“You’re full of crap.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Taylor just walked by with a pair of scissors, I better go.”
“Don’t let her do anything rash.”
“Taylor, rash?”
They both laughed.
“I heard that,” Taylor said.
“I better go figure out something to wear on my date,” Jenna said. “I might need to go shopping.”
They clicked off and Jenna stared at the shelf with the CDs again. Could she really do it? Could she get rid of the old memories and work on making new ones?
She thought of Brooklyn. She was so calm. She hadn’t gotten all stressed out about the fruit or the mud pit. Jenna knew Brooklyn would be the one cleaning up after the party. Jenna offered to help, but Brooklyn declined, telling her the roommates would help. “We have what we call the party clean squad. We’ve got it down to a science.”
Jenna had stuck around after the party just long enough to see that the “science” entailed several leaf blowers and a wet/dry vac.
Jenna sighed and looked at the CDs again. It had to be done. She didn’t have any boxes, but remembered seeing a couple in the dumpster. She was almost out the door when her cell phone rang. It was Brooklyn. What did it say that she now had Brooklyn’s phone number logged in with its own ring tone? Perhaps Muskrat Love wasn’t the best choice, but Jenna liked it. Could Brooklyn be the Suzy to her Sam? Could they dance the jitterbug in Muskratland?
Jenna picked up. “Hey, Brooklyn,” she said.
“Aha! You’ve got me logged in. I’m making progress. What did you give me for a ring tone?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing.” Jenna was glad Brooklyn couldn’t see her blush.
“Maybe someday we can confess our ring tones to each other.”
“I have a special ring tone, too?” Jenna asked and then chided herself for sounding like a schoolgirl.
“You do.”
“Huh, so I must be making progress, too.”
“You are. In light of that progress we should celebrate. Want to do brunch at Allman’s?”
“I’d love to. I need some time to shower and stuff. I’m still in my slippers.”
“Is that all?”
“Is that all what?” Jenna asked.
“Is that all you’re wearing? Slippers?”
“No, I’m wearing my lesbian-at-home uniform—boxers and a tank top. And slippers.”
“Sexy. What kind of slippers?”
“Why?” Jenna said, staring down at her zombie slippers.
“Slippers tell a lot about a person.”
“Hunh,” Jenna said, not ready to confess. “Is that so.”
“If you tell me what kind of slippers you have, I’ll tell you about mine,” Brooklyn said.
Curiosity got the best of Jenna, “Okay, mine are zombie heads.”
“Hmm…I’m not sure what that says about you.”
“How about I got them as a gift,” Jenna said. She took her feet out of the slippers and wiggled her toes. Should she paint her toenails? Then she could wear those cute sandals she’d bought eons ago and had never worn. She couldn’t bring herself to paint her toenails because that might imply she was available for dating because she was no longer depressed.
“In that case, it means that you’re sensitive, kind, and considerate. And I bet they’re comfortable.”
“They are comfortable,” Jenna said. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“I don’t have any slippers,” Brooklyn said.
“Hey…I told you one of my deepest, darkest secrets and you didn’t reciprocate,” Jenna said trying to make her voice sound pouty.
“How about I tell you two deep, dark secrets over brunch? Will that make up for it?”
“All right, but I’m going to hold you to it.”
“Deal. Will an hour give you enough time to put on real shoes?” Brooklyn asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay, see you then.” Then she added in a low, sultry voice, “I’d like to see those slippers sometime.”
“Only if you behave yourself,” Jenna said, hardly believing she was flirting.
“I can’t make any promises,” Brooklyn said. “See you in an hour.”
They clicked off. Jenna held the phone against her heart. They had definitely been flirting. It felt good. She reminded herself she needed to hurry. She had to shower and find an outfit and paint her toenails and pack up the Melissa CDs. Definitely pack those CDs.
***
Exactly one hour later, Brooklyn knocked at the door. Jenna knew it was her because Brooklyn had a distinct knock. She tapped out three evenly spaced raps like she had the first time she’d been over and hung out on the balcony drinking Lee’s wine. What did that say, that she was studying knocking patterns? Jenna knew the answer to that question—it meant she cared about someone other than Lee for the first time in a long time.
