by Cynthia Dane
“Again?” Melissa hissed back. “Weren’t you having the best sex last weekend?”
“It happened again, okay? The more we’re together, the better it gets!” Leah looked up and down the wide aisle to make sure nobody was nearby. The bookstore was crammed with people, but nobody was looking for Asian cookbooks. Yet. “What if she’s like… the one?”
“Please! You’ve known her for like two weeks.”
“Three, I think.”
“Whatever! Way too soon for you to know if she’s the one, mmkay? I know you lesbians love to move in together after a month, but you need to chill.”
“That’s what Gina also said,” Leah muttered.
“Gina’s smart. Listen to Gina.”
Leah slammed one of the Thai cookbooks back onto the shelf. Melissa rolled her eyes and suggested that Leah had become too spoiled since meeting this woman from Chicago.
I still haven’t told anyone who Sloan really is. Everything was couched in words like, “The woman I’m seeing,” and “She has a lot of money, but you wouldn’t know her.” Everyone nudged her and suggested that she was the luckiest sugar baby in Portland, but Leah felt like what she had with Sloan was more than that. Would a mere sugar baby be flown out to Chicago, when Sloan could have found someone closer to home to spend the night with? Would a sugar baby be spoiled as much as Leah was? Maybe, but it was still different!
What happened Saturday night… that was deep. Leah had read about those feelings before. God knew she had a sizable collection of dirty romance novels that kept her titillated and her fantasies fueled over the years, but none of them prepared her for the raw emotions flooding her body the moment Sloan took complete control.
The worst part? She had no one to truly confide in. Her friends didn’t understand her desires. They were as vanilla as it got. Even Sloan was standoffish about discussing what happened Saturday night, let alone what was going on between them on a deeper level. Does she want something more from me, eventually? Leah had to reign herself in. There was no point to falling in love with Margaret Sloan if she ultimately knew it would end in heartache.
“If you’re okay here,” Leah said, “I’m gonna go check out something else.”
“Sure. I’ll find you in the BDSM section when I’m ready to leave.”
Leah was as white as the pages in the books before her. Melissa laughed. How had she known?
Occasionally, Leah had dipped into the “alternative lifestyles” section to read about what she might have one day. Now? She was looking for specific information, and she didn’t care if she had to dive into battered used books from the ‘70s or recent tomes that featured smiling couples on the cover. Like you two have a show on HGTV. Call me when you’re that mainstream.
She didn’t find the kind of information she needed the most. Nobody really dove into “subspace” and how a single woman dealt with it after an intense encounter. Hell, Leah wasn’t sure that’s what happened. Sloan had implied it, but the more Leah thought about it, the more she realized Sloan had done the bare minimum. I mean, it makes sense… it was intense for her too, right? Blah. Those were excuses. Now that Leah had a clearer head, she needed to realize that Sloan wasn’t…
Wasn’t what? Real girlfriend material? The Domme of her dreams? Easier said than done. When a woman scratched the kind of itch Leah kept hidden beneath bandages half her life? She was going all out when the nails finally hit her skin.
Leah pulled out another book, this one sporting a demure cover that did not betray the contents unless the (tiny, barely readable) subtitle was stared at long enough. She opened the book to a chapter titled, “Deciphering the Line Between Kink and Trouble.”
Trouble. That was a nice word to use instead of abuse.
Leah skimmed the chapter. Nothing she hadn’t theoretically considered before. Why is this so different in practice? Because real people, including herself, were involved. That side of Sloan she saw Saturday night went beyond a hardass businesswoman with a chip on her shoulder and a uterus full of crap to prove. Something had snapped inside of her.
I was ready to take advantage of it. To be fair, Leah had been in her own snapped-space. Who had fed off the other more? Who was technically responsible for initiating that mess? It had been three days, and Leah’s nipples were still sore. It’s my fault. She told me to practice with them. I didn’t, because I live at home and am busy. No. Leah shouldn’t do that to herself. Sloan was also responsible for taking things too far.
