by Nicole Conn
Oh my God! She stopped herself, suddenly realizing she had been standing in the same position taking the same picture of the riverbed the entire time she had been daydreaming about Peyton.
She shivered, turned and walked to her car.
*
Peyton sat with Wave long after Pinot Latte had closed, as they killed the last of some of Wave’s scotch.
“Why her?”
“Trust me…if I had any way for it not to be…”
“You know...” Wave pursed her lips, then smacked them heartily as she savored the scotch. “Maybe we’re lettin’ our pessimism get the better of us. I suppose everything doesn’t have to be so black and white. Whatya think?”
“It’s black and white.”
“Why?”
“Because when it’s not, I seem to get decimated.”
Wave mused, professorially. “Maybe there’s a gray somewhere in here— hell, there are any number of colors between black and white. Blimey, the other day I thought I’d gone daft looking at paint chips with all the endless possibilities of green. After all, me love, we do live in a rainbow world, you and I, and there should be no end of color outcome in the rainbow spectrum. Maybe you aren’t passion pink…maybe you’re...watermelon—what—could have been?”
Peyton glanced at her friend. Seriously?
*
Elena spoke with Tyler and Lily at the same time, in his courtyard, drinking one of his latest “love wines” composed of dandelion, rose and hibiscus.
“Not bad, silk pie.” Lily squelched a grimace at the aftertaste. “But not quite as good as your last, I’m afraid. I’m telling you if you let me get a real sommelier—I did this great deal for the Vineyard Tasting in Sonoma—I could find you an expert to make this stuff sing!” Lily snapped her fingers, excited by the idea. “Yeah, and then we could start our own label—we could call it Drunk on Love or something like that—”
“Oh Lily, this wine isn’t about money—it’s about feeling.”
Lily smirked.
“Back to our girl here. And then what happened?” Tyler asked eagerly. Elena had begun to tell them of the conversation she and Peyton had had three days ago. “But the thing is this, I don’t want her to go away, or take space—”
“Of course you don’t,” Tyler sympathized.
“Come on though,” Lily interjected pragmatically, “you’ve got to give the girl a break.”
“I’m telling you, I’ve never met anyone I’ve felt so comfortable with and just plain like…I don’t know why or how, but we were meant to be.”
“Meant to be?” Lily blurted, “you mean—”
“Sweetheart,” Tyler turned to Lily, “you need to play well with others. What I think our girl is saying is she’s found a soul mate.”
*
Peyton stared at Wave. “Watermelon?”
“It’s a color. They showed me on that wand thingy. I’m just sayin’ maybe this doesn’t all have to end with a…a bloody hanging.”
*
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Elena countered, “I thought you’d explain it to me.”
“I think it’s fairly evident.” Lily’s tone had turned brisk, businesslike.
“It’s so strange. I just feel like we need to be with each other. I know that sounds crazy—like, well, we are supposed to be with one another…”
“Yeah, that sounded much less crazy.” Lily’s voice was laced with irony.
“Well, ladies.” Tyler cleared his throat in theatrical suggestiveness, then said with more than a tinge of sarcasm, “As I may have mentioned before, sweetie, there are infinite kinds of soul mates. But she probably falls into one of three general kinds of soul mates: The Karmic soul mate, you know—someone you’ve got unfinished business with, like a frightened secretary and her scurrilous boss, or where there is major business that needs to be worked out from a previous life, a mentor and his student, a killer and his victim. Also the common garden variety soul mate that is an intense kinship—like two sisters, a dog and its guardian, business partners, a comedy team. The last but ultimate of soul mates is the Twin Flame—a connection of such irrefutable togetherness that no one can explain it or defy it. It is, quite simply, meant to be.”
“Meant to be. ThatMea be. Ths the ticket,” Lily concurred.
*
“Has it occurred to you that she might feel the same way?” Wave offered.
“Come on, Wave. She’s never even experimented with women in college. Never even thought about so much as a kiss, for chrissake. Even her best friend’s kissed another woman. It’s never occurred to her because she’s as straight as they get.”
“You never know. Maybe she’s never considered kissing another woman because she hasn’t met a woman she’s wanted to kiss. Up till now.”
“Don’t even—”
“I’m just saying, maybe you need to keep an open mind.” Wave took another sip. “Even if I can’t.”
*
Lily turned very serious very suddenly “So, what are you actually doing, Elena?”
Elena shook her head. “I’m not certain.”
“Just remember,” Lily stated, as she stood up to take her leave, “this isn’t a world you can just visit. It’s not fair to her.”
*
Peyton left for New York the next day. She was just about to leave her Manhattan hotel for a meeting when Elena called. She looked at the number, swore she wasn’t going to answer it, but picked it up nonetheless.
“Hey, Peyton!” Elena’s voice was full of excitement. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
“How was your trip?”
“Okay. Flight was a little rough.” She was now on the street signaling for a cab, and did not bother to soften the curtness in her tone.
Silence.
“So when are you back in town?” Elena asked, her voice a little less certain.
“Uhmm…well…I think Tuesday.”
