Looking for Eagles

by Savannah Swan

  Ana and Drew were already sitting down at the bar. Maggie spotted them easily—the Latina with purple-streaked hair and the Korean man with his clean cut oxford shirt. They were like a poster for diversity between the three of them and the fourth member of their group, Reagan (who was perennially fashionably late).

  “Hey!” Ana raised her hand to beckon Maggie, who took a seat at the table. “We got a pitcher, so help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” said Maggie, immediately going for her own glass of beer.

  “How’ve you been holding up?” asked Drew.

  Maggie shrugged. “I’m surviving.”

  Ana leaned over and patted her arm. “Best you can hope for.”

  “Yeah.” Maggie didn’t have anything else to add to the conversation.

  She looked up to see Reagan striding toward her like an androgynous goddess. They’d decided to dye their hair mint green, which contrasted beautifully with their tan skin and maroon leather jacket.

  Reagan immediately bent down and wrapped Maggie in a hug, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. Reagan was a very physically affectionate person, which Maggie appreciated. There was something very comforting about their manner.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” said Reagan, mouth curled in a frown. They’d been the last to hear about the news, so they hadn’t had a chance to deliver condolences.

  “It is what it is,” said Maggie, shrugging. “I’m just glad I have you guys.”

  “Damn right,” said Ana. “If you want to talk about it, you know we’ll listen.”

  “I appreciate it,” said Maggie. “I just don’t feel like I have a lot to say about it. I mean, I’m still in shock.”

  “Sure,” said Drew. “I can’t imagine.”

  It was doubly tough because all of the people present had gotten married ages ago. Ana had a wife she’d met shortly after they’d moved to Philadelphia and a girlfriend and a partner she saw occasionally, Drew had a partner who was as good as a wife, since neither of them wanted to get married, and Reagan had a partner they’d married a couple of years ago. They’d all celebrated when Maggie and Callie had announced the engagement, since it meant Maggie was no longer left out.

  Looked like she was going to be left out once more.

  “Have you, uh, thought about finding someone else?” asked Ana tentatively.

  There it was.

  “I’m just not ready,” said Maggie. “I can’t do it. I can’t open myself up again that easily.”

  What Ana and Drew didn’t know, despite having been Maggie’s close friends in college, was that Maggie had actually had plenty of casual sex before. In fact, if Ana knew, she’d be astounded. It hadn’t been healthy at all; in fact, Maggie now recognized it as a form of self-harm. She was glad she’d stopped.

  Maybe Ana would lay off if she knew this. But then again, Maggie didn’t want to make her feel bad, and she was trying to make her feel better in a way she knew how.

  Recognizing Maggie’s depressed attitude, the three friends gracefully changed the topic to Reagan’s new start up, which had just managed to get an amount of funding that would propel it to new heights. Maggie said what was necessary to be a supportive friend, but she couldn’t get into the conversation.

  She was, for some reason, thinking about Jena again.

  This wasn’t unusual. She actually thought about Jena frequently. Every week, in fact, since she’d last seen her at the very end of high school. How could a first love have such a hold on her, even now, after she’d been ready to marry someone? It was perplexing, but somehow comforting to think about.

  Maggie had stalked Jena on Facebook some, but the other woman didn’t use her account much, apparently, because there were only a few photos from the last few years.

  Still, what Maggie saw made her yearn to see her friend again. Jena had grown into a gorgeous woman, with a mischievous smirk and tousled blonde waves, like a beach bum gone corporate.

  That was the other problem—Jena, or rather, the person she appeared to be now, didn’t seem like she’d really fit in with the queer, colorful life Maggie had built for herself. Her friends were all alternative in some way, and it looked like Jena had gone down the path her parents had picked for her. Then again, it had been so long. Maybe Maggie didn’t really know Jena anymore. In fact, she probably didn’t.

