by Jane Hardee
“I know what she deserves!” Michael yelled, angry at Sara for doubting her intentions with Jess. Angry at herself for the way she had treated Jess. “She deserves so much more than I can offer her.” Michael’s voice sounded small and far away even to her own ears.
“Then you need to tell her that.” Sara stood and put her hand on Michael’s arm. Michael shied away from her touch, she was so ashamed of herself. “You look like shit. Get your act together and talk to her.”
After Michael asked some obligatory questions about how Sara was doing, Michael walked her out, hailed her a cab, and said good-bye.
Returning to her work space, Michael stared at the floor trying to make sense of what Sara had told her. Blood rushed through her ears; her hands and even her legs shook. She sat and tried to control the nausea threatening to overtake her. If the dream had been real…then maybe Jess had wanted to make love to her that night. Maybe Jess hadn’t regretted it in the morning.
And Michael had just left her.
“I just left her,” Michael whispered out loud. “I left her with a note and a damned drawing.” More anger at herself tore through her as she shoved her sketches to the floor and held her head in her hands.
Images of Jess filled her mind in a rush. Not just their night together, but Jess as a teenager cheering for Michael as she played point guard on the varsity basketball team. The time when Jess helped wash her first car because it was so filthy. She would never forget the sight of Jess in that little pink bikini top and cut-offs. Michael recalled the time when she had the flu in college, and Jess had come up from FSU to stay with her, unmindful of her own health as she had cared for Michael. She even went to the crappy dorm kitchen to make her mother’s homemade chicken noodle soup. She pictured Jess with her students. The way she treated them, as if they were all perfect. She pictured Jess’s eyes lighting up when she entered a room or touched people lightly as she spoke.
Jess was not the kind of girl you slept with and tossed away. Michael would never forgive herself for treating her in such a way. How could she do anything to make Jess feel unwanted when she was anything but? Distancing herself from Jess, denying her feelings, convincing herself Jess thought their night together was a mistake…these were all things Michael had done to spare her own feelings. She had not once taken Jess’s feelings into consideration. Everything she had done to deny her feelings and protect their friendship, it was all for herself. How could she be so selfish?
Marguerite’s words echoed in her mind. Was she denying Jess her love? Would Jess even want her after everything? It didn’t matter anymore. Michael was tired of fighting it. Of fighting Jess. She needed to come clean and tell Jess everything. She deserved better than Michael could ever offer her…but she also deserved the truth.
*
That night Michael called Marguerite’s secretary and asked for a morning appointment with her. The secretary, a woman with a strong but professional New York accent, had said the only available time Marguerite had would be right at the beginning of the workday. Although Michael still had much to do, she had agreed right away to the meeting.
Now, standing in the elevator of the new La Femme headquarters, staring at the numbers on the digital display go up, Michael began to feel a little nervous about the meeting. She knew it was a long shot and that Marguerite might not agree and simply tell her she was insane, but she had to give it a shot. It was for Jess. It was for her forgiveness.
As the elevator doors slid open, Michael clutched her portfolio tightly in her hands. In it she had laid out her plans and was about to throw her heart and future into Marguerite’s hands. She said good morning to the secretary, who waved her toward a gigantic pair of oak doors with modern stainless steel handles.
Michael knocked three times and heard Marguerite’s muffled voice tell her to enter.
“Michael. You look as though your mood has improved since the last time we spoke,” Marguerite said, standing behind the most massive desk Michael had ever seen. For a moment she wondered if it had been built in the office. It was so big she knew it wouldn’t have fit through the door in one piece; Michael often took notice of room dimensions that others didn’t notice. The office was impeccably decorated. Large pieces of modern art, some of which Michael recognized, hung from three walls. The wall behind Marguerite’s desk showcased an amazing view of the New York City skyline. To the right was a large conference table littered with magazines, sketches, and advertisements. Michael assumed this was where the powers that be would meet to decide the contents in the next issue of La Femme.
As Marguerite rounded the large desk, she motioned for Michael to follow her to the left side of the office, which had an impressive bar, lined with many top-shelf brands of liquor and rum. Michael was surprised someone would keep so much alcohol in her office. She guessed everyone was entitled to a little downtime…even if it was in her own office.
“What brings you to see me, Michael? I stopped by your space on my way up, and I must say, she is looking fantastic. I assume we are still on schedule?” Marguerite brought out two champagne flutes and held one toward Michael. “Mimosa?”
“No. Thank you. A little too early.” She gave Marguerite a tight smile. Not to mention the fact that Michael had promised herself to cut back since she found out about her kiss with Jess. She didn’t think her drinking was out of control, but the fact that something of that magnitude could happen without her being fully aware of it scared her a little.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. And I apologize for getting so…emotional last time we spoke.”
“Oh, no need. Emotions run deep within us all. Why should any of us be ashamed?” Marguerite continued to make herself a mimosa and poured Michael some plain orange juice in one of the flutes. She rounded the bar and sat down on a low plush couch, indicating with a nod of her head that Michael should join her. “I know you did not come to see me to discuss emotions.” She sipped her drink. “What is on your mind, Michael?”
