by Annette Mori
She offered to indoctrinate me into the physical side of lesbianism. I declined.
I went to bed that night wondering about everything and fretting about my bestie date with Carly the next day.
†
Carly was right on time when she picked me up Friday morning. She entered our home, not with her normal confident stride, but somewhat tentatively.
I was going to have to obliterate this distance and fast.
As soon as we were both buckled into our seats in her mom’s car, I reached out and grabbed her hand and linked our fingers together. I looked at the friendship bracelet I’d given to her prominently displayed on her wrist and I wished in that moment that it signified more than friendship. We stayed that way for a good thirty seconds just looking at one another. I released her hand and pulled my tablet on my lap as I crafted my message which was designed to break the tension.
I will always love you, Carly. Please don’t be sorry about the kiss. I’m not. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you.
She shook her head. “I was so vulnerable that night. I didn’t mean to drag you into my drama. Abbie promised to quit drinking and I believe her. We’re going to try to work on our relationship,” she stated.
Even though I anticipated that was what she would tell me, my heart sank. I knew my opportunity to confess my love for Carly had passed.
I’m happy for you, I wrote. I truly wanted Carly to be happy, even if that meant we would always remain friends—nothing more.
She sighed. “I’m not really sure where it’s going, but I have to give it more of a chance than I have. I’m not sure why I’ve been holding back, but I have. So I agreed that she deserves more from me than being a half-assed girlfriend. I’m as much at fault about what happened as she is.”
Maybe you’re partially responsible for the relationship tanking, yes, but don’t ever believe that gives anyone the right to get physically aggressive. Don’t you ever let her hit you or hurt you again.
“She won’t. It was the alcohol talking,” Carly insisted.
Perhaps, but if she ever touches you in anger again, I’ll get Quinn to kick her ass into the next century. I’d do it myself if I wasn’t limited.
“Will you be honest with me if I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“Are you…uh…you and Quinn…uh…more than friends?” she asked, but wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
Shit, shit, shit. The moment of truth. I wasn’t ready to confess anything in that instance. In that split second, I decided not to lie, but not to tell the whole truth.
It’s complicated
“She’s not pressuring you for more is she?”
No, nothing like that.
“Talk to me, Belinda. What’s going on?”
My feelings are confusing. That was the truth, although I failed to mention that she was the center of that confusion.
“You know you can talk to me—tell me anything.”
I nodded. When I have everything sorted out. I promise I’ll tell, but for right now, I have nothing to add.
“Okay, Belinda. You know I love you and I won’t pressure you to figure things out before you’re ready.” She leaned in, kissed the corner of my mouth, and stroked my cheek just like old times. We were back to where we were before the infamous kiss. It was relieving and agonizing all at once.
For the rest of the day, the awkwardness continued to dissipate until it was a distant memory. I could almost taste the sweetness of our relationship return as it rolled around inside my mouth and coated my tongue—my taste buds bursting with joy at our ability to return everything to normal.
Carly’s countenance returned and she laughed and smiled all day.
My perfect fantasy hadn’t come true, but this was the next best thing. I hadn’t come to any conclusion yet about what I would do with Quinn’s growing feelings for me and my realization that although she wasn’t Carly, I was beginning to feel the stirrings of desire for her.
Before she left, she made sure everything was set for our get together with our friends the next day. “Abbie’s planning on coming by around eleven thirty tomorrow morning. How about if we meet you at La Fiamma at noon? I’ll call Darian and tell her to meet us there. Okay?”
I nodded. An ex-girlfriend and a current girlfriend occupying the same space. This should be entertaining.
The next day when the gang came together, we enjoyed our time with one another, despite the perpetual drizzle of the Northwest. I don’t know if I was biased against Abbie because of my feelings for Carly, but she sure did not endear me to her that day.
Quinn was right on time for our Saturday outing and offered to drive us to the restaurant. Fran, Josette, Quinn and I all piled into her car. It was a tight fit, but we managed. Quinn let me transfer myself into the vehicle, proving once again her ability to read a situation and make the right choice. Sometimes I wanted and needed help and sometimes I didn’t. Today I wanted to be as independent as possible.
Josette settled in the back seat and pulled a cigarette from her pack. Fran shook her head and I suspect Josette got the message that smoking inside a closed vehicle was not the American way.
“Will I be able to smoke in this place we are going,” Josette asked.
“Um, I don’t think that would be a good idea. We kinda have a law that prohibits smoking in public places,” Fran explained.
“Merde. You Americans are far too healthy for your own good. Please tell me I will be able to drink a glass of wine,” Josette pleaded.
“You bet. Alcohol is something we Americans do imbibe in. Washington State is becoming one of the premier places for wine. I’m sure you can try some of the local flavor and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” Fran assured her.
Josette sneered. “Washington wine? You think you can compete with France? I have heard of some of your American wines. Two Buck Chuck would not be my choice of an acceptable wine.”
Fran laughed. “Hey. Keep an open mind, will ya?”
“I will try,” Josette responded.
