The Second Wave

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The Second Wave Page 19

by Jean Copeland


  “I was truly mad about you.”

  Leslie took her hand. “I’m sorry for what I put you through. I should’ve ended it as soon as it began. I was just so in love with you.”

  Leslie kept using past tense. Did that mean she no longer had feelings for Alice? That her feelings hadn’t come rushing back the way Alice’s had? She cupped Leslie’s hand in both of hers over the car’s console, fighting that familiar feeling of inexorable motion, something akin to being swept up in a landslide.

  “Are you all right?” Leslie asked.

  Alice nodded. “Rebecca tried to worm the truth about us out of me before you were conscious.”

  “Really? What did you tell her?”

  “Everything but the truth. I was more evasive than an indicted politician.”

  “She’s asked me a few times if I’m a lesbian.”

  “Why do you deny it?”

  “Because of her repeated threats to introduce me to her single lesbian friends,” Leslie said facetiously.

  “Are you?”

  “Going to meet her single lesbian friends?”

  “No. Are you a lesbian?”

  “If anybody knows the answer to that, it’s you,” Leslie said.

  “But you still hide it.”

  “I’m hiding from my daughter’s attempts to turn me into a cougar.”

  Alice couldn’t help her guffaw at that one. “You could definitely land yourself someone Rebecca’s age.”

  “I wouldn’t want someone my daughter’s age. I’d have to go out and buy a kayak, become a vegan, and stream Orange is the New Black. I don’t even know what that last one means. Rebecca says it all the time.”

  Alice gave in to the silliness. “I don’t think anyone’s ever seamlessly crammed so many lesbian stereotypes into one sentence before.”

  It took a moment for their laughter to die down. “If she pesters me about it again, I probably should be honest with her.”

  “I know she’d love it if you were. She misses the closeness you two had when she was younger.”

  Leslie smiled. “I do, too. And in light of recent events, this seems like the perfect time to become close again.”

  Why was Leslie smiling at Alice when she said that?

  “So, if girls your daughter’s age don’t interest you, what type does?”

  “Why, Alice Burton, the least you could do is ply me with pinot noir before you ask me questions like that.”

  “As it turns out, I know where there’s a delicious bottle waiting to be opened.”

  Alice started the ignition with a grin and backed out of the parking space.

  *

  Leslie pushed her walker to the side and shuffled on her own toward the utensil drawer, keeping her hand close to the counter. She opened the cabinet and reached, shakily, for two wineglasses.

  “Les, let me help you with that,” Alice said, sliding up behind her. It would’ve made for a stellar romantic overture had Alice not been so worried the wineglasses might slip from Leslie’s unsteady hand.

  “I’ve got it,” Leslie said. “It’s good therapy. But I will need you to open the bottle.”

  “That’s my specialty,” Alice said. “Are we headed out to the deck?”

  Leslie nodded and indicated her walker. “I’ll keep this here if that’s okay with you.” She looped her arm through Alice’s.

  Alice’s heart fluttered as Leslie leaned into her for support. And she was worried about Leslie dropping the glassware?

  They settled into cushioned chairs on Leslie’s deck overlooking a small lake, wine in hand and citronella candles for ambiance. When would it stop feeling like some magnificent illusion whenever she glanced up and saw Leslie glancing back at her? She swished a mouthful of wine over her tongue, trying to slow the fluttering.

  “Getting back to this closet question,” Alice said.

  “Yes?” Leslie said, dragging out the word.

  “If you’re not in the closet, but you haven’t told your own daughter, who exactly are you out to?”

  Leslie stalled with a slow sip of wine. “Alice, you’re the only woman I’ve ever been with. In case it’s slipped your mind, I was married at the time. How would I work that into a conversation with anyone?”

  “Let me get this straight,” Alice said. “You’re a lesbian who doesn’t date women, and you’re not in the closet, but no one knows you’re gay.”