Michael took a long swig of her juice before she began. Now that the moment was upon her to ask for Marguerite’s help, she wished perhaps there was some champagne in her drink after all.
“In a way I guess I am here to talk about emotion. One in particular. I’m in love with Jessica. She is my life. My muse. As you can see from my work.” Michael looked away. Openness was not something she was used to when it came to discussing her feelings, especially her feelings for Jess.
Her resolve to ask for Marguerite’s help was about to crumble, but she knew she had to go on. If she wanted any chance at Jess’s forgiveness or a future with her, it would depend on how well she was able to convey her feelings now. She had to make this count.
“I need her to forgive me,” Michael felt flustered. “I need her to understand that I…I—”
“Worship the ground she walks on?” Marguerite supplied, as if it were obvious.
Michael looked up, praying for the courage to continue and put words to her feelings. “Yes. The ground she walks on. The air she breathes. She is everything to me and I need her back in my life.”
Marguerite smiled. “What is it you need from me?”
*
Two hours later after pleading her case and showing Marguerite her new sketches, Michael sat quietly, waiting for a response.
“It is quite unconventional for the gathering we had in mind,” Marguerite began.
Michael’s shoulders slumped. “I understand.”
“But…” Marguerite continued, a trace of a smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “I love it.”
Michael smiled as big as she dared while trying to remain professional. “Marguerite, I can’t…I mean…Thank you.”
“I have one condition, Michael.” Marguerite held up one finger and returned Michael’s smile.
“Anything…”
“You must allow me to share your story with our La Femme readers.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Michael stuck out her hand and grab
bed Marguerite’s with what she hoped was not too much force.
“See the head contractor, Marlowe. Tell him to do as you say. I trust you, Michael. You have made this project real. Sharing this at our opening will make it as real for everyone else as it is for you.”
*
It had been almost six weeks since her night with Michael, but only minutes since Jess last thought of her. The beginning of the summer had been rough and Jess was sad to say good-bye to another school year, if only because work kept her mind off Michael. She found it easy to occupy her time with preparing lessons and activities for the upcoming school year. The principal allowed her to get into her classroom early even though the custodians were not completely through with their summer cleaning. The days were getting easier. The nights were a different story. She had become a regular at her local branch of the Atlanta Public Library and read nearly the entire best-sellers list. Next she concentrated on mysteries, making sure to avoid any titles that alluded to romance. She would read until her eyes grew weary, trying to escape into another world, a world where she wasn’t overcome with loneliness. Reading occupied her mind until she could no longer focus on the words, until she would turn out the light and pray for sleep. On the nights where sleep came easily, Jess was plagued by dreams of her one night with Michael. Tangled sheets, sweat-slicked bodies, carnal moans. On more than one occasion she found herself startled awake. The only way to assuage the hunger was to take matters into her own hands, but her orgasms were hard won, and not nearly worth the effort.
One particular night, Jess was awoken by a dream of swimming with Michael in the lake at Dogwood Bluff. The starring role of the fantasy was Michael’s strong, adept hands. She could feel them everywhere—on her face, her breasts, her legs, tangled in her hair. She had never thought of her scalp as an erogenous zone until Michael’s fingers had rubbed and gently scraped nearly every inch of her head. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly five a.m. and decided to go ahead and get up. No more sleep after that dream.
After a quick shower, Jess poured herself a cup of almond milk and forced herself to eat some of a blueberry muffin. As she headed to the table, she picked up the growing stack of mail from the counter. Plopping down at the kitchen table with a groan, she sorted through the mass of papers and magazines. Junk. Bill. Junk. Card. Junk. As she continued to sort, one envelope in particular caught her eye. It was a heavy card stock envelope in an iridescent lavender color. Baby shower maybe? There was no return address.
Putting aside the other mail, Jess gently pulled open the flap and pulled out the card.
To Miss Jessica Gable
The Board of Directors of Le Femme
cordially invite you to a festive evening
celebrating the unveiling of our original lobby sculpture.
Please RSVP by the 28th of July.
La Femme Magazine, LLC.
Jess nearly fell out of her chair. Was Michael reaching out to her? Her mind raced as she considered all the possibilities. Surely not. Michael had not attempted to contact her in any way since they had been together. The list of invitees was probably made as soon as Michael was asked to complete this project. How could she possibly face Michael knowing that their night together meant nothing to her? Would Michael even want her to come?
Powering up her laptop, Jess made a decision. It didn’t matter to her if Michael wanted her there or not, she would go. This was the perfect opportunity for Jess to say good-bye to Michael, get closure, and move on.
Tickets to New York were expensive, and she would need to buy something formal to wear. Something amazing. She could handle saying good-bye to Michael, she’d been doing okay so far, but she was going to make it truly difficult for Michael to watch her walk away. If Michael didn’t want her, fine. But she was not about to shrivel up and disappear. This experience had taught her she had the strength to survive, and as much as her heart hurt, she took comfort in knowing she was strong enough to get through this, even without the support of her best friend. And one-time lover.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You look amazing,” Sara said, as Jess entered the guest room in her second-floor walkup. When Jess told Sara she was coming for a visit, Sara was thrilled but also expressed her concern about Jess seeing Michael again. Jess assured Sara it was something she had to do, but now that the time had come, Jess wasn’t as confident as before. Making up her mind in Atlanta had been easy, but the thought of actually being in the same room with Michael made her stomach flutter. She knew there couldn’t be anything between them, but she didn’t know how she could face those beautiful brown eyes and not melt on the spot.