Leah flipped to one of the final chapters.
“Surviving the Drop and Becoming a Stronger Couple.”
Leah’s throat was dry. Again, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t read before. The chapter was written with dominant types in mind, and most of it was advice on how to deal with a partner who had achieved subspace during a scene and had to deal with the emotional fallout. That happened to me. I hadn’t felt anything like it before. Like sweet, saccharin-coated shadows dripping down the back of her throat. It tasted exquisite. It felt like one step above death.
If Sloan hadn’t consoled her… Leah didn’t want to know what would have happened. It was the kind of situation where a woman could easily walk away with new traumas.
Not me… God, I hope not.
This book seemed decent enough, and it was a used copy, so Leah could afford to part with a few dollars so she could peruse it in private later.
Melissa texted her that she was in the café grabbing some coffee and a snack. Leah promised to meet her there, but the throng of people infiltrating the large store meant she had to take a detour from her usual route to the café. She hadn’t been in the children’s section since Karlie was young enough to read nothing but YA books (she claimed them too immature now that she was about to be a legal adult,) yet that was the only place not stuffed to the gills with people attempting to stage a coup on the poor workers trying to restock the shelves.
Leah held her nondescript book against her chest in case some soccer mom decided she was poisoning the mind of children. The last thing she expected, as she wove between children with picture books and parents marveling over coloring books, was to bump into an old acquaintance she hadn’t seen in years.
“Leah? Leah Vaughn?”
The man’s voice stopped her cold. A small child bumped into her from behind. After a meek apology, the kid ran toward the man who had called Leah’s name.
He had changed a lot since she first knew him, although that was unmistakably Daryl Wagner sitting on a bench, a middle grade chapter book in his hands. The Carhart jacket and boots gave him away as a manual labor before the rough hands and hint of a uniform did. You’ve gained so much weight. So had Leah, if she compared herself to seventeen years ago.
“Daryl?”
He waved at her. The chapter book dangled between his legs, while the youngster at his side clung to his arm and shyly dug her face into his shoulder. He acted as if his daughter was always attached to him like this. “Long time no see,” he said, using the same genial smile he had back in middle school. A simple wedding band glistened on his left hand.
Leah approached. “Yeah. Really long time.” The last time she saw Daryl was when he contacted her on Facebook to announce he had gotten married, and his new wife was already four months pregnant with his latest child. That must’ve been the little girl at his side.
Or it could’ve been the little boy running up to show off a book about trucks. Daryl told him to sit and read it while he talked to his “friend.”
“How you doin’?”
Leah’s fingers curled into the book against her chest. “Okay. How about you? What are you doing these days?”
His friendly smile couldn’t betray how awkward this was for him as well. “Not too bad. I’m now a foreman for Justice & Roe Construction. We just got done with a big contract down in the southwest, so I thought I’d take the kids shopping for books.”
“These are both yours?”
“Say hi, kids.”
The boy wa
ved, his smile identical to his father’s. “Nice to meet you! I’m David.”
“This is Chastity. She’s really shy.”
The girl buried her head so deeply into her father’s sleeve, that he commented that she was going to suffocate herself.
“You still doing cooking stuff?”
Leah cleared her throat. “Yeah. I work at Rose City Bakery. I mainly decorate cakes.”
“Whoa. Like on those TV shows?”
“Sort of like that. I’m not quite up to that skill level, though.”
“I remember those cupcakes you used to make and bring to school. The ones you decorated to look like flowers and cartoon characters. I can only imagine how much better you are now.”
“It’s a small niche to rank up in, but I’d like to own my own place one day.”
Daryl nodded. “How’s the family?”
Time might as well have stopped in the bookstore, though kids continued to run around and their parents chased them with as much gusto as hurricane winds. “They’re doing fine.” Leah choked on her words. “My parents are the same as always.”