  “Well, sure, it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way.”

  They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  “I have never understood what makes you tick, Leslie O’Mara.”

  “Actually, it’s pretty simple when you think about it.”

  “Is that right?” Alice was still grinning from Leslie’s earlier remark.

  “How could I have loved another woman when I never got over you?” In the candlelight Leslie’s eyes sparkled with a timeless longing.

  The exquisiteness of the revelation caressed Alice like an evening breeze. Her mind buzzed with reckless thoughts and tempting possibilities. Was she on the precipice of realizing the dream she’d let go decades earlier? And then Maureen’s memory came crashing in. She’d passed only thirteen months ago, and here was Alice having a grand old time with Leslie, reliving and reviving all those old feelings. How could she betray Maureen like that?

  “Alice?”

  She snapped out of her trance and turned toward Leslie.

  “Have I said something to make you uncomfortable?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Alice placed her empty wineglass on the table. “I just thought of Maureen for a moment. Bad timing, I know.”

  “I’m sorry. How insensitive of me. You’re still grieving.”

  “No, please don’t apologize. I’ve come to terms with her death, honestly.”

  “What was she like?” Leslie said after a brief silence.

  “Amazing. Everything I wished I could be—compassionate, driven, selfless. Maureen was my savior. When I moved to Boston, I’d given up all hope of finding love. I was bewildered and self-destructive. And then she walked into the insurance company I worked for and slowly changed the trajectory of my life.”

  “I’m so glad she found you,” Leslie said. “She sounds absolutely amazing.”

  “She was,” Alice said, staring at the stillness of the lake. She then turned to Leslie. “But she wasn’t you.”

  Another awkward pause.

  “I hate myself for saying it,” Alice said, “but…”

  “I know what that feels like—too well.”

  They both gazed out at the lake as crickets and a boisterous bullfrog filled the long, heavily laden silence. Alice could no longer bear the tension.

  “It’s getting late. I better get going.” She offered a supportive hand under Leslie’s armpit as she rose from her chair.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Leslie said. “I had a wonderful time.”

  “So did I,” Alice said with a hint of a smile. “Sorry it kind of went south toward the end.”

  “Don’t be silly, Alice.” She held Alice’s arm as they walked to the front door. “I’m here if you ever need to talk about Maureen.”

  “Thank you. That’s kind of you to offer.”

  Suddenly, Leslie threw her arms around Alice’s rib cage and hugged her as tight as her meager strength would allow. After a moment, Alice relaxed into the embrace and held Leslie, treasuring the completeness of being in her arms.

  “How I’ve missed your friendship,” Leslie said, her voice muffled against Alice’s shoulder.

  “We don’t have to miss it anymore,” Alice said.

  Still in each other’s arms they smiled as their eyes played all their old dirty, sexy tricks. Leslie licked her lips, setting Alice’s heart racing. One kiss. What harm could one kiss do?

  Foul everything up. Completely.

  Summoning a towering effort of will, Alice let go of her. “Uh-oh,” she said. “How are you supposed to get back to your walker in the kitchen?”<
br />
  Leslie chuckled. “Actually, I can manage on my own.”

  “You what? This whole night you had me thinking you needed to hold on to me?”

  Leslie confessed with a mischievous smile.

  “Good night, you little con artist.” Alice favored her with a kiss on the cheek, shaking her head at Leslie’s endearing scam.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alice’s eyelid twitched as she sat across from Rebecca on the deck of the brewery overlooking the marina. Had Rebecca’s spur-of-the-moment invitation for an afternoon craft beer-tasting been a ruse for another inquisition about Leslie? At this point Alice had neither the energy nor the inclination to fabricate the lies necessary for such a conversation.

  After sipping each sample in her flight while watching Rebecca thumb the screen of her cell phone, she could no longer stand the suspense.

  “Rebecca?”

  “Hmm?” Rebecca looked up from her phone and then slid it away from her.