“Oh…that’s great, actually. Tuesday Barry’s got a prayer meeting and Nash is studying for finals. I’ll be free.”
Peyton thought quickly. “Well, you know I think I’m having dinner with my agent when I get back. To go over all the contracts.”
“Oh.” Elenajustls. Elenas voice sounded small and hurt.
Peyton gritted her teeth. “Well, maybe I’ll have time before. I…I think we’ll have to play it by ear.”
Another silence.
“Peyton?” Elena asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t I see you when you get back...when you have the time.”
“Sure… You know, I think you forgot a pair of your earrings at the house.”
“Not for the earrings, silly.”
“Well…in case you were looking for them I mean.”
That night Elena found her mind wandering as she responded to all her Holy Church of Light e-mails. She glanced around. Everyone appeared to be in bed. She considered a moment longer, then typed in the letters l-e-s-b-i-a-n in the Google search. The search page flooded with results.
She swallowed, got up, walked around the house quietly, surreptitiously, making sure everyone was indeed in bed. Back in her office she paced momentarily, then sighed heavily. She sat back down at her desk and studied the sites. Was she really going to do this?
She clicked on a site. And then she Googled to another site. She went to search lesbian lifestyle and then followed up with lesbian books, lesbian movies.
What was that? A creak on a floorboard? Elena slammed her laptop shut. She held very still for quite some time, then realized she was being utterly ridiculous. If she wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to get caught, she needed to go somewhere where no one could catch her.
She grabbed her laptop and headed to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, then sat on her makeup bench and pulled up YouTube; pulled up lesbian kisses, watched scenes from Claire of the Moon, Desert Hearts, and clips from so many other movies she couldn’t keep the names straight.
Safely sequestered, she eagerly digested the information before her. As she watched lesbian love scene after lesbian love scene, a myriad of emotions overcame her, intrigue, awkwardness, embarrassment, fascination—but none gave her the feeling that she had expected.
The next morning, she sat at the dining room table, tired from her late-night research, sipping Earl Grey tea. She picked up the phone, called Peyton’s land line, a phone she knew would be answered by a machine. “Yeah, Peyton, it’s me. You know, I don’t have to get those earrings—I know you’re going to be tired when you get home. I’ll call you later in the week. Hope you are having a great trip.”
*
Flying back to Los Angeles, Peyton sat tapping her seatbelt with two fingers in series of threes that equaled nine. Over and over again as she peered through the window and the endless sky and knew, had known even when she had promised Elena that they could continue to see one another, pretend to be “pals, BFF’s, whatever,” the reality was that the situation was not going to work. Not even remotely.
Peyton continued to tap as she stared out the window.
When Peyton returned and heard Elena’s voice telling her that she couldn’t meet after all, and hoping she had had a nice trip, she was relieved. But then she played the message again. Again. And again. She sensed an air of finality in the words. And the tone.
A day passed, then another. Peyton didn’t know what to think. She was getting exactly what she wanted: space. Only it wasn’t working all that well for her.
The following evening Elena called while she was out, and when Peyton returned she listened three times to the message: “Hi Peyton. It’s me. Elena. So…I’m hoping you’ve had some time to settle back in…and…well, I, I wanted to know if we could get together. You know, to talk—to talk about the project. Okay then. Call me. If…well, when you get this.”
Peyton paced. Listened to it again.
“What are you doing? You idiot!” she screamed at herself. She went ’round and ’round about not calling her, but then, thinking she was just being petty and small-minded, and that she should just tell her this really wasn’t going to work at this point. But every time she picked up the phone, she couldn’t make the call.
“You are some kinda chickenshit!” Peyton walked away from the phone yet again, but as she did it rang. She waited a second, picked it up.
“Hi.”
The second she heard that voice, the liquid, beautifully accented voice, Peyton felt her chest tighten. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” Elena’s voice was soft, sweet, almost curious. “Peyton…I…I—”
“Look, you don’t have to say anything—”
“Yes. I do.”
An agonizing silence ensued.
“You aren’t the only one…Peyton…”
Peyton clenched her jaw, eyes shut. “What…what do you mean.”
“You aren’t the only one.”
“The only one what?”
“That is confused.” A long pause, and Peyton could hear Elena struggling. “I—I am so confused.”
“Confused about what I said?”
“Yes.”
Oh, crap! Peyton wasn’t really sure how much clearer she could have been.
“About what I said?”
“Yes…well, no…I understood what you told me…” Elena paused. “I just wasn’t sure why I was responding the way I was…and as long as you didn’t bring anything up I didn’t need to look at what was going on for me.”
“I’m sorry, Elena, now I’m confused.” Peyton felt exasperated and anxious.
“What I’m saying is it didn’t make any sense. I mean even before you told me how you were feeling, I felt as if I needed to see you. Be with you. Why did I feel the need to see you—so strongly? Why did I check my e-mails, a hundred times a day? Why did I feel so disappointed if we couldn’t get together? I felt like a child who couldn’t put two and two together.”
Peyton paced.
