And, like a complete and utter fool, I shot this gift in the mouth. I lost it. The habits I tried to keep at bay couldn't be fixed simply by practising monogamy.
My mother wants me to get back with Ria, just so she doesn't have to see my melancholy face day in and day out. And that's saying something, given that she didn't want me hooking up with Ria at all.
I miss the smell of cinnamon, the mischievous smiles she gave, the way her body felt against mine. I miss the hope she gave me, the feeling that someone might get to know me and actually like what lurked underneath.
Wendy tells me that she thinks that for the last few months she's been friends with me, she's liked my attitude. Even my bitchy friends, when I go to see them, grudgingly admit that when I was with Ria, I seemed different – less wild and prone to making them feel bad. Maybe this admission came because they were secretly glad I was dating a woman, leaving the selection of men free, but it made me sit down and think.
Regardless of what I believed, everyone had noticed something different and better about me. Even my mother, who doesn't care at all.
In a stark gust of clarity, as I'm sitting at home, listlessly staring at the curtains of my small bedroom window, dressed in grizzly-bear pajamas, I realize what the problem is.
I went into the relationship with Ria for the wrong reason.
That was why it was doomed to shatter apart from the start. I come to terms with this thought over the process of the next few weeks, during the radio silence between me and Ria. I notice she hasn't blocked me on anything, and I don't feel inclined to block her. We both made terrible mistakes, but I can't pretend I didn't escalate the situation with my reaction.
I can't pretend that I'm not a better person with her. I had a dream. A real, shining dream for the first time in my life. More than a just get the fuck out because my mother is annoying kind of dream. More than grabbing someone to sleep with just so I don't end up doing the rounds with the whole city.
I was given a dream of a love, a house, a person who saw my darkness and helped me out of it.
I should never have gone into a relationship to force my ways to change.
I should change my ways so I can go into a relationship and keep it stable.
With this thought in mind, I stay clean for a month, not sleeping, not visiting bars, though the craving hits me hard at times. The memory of my failure, that stone on my heart, is what keeps me strong.
And, when I finally pluck up enough courage to ring her, she answers after eight rings.
“Ria,” I say.
“What do you want,” she says. Her voice is dead, soulless.
“I want to see you and talk.”
“Not happening. It's over.”
I get some back and forth like this for a few moments, with her stalling and refusing to speak to me, and me pleading. When I register that she's not hanging up, despite having numerous chances to do so, I say, “Please,” deciding it's well worth getting on my knees to beg, “I'm sorry. I know I screwed up, big time. I know I hurt you, but I want you to know that I miss you like hell. I keep thinking about everything that we did and what you said about the house and then I keep thinking how stupid I was to mess that up, and that, well. I want to talk to you. Just give me a chance to talk, and if you're still mad over this, then I understand. But please.”
There's a long, ominous silence, before she inhales, and breathes, “Okay.”
When we meet later that afternoon, it's awkward, and it hurts, because she's just as beautiful as I remember, but with a guarded expression on her face. I'm wrapped up in a purple hoodie and jeans, not intending to come here to lure her back into bed by showing an inappropriate amount of cleavage. I'm here to take the chance I've been offered and explain to her me. She's dressed up in oddly muted clothing as well, discarding her leathers for jeans and a simple navy-blue jacket.
We pace up and down the park, which only has a few dog walkers, and my cracked lips force words I'm not accustomed to saying. I tell her about my mother, my craving for the love she never gave me. I mention my one night stands, the good ones and the humiliating ones, and how I used them to escape from the lack of love I felt. I explain my shallow circle of friends who envied my looks so much that I eventually wore the envy as a badge of pride. Last came the disgust, and the ongoing emptiness inside.
When I finish, I expect her to hate me and accuse me of being a despicable person, just like my mother does.
Instead, she says her frank truth. “I don't condone your attitude, and I don't agree with who you were. But I appreciate the honesty, and I understand.” Hearing those words I understand spoken is the ultimate absolution; it frees me. I actually lose all sensation in my knees, and she grabs me to stop me falling. Wind slaps our hair as she in turn explains her past, though in less detail.
“My mother was also single, like yours. But she was also what you would be if you continue down this path. She liked to party. She invited men around to her place often, sometimes for orgies.” I can see this is difficult for Ria to say, but the fact she's trying is warming up all the cold places in my body. I wrap my arm in hers, which she accepts, as she continues confessing.
“Some of the men liked to use me, cos I was a kid. Learned how to attract people I wanted, not people I hated, and even got cash for it, cos my mother sometimes had no money at all. I used people for meals, for a place to sleep, for a bit of pay in hard times.
“My mother's trying to clean up her act now because she's tired of waking up in dumpsters, of vomiting on the floor, of hurting everyone around her. She got a long way to go. As do I. It wasn't just your fault that I did what I did. I was scared, too.”
