week, but it’s not the same as being there in person.
To atone for my absence, I stopped at a gourmet Mexican, and picked up pork belly, pulled lamb and achiote-marinated chicken quesadillas, tortilla chips and mixed fish ceviche.
Alyssa’s face lit up when she saw the name of the restaurant on the takeout bags.
“If you bring me food like this, I think I could cope with only seeing you once a month!” she said. Her roommates were smoking in the living room, and the kitchen was an environmental hazard, so we went up to her bedroom. It was large and typical Victorian style, with high ceilings, crumbling cornices and wooden floorboards. We laid the food out on the bed, with Alyssa squeaking in excitement as she opened each container, and propped ourselves up on pillows to eat it.
“This is cozy,” she remarked. “Just like old times.”
“Uh huh,” I replied, cocking an eyebrow. She let out a gale of laughter. “Sorry! I guess I was just feeling different towards you, somehow, and I wanted to relieve my own awkwardness.”
“Different, how?”
“I don’t know. It’s like, when you were with Christie, I still felt like you were there, you know, in the game. But now – ” she stared at a Klimt print on the opposite wall. “I feel like you belong to someone else.”
“Really? I’ve only been seeing Elise for a month though.”
“Yes, but you feel different towards her, right? I mean, I’ve never known you to spend so much time with a girlfriend.” It was my turn to stare at the print.
“Maybe,” I said, after a pause.
“Come on! Stop being butch and making out you’re too cool to have feelings. You’re obviously into her.”
“Hey!” I was close enough to elbow her in the ribs. “I don’t know. I do feel like everything’s going great between us, but I just hate it when two lesbians get together and start gushing about how amazing the other one is, before they really get to know each other. I mean, a month in, everyone’s still on their best behavior, right?”
“Nope! I let it all out. If someone doesn’t like me for who I am, I just move right on.”
“Well you’re a special case. Me, I wait at least three months before I start wearing my socks in bed.”
“Good job we didn’t make it past two, dude.”
“It is.” We both concentrated on eating for a while, occupied by preventing the quesadilla fillings from escaping from the tortillas.
“I know what you’re saying,” Alyssa said eventually. “I think when people are really cheesy and crack out the ‘I love yous’ early on, it stops them from developing genuine feelings for each other.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, if you tell someone you love them, when you just mean that you like them and want to possess them monogamously, you lose out on that instance of realization. That genuine wow, I love this girl! moment. And that’s sad. I think you end up keeping your relationship at that level of artifice.”
“I agree. I just hadn’t articulated it to myself as clearly as you have.”
“So, you two are a thing? An item?” I shrugged, a little embarrassed.
“Pretty much. I knew early on that I wanted to do the girlfriend thing with Elise. I didn’t want to just go on casual dates here and there. Probably because we’ve had this whole history together, it made things seem too intense for that.” Alyssa nodded, looking at me sideways. There was clearly a question bubbling up in her brain.
“Yeees?” I said.
“So you’re cool with her ex-boyfriend history?”
“I am actually. I mean, I’m not a neurotic lunatic, like I was with Christie. Which is a little ironic actually, since I never had any evidence that Christie had ex-boyfriends, whereas Elise broke up with her boyfriend just before we got together.”
“You trust her because she’s been into you for a long time,” Alyssa said baldly. I let out a long sigh.
“Cringeworthy as it is to admit, yes, that is part of it.”
“Makes sense. Someone nursing a secret passion, and being tortured by having to hide their feelings seems more real than someone playing gay to be cool.”
“True. But now I have another issue to tangle with: whether she likes me for the person I am, or for the idealized version from her fantasies.” Alyssa rolled her eyes.
“Dude, you’re going out with a stunning, sweet-natured girl, who’s obviously totally into you. All you have to do is make sure you don’t fuck it up. And perhaps you should stop thinking so much as well.”
We’d finished eating, and we moved all the takeout boxes off the bed. Alyssa rubbed her belly, which, as always, had become comically swollen after eating.
“Food coma!” she complained.
“It’s lucky I didn’t bring any Pacificos over as well, or we really wouldn’t be doing any work tonight,” I said. Alyssa groaned.
“Ok, let’s get it over with.” She stood up with an effort and brought her laptop back to the bed. But as soon as she opened the lid and the screen cast her small-boned features in a blue light, she was on it, relating the class to me with as much detail as if she had a voice recorder in her brain.
“You’ve got a real talent for teaching, Alyssa,” I said, as we finished working, closing our laptops an hour later with a satisfying snap. “I listened to every word you said, and didn’t drift off once, like I do half the time in class.”
“That’s an amazing endorsement,” she said, stretching. “I guess teaching is something I feel passionate about. When I was a kid I loved learning. I had all these encyclopedias and nature books, and I used to read them every day. In elementary school, you, know, you learn about everything, all mixed together, and I couldn’t wait to get to junior high, to start having lessons in biology and geography. But it was such a disappointment. The lessons were so dull! I felt like all my youthful enthusiasm drained away, never to return.”