  “Are you going to tell me why you invited me here on a picturesque Sunday afternoon and didn’t bring your mother along?”

  She smiled. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  Alice chuckled. “No such luck.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about me and Sage. If I tell my mother too much, she has a tendency to lose her shit. God forbid one of her kids has to deal with an ugly, real-life issue.”

  Alice relaxed into her chair. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, after Sage came home and settled in, we had a long talk. It was honest, a little harsh, but it felt good that we were so open with each other.”

  “That’s wonderful. Have you worked it out?”

  “That’s why she came back. She wants to, but I’m not sure if we can.”

  “Why not?”

  Rebecca stalled, analyzing the color of her beer in the sunlight. “She had kind of an affair.”

  Alice licked a bit of beer foam from her lip. “How do you have kind of an affair?”

  “It was with a woman in the Chicago division of her company. They met when the woman came here for training. They stayed in contact through work email after she went back, and then pretty soon it turned into Facebook messaging.”

  “An emotional affair?”

  “Sage admitted it but swears there was nothing physical.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “I think I’d prefer they just had sex once and got it over with rather than carried on an emotional attachment for five months. And how do I know it didn’t get physical? Sage was out in the San Diego division for a couple of weeks. How do I know that woman wasn’t out there with her?”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “She said she, Bianca is her name, was never out in San Diego. She said I could call Chicago to verify it.”

  Alice finished off the hoppy beer sample as she contemplated. “It seems Sage is sincere about wanting to work it out. She could’ve kept the affair a secret from you, right?”

  “I want to believe her,” Rebecca said. “I want to work it out. We’ve been together fifteen years. We have Jake and dogs and a vacation cottage in P-town. Aside from the last couple of years we’ve been drifting apart, we’ve had a pretty strong relationship.”

  Alice patted Rebecca’s shoulder. “You can’t have a long-term relationship without hitting some bumps along the way. The ones that are solid and meant to be will endure.”

  “She said she’d go to couples’ therapy if we need to work on trust.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll do what’s best for everyone.”

  Rebecca sipped her beer as she observed a boater docking his small boat. “Speaking of my mom,” she said. “I had dinner with her last night.”

  “Did you?”

  “We had an interesting chat. Very interesting.”

  “Really? About?”

  “For starters,” Rebecca said, spitting out canary feathers, “you’ll be happy to know you can stop all this bad acting. She told me everything.”

  Alice gulped salty air. “Everything?”

  “Well, yeah—that she thinks she’s a lesbian.”

  She thinks she’s a lesbian. Alice smirked. Oh, that Leslie and her semantics. Her confession seemed to conveniently overlook their torrid love affair. Suppose Leslie was to try to give a normal romance a shot. How long would they have to hide their past in the closet before everyone around them could digest the truth?

  “Alice, it’s serendipity,” Rebecca said excitedly. “You’re single, she’s single. You could go out on a date. It’ll surprise the shit out of my dad, but I think it’ll be awesome.”

  He’d be the least surprised of all.

  “Let’s not get carried away, Rebecca. Your mom and I are friends, and that’s fine.” Something in Alice made her believe it. It was hard enough having a relationship with Leslie back then, but now at her age, she needed those same old complications like she needed a broken hip.

  “Well, you don’t have to rule it out,” Rebecca said.

  Alice smiled patiently. “How about we talk more about you and Sage?”

  *

  Alice’s Bluetooth dialed Leslie’s phone number the minute she drove out of the brewery’s parking lot.

  “So, you think you’re a lesbian, huh?” Alice said when Leslie answered.

  “Hi, Alice.”

  “I just had quite an enlightening conversation with your daughter.”

  “I did, too. I came out to her yesterday,” Leslie said, sounding proud.

  “You didn’t come out,” Alice said, trying to control her agitation. “You cracked open the closet and waved at her from behind the door.”

  “I kept it simple, so she wouldn’t start asking a lot of questions.”

