Jukebox

by Gina Noelle Daggett

  The lock on the door was gone; there was no more hiding.

  Back at her barstool, Harper pulled the bills from her stack of change and headed to the jukebox. Sure the new box would be full of Lynard Skynard, Led Zeppelin, Johnny Cash, she wondered if she’d know any of the songs. It was a dive bar, after all. Divier than ever.

  Standing at the glass, the prism-esque CDs spinning in a window above the music lists, Harper scanned the albums. It had been full of records back in the day.

  As she read the labels, she pressed her forehead against the glass. The music was much the same, just a different conduit.

  Looking at the titles, she could remember nights, moments even, she’d played so many of them.

  First, she picked Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds.” As the keyboard reached the speakers, Harper leaned into the jukebox and closed her eyes. She listened to the whole song before playing another, this time Neil Diamond’s “Hello Again,” another stinger, one she’d played over and over in Europe while they were apart. She smiled when “Secret Lovers” by Atlantic Star started, remembering all the times they almost got caught. She saw Rich’s face, wondered where he was in life. If he’d married.

  Had kids.

  Things got a shade darker for Harper when she played Wynonna’s “Is It Over Yet,” and suddenly it was as if she was leaving Arizona all over again. In her mind, Harper drove by

  the Dunlop house in her U-Haul just like she had, three loops of contemplation as she decided whether or not to stop, say a dramatic goodbye before heading to Seattle. She didn’t. By then, she and Grace hadn’t spoken in eight months. She never dreamed the gag would last twelve years in all. The ruse still in its final act. She wondered now, standing alone at Ernie’s, if things would’ve been different if Grace had known she was leaving. She was done with the what-if’s. Had surrendered them so long ago.

  But that little girl…

  Drifting off, Harper’s mind went back to her, the white bow in her hair, the way her little hands clenched her mom’s fingers, the same ones Harper had sucked on, slowly and thoroughly, days before at the beach.

  Why had Grace kept her a secret?

  “Late For The Sky”

  Jackson Browne

  It took Grace about two hours to show up.

  Harper’s phone never rang because Grace knew exactly where to find her.

  Grace wore a black sleeveless dress with her hair straight—

  flat-ironed—a look Harper had never seen. When she walked into Ernie’s, Harper had just ordered another gin and tonic. The last one, she decided. Keeping a close eye on the digital clock above the register, she was planning on leaving at eight. Grace made it in the nick of time.

  All Grace held was a car key. And she was out of breath at the door. Harper, tipsy and not as agitated now, met her halfway.

  “Your timing is perfect,” Harper said, grabbing Grace’s hand. Peaches & Herb’s “Reunited” had just begun. “Dance with me. I played this for us.”

  Grace pulled away. “What are you doing in town? Why did you come?”

  Harper tried to twirl Grace. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Harper.” Grace yanked her arm away harder, aggravated.

  “If I’d wanted you here, I would have invited you.”

  “You’re upset?”

  “Of course I’m upset.”

  0

  “I can’t believe you’re upset, when I’m the one that was lied to.” “I never lied about anything,” Grace said, and she was right.

  She hadn’t. She’d just omitted one very major detail. “It’s been such a hard twenty-four hours and then you show up,” Grace said, exhaling a big breath. “It totally complicates things.” Her hands were shaking.

  “I don’t understand,” Harper said. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I’m not. Abby is upset and doesn’t understand what’s going on.”“Neither do I,” Harper said, holding her ground, and then smiling a little. “Abby?”

  “Abby,” Grace said, tempering too.

  “That’s pretty. What’s her full name?”

  “Abigail Junebug Dunlop.”

  “Junebug?”

  “It was Jamie’s grandmother’s name.”

  For a moment, Harper forgot Abby was half Jamie; she looked nothing like that bastard troll.

  A man at the pool table broke a rack of balls with a loud crack, startling both of them. Together, they walked to the bar and sat down.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t ready,” Grace said, scooting her stool in. “I was afraid. I thought it would scare you off.”

  “Scare me off? I’ve spent every day of the last decade pining for you and you think I’d run? Over something like this?”

  Grace closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’d just gotten you back and with all the drama and trouble I caused, the timing didn’t seem right.”

  Grace ordered a dark beer, Harper a glass of water. They each took a moment to themselves.

  “I’m sorry I lied,” Grace said. “Well, not lied, but that I wasn’t totally honest. It won’t happen again.”

  “I’m sorry I just showed up.”

  “Were you checking up on me?”

  “No,” Harper lied.

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Should I?”

  Again, they took another moment. Harper focused on the water, Grace on the ice sheen covering her frozen pint.

  “I’m sorry,” Harper said. “I thought my showing up would be a good thing. I was so excited to see your parents.”

  Grace put her head down, said “Christ” under her breath.

  “What’s she like? Abby.”

  Looking up, Grace’s eyes brightened. “She’s the greatest thing ever. She’s sweet and thoughtful. And funny. She loves horses.”

  “Just like you.”