Jenna opened the door to find Brooklyn dressed in a white linen shirt, khaki shorts, and bright green Keen sandals. She looked gorgeous. Jenna was glad she’d painted her toenails and that she’d dug around in her closet for her cornflower blue sundress. One of two dresses she owned—the other being the proverbial Little Black Dress.
“You clean up really well,” Brooklyn said admiringly.
“I could say the same about you,” Jenna replied.
“I have a really good feeling about this.”
“Like we might not need a hazmat team for this date?”
“Exactly,” Brooklyn said. She put out her arm. “Shall we?”
Jenna’s stomach fluttered. Her first date in almost a year and it was with a funny, beautiful, well-grounded woman to whom drama seemed a foreign concept. What could be better?
Brooklyn opened the passenger door of her truck. Jenna smiled and said, “You’re going to spoil me.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You might end up ruing the day,” Jenna said coyly.
“Never,” Brooklyn said. “I’m excited that you didn’t go all feminist on me for opening the door. When you drive and I’m wearing a dress, I’ll let you do the same for me.” She hopped in the other side.
Jenna looked at her. “Do you own a dress?”
“Are you kidding me? I’d look like a drag queen,” Brooklyn said, starting the truck.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Jenna said.
“To prove my point, when Halloween rolls around I’ll borrow one and show you.” She looked over her shoulder and pulled out into the street.
“That I’d like to see. Will you wear lipstick too?”
“Okay, now you’re crossing the line,” Brooklyn said. She turned left on Furman Street and headed downtown.
Halloween was several months away. Brooklyn seemed to think they might still be seeing each other. Jenna tried not to read too much into it. She knew from experience, lesbian relationships often went from parked to sixty mph without warning. She willed herself to go slow and be smart this time.
“Do you go to bed on the first date?” Jenna blurted. She slammed her hand against her lips like she couldn’t believe that just came out of her mouth.
Brooklyn slowed the truck looking for a place to park. She actually laughed, not a bad kind of laugh, more like a surprised one. “Now, there’s a question you don’t hear every day.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe that came out of my mouth. I am so sorry. And I know it’s none of my business,” Jenna said. What she wouldn’t give for a time machine, so she could go back two minutes and not ask that question.
Brooklyn pulled into a vacant spot. She kept the truck idling so the air conditioner would run. She looked over at Jenna, her face serious. “I have done some of that in the past, but I’ve learned a few things since then. Jumping into bed isn’t the best course of action. I think that’s more about lust than love. I would like to develop a friendship first.” She paused to reconsider. “I don’t mean that I just want to be friends and nothing more. Oh, man, I’m botching this.”
She did not, however, slam her hand against her mouth. Instead, she reached over and took Jenna’s hand. “I think we’re on the same page but I want you to know I think you’re super hot,” Brooklyn said. She kissed Jenna’s hand. “I’m enjoying getting to know you. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to jump your bones right now.”
It was such a sweet gesture Jenna almost teared up. Brooklyn must have sensed her overwhelming emotion and that Jenna was embarrassed by it. “Are you hungry?” Brooklyn asked, swiftly changing the subject.
“Starving.”
“Good, let’s go make pigs of ourselves at this high class breakfast buffet and make all those super skinny salad-eating women jealous.”
Jenna smiled. Brooklyn was so down to earth. She wasn’t caught up in looks or status and all that other stuff that made people scramble to be noticed. Brooklyn was just Brooklyn. And that was good enough.
***
Allman’s was the kind of place with lots of chrome and glass and square tall tables. The hard plastic chairs were designed to keep their patrons from lingering too long after eating. It had once been a diner with Naugahyde booths and a long lunch counter. That was before the gentrification of the neighborhood when warehouses were converted to posh lofts. Even the old hardware store had become Pottery Barn. Jenna missed the way things were.
