Anchored: A Lesbian Romance

by Jen Clarke

  After pushing my last set of coins into the slot, I hear a familiar voice.

  “Well Ellen, fancy meeting you here.”

  “Denise!” I was glad to see her. Talking to Denise was much better than stewing over what might have been. “I thought you had to pick up your kids.”

  “I asked my mother to do it. Actually, I begged her,” she explains. “I’m so pissed. Let’s go outside,” she says, pulling out her cigarettes.

  Outside the Dennis Port laundromat is a small park and even smaller playground. It’s deserted, except for someone letting his dog sniff the trees around the park’s perimeter. We find a bench facing away from the sun and I watch as Denise lights her cigarette and inhales deeply.

  “What happened?” I ask. Despite what you might think, Denise and her ex-husband usually get along.

  Denise inhales deeply. “My ex wants to move off Cape.”

  “He does?” I say, surprised. “Why?”

  “He met someone,” Denise says. “She lives... I don’t remember, Mansfield?” she pauses. “He’s been on the up and up, I’ll give him that.”

  “Meaning, you know about her?”

  “Yeah, he’s been seeing her for a while. And he asked me before introducing her to the kids, but this is going to be a bitch.”

  I didn’t get it at first. “How so?” I ask.

  “Visiting,” says Denise, sounding exhausted. “Someone’s going to have to make a trip over the bridge at least twice a week, once to get the kids there and once to get them back.” Denise takes another long drag. “Naturally, he decides he has to move in with this girl right before the summer.”

  “Naturally,” I agree. “Maybe you can split up the trips? You take them there and he takes them back?”

  “Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” Denise says darkly. “There’s only so much sitting in traffic I’m going to do.” She laughs with annoyance and shakes her head. “We’ll work it out, but it’s going to be a fucking pain in the ass.”

  “They’ll be spending more time there because it’s summer, right?”

  “Yeah. His girlfriend doesn’t have kids. It’s going to be a big adjustment for her.” She shrugs. “Not really my problem, but it kind of is.”

  “What’s going to happen during the school year?”

  Denise let out a long smoky sigh. “We’re going to have to change how we split the week.”

  “You’ll work it out,” I assure her, trying to be supportive.

  “Hold on,” Denise says as her phone rings. “Hi Mom, how’d it go? Uh-huh. How are Kylie and Ryan? There’s apples and cheese in the fridge.” She frowns. “Why’d you bring them back to your place?”

  I watch the dog’s owner throw the ball, while Denise talks to each of her kids. The conversation goes from telling Kylie how much Mommy had missed her little girl to praising Ryan for being such a brave boy and promising to take him to an upcoming Touch-a-Truck event. After saying, “Bye buddy, see you soon,” she puts the phone away and without saying anything to me, lights another cigarette.

  “It’s a good thing your mom is so involved,” I offer.

  “Yeah,” says Denise. “She’s been a big help. But…” Denise shakes her head. “They’re getting old enough that they’re a handful.”

  “Kylie’s still in that sweet stage.”

  “Yeah, it’s totally different with her. Ryan needs his father.” Denise sighs.

  I wonder what Denise means by her words. Does she mean Ryan needed both parents in his life, or does she mean a woman can’t raise a boy? I can’t get over how differently she’d spoken to her son and daughter. I’m not planning on kids anytime soon, maybe never, but what would she say if I had a kid with another woman?

  “I really hope you can work it out,” I say.

  “Me too,” Denise replies.

  Just then my phone’s timer beeps. “I need to go flip my laundry.”

  “Yeah, mine’s probably done,” she agrees.

  Together we walk back to the laundromat. I’m still thinking about her. Denise is the one real friend I have on Cape. As I help her load her car, I wonder what it would mean for our friendship if I came out. I update her on my morning at the Whale’s Tail, but I skip telling her about Bri’s early arrival. I tell myself Denise is in a hurry, and anyway, she doesn’t know how much Bri means to me.