“You must’ve had a good English teacher though, right?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Not really. For a while, we had this really shrill woman, who was obviously a failed actress, and she made us spend most of the time acting all these plays out. I wasn’t good at it, and consequently my grades sucked. I couldn’t wait to get to college and just study the words and watch professional performances.”
“That sucks. I was lucky with my teachers, and so lucky that we had opportunities like the magazine we did, but I think I also felt like school shuts you down, when it should open you up.” Alyssa walked over to the window, and pushed the creaking sash all the way up, exposing us to a crisp, clear night. I went over to join her, as she took out her weed box and rolled a joint on the windowsill.
“So are you thinking you want to be a professor, or a teacher?” I asked. She took a while to answer, holding the first toke of the evening in her lungs.
“Teacher – no. I couldn’t deal with the kids. But a professor – yeah, I really think I’d like to be. Right now though, it just seems impossible. Financially, it’s not going to work. Maybe it’s something I’ll come back to in a few years.”
“You could get fully funded?”
“Yeah, but there’s the fact that I don’t only need to live for free; I also need to earn money.”
“Right. Of course. How’s your mom?” I asked, gently. Alyssa’s mom had been sick for several months, and her medical bills were huge.
“She’s doing ok. She’ll be good, I’m pretty sure. And my earnings are taking a lot of the pressure off. She’s stopped asking where the money is coming from too, which is a relief. I don’t know how much longer I could pretend I was working dou
ble shifts waiting tables.”
“And how’s the escorting going?” I asked carefully. Alyssa blew a jet of smoke from between her lips.
“It’s ok.”
“Any more Russian oligarchs propositioning you for sex?”
“No – but I did have a date with a woman last week.”
“What?” I exclaimed, my ears pricking up. She flashed a glance at me.
“I suspected that would catch your interest,” she said, lips curving with mischief.
“Tell me more!”
“She was a businesswoman from New York; works crazy hours, apparently. She was like 35, and grown-up-woman hot. Beautiful face, nice body, like, fully toned. Good clothes, in a suit, but not boring.”
“Bicurious?”
“She said she was gay. She’d been working such long hours that she hadn’t had a date for a year. She was far from home, and missed having a lesbian connection.”
“Cool. Did she try for any extras?”
“Noo. She was the perfect gentlewoman. I think she would’ve liked to though.” I smirked, and took the joint from her hand, sucking a single drag from it.
“And how was the experience for you?” I said. She nodded equivocally.
“It was interesting,” she said slowly. “Weird. I enjoyed her company. I guess I felt less guarded than with guys. I told her some stuff about myself that was true, whereas I normally come out with nothing more than a string of lies.”
“Did you feel like it was sleazy, what she was doing?”
“I don’t know. Not really. I suspect she wasn’t being completely honest about her circumstances, but, hey, who can blame her?”
“Nothing wrong with being lonely, and deciding to do something about it.”
“Exactly, my friend.”
We kept smoking out the window, trying to make out the stars through the crisp, chill haze for a long time, until Alyssa started yawning. I dropped my laptop into my bag, hugged her goodnight, and headed out into the street.
Outside, I took my phone out of my pocket. I had a message from Elise, asking me to call her when I had a moment.
She answered immediately, her voice tense.
“What is it?” I asked, and she burst into tears. “Hey, it’s ok, whatever it is. Tell me?” I said, the cannabis fog in my brain instantly clearing.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I can’t believe I’m acting like this. It’s just, I had a horrible accident at the diner tonight, and they’ve demoted me to working in the kitchen.”
“What? What happened?” Elise took some shaky breaths before she answered.
“It wasn’t really my fault. This other server’s wheel collided with mine as she was leaning over to take someone’s order. I tripped, and tried to regain my balance, but I had a full tray, and – my worst nightmare came true!”
“You tipped it all over a customer?”
“Over an entire table of customers!” I clapped my hand over my mouth, but not fast enough to contain a burst of laughter.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I have the worst habit of laughing at inappropriate times.”
“It’s fine. I’d be laughing too if it wasn’t my personal disaster.”
“I’m really sorry. Were they pissed?”
“Of course! The woman was screaming, the two teen daughters looked disgusted by me, and the father stormed off to speak to the manager.”
“God, that’s epic, Elise. At least they got their food though. I mean, you might’ve dropped it on the floor.”
“It wasn’t their food,” she said miserably. “They already had their order, I just gave them a double portion.”
“You think they’d be happy.”
“Maybe they would have, if everything wasn’t swimming in spilled coke.” I took a breath and turned my voice more serious.
“And then what happened?”
“The manager said I was an accident waiting to happen. I begged him not to fire me, and he said I could work in the kitchen, but it was my final warning.” Her voice trembled. “I hate sucking at things. And I can’t afford to lose the tips I was getting as a server.”
“Working in the kitchen is minimum wage, right.”
“Yup. You maybe get 1% of total tips earned, but that’s all.”
“Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll either get you another job that doesn’t involve performing like a sideshow at the circus, or we’ll practice skating until you’re perfect, and then you can get your job back, and show that prick who insulted you.”
“And that bitch who tripped me! She laughed at me too, when it was actually her fault.”
“That’s more like it! Where are you? Are you coming over to my place?”
“No, I’m heading home. I haven’t been back in days, and my sister will get offended if I don’t spend some time with her.”
“I can come over to your place then?” She paused.
“Jack, thanks for offering, but I – I don’t think I could pass you off as a friend, and I’m not ready to tell my sister about us.”
“It’s ok. I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes. I just wanted to be there for you.”
“Oh, ok,” she said more brightly. She wished me sweet dreams and I sent them back to her, and we left each other for the night.
Back in my place, it took me a long time to fall asleep. Elise’s side of the bed felt unfinished, as if it was expecting her, and I felt an uncharacteristic frisson of loneliness. At last, I drifted off thinking about her warm skin, and the sweet scent of the nape of her neck.
Chapter Two
Elise
I rubbed my eyes, and groaned as I registered that my eyelashes were stiff and clumpy, meaning I’d fallen asleep without taking my greasepaint make-up off last night. What a fucking joke. Instead of thinking about what I looked like, I should have been worrying about the basic skills I needed to do the job. And what was I thinking when I applied for the job in the first place? I sat up. My head ached and my eyes were burning. I’d had a terrible sleep, thinking about both my job situation, and the fact that I was passing up an opportunity to sleep with Jack because I hadn’t yet had the guts to tell my sister that I was dating her. These two thoughts had bumped around in my head all night, like a pair of sneakers in a washing machine, and I hadn’t really fallen asleep until after 5. Two and a half hours’ sleep, and I had to write a paper this morning, attend class this afternoon, and undergo the humiliation of working in the restaurant kitchen tonight. And all I wanted to do was tumble into Jack’s bed, and burrow under the comforter with her for the day. I reached for my laptop, brought it into bed with me and collapsed back onto my pillows. The screen hurt my eyes. This was going to be an amazing day. I looked up the town’s local paper and located the help wanted section. There were a couple of waitressing positions advertised. There were probably way more that didn’t advertise online, but I didn’t have the energy to walk around with my resumé today. Maybe at the weekend when I didn’t have class. I emailed my resumé to the restaurants that were advertising, and I leaned back and closed my eyes again. When I next opened them, it was to the sound of my sister knocking on my door.
“Come in, Melissa,” I called croakily. She edged her way through the door, carrying two cups of coffee.
“Is somebody still asleep?” she said, giggling.
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Umm, the gentle rumbling emitting from your room, and the dulcet tone of your voice.”
“God, I always snore when I doze propped up on my pillows.”
“You snore, period, sister!”
“I do not!” If she hadn’t been holding a coffee out to me, I would’ve hit her with one of those pillows. “Thanks.” I took the coffee from her and sipped it, feeling better almost immediately. At least half the effect of caffeine was probably psychological, but I wasn’t complaining. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I took a sick day to look for a new job,” Melissa said.
“What? You didn
’t tell me. Why?” She sighed.
“I’m not happy there. I’ve tried it for six months, but it hasn’t got any better. All they care about is hitting their recycling targets. They don’t give a crap about accountability, and finding out where the stuff they supposedly recycle is actually being sent. I’ve tried to improve things, but, for a bunch of quasi-hippies, they’re surprisingly corporate in their thinking.”
“I’m sorry. This was supposed to be your dream job.” She slumped on the bed next to me, and I put my arm around her shoulder.
“It’s ok, there are plenty of environmental science jobs in town, and across the state. I’m hoping it’s not going to be too hard to find something else.”
“Are there a lot of positions being advertised now?” I said.
“I haven’t looked in depth yet. Things have been so crazy at work that I’ve been too drained to come home and get on my computer again. Hence my sudden dose of food-poisoning today.”
“If it makes you feel better, I need to find a new job too.”
“Why, what happened to your diner job?” she asked. I told her the story, and she rolled around my bed in fits of laughter. “That’s epic, Elise!” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what Jack – “ I stopped myself before I got to the end of the sentence.
“Huh?”
“Oh, that’s what a friend said too.” I said, and was struck by the thought that Melissa and Jack would actually get on really well, with their shared passion for laughing at other people’s misfortune.
“Why are you being so coy lately?” Melissa said, bumping her shoulder against mine. “I barely see you these days, and I usually know everything about your life. But, since you broke up with Jared, it’s been a blank.” I gripped my coffee cup as my heartbeat speeded up. I was on the verge of telling her about Jack. So close that Jack’s name was practically escaping my lips. I badly wanted to talk to my closest person about how great being with Jack made me feel. But I just couldn’t. As nice and caring as Melissa was, I worried that, deep down, she was as conventional as my father, and I wasn’t ready to risk losing my only real family member just yet. “Hey, I didn’t mean to interrogate you. You don’t have to look so anxious.”
Me and Her (Always Her, Book 2): Lesbian Romance Page 2