She waited for him to ask the question she had been dreading since she heard his voice in the children’s section of the nation’s largest independent bookstore.
“How’s… your sister?”
They broke eye contact almost immediately. When Leah finally had the courage to glance back again, she met Chastity’s eyes instead of Daryl’s. The little girl shyly smiled at her dad’s friend. You’ve got her nose, little girl. Leah didn’t want to make Chastity uncomfortable, but did she have to look at her like that?
“Karlie’s fine. She’s a senior in high school and about to go to college.”
“Wow. College.” Daryl sheepishly scratched the top of his head. “She pick out a place yet? Anyone accepting her?”
“She didn’t do early admissions, so she’s applying right now.”
“Tell her good luck on my behalf.”
You could tell her yourself… No. That would never work. No matter how many times Leah thought that in her life, it was never a practical response. Karlie wasn’t supposed to know that Daryl existed.
“I’ve gotta go.” Leah turned away. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend in the café. It was nice seeing you. Your kids are cute.”
Leah should have waved at the kids to make sure they didn’t feel left out of their dad’s conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All Leah wanted to do was run away from Daryl as quickly as her feet would carry her through the crowds.
Melissa had secured them a small table in the café. Leah slammed down her book and then her ass into the chair, but all Melissa could say was, “This place sure is crowded for a weekday, huh? Is it a holiday that I didn’t know about?”
“After work crowd,” Leah said. “I should probably get going soon. I have to walk home.”
“Nonsense! I’ll drive you home. It’s not too far out of the way for me, anyway.”
Leah sighed. After bumping into Daryl, all she wanted was to run home and hole herself away in her room. Read her book. Watch some Hulu. Take a bath and go to bed early so she could deal with work the next day. Her mother would inevitably ask what her problem was, and maybe she would tell her… God knew this was a rare moment where Janet knew more about what was going on than anyone else.
How sad was that?
I’ve never told Melissa about Daryl… Had Daryl ever told anyone about her? Probably not. The man never had to live with the consequences of their actions like she had. Because it was my responsibility. I had to take care of it. I had to own up to what I had done. I had the most to lose.
“Earth to Leah,” Melissa said with a trill to her voice. “I was asking what book you got there. Something naughty?”
Leah pretended it was no big deal. After all, she only had a book about keeping kinky relationships healthy and happy. This was Portland. Everyone had a book like that! “Depends on your definition of naughty.”
“Let me see that.” Melissa grabbed the book before Leah could take it out of her reach. The book was soon flipped open to a damning page. I haven’t seen that chapter, yet she immediately finds a page about indulging in bondage for ultimate intimacy? “Oh my God. Are you really into this kind of stuff?”
Melissa slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she said. Leah fingered the fake buttons on her handbag. I can pretend I’m writing out my responses on this fake keyboard. Her response to Melissa right now? “Fuck you.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s intriguing.”
“I mean… it’s cool.” Melissa turned to a later chapter. It was the one about Doms and Dommes taking care of their lovers in the afterglow of their scenes. Melissa’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
“Can I have my book back now, please?”
Leah had to wait another half hour before Melissa was ready to take her home. The fact Leah could have walked home in that time may have crossed her mind – but she tried not to think about it.
Chapter 18
Leah did not expect to walk into a completely different kind of scene when she crossed the family’s threshold later that evening, yet that’s what she got when she found Janet and Karlie having an altercation in the middle of the living room.
“But I need it!” Karlie shook a piece of paper in her mother’s face. Janet, who was never a paragon of patience, shook in mounting irritation. “Simply say you can’t remember the combination to the safe! Otherwise, it sounds like I’m not allowed to ever look at it!”
Leah attempted to sneak past them and head upstairs to her room. Karlie rounded on her immediately.
“You’ve gotta tell mom to give me my birth certificate!”
Leah froze on the bottom step. The bookstore bag containing her recent purchase bumped against her knee. I would rather die than ever let Karlie see this. “What?”