  “You certainly wouldn’t want to have to answer a lot of questions—truthfully anyway.”

  “Alice, what are you so upset about?”

  She waited at a red light. What was she so upset about? It’s not like they were dating. Or were they? What was Friday night? Maybe less than she’d thought. She exhaled. “Nothing. I’m just not a fan of revisionist history.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice. I don’t know why Rebecca called you and got you involved in our conversation.”

  “I know why. She wants us to go out on a date.”

  Leslie chuckled into the phone. “Wait till I get my hands on her.”

  Alice mocked her chuckling. “Sorry, but I don’t see the humor in any of this.”

  “Alice, I said I was sorry.” Leslie finally sounded appropriately wounded. “I’ll talk to her about minding her own business.”

  “It’s not her fault that she didn’t have all the information. Please don’t say anything to her. It’s really no big deal.”

  “Alice…”

  “What?” In the long pause Alice thought she’d lost the call.

  “I’m sorry,” Leslie finally said.

  “You should have that monogrammed on your shirts.”

  “I don’t know what else to—”

  Alice sighed in frustration. “Take care, Les.”

  “Yeah,” Leslie said softly. “You, too.”

  Alice ended the call and drove on. Why was she even entertaining the idea of reuniting with Leslie? She recalled the night of their love affair’s grand finale and the pain of it, as sharp as if it occurred only moments ago.

  April 1978

  A week after Bill came narrowly close to discovering her and Leslie in the act, Alice wandered around her living room, adjusting picture frames on the wall and picking lint off her carpet. Leslie was never that late for their Friday-night get-togethers. In fact, she had been early to most of them ever since they became involved, but now that everything was so uncertain, there didn’t seem to be the same urgency to steal moments alone.

  Was she going to show up at all? What if Leslie had finally tired of the double life she’d been living and wanted nothing more to do with her? She swallowed hard at the thought. How would she stand it if it were tru
e? The last few months without Leslie, Alice had barely functioned. Leslie could simply return to her busy, fulfilling family life as though Alice had been nothing more than an extended daydream. Leslie had said several times she was never unhappy in her marriage. But what would become of Alice? Her entire essence had been irretrievably changed since meeting Leslie. What had she to go back to?

  Leslie finally arrived thirty minutes late. She breezed past Alice at the door and paced in the foyer.

  “What’s wrong?” Alice attempted to settle her by holding her hands.

  “It’s Bill.”

  Lips slightly parted, her jaw locked in momentary panic. “What about him?”

  “He asked me if I was having an affair.”

  “What? With me?”

  “Not in so many words, but he’s suspicious of something. I’m scared, Alice. What if he hires a private detective to follow me?”

  “Look, calm down. It would never come to that.” She wanted to reassure herself as much as Leslie. The last thing she needed was some dime-store Columbo skulking around, asking her friends and co-workers intrusive questions about her. “What made him suspicious enough to assume you’re having an affair? Did he say?”

  “He said I’ve been acting different for a while, like I’ve been preoccupied with other things.”

  “That’s a pretty big leap from preoccupied to having an affair. Like the distance across the Grand Canyon.”

  “He also said you and I seemed like we were hiding something last week when he came home.”

  “What the hell?” Alice joined in the pacing, rubbing her forehead in thought. “What is he, paranoid?”

  “Alice, he doesn’t need to be paranoid to sense something’s different with me. I mean, my God, something is different with me. I’m totally distracted by you.”

  Alice’s bones quivered beneath her skin. The fear in Leslie’s eyes unraveled her as her own fear of what was next spread inside like a salacious rumor. “Did you come here to end this?”

  “Alice,” she whispered and touched her arm. “No, but I think—”

  “I know what you think, so just tell me straight out and get it over with.” Alice’s voice betrayed her with the vibrato of a defeated heart. She turned away to hide the visual confirmation pooling in her eyes.

 

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