Romeo Fails

by Amy Briant

  “Yeah, it does. Especially with Maggie. I hate having to lie to her, or hold things back from her. She probably thinks I’m here because I broke up with my boyfriend.” She laughed her cheerless laugh again. “Although…I know from what Maggie’s told me that she’s had no problem with you being gay, but I don’t know how she’ll react when she eventually finds out I am. She’s such a devout churchgoer, you know? Which is weird for me, because usually I can’t stand religious people. They’re such hypocrites. But Maggie’s like a little sister to me. And when she finds out I’ve been keeping this from her all these years, I don’t know what she’ll do…”

  They both contemplated this while drinking more beer. Dorsey was ready for a new one. But the cooler was on the other side, off behind Sarah’s right shoulder on the deck. She cursed herself for not thinking ahead. If she stood up now, would Sarah think she was making a move on her? Should she make a move on her? Why did she always have to make things so complicated? Fuck, she thought and looked at the empty beer bottle in her hand again. She stood up abruptly, causing Sarah to look up at her questioningly.

  “I, uh, need another beer,” she said, simultaneously realizing that “wade” and “graceful” were two words that cannot be put together, but trying anyhow as she maneuvered across to the cooler. “How about you?”

  “Thanks,” Sarah murmured.

  Dorsey put the two empties in the cooler, opened two new ones and passed one over to Sarah. She stood there for a moment while she tried to decide on what to say next. There was so much more Dorsey wanted to talk about with her, but she wasn’t quite sure where to start. She definitely didn’t want to be caught between Sarah and Maggie. That was for the two of them to work out on their own, she knew. But she didn’t want to miss this opportunity to speak privately with Sarah. Who knew when they might be alone together again? Or how much time they even had that evening? Maggie might be on her way back very soon. The sky was darkening above them, with Venus and a scattering of stars now clearly visible. The moon was a bright sliver as well. She took in some air and tried to find the right words for what she wanted to say.

  “We’ve, uh, never really talked about that night at the festival,” she said, sinking down onto the seat on Sarah’s side of the hot tub. Closer, but still with a good foot of space between them.

  “No,” Sarah agreed. There was a pause where it seemed like each was waiting for the other to speak. Sarah finally broke the silence.

  “So you were working there?” she asked. That wasn’t what Dorsey wanted to talk about, but maybe it was a good idea to start on safer ground.

  “Yeah, I was on the crew as a carpenter, helping to set up and then break down the festival. I’ve done that a few times, sort of a working vacation,” Dorsey said. “If you can call living in a tent in the woods for a month with a hundred lesbians a vacation. Which I do,” she ended with a smile.

  “Great way to meet chicks, huh?” Sarah said, her eyes twinkling.

  “Not really,” Dorsey replied, her smile fading. “At least, not for me. I…well, I guess I haven’t had much luck in that regard, in general.”

  “Why not?” Sarah said. She was serious now too.

  “Well, there are people who do the festival circuit all the time, you know, year in and year out. They’re sort of a private club. I mean, they’re friendly enough, but I always feel like kind of an outsider there. It’s probably my fault…I know I’m not the most outgoing person… Anyhow, there’s really no one here in town, of course. No one who’s out, at least, except for the Sizzle Sisters.”

  “Who?”

  “The Sizzle Sisters—they’re not really sisters. They’re these two old lesbians in their seventies who’ve lived together forever. I think one’s a retired army nurse and the other’s a retired secretary. They moved here from Grover City a long time ago. People call them the Sizzle Sisters because they’ve eaten dinner at the Sizzle’N’Shake every Sunday night without fail for something like the last seventeen years. You’ve probably seen them around town.”

  “Who else?” Sarah prompted.

  “Nobody. Just me. There was a rumor that one of the high school girls was gay, but I’m pretty sure she started it herself, just to get attention. Oh, and some people think the new doctor is queer, but I don’t get that vibe.”

  “Dr. Melba?” Sarah asked. “No way. Totally straight.”

  Dorsey felt warmed by her agreement.

  “Is that it?” Sarah said.

  Dorsey shrugged. “That’s it. It’s a small town. If there’s anybody else, they’re way deep in the closet.”