I realize, in this tale, that she's not lying. She does understand me. She does.
“We're both pretty fucked up, it seems,” I say with a wry smile.
She smiles back. “But we're both trying to do something about that. So damn glad you called. I didn't go out since that morning. I didn't drink. I couldn't.”
“Me neither,” I admit. We stop walking to wrap ourselves up in a gigantic hug. “Just thought about you.”
Both of us are beaming like children now, but we can't help it. We're in each other's arms. She smells good, she feels good, and she's warm, slicing through the darkness in my soul.
“Can we try again?” I ask. “But this time, for the right reason?”
She kisses me on the forehead, and I begin crying. She strokes my hair as she replies, “Of course, Maya.” We hold hands in the park, ignoring the curious glances of others passing. “FYI, I gotta another confession. Pretty sure what I'm feeling for you is love.”
I start bawling, but it's not because I'm sad. It's because I'm happy. “Me, too.”
Me, too, Ria.
I love you.
Make Me Smile Again
~ Bonus Story ~
A First Time Lesbian Romance
Chloe
How do I tell someone that I am broken and can't have kids? All I have ever wanted is to have a family and for someone to love me for myself. I thought I had found that but then it all vanished overnight. My husband left me because I couldn't give him children. I don't know how to be myself anymore. Why would anyone saddle themselves with someone as defective as me?
Jami
I like taking things one day at a time. I always figured the right girl was just around the corner until I stumbled into her at a party. Chloe was just that right mixture of sweet and shy. She is the kind of girl I could see myself falling hard for. I would settle for being friends with her. I know that if she would just let me in that, I could make her smile again.
* * *
Chapter 1
When the world ended, it did not happen all at once. It took two years to come to an end. What had begun as a hopeful journey to a family had slowly devolved into a source of bitterness. My husband and I wanted a family more than anything. We were happy as long as the hope was there, but when after two years of trying we had no succeeded hope soo
n gave way to the fear that we simply could not have children.
Mike blamed me. I blamed myself too. One day Mike came into the kitchen, and I could tell by the look on his face that he had had enough. He told me he could not go on like this and that it was over. I simply could not give him the family he wanted, and there was no need in us wasting any more time together.
My heart had broken. I felt worthless. I had dreamed of a family too. I had wanted one so badly that it had never occurred to me that I might not be able to give Mike one. When Mike left, it was all I could do to motivate myself into moving, eating, just being. How do you make yourself feel worth something after such a thing? I had no idea.
The weeks went by with no contact between Mike and myself. I only spoke to his lawyer. I understood. I had thought perhaps that after he had calmed down that, he might rethink things, but it was clear that he had given the decision all the thought he intended. The divorce became final a month after he left. There had been nothing to slow it down. I saw no reason to contest any part of it. We divorced due to "irreconcilable differences" as the paper stated. I suppose that was true enough.
I called my mother as soon as the divorce papers were in hand. My parents, my friends, everyone really, had been supportive of me and kept saying that this was on Mike and not me. I felt otherwise. How could it not be on me? I was the one who could not give him children after all. I listened to the phone ring.
There was a click as my mother picked up the phone. "Hello?" The woman's overly chipper voice said into the phone.
"Hi, Mom." I knew my voice was full of emotion, but I could not seem to rein it in. The tears welled up in my eyes.
My mother's voice came back through the phone full of worry. "Chloe, is everything okay?"
"I got the divorce papers today, Mom," I said thickly. My thumb rubbed the envelope containing the papers as if just to make sure it was there. The divorce was real.
Her voice was soft. "Oh Chloe, honey, I know it seems sad right now, but this is for the best. This is probably one of the best things that could have happened to you, darling. Mike does not deserve you, don't you know that?"
"Yeah," I whispered softly. Mother kept saying that. My best friend, Rachel, kept saying that. Everyone kept saying it, but it did not feel any more truthful in my heart no matter how many mouths echoed the sentiment.
Mom continued, "We should celebrate. Why don't I take you out to eat at that little seafood place you always liked, yes?" Her voice was overly happy, and I know she was trying to somehow make her happiness spill over to me. I just stared at the wall in my kitchen. "Chloe?" She asked softly into the phone.
"Sorry, Mom." I apologized. "I was just lost in thought. Barton's Seafood, huh?" I thought that did not sound horrible. Putting on a happy face for a few hours could not be that bad after all. Wallowing in some lobsters might make me feel better for a moment or two anyway. "That sounds good," I said with a bit of enthusiasm.
The relief was evident in my mother's voice when she spoke. "It's all settled then. We'll meet up for lunch, okay?"
"Sure, Mom. And Mom?" I said with a smile.
There was a bit of a pause before she said, "Yes, Sweetie?"
"Thanks," I said simply.
"Anytime, Darling." Mom said with a voice that assured me she meant it. We said our goodbyes and hung up.