Allman’s saving grace, despite its sterile-looking facelift, was the food. It was great. The breakfast buffet contained more grease per square inch than all the other restaurants in town put together. A concession to the health-minded people crazy enough to eat at a place that used real butter (the cook dipped it out of tubs with an ice cream scooper) was the fruit at the end of the buffet. But people didn’t go to Allman’s for the fruit. They came with their friends who wanted to strap on the feed bag. No light menus here. The breakfast buffet was legendary.
Jenna and Brooklyn took in the buffet with obvious gastronomical delight.
“Were you just sniffing?” Jenna teased.
“I was basking in olfactory delight.”
“You’re going to eat a lot, right?” Jenna asked. She didn’t want to make a piggy of herself if Brooklyn wasn’t willing to do the same.
“Heaps. I plan on devouring everything in sight. Even the chairs. They’ll have to roll me out of here. I will single-handedly put them out of business. They’ll post a sign on the door that says ‘No shirt, no shoes, no Brooklyn.’”
Jenna laughed. She loaded her plate with three slices of crisp bacon, four sausages, two biscuits, a cheese omelet, and a blueberry pancake with a huge blob of butter. She even added a fresh fruit bowl. Not because she liked fruit but because she felt sorry for it sitting there ignored by everybody.
“Only one pancake?” Brooklyn asked.
“I’m watching my waistline,” Jenna said. “See, I’ve got fruit.”
“Your waistline is perfect.”
“That is the perfect thing to say to your date at a buffet,” Jenna said, looking around for a table.
“I know, right?”
“Ah, there’s a table,” she said, pointing. “And it’s right by the window, so we can make people outside wish they were us,” Jenna said.
“Unless they’re wearing a Fitbit,” Brooklyn said.
“Ugh.” Jenna put her plate down. “Unless you’re into Fitbits then I meant no offence.”
“If I were into Fitbits, I wouldn’t have invited you to Allman’s. We’d be having a lemongrass and kale smoothie surrounded by a lot of people dressed in active wear.”
“Super yuck.” Jenna snapped open her napkin and smiled. She took her first bite of omelet and made yummy noises.
“Okay, here’s one of those two secrets I promised to share with you...” Brooklyn said. She took a bite of toast and chewed.
“Oh, come on. You put out a teaser and then make me wait.”
Brooklyn held up one finger.
“Chew faster.”
Brooklyn smiled. “At least now I know you’re interested. I hope my secret isn’t a letdown.”
“After that buildup, I dunno,” Jenna said.
“Okay, here goes,” Brooklyn said. “I only bring people here that I really, really, super like. I don’t squander my Sunday morning place with just anyone.”
“So that makes me super special?”
“It does.”
Jenna began to butter her biscuit. “Would you like me to butter your biscuit?”
“Is that a euphemism?”
Jenna laughed. Brooklyn just scored five extra points for knowing the word euphemism and using it correctly in a sentence.
***
As she took the last bite of pancake, Jenna caught the reflection of Margot Finestein coming into the restaurant. Margot was a close friend of Lee’s. Jenna looked around for some way to hide. She saw a newspaper sitting on the table next to them. She snatched it up and thrust the Sports section at Brooklyn. “Read this. Quick. Hold it over your face.”
“I’m not really into organized sports.”
“I need you to hide behind it so that woman who just walked in doesn’t see us.”
Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder.
“No, don’t look at her. Just hide.” Jenna opened the Home and Garden section and held it up in front of her face.
But she wasn’t fast enough. Margot made a beeline for them. “I thought that was you, Jenna.”
“Oh. Hello, Margot,” Jenna said, peeking over the top of the paper.
“And who’s this?” Margot asked, gesturing at Brooklyn.
Brooklyn lowered her paper and said to Jenna, “Did you know they have a fishing tips section?”
“No, I didn’t. That’s fascinating,” Jenna said.
Margot stood waiting. Jenna wondered if they ignored her long enough if she’d eventually go away.
But Margot wasn’t deterred so easily. “Did you know Lee’s coming back next week? I guess the whole Italian thing didn’t work out.”