Apparently everyone else had the bright idea of coming to La Fiamma, because the place was packed. Carly must have decided to arrive early because she was sitting at a large table with six open spaces.
In a space next to Carly, the chair was missing. I smiled at the notion that Carly wanted me sitting next to her. Abbie had her arm draped around Carly’s chair. Josette narrowed her eyes, pulled a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it to the head of the table so she could sit next to Abbie. Quinn took the open chair next to me. Fran sat across from Abbie and the two spaces next to her were left open for Darian and Paula.
Josette was a shameless flirt all day and started right in on Abbie who seemed to eat up the attention. Josette touched Abbie’s arm, caressing all the way down to her hand as she introduced herself. “I am Josette Duval from France and you are?”
Abbie grinned. “Abbie. Nice to meet you.” Abbie pointed to Carly. “This is Carly.”
“You are a couple? Yes?” Josette confirmed.
Carly nodded and stuck out her hand in greeting. “It’s great to meet you. I’d love to hear all about what it’s like to live in France.”
“You are a beautiful couple. Ah, we French are not as uptight as you Americans. Perhaps I can offer you both some lessons in flexibility. Ménage a trois, perhaps?” Josette chuckled.
“Um, no. I think we’ll pass,” Carly giggled.
Abbie grinned, winked at Josette, and turned back to Carly. “You sure about that, babe.”
“Yep. Definitely sure. That would not be on my menu today.”
“Ah, pity. Well, let’s have some wine then. Abbie, care to share a bottle? I’ve heard this is one thing you Americans do as well as the French.”
Abbie glanced at Carly. “Um, no. I think I’ll have to pass on that.”
“I’ll share a glass with you, Josette, but you can’t tell Mom about it. She sorta frowns on underage drinking,” Fran
interjected.
Darian and Paula entered the restaurant, hand in hand, and plopped down in the empty seats across from Carly and me.
“Hey, everyone. Thanks for saving us some seats. It seems like there’s a few newbies to add to the gang. Okay, let’s do introductions. Name, where you live, and your favorite sexual position,” Paula blurted out.
Darian smacked Paula’s arm. “Ignore her, they only let her out on holidays. I’m Darian and this is my totally inappropriate girlfriend, Paula. I think we identify more with Berkeley right now, so we’re from California, visiting family here in Bellingham.”
“You look like fun, let’s start at this end of the table.” Paula pointed to Josette.
“Josette, from France, and sixty nine is my favorite.”
“Abbie from Bellevue and I better not answer the last part.”
Carly waved and pointed to me “You know us and I think I’ll keep that last part a secret.” Carly turned her head toward Quinn.
“Quinn, from Mount Vernon.”
“Everyone but Josette seems to be a killjoy. How about a little strip spin the bottle then? Later, of course,” Paula busted out in laughter.
“Stop it right now, or I’m taking you home,” Darian chastised.
“I like this one. You should move to France. You don’t belong in this stuffy country,” Josette quipped.
The banter between Josette, Abbie, and Paula continued throughout the evening. I knew Paula was joking most of the time, but Abbie seemed to flirt back with Josette and I was seething inside. Carly didn’t seem too concerned, but I thought it was all in poor taste. I never said a word to Carly, but I vowed to keep a close eye on Abbie for the remainder of the quarter.
When it was time to return to the UW campus, everyone was well rested and ready to complete our first quarter of classes. Finals were just around the corner and we all knew it was time to dig into our studies and finish with a bang.
I was doing well and wasn’t too worried. Carly had her three-week excursion to the dark side to try to make up for, so her road was a bit more challenging. She knew she had to ace all her final exams if she had any chance at getting into medical school—a decision she’d made right before the start of college. Her mom was bursting with pride that her little girl would be following in her footsteps.
My mom was equally pleased that I’d chosen English as my major, although I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted to do with my degree. Teaching college English didn’t seem possible if I couldn’t lecture to a class. I was leaning more toward writing. Text to speech did not seem to have the same impact as a professor giving an impassioned lecture.
Chapter Twenty
For the remaining time in the quarter, I watched Abbie transform into a completely different person. I even managed to forgive her boorish behavior at La Fiamma. She kept her promise and to my knowledge, not one drop of alcohol passed her lips. I truly applauded her drastic turnaround. I suppose it was fortunate that her disease hadn’t progressed to the stage where she needed to enter a detox center. It had to be difficult given the influences in her life. All her friends and her roommate were major party hounds and constantly throwing temptation her way. I imagined that her painful confession to them that she was an alcoholic didn’t make a whole lot of difference. As a result, she began to spend more time in our room studying with Carly, Quinn, and I.
I suspect the sole reason for her getting through that first quarter had to do with her amazing transformation and the influence of those around her that took school a lot more seriously than she had prior to Thanksgiving break.
Abbie was an intelligent woman and all it took was a small amount of effort for her to turn her grades around. She went to each professor to ask if she could improve her grades with extra credit and confessed her struggles with alcohol and plan to turn her life around. They all ate up her confession and agreed to give her the opportunity to excel. She proved that she was serious and ended up with decent grades that first quarter.