  “I guess. And she loves to play the piano. Last night, we were at her recital in the living room. The concert I mentioned,” Grace said, “it was mostly chopsticks.”

  “Like mother like daughter.”

  Grace shook her head. “Not so sure that’s a good thing at this point.”

  “Whatever,” Harper said. “Why the hell was Jamie over?”

  “He was just dropping Abby off.”

  “God, I hate him so much,” Harper said, having never admitted it so flagrantly.

  “Me too. I knew what it looked like, him answering the door.

  You know how he is. So invading. I was worried you’d think something weird was going on.”

  “I did at first, but the more I thought about it…” Harper looked at Grace’s hand. The ring was gone again. “Why were you wearing your wedding ring earlier? And not now?”

  Grace looked at her finger. “Well,” she said, “that’s the other reason I’m home.” She closed her eyes as stress sucked out what little confidence she had left. She deflated, so much that there was almost a physical transformation. “I’ve got an important mediation with Jamie Thursday and I thought if I wore my wedding ring this week, it would go smoother. Maybe Jamie and his lawyers would go easier on me. They’re like pit bulls, his legal team.” Grace rubbed her temples. “I don’t know.”

  “Is it about your settlement?”

  “No. It’s about Abby.”

  Grace, getting visibly upset, explained. “She’s not with me in Oregon because I’ve given Jamie temporary custody.”

  “What? Why in the world?”

  Harper moved her chair and put her arm around Grace.

  “He’s been blackmailing me,” she cried. Rage began pumping inside Harper. “He’s been blackmailing me to get full custody of Abby.”

  “That. Fucking. Asshole.”

  Grace used the damp napkin to wipe her eyes, her nose. “You don’t even know what a monster he’s become.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Harper suddenly felt twenty feet tall, her protective muscles expanding like the Hulk.r />
  “Ugh, I can’t stop these tears. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I fucking hate him.”

  Harper scratched Grace’s back. “What could he possibly have against you? The Grace I remember wouldn’t let anybody blackmail her.”

  “The Grace I remember wouldn’t either,” she said. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” She took a sip. “He says he’ll tell Mummy everything if I fight him on it. We’re meeting tomorrow because I’m negotiating visitation rights.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I don’t want to push him too far, there’s no telling what he’s capable of.”

  “Tell Mummy everything? What do you mean? Everything?”

  “Everything.” Grace said, looking around, lowering her voice. “You know. About the affair and stuff.”

  “Wait, your mom doesn’t know about the affair?”

  “Of course not,” Grace said, clearly flummoxed by the thought.

  “Or about us?”

  “God no.”

  “You mean you haven’t told your parents you’re gay?”

  “Baby,” Grace said, “I can’t tell my parents. Mummy would have a nervous breakdown. You know how she is. And, bigger yet, the consequences,” she said, pausing and swallowing hard,

  “would be horrendous.”

  Harper sat back in disbelief. It hadn’t occurred to her that Grace would still be living a lie. She, herself, had been out for so long. Grace simply wanted to pick up where they’d left off?

  “Wow. I just”—Harper looked at Grace—“I had no idea you were still in the closet.”

  “That’s a big reason why I moved to Portland for law school,”

  Grace said. “To get the hell out of Paradise Valley so I could…”

  “…hide,” Harper interrupted.

  “No. Be with you.”

  “But what about your daughter? How can you let Jamie have this power over you? And at such a price.” Harper stood, herself getting upset. “Why aren’t you going after full custody and fighting like hell for it? You have something over Jamie, too, remember? Like that cocaine habit you mentioned. And his affairs.”

  Grace sat with her arms crossed, listening.

  As Harper lectured Grace, old resentment billowed up from the pit of her stomach. A new song came over the speaker, one Harper hadn’t played. “Late for the Sky” by Jackson Browne.

  “I want to tell them. I”—she stopped, distressed—“just haven’t yet. Please, sit down.”

  Harper finally did. A fidgety, dismantled Grace spun the ashtray in circles as Harper’s imaginary world crumbled. Life is never what you want it to be. What you think. What you expect.

  “What bullshit story did you tell them about leaving Abby behind in Arizona?”

  Grace sighed. “They think I left Abby so I could get things established in Portland first.”

  Harper shook her head, tried to contain her irritation. As the lies and deception escalated, she wondered how Grace could have not shared this with her the night before. All of it. She was a coward. Always had been. Strong as hell in some ways, but totally gutless in others.

  “I can’t believe you’re still in the closet,” Harper said, burned again.

  “For now,” Grace said. “I’m going to come out. I am.”

  Harper watched the bartender make a Spanish coffee, the

  sugary blue flames charring the glass.

  “You of all people understand how my family is,” Grace pleaded. “I just can’t do it right now. I just can’t. You understand?

  Don’t you? My whole family is crazy.”

  “What are you waiting for? When’s the time going to be right? We all have to face this and it’s never easy. The timing is never right. Do you understand that?”

  “I swear I’ll come out. Just let me get through this with Jamie.”

  “Why are you letting him manipulate you? It’s pathetic.