The most amazing friendship in her life had culminated in an eye-opening and soul-gripping sexual encounter, and it was now all over. Surreal. It was hard to imagine her life without Michael, but she would have to. After all, they hadn’t spoken in two months. Though Jess was heartbroken to know that the one person she felt a true connection with did not return her feelings, she knew she had to move on. There were things in her life that she wanted: a career, a loving partner, children. If Michael wasn’t going to be a part of that, then so be it. Jess knew, however, she would never love any woman the way she loved Michael. Maybe she would adopt and be a single mom, but she was not about to deny herself the happy life she envisioned. She could move on. She would move on.
“I’m glad you look so good. She needs to know what she’ll be missing,” Sara grumbled, balancing a laundry basket on her hip and glancing at Jess from the doorway.
“Sara. That’s not what this is about,” Jess replied, with a lightness in her voice she didn’t feel. Jess smoothed down the sides of her hair with a brush. She had pinned her hair up in a vintage victory roll and let the back fall into soft waves. Her short, bouncy bob had grown out and she enjoyed the new length as she looked at herself in the mirror. “I just need to do this. I need to face her so I can move on.” Jess turned around, dabbing her eyes so her tears wouldn’t mess with her makeup. “How do I look?” She wore an A-line dress with plum-colored lace detail at the neck.
Sara looked her younger sister up and down. “Beautiful. You look like Mom.”
Jess enjoyed the compliment. Her mother had been the bravest and most beautiful woman. If Jess had an ounce of her fortitude, she knew she could get through the evening, and looking the part was a step in the right direction.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Jess said, kissing Sara on the cheek. She grabbed her small clutch purse and headed for the door. “Will I have to walk far for a cab?”
“Just to the corner. There should be plenty this time of night. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No. I need to do this by myself. And I need Michael to know I can do it by myself.”
*
The taxi slowly pulled up to the La Femme building as the procession of cars ahead emptied their guests out onto the sidewalk covered with a red carpet. Delicate white lights twinkled on all the trees and bushes. The humid New York air did nothing to detract from the beauty and freshness of the white hydrangeas flanking the entryway. Jess saw several celebrities she knew that had graced the cover of La Femme and many other beautiful people she assumed were models. It was obvious to Jess that this was a building that housed many businesses, but La Femme was indeed the most successful.
A large man with a neatly manicured beard opened the door for Jess and bid her good evening. He offered her a hand to help her out of the cab, and for a moment, Jess was embarrassed and feared she might be the only guest that showed up in a cab rather than a limo or private vehicle. Putting her insecurities aside and holding her head high, she headed into the lobby.
As she entered, she noticed a large kiosk to the right and a luxurious waiting area to the left with low gray couches and velvety purple pillows. Everything was decorated with pink and red flowers, not to mock femininity, she guessed, but to embrace the fact that this was a successful magazine run entirely by women. In the rear of the large lobby a
grand staircase led to a bank of elevators. To the right of the staircase Jess could see the large sculpture covered by an equally large tarp.
A server walked by and offered her a glass of champagne. She mumbled a thank you as he walked away, amazed she was able to find her voice. Hoping the bubbly drink would help calm her nerves, she drank more than she probably should have in one swig. After glancing around to see if anyone had noticed, Jess almost dropped her glass when she spotted Michael across the room.
Michael was dressed immaculately in a tuxedo, but Jess was taken aback by how different she looked. She had lost weight. She looked tired. And…“heartbroken” was the word that came to mind. Excusing herself from to the circle of admirers gathered around her, Michael walked toward Jess with purpose.
Her breath caught. I can’t do this.
Before Jess could formulate a thought or decide what she might say to Michael, a sultry voice sounded over the microphone. Michael looked toward the voice, then longingly at Jess, and turned on her heel to head toward the staircase, which served as a makeshift stage for the evening.
“Good evening,” a beautiful woman said from behind the microphone. For the second time, Jess felt speechless. This woman was breathtaking.
Michael joined the woman on the staircase, standing just behind her and to the left. Jess swallowed. Was this the type of woman Michael had been spending time with while in New York? How could Jess compete with this woman? With this life? The woman continued to speak. “I am Marguerite LeBeau, editor and chief of La Femme magazine. Welcome to you all. And thank you for joining us on this auspicious occasion. La Femme began as a free publication for women nearly twelve years ago. And here we are today, opening a new headquarters as it has become one of the top three magazines for woman in this country.”
While fighting her growing nausea and apprehension, Jess did register what hard work and determination it must have taken to build a magazine to such success. The people in the room stopped milling about, and all their attention was centered on the stage. If she attempted to leave now, she would surely interrupt the dedication of Michael’s sculpture. She would wait until the breathtaking Aphrodite was done talking, then she’d make a run for it.