  “But…the festival…” Sarah’s voice trailed off as she couldn’t figure out how to end the question.

  “Oh, there’ve been a few hook-ups along the way,” Dorsey said, trying to sound casual and lighthearted. As well as not like a total loser. She really wanted Sarah to like her and she wasn’t sure this cataloging of her past romantic failures was the best way to go about it. But at least they were talking. She went on.

  “There was one girl I met at Festival several years ago from Albuquerque and we tried to do the long-distance thing for a while. But it didn’t work out. And when I was twenty-one, there was a woman who drove a truck for one of the hardware store suppliers. Fiona… she was older…and I was young and stupid. It took me a while, but I finally figured out I was just part of her a-girl-in-every-port plan. Plus, I knew Good would be pissed if I messed up the business connection, so it was just as well that fiasco ended sooner rather than later. And then there was a highway patrol sergeant I met when she gave me a ticket a couple of years ago. But she was stationed up north in Perrinville, so that was long-distance again, plus she was way in the closet because of her job. Long story short, not meant to be.”

  Dorsey sighed. Her history sounded even worse out loud than it did in her head. What a depressing and unimpressive list. What an idiot Sarah must think she was.

  “Pathetic, right?” she said. She leaned back and rested her arms along the top of the tub, then took another slug of her beer.

  To her surprise, Sarah slid across the space between them to sit next to her. Right next to her, in fact. Under her right arm. Their slick thighs met for a moment as Sarah reached out to briefly touch Dorsey’s knee. Dorsey felt excited, yet wary—what did Sarah have in mind?

  “I, uh…I haven’t been totally honest with you,” Sarah said quietly, looking down at the dark water bubbling beneath them. Her hands were gathered back in her lap now.

  A sense of dread filled Dorsey. Instead of some mindless sex in the hot tub, or even just a pleasant conversation with another human being, clearly some kind of depressing confession would now be forthcoming. Why did these things always have to go so wrong for her, she asked herself. Why couldn’t she ever find just a little piece of happiness? She felt tears pricking her eyes and angrily shook her head to clear them away.

  Sarah misunderstood. “No, don’t try to stop me. I need to—I want to tell you the truth.”

  Dorsey swallowed, her heart heavy with anxiety. Might as well get it over with, she thought.

  “The truth about what, Sarah?”

  “Well, I told you I’m taking some time off from work. And I am—but because I got fired.”

  Sarah glanced up and over at Dorsey, then back down. Dorsey could tell from her miserable gaze that this was only the beginning of the story. As fearful as she was of the ending and its implications for her, another part of her only wanted to take Sarah in her arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

  But what was everything? Clearly, more than just a lost job was going on here. Sarah was still looking down, seeming lost in reverie.

  “Go on,” Dorsey said to her softly, tugging gently on an upstanding spike of Sarah’s coal black hair to reclaim her attention.

  “There was this girl,” Sarah began, sitting up a little straighter and moving closer to Dorsey in the process. Dorsey’s outstretched arm hovered just over Sarah’s pristine shoulders. Sar
ah started to speak again, then stopped, with a little laugh that was halfway to a sob. “That sounds like the first line from every piece of lesbian drama you’ve ever heard, right?”

  “It’s okay,” Dorsey said calmly. “I’m listening.”

  “Well…her name is Ana. She was an editorial assistant at the magazine where I worked. For seven years.” Her voice betrayed a touch of bitterness with that last sentence.

  “Anyhow,” Sarah continued, “we were friends first, but then things…progressed. Got out of hand.” She was silent for a moment. She took her glasses off, wiped the steamy lenses with a forefinger to clear them, then put them back on.

  “Did you love her?” Dorsey asked. Praying the answer was no.

  “No,” Sarah said. “I guess I thought I was falling for her, at one point. But…she changed. She got so difficult, so…obsessed. She had to know where I was every minute, when I’d be home, where was I going, who was I talking to. It was crazy. We’d only been together for like six months. I was starting to realize it was a mistake, but I still had feelings for her. And we would still have some good times. But then the magazine was going to send me to Toronto for a week for a story and she completely flipped out. And I mean flipped out. Forbade me to go. She was crying, hysterical. It was bad…”

  Her voice trailed off for a second, but then she resumed her narrative.

