Wherever the Dandelion Falls

by Lily R. Mason

  "You can sleep with as many people as you want, but you shouldn't mess around with people's feelings like that."

  She pursed her lips before she said, surprisingly calm, "I thought we were on the same page. I didn't mean to mislead you into thinking there was more happening than really good sex. Really good sex."

  Her apology was so straightforward and genuine, my anger and resentment started to drain. Her compliment of my sexual prowess didn't hurt either.

  She continued. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to stay until you get some attention in this godforsaken place. Or until Justine gets here."

  Convinced she wasn't a horrible person, I nodded, pressing the makeshift dressing around my injury tighter.

  But one question still burned in my mind. It was the question I didn't want to think about too much because I didn't want to be an accomplice to hurting anyone else's feelings.

  "Can I ask you one thing?"

  Faye looked at me with a hesitant nod.

  "Was that girl - Was she your girlfriend?"

  Faye's eyes went wide for a second before she sputtered, "No. No." She waved her hand as though the idea was unsavory. "I'm not—I'm not dating anyone."

  Relieved, I settled back into my seat. "Okay. Just wondering."

  Faye patted my arm before rocking out of her seat, declaring she was famished and was going to find food for us.

  Since Justine never called me back, Faye ended up staying for all three hours I was in the emergency room. I softened more towards her than I imagined I would. By the time I'd been stitched up and released, it was two in the morning and I was more exhausted than if I'd worked at Jules' for ten hours without a break. Faye must have been tired too, but she didn't show it. She drove me to my doorstep and offered to help me unlock the door. I gave her a grateful, fatigued smile and declined.

  The next morning she texted me asking how I was doing and if my hand still hurt. It did, but I told her it was fine. She sent me pouty face emoticons and wished me a swift healing.

  I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn't. She showed up that evening with two boxes of microwave macaroni and cheese, saying it must be hard for me to cook without the use of my dominant hand. As we settled onto the couch, she took a long sip of water and said, "Can we have a fresh start?"

  I realized her gesture had been one of apology, and decided to accept it.

  Was she asking to date me? To pretend we'd never slept together? To just see what happened? I wanted clarity, since she was so hard to read sometimes. "As what?"

  "Friends," she said immediately.

  I was disappointed that she answered so certainly. She had told me she was single. What was wrong with me that she didn't want to entertain the possibility or being more than friends? But she was generous and attentive, and I supposed it didn't matter what we were as long as she kept being nice and honest.

  But I also didn't know what friends entailed. Was she friends with the other girl too? Did friendship include sex? So I asked, "With benefits?"

  She bit her lip. "Is that something you can do and keep it separate?"

  Her hesitation convinced me she really was looking out for my feelings. She knew not everyone could have no-strings sex. I had thought I could, but after just two times with her, I wasn't sure. So I said as much. "I'm not sure."

  "Just friends, then," she said. She held up her water glass for me to clink.

  Heavily, I held my water glass in my uninjured hand and tapped it to hers. “Friends."

  I didn't know what a formal date with Faye would entail. Would it be something fancy, like a cocktail bar in SoMa with dim lighting? Or would she do something lavish, like a fancy restaurant where the chef comes to your table and makes small talk before cooking something overwhelmingly delicious with an even more overwhelming bill? Or, would she opt to take me to something like the opera, plunging me into a medium I knew nothing about? Or what if she was like Henry or Vance, expecting me to hook up with her? Whatever Faye had planned, I was certain I wouldn't know what to do.

  On the day of the date, I stared into my closet, feeling the paralysis of anxiety overtake me. I inched back until I felt my knees brush the bed, and lowered myself to sitting. Keeping my eyes on the hangers and sleeves before me, I drew my knees up to my chest. I didn't know what to wear, and my thoughts were flitting around in such away that I knew the decision was going to take forever. I had the cute outfit from my date with Vance, but I wasn't sure I wanted to wear that. It seemed tainted.

  I was about to text Faye to tell her I wasn't feeling well and ask to reschedule for the twelfth of Never when Justine knocked on my door.

  "Riley?" she called when I didn't respond right away.

  "Yeah..."

  She opened the door a crack and saw me perched on my bed in my underwear.

  She tilted her head and pouted. "It's gonna be fun. Don't psych yourself out."

  I took a deep breath which only seemed to inspire another flurry of nerves.

  Justine stepped toward the closet, scanning through a few things before she found a cocktail dress smushed against the wall, hidden by the sleeves of my winter coats. I'd forgotten about that dress. Kimi gave it to me the last time I went home for Christmas.

  "Wear this," Justine said. "You can't go wrong with an LBD."

  She beckoned with her hand for me to stand, and she fitted it over my arms and pulled it down, smoothing it over my hips. Then she made a swiveling motion with her finger, instructing me to turn around.

  "Perfect," Justine cooed. "It makes your ass look good."

  I winced and turned to face her again, but by the time I turned around, she was rummaging in my closet. She found the heels I'd bought for my date with Vance, placing them on the floor in front of me.

  "Here you go, Cinderella."

  I put my hand on her shoulder and slid my feet into the shoes. They didn't make me feel any steadier, but they did make my legs look nice.

  Justine gave me a once-over. "She's not going to know what hit her," she grinned.

  Ten minutes later, I had calmed down enough to do my own makeup. I kept checking my watch, but since I'd taken it off, I kept feeling dumb for looking at my naked wrist.

  I was pacing around my room when the doorbell rang. I didn't want to pace in the living room. Justine was being sweet, but she could never pass up an opportunity for a little dig. Sure enough, she immediately called, louder than necessary, "Riii-ley! Your date's here!"