  After she leaves, I decide to stay inside. I’ve had enough spring wind and the laundromat’s moist warmth feels good. I manage to spend five minutes looking at the ads and announcements tacked on the bulletin board. I read the tracts left by the church just down the street. Then I decide to text Bri.

  Hi, how’s it going?

  She responds almost immediately with a selfie, taken in the bathroom mirror. Her body is wrapped in a dark towel, her hands holding her head. The text says, Tell me if this looks like Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

  I start laughing. I can’t help myself. I text her back, I am laughing, but I take it things aren’t going well?

  Bri responds, No. They want to talk (and talk and talk). Arrrrrggghhh.

  I text back, Sorry, let me know if I can do anything.

  She doesn’t respond, so I stand up to poke at my laundry. Still damp, but getting close. I’m surprised to get another text.

  She attaches another selfie. This one was taken in front of an overstuffed closet, presumably hers, surrounded by the debris of high school activities, T-shirts, ribbons, and who knows what else. She adds, Luckily, I was able to distract my parents by cleaning out my bedroom closet. Also, I figured out my latest entry! I can show my followers how Bri the baby dyke was a cheerleader for a year.

  I smile and send her a text back. This I have to see! I’ll go ahead and get dinner for myself and leave the key under the mat so you can get in. After sending, I sit, waiting for my laundry to finish. I find myself yawning and I’m already set to work a double-shift tomorrow. Maybe Bri would want to finish going through her stuff at her parents’ place, provided they weren’t driving her crazy.

  “Hi Ellen, what’s up?”

  Tommy, excuse me, Tom Cooper sits down beside me. Not for the first time, it occurs to me how much my mother would love him. “Wow, I’m seeing everyone I know. First Denise, now you.”

  “Well, it’s good to see a familiar face,” Tom says. “Some days it just feels like everyone I went to school with has moved off-Cape or started families.”

  “I know that feeling,” I say. I didn’t really want to establish any commonalities with Tom, but I can understand the loneliness of being here. Sometimes I wonder if I miss Bri, or if I just miss the whole experience of being in the Valley. It’s not that I was ever great at meeting people, but back on Cape I was just terrible at it.

  “Listen,” he says. “I was thinking of getting pizza if you wanted to join me?”

  “Oh, I really can’t,” I reply. “I need to finish my laundry and head home so I can see my friend.”

  “This your friend from earlier?” he asks.

  “You have a good memory,” I note. “Yes, same friend.”

  “Now is this a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

  I almost burst out laughing. He needs to work on sounding casual. “No, we’re just friends,” I say.

  “Ah, but you still haven’t told me if they’re a girl or a boy.” He taps his head. “Cop you know. I notice stuff like that.”

  “It’s a girl, but she’s just a friend.”

  “It would be okay if she wasn’t, you know,” he says.

  Thank you, Mr. Diversity Awareness. “Tom,” I say. “I appreciate you want to talk, but I’m not up for it right now. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry Ellen,” he says, sounding sincere. “Of course you are! You got called into work because of the vandalism, right?”

  “I’m sorry if I’m rude. It’s okay.” Why am I reassuring him like this? “You’re just asking me a lot of questions and it’s been a long day.”

  He was all over himself
apologizing while I hauled out my laundry. He even grabs a bag and insists on bringing it into my car. God, he was exhausting. He did have one good idea though. Forget cooking. When I get into my car, I dial the number of the local pizza place, the one just down the road.

  After getting home, I can feel fatigue kicking in. I don’t bother putting away my clothes, but I do put the rug back and make up the pull-out couch with freshly washed sheets. Then I sit in the kitchen to eat my pizza. The freshly made-up couch makes me feel lonely again, so I begin flipping through my phone. Bri’s social media is a mix of pictures. There are happy family pictures, Bri posing with her parents and brother. There are the pictures with snarky captions, filtered so not everyone could see. Bri was always good at compartmentalizing.