  “Anyhow, I knew then I had to break it off and I did. I told her we were through, it was over, got the key to my loft back and went to Toronto. When I got home, all hell had broken loose.”

  She paused again and looked up at Dorsey. “I guess I should have told you this part up front,” Sarah said. “She’s the publisher’s daughter.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. And while I was in Toronto, she was busy taking just enough pills to get her stomach pumped—but not kill her—and making some superficial cuts to one of her wrists that didn’t even end up requiring stitches, calling 911 and then artfully collapsing on my bed, because she’d made a copy of the apartment key, unbeknownst to me.”

  “Jesus,” Dorsey said, “that must have been awful.”

  “Yeah, well, it got worse. As soon as I got back to work, my boss called me into his office, didn’t mention Ana at all, but said a bunch of bullshit about me missing a deadline—which wasn’t true—and the quality of my work not being up to snuff. Which was also totally not true. Bottom line, they found enough reasons to fire me on the spot.”

  “God, Sarah,” Dorsey said with empathy. Which she sincerely felt, but another part of her was signaling Drama Alert! and waving a big yellow caution sign.

  Dorsey was not a fan of drama. Other women seemed to thrive on it and even find ways to manufacture it when life didn’t provide them with enough, but not her. She liked peace, quiet and harmony. That being said, she did know that drama had a way of sneaking up and hitting you over the head with a frying pan when you least expected it. She hoped this tale of woe of Sarah’s was the exception rather than the rule. She was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt so far, but it wouldn’t take much more to scare her off, she thought.

  “When did all this happen?” Dorsey asked cautiously.

  “About three months ago. At first, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, fired, after seven years. And for what? Sleeping with daddy’s little girl? Shit. Anyhow, I tried finding a job with other magazines, but after a couple of months of polite rejections and people ‘forgetting’ to return my calls, I got the message—I’m blacklisted. In Chicago, at least.”

  She looked at Dorsey to see how she was reacting to all this information. “Some sob story, huh?” Sarah tried to say with a smile, but the little catch in her voice gave her away.

  Dorsey’s arm went around her then, pulling her in close. Sarah pressed her face into Dorsey’s shoulder, struggling to regain her composure.

  “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” Dorsey offered.

  “Yeah,” Sarah said. She sat up a little straighter, but still leaned into Dorsey’s side. Dorsey liked the feeling of her arm around Sarah. It felt like it was meant to be there. The feeling of their slick thighs touching beneath the bubbles wasn’t bad, either.

  “It was just a mess,” Sarah continued. “I finally gave up my apartment, threw all my shit in storage, got in the car and drove straight through to Romeo Falls, just to get away. I knew Maggie would take me in. Guess I kind of forgot about Aunt Viv being part of the package, though,” she ended with a wry smile. She took a sip of her beer, then took her glasses off to examine them. They were foggy again from the steam. She set them carefully aside on the deck behind her.

  “So what are you going to do?” Dorsey asked her.

  “For work, you mean? I’ve got a few feelers out to people I know in New York and L.A. Financially, at least, I’m not in any rush, thank goodness. I’ve got enough to see me through the summer. I thought I might use this time in Romeo Falls to finally start work on a novel, actually.”

  “You’re writing a book?” Dorsey was impressed.

  “Well, it’s just at the notes stage now.”

  “I always admire people who can write,” Dorsey said.

  “That’s funny, I always admire people who can do things with their hands,” Sarah replied.

  They shared a small smile. Sarah reached down and picked up Dorsey’s hand, measuring her own against it. Even that minimal contact was highly arousing. Dorsey found herself speechless again, overwhelmed by the sensation of Sarah’s touch.

  Sarah said, “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot since that night by the lake, Dorsey.” With her glasses off, her blue eyes looked even bigger in the moonlight. “Have you…thought about me?” Sarah asked.

  Dorsey paused to consider her answer. Frankly, it was kind of hard to reconcile the Sarah right in front of her with the Naked Silver Lake Goddess. She almost seemed like three different people—the cousin she’d heard about and disliked from afar all her life, the Goddess with whom she’d spent just a few magical hours and the real Sarah sitting next to her now in the hot tub. Dorsey knew how she felt about the first two. She wasn’t so sure yet about the third.