  Letting him bulldoze you.”

  By digging into it, Harper knew she had made Grace feel small, even weaker than when she walked through the door.

  “I don’t know,” Grace said, lowering her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Harper took a deep breath and, feeling bad, put her hand on Grace’s back again. “I’m terrified it will all come apart,” Grace cried.

  “It already has.”

  “I don’t want to lose Abby or Mummy or you. I’ve already lost too much. Please.” She fell into Harper’s arms.

  Harper, sensing it was time, pulled money from her purse, paid their tab and led Grace, who was still crying, out the door.

  In the poorly lit parking lot, Harper held Grace while she continued crying.

  “I’m so scared,” Grace whispered.

  In their mostly silent embrace, so much was said again and again. The bond, the love, the patience, the loyalty. It was all they had anymore.

  Harper couldn’t count on a normal existence, or the life she’d dreamt about the night before, even an hour before. Their life together, the three of them.

  Just like that, the water muddied again.

  Just like that, they were right back where they started.

  “Hallelujah”

  Jeff Buckley

  Harper checked into her hotel alone. Grace, sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard, waited near a cascading fountain, monotonously watching the lights flicker against the water’s ripples.

  They’d stayed at the Royal Palms once before together, years ago. It was during the height of their scorching affair. It was that Christmas, when everything came unraveled right before Dean died, that Harper had begun spinning into her first depression.

  A swallowing shadow she’d been running from ever since.

  Like that night, there was still nowhere else to go. Stuck again, caught somewhere between the truth and lies. Reality and make believe. Heaven and hell.

  With her welcome packet—minibar key, pool passport and spa list—Harper and Grace walked down the path lined with exotic desert plants. Perfectly manicured lantana and hibiscus.

  The moon, a toenail in the sky, was just above the camel’s head on the mountain. It was a warm desert night, the air a dry, dusty blast.

  The room was cold, very cold, a sharp contrast to outside.

  Harper turned off the air-conditioning and joined Grace, who’d sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Harper lay back first, Grace followed and they eventually ended up facing one another in the middle of the giant California king. A bedside lamp was on. Live jazz from the hotel’s bar in the distance. Mostly bass.

  It was in this place that they lay for another two hours, Grace getting deeper than she’d ever been with Harper, more honest, talking in detail about the painful years of denial. The world where she was still living.

  “You know I couldn’t even admit that I was gay for the longest time. Even now, it feels weird saying it out loud.”

  “Me neither,” Harper said, listening intently.

  “And you remember that night? I was so angry at you when you came down from the mountain.”

  Harper shook her head, still seeing it clearly.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t. You’ve made your peace. And I’ve forgiven you.”

  Forgiving didn’t equal forgetting. They both knew that.

  “That night,” Grace continued, “I was really just angry at myself. I tried so hard to outrun those feelings. Like you even said. And I’ll never forget it…the knowing. But it kept catching me.”Harper studied Grace’s delicate eyelashes; a thin layer of mascara covered them.

  “It’s been such a heavy burden over the years. Not just that I was gay, but knowing I slammed that door in your face.” Grace kissed Harper’s fingertips. “And the lies. God, the endless lies.

  And all the things I’ve done. The sneaking around. The way I’d look at other women without realizing. The way I hid it, even from myself.”

  Harper understood everything she said, having experienced it all a decade e
arlier.

  “It’s a process,” Harper shared, “and it’s not easy. You should be proud of yourself for getting here. Finally able to admit it. It took me a long time to finally admit it to myself.”

  The year Harper spent mentoring queer youth in Seattle paid off in this moment. She’d processed it over and again. She remembered clearly the way she had come to terms with her own sexuality.

  “At some point you have to give in to yourself,” she said,

  “surrender to who you really are. Stop trying to be something you’re not. No matter the cost. That night when I came down from the mountain. That was it for me. There was no turning back.”

  For her, it had taken another six months from when she left Arizona to when she was one hundred percent sure. Once she got to Seattle, she still tried dating guys, went on two or three dates before resigning from the hetero world. A last ditch-effort, she called it.

  “It’s crazy, I finally got to the place where my happiness, my sanity, really, was more important than losing everyone in my life. I figured if people really loved me, they’d still be there after I told them. And by that time, I was happy—well, maybe not happy—but totally at peace with my sexuality. I wasn’t denying that part of myself anymore. It was truly liberating. I’d begun to love myself unconditionally.”

  “Is that when you told your parents?”

  “Yeah, in Seattle. I’d been gone for about a year, I guess.

  They came for a visit and I told Mom as we stood outside the original Starbucks at Pike Place Market. A friend of mine walked by holding hands with her girlfriend and she asked if I’d ever been with a woman.”

  “She did not.”

  “She did. I couldn’t believe it. At first, I stared at her blankly, and then decided to just do it. I said something like ‘well actually, yes, I’m dating one right now’.”

  “Was that Alex?” Grace asked.

  “No, it was before Alex. It was a woman named Natalie.

  And it was nothing serious. She was in my master’s program at UW.”