  I can’t resist thinking about Pride again. The entire weekend had a bittersweet filter on it, capped by the events of the last day. I’d taken it all so seriously and missed my one chance to make out with Bri. Of course, it probably would have ruined our friendship, but at least I would have kissed her. Quickly, I search for cat videos and watch until I’m ready to put my phone down and go to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  I wake up to the sound of Bri singing. For a moment I just listen, enjoying the feeling of waking up to her voice, happy she is back. I can’t help but wonder what she’d be like to live with. Would she sing every morning? I stretch and my bed creaks. Even through the plastic covering the cottage windows I can tell it was a sunny day.

  “Are you up?” says Bri. She’s standing in the doorway, wearing what looks like a boy’s plaid bathrobe. Vintage? “I looked in on you, but you seemed so tired.”

  “Wait…what time is it?” I sit up and reach for my phone.

  “Eight,” says Bri. “You must have slept for…”

  “Twelve hours,” I say, not without awe.

  “You want some coffee?”

  Before I can respond, she comes into my room, a mug in each hand. I was being brought coffee in bed, two days in a row? Things are definitely looking up.

  “There’s this new coffee roaster in Hadley, so I grabbed a bag. Organic and free trade. You like it with a little sugar and lots of cream?”

  “You remember how I like my coffee?” I was surprised.

  Bri shrugs and sits on the edge of my bed. The mattress sags under her weight, just as it does under Denise. Unlike Denise, I’m keenly aware of Bri’s body leaning against my legs—not just her warmth—but the whole dimension of her. I sip, savoring the taste. Much better than Dunkin’s.

  “I have good friends,” I say.

  Bri smiles. “It’s just coffee.”

  “I know this is going to sound weird, but Denise brought me coffee in bed yesterday.”

  “Oh how funny,” Bri says. She gives me a searching look, or am I imagining things? Then she sips, adding, “You spend a lot of time with Denise.”

  “She’s the best friend I have on Cape.”

  “That’s good. I remember you didn’t know anyone for a while.”

  “My first winter back.” I was so lonely that winter. Bri’s chats online kept me going. Did I ever tell her that? I should.

  “Do you want me to make pancakes?” Bri smiles and holds up a finger, and before I can answer, she says, “Of course you do. I’ll let you know when they’re ready.”

  I sip my coffee and wait for her to call me when they’re ready. I had no idea anyone could make so much noise making pancakes. As I drink, I feel a thrill. She remembered how I like my coffee. After two years. Of course, Bri was good at remembering stuff like that.

  “What’s that?” I ask. I know what it is; it’s the chair from the kitchen. Why was she bringing it in my room?

  “I couldn’t find a tray, so you’ll have to sit up and be careful,” Bri says. She’s carrying two plates.

  “You’re bringing me breakfast in bed?” Holy shit.

  “Well, my stuff is all over everything out there,” Bri says, matter-of-factly.

  “I really don’t believe this.” I do some hasty adjustment of my pillows, so I can sit comfortably. She sits in the chair and waits, holding both plates until I’m done. Then she smiles, hands me one, and we’re eating.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, as I cut into my pancakes. “This is so good.”

  “I figured I’d better put syrup on them before serving, you don’t want to try to pour syrup while you’re in bed. Is it too much?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I say. It’s definitely too much. I could get used to it.

  “Oh look at this, it’s a Jesus vulva.”

  I almost spit out my coffee. “It’s a what?”

  “Jesus vulva,” Bri says, as if it makes perfect sense. As if it makes any sense.

  “Okay,” I say, hesitating. I’d heard her correctly. “What’s a Jesus vulva?”

  “Well, you know how people are always finding Jesus’s face in their toast or whatever? Well, I think we should look for vulvas instead. Isn’t this a good one?”

  “You do realize you’re ridiculous?” I say, half-giggling.

  “Just take a look. Here.” Bri holds her plate out, so I can see it.

  “Well,” I say, looking at the plate thrust under my nose. “That’s a vulva. That’s.... pretty amazing.” I stare at the pancake. The browning marks do bear a striking resemblance to a vulva. I resist the urge to lick it. That would be weird. I breathe a sigh of relief as she takes her plate back. “You’re still wacky,” I tell her.