I was beginning to like Abbie, but more importantly, I began to respect her. Although it was killing me to see them together and happy, I knew that supporting their relationship was the right thing to do. I needed to move on and Quinn was a perfect choice.
On the Wednesday of finals week, both Quinn and I had finished our finals and were ready to celebrate the end of our first quarter. She knew I would complete my last final at one o’clock and hers was earlier that day at ten o’clock, so it wasn’t a surprise when she came to my room at three.
The surprise was the beautiful bouquet of flowers she brought and the request that I accompany her for a romantic dinner. I was showing her through my actions that I was receptive to moving things along in our relationship and Quinn had always been perceptive. She recognized the subtle shift in my behavior.
Abbie and Carly were sprawled out on Carly’s bed with their chemistry book and notes littered across the comforter.
When Quinn entered the room with the flowers in her hand, Carly’s eyebrow rose.
“Congratulations,” Quinn uttered. She presented the flowers to me.
I blinked a few times and didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t have a vase to put the flowers in so I just laid them in my lap.
Thanks, I wrote.
“You should go out and get a vase so the flowers don’t die.” Carly winked at me.
“Sorry. Didn’t think of that,” Quinn mumbled.
It’s okay, it will give us a reason to get out of their hair and let them study.
“I’d like to take you to dinner at Frank’s Oyster House and Champagne Parlor tonight,” Quinn tossed out.
Okay. There was no doubt this was a special date and Quinn was making it evident she’d received my signals loud and clear.
Abbie held her thumbs up and smiled at both of us.
Carly tilted her head, but didn’t say anything.
I could tell she wasn’t very happy about my date and I knew I would need to fess up soon about my epiphany that I was a lesbian.
Quinn and I left the room in search of a vase for the flowers.
†
When I returned without Quinn, Carly looked up and I quickly clarified. She’s coming back at six to pick me up.
I rolled to the bathroom to fill the new vase with water. Quinn had insisted she buy it for me after her monumental error in not purchasing a complete flower arrangement. I placed the vase on my desk and quickly clipped the ends of the flowers with a pair of scissors that I kept in a cup with my pens. After arranging the flowers in the vase, I rolled to my closet to ponder my options.
As I was looking at my pitiful choice of clothing, I felt Carly’s presence beside me. She wordlessly handed me a slinky blue dress—it was her one fancy outfit that she’d brought to college.
I looked up at her and must have had a question in my eyes regarding why she was handing me her dress.
“You know this is a date, right?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Are you sure about this? It might get more confusing for you,” she said.
I shrugged.
“I’m here for you if you want to talk, but what kind of bestie would I be if I didn’t offer to let you borrow a hot outfit. We’re the same size. You’ll look stunning in this,” she offered.
I started to roll into the bathroom to change, when she halted my progress.
“Do you need help getting ready?” she asked.
I noticed the frown on Abbie’s face and didn’t want to make waves for Carly. I shook my head as I made my way into the bathroom.
Normally, I didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but I wanted to make sure that the dress that Carly gave me to wear would match my face, so I proceeded to put on eyeliner, mascara, blush, and lipstick.
Mom had bought me a complete make-up kit after going to the fancy cosmetic counter at our upscale department store, Nordstrom’s. The lady picked out all the right colors for my complexion. I steadfastly refused eye shadow and foundation. Fortunately
, the woman agreed that I didn’t need either.
Tonight would be only the second time in my life that I’d put on make-up. I was nervous that I might not do it correctly. Carly had helped me the one other time I’d bothered to dress up. It was on New Year’s Eve—the night that I secretly hoped was a real date, but wasn’t.
I glanced in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. I think I’d done a decent job and was looking more like Fran every day. Fran was beautiful. So, I was glad that when I looked at myself in the mirror, I might have been looking at Fran’s twin.
When I rolled out of the bathroom, Abbie whistled and Carly just stared at me.
Eventually Carly shook herself from whatever internal monologue was going on in her brain and blurted out, “You look beautiful.”
I blushed and clasped my hands in my lap.
Carly and Abbie returned to their studies and I zoned off thinking of nothing really, until I heard the quiet knock on our door.
Carly jumped up and answered the door.
Quinn held in her hands a single, long stemmed red rose. She was wearing sleek black pants and a fitted tuxedo shirt complete with a jacket that I was sure was specially tailored for her body.
We didn’t talk a lot about Quinn’s family, but I knew her parents were well off. She was an only child and I think they doted on her.
†
Parking in Seattle was challenging at best, but Quinn didn’t want to walk to the restaurant. Even though for most co-eds, the restaurant was more than likely considered within walking distance, Quinn had double-parked her cherry red mustang in front of the dorm.
She helped me settle in the passenger seat and kissed me on the cheek. “I really care for you, Belinda,” she confessed.
I know and I’m quite fond of you.
She read what I’d written and her megawatt smile lit up the inside of the dark car as she proceeded to add additional light when she turned on her headlights and the dashboard created a soft glow in the interior.