  The doubts came from that damn camp. River Rocks Christian Camp. They’d both attended it every summer from sixth grade to senior year. Even though the camp itself wasn’t overtly homophobic and didn’t try to teach the kids that being gay was evil or anything, most of the people who attended and worked there were conservative in their beliefs, so it seeped out anyway.

  Maggie had supportive parents—Christians who truly followed Jesus’s teachings of acceptance and compassion. They hadn’t given her any shit for being a lesbian, and so the camp hadn’t done any lasting damage. But Jena’s parents had been awful. Maybe they’d taken a toll on her.

  They’d had a secret relationship there that they’d carried on for every summer. They’d never had sex, but they’d kissed and fooled around. And more importantly, they’d loved each other. Really loved each other. The way, Maggie had imagined, that you ought to love the person you were going to marry.

  She’d written it off as puppy love, but now that she thought about it, Maggie wondered if it was the real deal. The love she’d had for Callie was more mature, but in a way, it seemed less intense, and not in a good way. Privately, now that she was no longer with Callie, Maggie thought her love with Jena had been superior. She just hadn’t thought she would ever find something like it again.

  Or maybe nostalgia was coloring her feelings in the wake of her bitterness toward Callie.

  In any case, every so often, thoughts of Jena would consume Maggie. She’d see doppelgängers of Jena everywhere, in every woman with long blonde hair in professional clothes—which was a lot of people. Maybe it was for the best she and Callie had broken it off. It was hard to commit fully to someone when you held a tiny torch—a matchstick—for someone else. Someone who was as good as a ghost.

  No, no, no. That was the past, a hazy memory. What she had with Callie had been real. She couldn’t flippantly dismiss her feelings just because she’d been hurt.

  Of course, another doppelgänger strode right into the bar. It happened commonly here, since there were a lot of good-looking preppy girls in this part of the city. Maggie shook her head and turned her attention back to her friends’ conversation. Jena wasn’t even in Philadelphia, according to her Facebook profile (and her LinkedIn—Maggie had stalked her everywhere, and that profile was more up to date).

  But it gave Maggie a heart attack every single time.

  3

  Jena

  Well, if Tony’s was going to be closed for renovations, then Jena was going to find another place to go hunting.

  Didn’t matter that it was a weeknight. Didn’t matter that she’d slept with six different women in the past month, and a couple men—though she much preferred women. It was like an itch she needed to scratch. If she didn’t scratch it, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. How could she, when her body roared its needs at her, compelling her to obey?

  She pushed the door of the Eagle’s Nest open. She didn’t like to come here because she wasn’t an Eagles fan—not that she’d ever tell anyone that. The bar attracted a lot of people who weren’t particularly into sports, but still. The overwhelmingly pro-Eagles vibe grated on her.

  Her dad had been a Cowboys fan, and that had been one thing that’d stuck with Jena over the years. Some of her fondest childhood memories—fond partially because they were rare—were of watching Cowboys games with her parents. So even though she now knew that a lot of people hated the Cowboys, she loved them because of the family connection.

  In any case, the Eagle’s Nest had a great beer selection, and Jena could dig that. There were also plenty of cute people that stopped by here. All the guys who came here were muscular and hypermasculine, and all the les
bians looked very femme and like they’d gone to an Ivy.

  That was Jena’s preferred type. There was one person who hadn’t been quite like that, but Jena hadn’t seen her in years. No point even thinking about her.

  She beelined to the bar and ordered a porter—seemed like the right choice since it was cold outside. She didn’t like that she’d had to complete this work assignment in Philadelphia in the winter. Texas was so nice and warm. She wasn’t looking forward to enduring the blizzards the Northeast could deliver.

  At least she only had a couple more months before she could return to Austin, sweet Austin. For now, places like Tony’s and the Eagle’s Nest would help her beat the cold, with booze and warm bodies.