After talking to Mom, I tried to make myself believe the lie that everyone kept trying to feed me. Mike was the problem, not me. I deserved better, right? Mike had been close to perfect, though. My mind echoed back to me all the great times we had before the infertility struggles.
I could not allow myself to start wallowing in the memories or I would never get up and get dressed. After grabbing a quick shower, I tousled my messy long bob haircut and looked at myself in the mirror. I had put on a bit of weight from stress and the fertility treatments, and I sighed at myself. I tried to cut myself some slack. I did, but I had always been critical of myself.
My strawberry blond locks bounced as I eyed my blue eyes in the mirror. My eyes held disapproval, but I squared my shoulders and told my reflection, "I am going to enjoy myself." Of course, the reflection just stared back. Shaking my head at myself, I grabbed my purse and made my way toward Barton's Seafood. It was a cozy little local place along the Gulf Coast town where we lived. All the locals came here when they wanted seafood. The tourist could have those trendy spots down by the pier.
I spotted Mom right away. She always sat outside at one of the tables overlooking the beach. We had come here since I was a child. After Dad had passed away a few years ago, Mom continued the tradition because she said it was one of my father's favorite spots. We always felt closer to him here. I sat down on the wooden seat across from here. She looked up and gave me a bright smile.
The sun was beautiful this time of the year. The sunlight shown over the sugary beaches and lit up the ocean that lapped against the shore. There were families down at the beach despite it still being early in the tourism season. The spring-breakers would be down in a few weeks, and the population around here would swell to a huge size overnight.
I rather liked the off-peak season. The slow pace of life was what I had always loved about my hometown. The tourists were just the price that we had to pay for living in such a beautiful place.
"Looks like it is going to be a lovely day," Mom said as she picked up her menu. "That's a very nice sundress."
I gave her a smile and said, "Thanks. I don't even remember where I got it, to be honest." I looked down at the flowing fabric printed with pale purple flowers. My gaze came up, and I saw Rachel about the time she saw me. I gave the woman a wave which she returned with a grin.
The petite brunette strode up to our outdoor table and said, "And just what are you ladies up to?"
Mom gave Rachel a conspiratorial smile and said, "We are celebrating Chloe's independence."
"Oh, my gosh," Rachel said and gave me a grin. "Did you get the papers?"
I nodded. "Just today," I said with a sigh. Rachel put an arm around my shoulders.
"Stop that right this instant, Chloe!" Rachel demanded. "It is a good thing that asshole is out of your life."
I shook my head. "It's not Mike," I said softly. Rachel sat down beside me on the wooden bench, and I scooted over a bit to give her more room. "It's just, well, I don't know," I mumbled, and my mother reached over to pat my hands that I had put up on the table.
Rachel shook her head back at me. "I felt the same way when I left my first husband, remember? I was completely adrift. I had wrapped so much of myself up in being his wife that I didn't know what was left when he took off with his secretary."
I nodded. I remembered how Rachel had floundered. "I know."
"You were there for me, and I'm here for you," Rachel said simply. "You are going to love your new life, I promise. You just have to give yourself permission to."
Mom nodded her agreement. "Exactly," she said. "Now, are we getting seafood?" Rachel and I both laughed and heartily agreed that we were indeed getting seafood. The waitress came by and took our orders. The rest of the meal was passed amicably as we just chatted about this and that. After we were full and caught up on each other's daily happenings, we parted ways for the day.
I felt better. I always felt lighter after being at Barton's. Maybe that was because I always pictured my Dad there watching over me. I really wished I could talk to him about all of this. A male perspective would be nice; I had to admit. The wind off the ocean beckoned me down to the seashore. As I walked my phone jarred to life.
It was Rachel's number. "Yes?" I asked as I clicked the phone on.
"Hey, Chloe! Completely spaced and forgot to confirm if you are coming to our BBQ?"
I had completely forgotten that Chloe and her husband, Dave, were throwing a BBQ later today. I had been wishy-washy about answering her the last time she had mentioned it, but with my fresh visit to Barton's buoying my spirits, I answered readily. "Sure, why not?" I smiled out at the ocean.<
br />
"Great! The cookout is going to be so fun," Rachel said in a bouncy voice that just made me shake my head.
I agreed, "I'm looking forward to it, too." I was oddly looking forward to it. When we hung up, I took a walk down the beach and just watched the people playing in the cold ocean water. It was a bit early in the season for frolicking in my opinion, but I loved taking walks on the beach anytime of the year. A child ran past me into the edge of the water, and I felt a familiar pang of emotion in my chest. I turned toward home. The beach did not seem as welcoming anymore.
***
That afternoon, I made my way over to Chloe's home. There were several vehicles already parked in the street outside of their brick home, and the smell of hamburgers on the grill hit me about the time I opened my car door. It was a smell that always brought back fond memories of childhood fun. I walked toward the party with a smile on my lips.
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