“I need a copy of my birth certificate to apply to some of my colleges, okay?” Karlie’s exasperation must have grown worse long before Leah returned home, because she rarely heard this level of anxiety in her sister’s voice. “Some of them are due at the end of this week, but Mom won’t get it out of the safe for me.”
“There’s no need,” Janet said. “We can request copies.”
“I’ve never seen it before. Why can’t I see it?”
Leah intervened as much as she dared. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen mine before, either.” That was a lie. She certainly had… when she applied for culinary school, for example. And when she acquired her driver’s license, which Karlie had yet to get. “Listen to Mom. She can get you copies to send. It would be silly to mail them your real copy. You wouldn’t get it back, and they’re not going to accept a Xeroxed copy.”
“So you’re on her side?”
Leah turned back around again. “I’m not on anyone’s side. What are you going on about? There are no sides to take here.”
“I can’t believe it.” Karlie threw her arms into the air. “You’re both ridiculous. What if I need my birth certificate for some reason? Besides, what am I supposed to do while I wait for the copies to come in? These places want two forms of identity, and I’ve only got my social security card! By the way…” she turned to Janet. “Why is it cool for me to have my own social security card, but it’s wrong for me to see my stupid birth certificate?”
“Those two things are completely different,” Janet insisted. “For one thing, it’s much easier to get a new social security card if you need it. They make you jump through serious hoops if you lose your birth certificate. Why do you think it’s in the fire proof safe upstairs? Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to see it.” Janet locked her fiery gaze upon Leah. “Right?”
Leah was compelled to nod. “She’s right, Karlie. It would be a nuisance to get it out for this. Everyone’s documents are in there, okay? If we need them for some reason, we’ll get them out.”
“Are we not legal or something?”
Janet gasped. Leah could only manage widened eyes at this point in her already overwhelming day. “What was that?” Janet asked. “How dare you ask such a thing. Do you not think you were born in this country, or something? What are people telling you at school now?”
“Come on, Karlie, don’t be silly. I was there when you were born. You’re as much of a citizen as I am. Besides… it was Grandma who came here from Honduras, not Mom. C’mon, Karlie. You’re too excited to be thinking clearly right now.”
“Unbelievable.” She pushed her sister aside and bounded halfway up the stairs. “You two are so unbelievable. If being an adult means having a rotted brain like you two, then I hope I never make it that far!” Her feet pounded against the rest of the stairs.
Janet waited until they heard the bedroom door slam before saying anything to Leah. “Further proof that she’s still a teenager.”
Leah looked to her mother. “Do you want me to go talk to her?”
“To tell her what? That she can have her birth certificate? It’s not happening. I’ll put in the requests for the copies, but what else can we do?”
“It’s gonna come out eventually.”
Janet held up her hands in defeat. “I need to finish the dishes. If you want to talk to her, knock yourself out, but I’ll be damned if your dad comes home to more screaming.”
“Maybe I’ll let her cool down a bit.”
“You do whatever.” Janet walked toward the kitchen. “I need a drink.”
Leah went up to her room, hesitating outside of Karlie’s door. Music loud enough to drown out a teen’s anger, but not loud enough to piss off Mom eked through the humble cracks. Leah decided to go on to her own room and try to calm down before talking to her sister.
By the time she was in her dark room, curled up on her bed with her phone in her hand, she realized she was almost too tired to function.
No, not tired. Overwhelmed. That was always a good word to describe the shit plaguing Leah’s head as she rolled over and stared at the same curtains she had since she was a little girl. They were worn, faded, and probably hadn’t been washed in years, but they were comforting, weren’t they? Two pastel-pink strips of cloth that either blocked out the sunlight or let it in. Whenever Leah couldn’t sleep as a little kid, she would stare at those curtains and count the holes that grew in them every year. Later, she got a phone and stared at that instead.