“I felt silly, you know?”
“I think so?” Peyton wasn’t quite sure what Elena was trying to say.
“It’s just that—” Elena stopped. “Oh, my God. Nash just walked in…I’m going to have to call you back.”
Elena hung up. Peyton looked at the phone. You’re shitting me.
*
“I spent last night and the whole day today looking at lesbian sites,” Elena told Peyton as Peyton lounged in bed on her phone later that same night. It was near midnight. Everyone had finally retired for the night and, Elena had told her, it was the only moment she’d had to herself to return to their earlier conversation.
“I’m not attracted to them, Peyton. Any of the women in them.”
Peyton found herself laughing.
“But what does that mean?” Elena pleaded.
“I don’t know. What does it mean to you?”
“I don’t think I’m a lesbian, Peyton.”
Peyton could hear the long sigh that accompanied Elena’s assertion. Then heard knocking in the background accompanied by a low mumbling from a male voice.
“Yes…I’m fine. I’ll be there in a second.” Then to her, quickly, “I…I’ve got to go…I’m sorry.”
*
The next night, right before dinner, Peyton’s phone rang again.
“Can we just agree to call it a serious crush?”
Another long pause.
Elena continued, “I don’t know why—or what it is about you–and the way we are together. I just want to be in it…I just want to be around you—all I can think about it…is…”
Elena stopped.
Barry stood in the doorway studying her. She quickly flipped her phone closed, horrified that she had just hung up on Peyton, horrified that her husband now stood before her, a questioning look in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he queried.
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly.
His eyes drilled into her own. “Something’s burning.”
He looked at his wife for another long moment, then left the room.
*
Peyton was just finishing a call with Emily about a possible new assignment that would present the opportunity to travel to Paris. Paris! She had only visited this extraordinary city once with her mother, before she knew she was a lesbian and knew anything at all about the rich and textured universe of the Left Bank, the expatriates, the literati of Paris in the ’20s and its unique lesbian subculture. Even though she hated traveling because her OCD made her flight-phobic, Paris was an adventure she would not let slip through her fingers.
She had just hung up when her doorbell rang.
Peyton walked to the door, still distracted by the call and when she opened it she was utterly taken aback to see Elena standing there.
“Hey—” she managed.
But Elena did not respond, nor did she wait to be invited in. She strode in, put a hand to Peyton’s chest and gently pushed Peyton up against the wall. Their faces were inches apart. Before Peyton could even speak Elena’s amazing brown eyes pierced her own until she could barely hold her gaze.
Elena’s eyes continued to laser into Peyton’s. A question lingered, momentarily. Elena slowly, agonizingly slowly, moved her lips closer to Peyton’s, Elena’s eyes still holding Peyton’s, as her breathing became more ragged. Surprisingly it was Elena’s eyes that gave Peyton strength, and before she could utter Elena’s name, Elena’s lips gently grazed her own.
Peyton buckled. Hands trembling she reached for Elena’s shoulders to hold on for dear life as she succumbed to Elena’s lips, the silky gentle questioning, the invitation, the exploration, the sensation blinding her, sinking her as she let Elena’s lips own her and then, because she could not hold back a second longer, began to kiss Elena in return, answering the hunger, the need, the waiting, a thudding in her temples blotting out the world.
“Elena…”
“Oh…I knew you’d feel like this.” Elena’s voice was low, husky, murmuring the words against her li
ps. “Soft…so soft…like velvet...”
Peyton felt her knees go numb, but she managed to breathe, “Look, we can stop right now,” still kissing her, “stop here before we go any further.”
“Really?” Elena’s lips continued to linger ever so gently against her own, the vibrations of her voice as erotic as their touch. “Are you afraid to be alone here with me?”
“Yes...”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Peyton insisted, but the exquisite feeling was so present as Elena’s lips continued to caress her own, the intensity of her gaze, the pureness of her want, until that was all she knew, Elena’s lips on hers, her silky tongue now thrusting gently against her own, the seduction into a new world where nothing existed but Elena enveloping her, where thinking ceased and for the first time ever Peyton found herself engulfed, completely lost in a kiss.
Elena’s hands found Peyton’s hair as Peyton’s hands snaked their way up Elena’s back. Completely swept away, Peyton was aware of a frenzy of warning bells. They were heading to a place from which they could not return. But Elena was now master of their fates, holding Peyton fast in an embrace that neither could break, both fully absorbed in the kiss, their bodies pressing ever closer together as Elena, again the master choreographer, moved Peyton near her couch, and without parting, they tumbled upon it, the urgency and heat of the kiss creating more heat, more desire, more intimacy, more layers uncovered, stripping themselves bare. The desperation of that first entanglement easing into deeper exploration as they continued to taste and feel one another, hands softly exploring, a long sigh escaping them both, as Peyton tried one last feeble time to reason, even as Elena’s mouth moved firmly upon her own, owning her, until Peyton, senses reeling, thought she could no longer breathe. Finally, a tenderness to the kisses, a sweet softness, the purity of desire sated for a moment.