  “Yeah, wacky me,” she says.

  Did her voice sound sad? “In a good way,” I add.

  “I’m glad someone thinks so,” she says, sounding serious. “My parents don’t.”

  Ah. “How’d it go last night?” I ask, stabbing a bite of pancake with my fork.

  “Oh, about as you’d expect,” Bri says. “They want to talk to me about going back to school full-time. I didn’t tell them I have no plans to go back. Well, I’ll go back eventually, but you made me realize there’s more to life than being on the treadmill.”

  “I made you realize?” I almost dump my plate. “How?”

  “If it wasn’t for your leaving school, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about doing what my parents wanted me to do.”

  “Bri, I didn’t want to come back. I just didn’t know what I was doing.”

  Bri peers at me. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she says. “How many people just keep doing what they’re doing and they never stop to think about where they’re going?”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly plan ahead…” I start, then pause. If Bri wants to give me props, why not let her? It was a nice change from my parents or work.

  “Well, I still feel stuck here,” I say. “And I still have no real plans about what I’m going to do next.” I chase a bite of pancake around the plate, to sop up some more syrup. “I have no social life.”

  “You have fun with Denise,” Bri says.

  “I really like Denise,” I pause and take a deep breath, “but, she doesn’t even know I’m gay.”

  “She…what? How does she not know?” Bri’s voice has just a touch of a disbelieving laugh.

  “I’ve never told her,” I admit. “I’m in the closet.”

  “Ellen, how can you be in the closet?”

  “Well,” I say miserably. “I never came out in high school. I was only starting to come out when I was in college. So people assume and it’s really complicated to tell them.”

  Bri straightens her back. I can imagine her talking to her audience. “Just tell them as it comes up,” she says. “It’s a process. You’re always coming out to someone new, and you’re never out to everyone.”

  “I don’t even know where to start,” I mumble.

  “Start with your parents.”

  Oh boy. “If I tell my mother, all of Cape Cod will know in five minutes.”

  “Problem solved,” Bri says and gives me a wink.

  “No really, it won’t be. Can we talk about something else?”
/>   For a moment, we sit in silence while we finish our pancakes. I glance at Bri to see her thoughtfully gazing at me.

  “Give people a chance,” she says. “Some will disappoint you, some won’t.”

  What if it’s the ones you care about most who disappoint you? Still, I feel better for having talked to her. Even if I wasn’t out, I was at least out to her about not being out. Wait, I should tell her that. “Every time I talk to you, I feel better. I…haven’t been doing well.”

  “I thought you weren’t,” Bri says. “I’m glad I could visit.”

  “I’m glad you could visit too,” I say, wondering when she’ll be going away and feeling an anticipatory sadness. I try not to think about Bri heading back. Looking at her slim body as she lounges on my bed, seeing her impatient movements as she taps her coffee cup. With the two of us on opposite sides of the state, I managed to convince myself that the crush I’d had on her was just the result of some unfinished business. That didn’t work here. “I’ll start cleaning up.”

  “And then we can do something.” Bri’s eyes sparkle.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to work.”

  “Something this evening?”

  “I’m supposed to work a double shift, but, hold on, let me call work and see if I can change that.” I quickly dial Julie’s number.

  “Hello!” Julie answers.

  “Hi Julie, how’s it going? Is the window fixed?”

  “I’m really not happy with how the trim looks,” she replies, clearly in a mood.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” I say. “Are they coming back?”

  Julie gives back a short bark of laughter. “They say they’re not, but we’ll see. When are you coming in today? I need to take off.”

  “I’m scheduled to come in for day and then work night. I was wondering if you wanted me to change that, since I worked a few hours yesterday.”

  “No, I need you here,” she replies.

  I feel resentment, and with some effort, manage to shove it down. “Okay, see you in a bit,” I say before ending the call. “I have to go in. I really wish I didn’t have to.” I try to keep my voice steady. Bri had just gotten here.