“Oh, really? Too bad, so sad,” Jenna said, her voice dripping with antipathy.
“I’d have thought you’d be ecstatic. You were so heartbroken when she left. It’s not like you and Lee couldn’t start over. Lots of couples do.”
“Not interested, thank you.”
Margot turned her attention to Brooklyn. “So, who’s this?” She checked Brooklyn out thoroughly so she’d have plenty to tell Lee.
Jenna went straight for the knockout punch. “She’s my lover.”
Brooklyn didn’t waver. She put her hand over Jenna’s. “And she’s the love of my life.”
Jenna beamed, leaned over the table, and kissed Brooklyn on the lips. “Ditto.”
“How sweet,” Margot said with a sneer. She glanced over Jenna’s shoulder. “Oh, gotta go, there’s my group. Ciao.”
“Ta-ta,” Jenna said.
Jenna turned in her seat and looked toward the door. Sure enough, there was Lee’s old posse. Two of them saw Jenna and did the finger wave thing. Jenna waved her middle finger back at them. Shock registered on their faces.
After Lee left, they’d all dropped her like a moldy piece of Limburger cheese. She’d spent six years with them and as soon as Lee left her, they’d all vanished, leaving her depressed and alone. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if Dale and Taylor hadn’t scooped her up and held her tight in their collective bosoms.
Lee’s posse gathered in a huddle by the door, whispering and stealing glances in her direction.
“You want to get out of here?” Brooklyn asked.
Jenna nodded. “Please.”
Brooklyn got up and pulled out her chair. She held Jenna’s hand as they walked past the posse and out the door.
“You okay?” Brooklyn asked as they stepped outside into the warm air.
“Thank you for being so sweet in there,” Jenna said, squeezing Brooklyn’s hand.
***
They crashed through the door of Jenna’s apartment, never stopping their passionate kisses.
“Are y
ou sure we shouldn’t wait?” Brooklyn asked, pulling away from Jenna’s embrace.
“No,” Jenna said, pushing Brooklyn down on the couch. It would’ve been a sexy move except that Jenna tripped over the box of Melissa Etheridge CDs she’d packed before brunch. She crashed on top of Brooklyn like an oncoming train. She nearly knocked the wind out of both of them.
“Whoa, we better slow down or we’ll be buying you new furniture,” Brooklyn said, her hand gripping Jenna’s butt and pulling her closer.
“That’s okay, I’ve been meaning to redecorate,” Jenna said.
They kissed again. They had the same rhythm. That’s how Jenna knew they’d be perfect together in bed. She wasn’t the least bit apprehensive. All she wanted was to feel all of Brooklyn inside and out. She reached under Brooklyn’s shirt.
They stared into each other eyes as Jenna slid her finger under Brooklyn’s sports bra. She slowly ran her finger around Brooklyn’s nipple. Brooklyn let out a soft moan.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? We could draw this out,” Brooklyn said between kisses. “I wouldn’t like you any less. I understand that you might still be on the rebound with all that happened at the restaurant.”
“Will you stop talking?” Jenna asked, as she unbuttoned Brooklyn’s shirt and kissed her taut, well-formed tummy. She looked up at Brooklyn. “You have a six pack.”
“I do crunches every day. I had a back injury. The P.T. told me I have to,” Brooklyn explained.
“Well, we’ll have to make sure we don’t exacerbate your condition,” Jenna said, unbuttoning Brooklyn’s shorts. She surprised herself with her boldness. All she could focus on was pleasuring Brooklyn.
“The P.T. didn’t forbid this,” Brooklyn said, reaching up for the buttons on Jenna’s dress.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Jenna said as Brooklyn slipped her sundress over her head.
Chapter Thirteen
They didn’t leave Jenna’s apartment for three days. Brooklyn called in sick and Jenna let Dale handle the Monday meeting with the clients. Jenna lay on her stomach while Brooklyn massaged a knot Jenna had developed in her lower back. She suspected it might be from their prolonged sexual acrobatics.
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