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about you,” she admitted. “And that night. But…”

  “But?” Sarah echoed, setting her beer bottle down on the deck and letting go of Dorsey’s hand as well, to her disappointment.

  “But what about Maggie?” Dorsey said.

  Sarah reached over and plucked Dorsey’s bottle out of her hand, setting it down on the deck too. She put a hand down on Dorsey’s thigh to help her balance as she carefully stood upright in the hot tub, facing Dorsey.

  “Maggie who?” she said with a wicked grin as she gracefully slid onto Dorsey’s lap, straddling her.

  Dorsey felt there was something she should say, but suddenly and completely lost her train of thought as Sarah’s firm, wet body took control of all her senses. Sarah’s lips met hers with an urgency that Dorsey reveled in. As they kissed, Sarah’s hands were running through her hair while Dorsey’s hands slid up Sarah’s thighs. At her hips, Dorsey’s fingers worked their way under the waistband of Sarah’s bikini bottoms, pulling them down an inch or two. Sarah gave a small moan as she felt the pressure of Dorsey’s hands. She broke their kiss just long enough to rear backward and unsnap her bikini top, which now hung loosely from her neck, the sides of her perfect breasts exposed in the moonlight. As Sarah hurriedly flung her bikini top onto the deck, Dorsey reached for her and pulled her in so she could put her mouth on first one, then the other of her flawless nipples. Sarah gasped and threw her head back as Dorsey sucked and licked, then pushed Dorsey off so she could stand again.

  Sarah’s breasts swayed in Dorsey’s face as she leaned over her, her hands on the deck behind Dorsey’s head. Dorsey eased off Sarah’s bikini bottoms as Sarah stood challengingly over her, panting with the slowness with which Dorsey was teasing her. Dorsey’s face was underwater for a moment as she leaned down to finish guiding the bikini off Sarah’s
glistening naked body. Sarah restraddled her as she sat back up, kissing her deeply, pressing against her from head to toe. Dorsey tossed the bikini bottoms backward onto the deck, not knowing or caring where they landed as she kissed Sarah back, her mind in joyous tumult that she had her Goddess back again. She couldn’t get enough of her—her eyes, her hands, her lips couldn’t get enough of her. Her hand slipped in between Sarah’s legs. Sarah stiffened for a moment, then adjusted her position to give the hand more room to maneuver. She struggled for breath as Dorsey’s fingers slid back and forth.

  “Tell me what you want,” Dorsey whispered in her ear as Sarah clutched her fiercely. Dorsey kissed her throat as Sarah moved with and against her.

  “Just keep—” Sarah managed to gasp, but then both women froze as headlights raked the deck and the house. They heard the gravel crunch as a car turned off the highway onto the long Bartholomew driveway.

  “Oh my God,” Dorsey groaned as Sarah said, “It’s Maggie!”

  She leaped off Dorsey’s lap and fumbled for her bikini top, which was just behind Dorsey’s head on the deck. Dorsey felt overwhelmed with disappointment, but couldn’t help but admire the view as a naked Sarah stood above her and yanked her bikini top back on at high speed. Her waist was right at eye level. Dorsey’s fingers reached out as if of their own accord to stroke the soft dark strip of hair beneath. Sarah gasped again, then grabbed her hand.

  “Stop,” she said with a rising note of panic in her voice. She grabbed her glasses from the deck and put them on hurriedly. “Where are my bikini bottoms? Do you see them? She’ll be up here any minute…” She swiveled her head around, searching frantically for the missing half of her suit. Dorsey didn’t see it either. Thanks to the night, which was now fully dark, and the large potted plants dotting the perimeter of the deck, she felt certain that Maggie hadn’t seen anything as she drove up. She could hear the sounds of Maggie parking below, however, so her arrival on the deck was imminent. The car door slammed.

  “Just sit down and act casual,” she said to Sarah in an undertone. “Here, drink your beer. She won’t see anything under the bubbles. I’ll see if I can find them.”