  As soon as she got settled, her eyes darted around, and she took stock of all the women present who might be eligible. It was a good crop today, she thought, even as she hated herself for thinking it. She didn’t like that she approached it like a meat market, but then, that was how streamlined she’d become. She had a goal and she’d become very good at achieving it.

  There were a few potentials around. She’d finish her drink and consider going after one of them.

  Her clit was already tingling, knowing what would come tonight. But Jena couldn’t ignore the queasy feeling in her chest. Lately, she’d felt a little tired of constantly sleeping around. The thrill had worn off shortly after she’d moved to Philadelphia and started fucking the girls here. She couldn’t think of anything better to do with her nights, though.

  So she continued to look. One table caught her eye, simply because two of the people there had brightly colored hair—purple and a pale shade of green. Weird. She glanced over them toward a table of the bro-iest gay dudes she’d ever seen and a couple of butch ladies sitting at the bar, feeling oddly like a lion stalking a herd of gazelle.

  An itch erupted deep inside her; she needed a smoke. After downing the rest of the beer, she slid out of her seat and made her way toward the back, the punky-looking people catching her eye again. There were two brown-skinned women and a Korean dude. Jena snorted. They were like a poster for diversity.

  When she stepped into the back area of the bar, she found she was alone. That was fine. She didn’t really like to make small talk while getting her fix, anyway. She sat down at one of the outdoor tables and observed the string lights hanging on the trellis above. In better weather, this spot would be magical.

  It took her a moment to get the cigarette lit because of the wind, and her irritation grew. Finally, the cherry blazed and she took a long drag, relishing the hit. As she practically sucked down the cigarette, her alcohol buzz interacting with the stimulating feeling of nicotine, she couldn’t help but think of what her parents would think of her.

  It wasn’t like they talked much. After they’d kicked Jena out of the house and disowned her for being gay at the tender age of eighteen, she hadn’t felt at all motivated to reconnect. It was the twenty-first century and it was time for them to accept that being gay was perfectly normal. But their religious fervor prevented them from doing that.

  Jena knew they wouldn’t approve of the smoking and drinking, either. To be fair, smoking was bad for her health; she had no delusions about that. She just never felt compelled to stop. She didn’t have any reason to.

  And like the alcohol and casual sex, it alleviated the pain in her heart.

  It was hard to live without a family. She hadn’t had any siblings or close friends, other than… Maggie. From summer camp. And then she and Maggie had lost touch, to the point where she was almost forgetting her old friend’s name.

  Wait, no. Maggie had been more than a friend. Why had Jena repressed those memories—the few happy memories she had?

  A tingle went down her spine when she remembered that, but it didn’t make her feel a whole lot better. Instead, she was plagued with a miasma of loss. Maggie had been one of the most valuable people in her life, and Jena had thrown it all away when she’d escaped her parents’ house.

  Not that she’d have known where to find Maggie again, anyway. They’d exchanged home addresses and telephone numbers, but surely that information was now outdated. There was no point in following up.

  What the fuck would she say, anyway?

  Jena had to get her mind off the past. There was no point in looking that way, not when the future had a modicum of promise. Jena was happy, after all, even if her life hadn’t turned out the way she wanted it to. She had a great job and she liked living in Austin. She’d been able to purchase a nice house there with the high level of income she made. Her parents would be proud of her, minus the gay part.

  But was Jena proud of herself? No. All her accomplishments in the material world were meaningless. She saw people who had less but who had friends and family, and she envied them. It was too late for her. She was never going to be able to find that.

  Even though she had sexual experience—too much of it, probably, with people of all genders—she hadn’t been in a longterm relationship since Maggie. So she pretty much had no idea how to carry on an intimate relationship, romantic or otherwise, with anyone. The thought of dating someone, of getting to know them deeply, was frightening and made her feel like a middle schooler all over again.

  The cigarette was down to the filter, so she stubbed it out and walked back inside, feeling warmer than she had. A couple of women at a table near the door sneered at her in disgust; Jena was startled until she remembered that they were probably expressing their distaste of the smell of smoke. Whatever. Fuck ‘em.

  Jena went back to the bar and ordered another beer, a lager this time.

  It was time to start the hunt.

  There was a girl in a mixed gender group in the corner who Jena really liked the look of. She watched them, hoping to make eye contact. Sure enough, the girl glanced back at her.

  Jena excelled at making this kind of connection. Now that she had a girl picked out, the rest of the night would be smooth sailing. It was almost too easy. Maybe that was what Jena was missing in her life—a challenge. Finding a girl to fuck was the opposite of a challenge at this point.

  But whatever. Her night was made. Now she just had to finish up this beer and send the other lady a drink. After round three, she could ask the girl, whatever her name was, to come back to her apartment with her. A lonely, luxe apartment in the busiest part of town—Center City, with all the skyscrapers and shopping and corporate offices. It was practically like a hotel in its opulence and sterility.

  That also made it the perfect place to bring a hook up, though.

  She was just about to catch the bartender’s attention when a shadow out of the corner of her eye made her freeze. Why in the world could that have happened? The hunter didn’t get startled like that when she’d locked onto her prey.

  Jena followed the person who’d caught her eye as they walked toward the table of women with dyed hair. It was a cute black girl with a pleasant expression and gorgeous cheekbones. Her dark eyes were warm with laughter as she rejoined her friends.

  Jena watched the woman with interest. She was one of the most attractive people she’d seen in a long time, much more interesting than the endless sequence of preppy people. And there was something inexplicably familiar about her.

  Wait a minute. It wasn’t Maggie, was it?

  Nah, couldn’t be. Why would Maggie be in Philadelphia? It was unlikely they’d be in the same town. But she looked uncannily familiar. In any case, maybe Jena could try to score with this lady instead. She didn’t just have a cute face; she was curvy under her button down shirt. She obviously worked out, but she wasn’t a fitness nut like the women Jena typically went for.

  Fueled by alcohol and the thrill of someone truly new, Jena stood up, intending to approach this new woman. Her friends looked a little weird, but whatever. Shit like that hadn’t stopped Jena before.

  She walked over to the table, an unfamiliar feeling coming over her. She hadn’t before realized just how nerve-wracking it could be to pursue someone you a
ctually felt just a little bit invested in. It was like Jena had developed a mini-crush in the time she’d spent observing the woman.

  And it was weird that she looked so much like Maggie. Like an older, sexier, version of Maggie. What the pretty girl would look like as a beautiful, grown woman.

  Oh shit. Maggie was from this area, duh. They’d talked about applying to colleges in Philly together.

  Fuck.

  Well, it was too late to turn back now.

  “Hey,” said Jena. “Mind if I have a seat with you all?”

  The four people at the table blinked at her. “Um, sure,” said the purple-haired lady. She smiled perkily and glanced around the table at her friends, as if for confirmation.

  After getting over their surprise, they mobilized, immediately scooting the chairs over and pulling one from a neighboring table. Jena sat down, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

  The cute girl—Maggie!—was looking at her with wide eyes. She seemed nervous. Maybe she didn’t get hit on like this very often—which was unlikely, considering how good-looking she was.

  “I’m Jena.” She smiled.

  “J-Jena?” said Maggie.

  “Yeah. What’s your name?” asked Jena, already knowing the answer. Her palms were clammy.

  “Um, Jena, it’s me. It’s Maggie.”

  Jena could have sworn her heart had stopped beating.

  4

  Maggie

  What the fuck?

  “Wow,” Maggie said, feeling herself withdraw a little, despite having the support of her friends.

  “Yeah, wow,” said Jena.

  The entire table was silent as the two women regarded each other. Maggie gazed into Jena’s eyes, which looked oddly dark. She remembered how they used to sparkle in the summer. Not after nearly two decades, apparently. And it was impossible to miss the bags under her eyes and the clinging smell of smoke.