  My body surged with anxiety. Why was I so nervous about this? I'd never been this nervous before a date. Not with Damon, not with Henry, not with Vance. Perhaps I was feeling this way because I had no business dating someone as ambitious and refined and glamorous as Faye. My body was rebelling against my mind, which was arguing that I was smart and capable and sexy enough to get away with dating her. Now I was almost sick to my stomach with discord.

  But Faye was at the door and Justine wouldn't hear a single word of reasonable protest if I tried to back out now. So I set one foot in front of the other, trying to walk quietly and not incite comments from Justine.

  Justine's eyes raked up and down my body, eyebrows lifting over a smile. It wasn't even a sarcastic smile, for once. Then she gave me a silent, animated thumbs up and whispered, “Go get 'er, tiger.”

  I felt self-conscious, acutely aware of my body, but also better now that I'd gotten my roommate's approval on the final product. My heels were louder than my usual work flats on our worn hardwood, but I kind of liked it. They were an echo of Faye's confident steps.

  I put my hand on the doorknob and took a breath before twisting it, screwing my face into a confident smile as I did.

  Faye was on the other side of the door, hair flowing over her shoulders, lipstick coating her bright, full lips that smiled at me under sparkling eyes. She had something in her hands, and as I looked down to see what it was, I noticed that she was dressed casually. She had a v-neck t-shirt on and khaki skirt with a pair of flats. She looked like she was
on her way out to the farmer's market or the grocery store, not a date. I stiffened with worry. Had I overdressed? She hadn't told me where we were going. I'd just assumed we were going out to dinner and maybe a bar or something.

  "Hi," she greeted.

  "Hi."

  "I brought this for you," she said, extending her hands toward me. I saw that she was holding a glass jar full of saltwater taffy. "My friends and I went to Santa Cruz recently and I bought too much. I know you like sweets, so I figured..." She trailed off, shrugging, and I realized that she was more nervous than I'd thought.

  "Oh, thanks," I said.

  Her hand drifted further toward me and I took the jar from her. Then, hugging it to my stomach, I dropped my head and looked down. "I overdressed," I muttered.

  "No, you look great!" Faye responded, though her cheer seemed forced. "You look... very nice, Riley." It sounded like she was trying too hard to use polite, neutral words and wondered what she had wanted to say instead.

  "Should I change?" I asked, not convinced. "I should change."

  “No, no," she said, hand fluttering forward to stop me as I stepped back into the house. "You look great."

  "Not even my shoes?" I asked, realizing that with the three inch heel, I towered over her by more than half a foot.

  "We are going to be walking a lot. Whatever you're comfortable in," she said with a smile.

  "Okay, I'll change my shoes." I said.

  "Okay," she said. "Those are cute though.”

  I was relieved to be able to backtrack into the apartment for a minute. Now that I'd seen her, I had an idea of how the night was going to go. Maybe she wasn't going to put me too far outside my comfort zone. Maybe this would be fun.

  I steadied myself against the wall as I leaned into my closet, slipping off my heels and putting on a pair of plain black flats, almost like the ones Faye was wearing. Then I rushed out into the living room, whisking Faye away from Justine before she could embarrass me.

  "So where are we going?" I asked once I was buckled into her car.

  Faye grinned. "You like science, right?"

  "Well, yeah."

  "The Exploratorium does these date night things where adults can come in and play with the exhibits and sample local wines. I thought that sounded like something you'd enjoy."

  The Exploratorium is a hands-on museum designed for kids of all ages to explore some of the ways science manifested itself in the world, in particular how it interacted with the human brain. Everything from optical illusions to gravity to Newtonian physics was represented in the huge collection of games and experiments.

  I melted. Faye knew better than to take me somewhere too fancy. She had picked something we would both enjoy. "So it's a science nerd and wine snob date?"

  Faye chuckled. "Yep. I've never been to the Exploratorium before."

  "Really?" I said, getting excited. I couldn't wait to show Faye my favorite exhibits. I relaxed, realizing that I'd feel like I knew more than she did. Even if I had no idea how to date a girl, I could explain cellular regeneration in my sleep.

  "Really," Faye said.

  "Oh man," I said, trying to contain my excitement. I didn't want to look like too much of a nerd.

  But I realized Faye wanted me to be excited. She liked my nerdiness.

  "I hope you won't be too disappointed if I don't pay attention to the wine," I said.

  Faye's smile grew. "Of course. As long as you let me try a few samples."

  "Of course," I said. "Do you know a lot about wine?"

  "Some," Faye said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "I know enough to be picky."

  "Will you teach me?" I asked.

  "Sure," Faye grinned.

  Soon we were pulling in to the parking lot at Pier 15. After giving her keys to the valet, Faye gave me the cutest, most excited smile.

  When we got to the entrance, she handed a paper with barcodes to the person at the door. She had already paid for our tickets online. I wasn't sure how I felt about that; it was odd to have another girl paying for things all the time. But maybe this was how it worked. Maybe whoever did the asking paid for things.

  Once we were inside, I felt like my whole body lit up with excitement. I wanted to show Faye every exhibit and explain to her what was happening beyond the simple explanations the signs gave. She snagged us each a small glass of wine, which I drank quickly so I would have both my hands free to interact with the exhibits.

  My favorite section of the whole museum was the part dedicated to light. There are dozens of experiments that explore retinal adjustment, refraction, color adaptation, and how our brain can bend and distort images in a short amount of time. I jabbered to Faye about everything, and when I looked up from where I was hunched over a light booth, she was beaming at me. For a minute my mind went blank and all I could think about was her smile. I was suspended in that moment, captivated by her face until she lifted her glass to her lips and I realized I had stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. I blundered my way through the rest of my explanation, feeling pink rise in my cheeks. When I finished talking, she leaned over to see what I was talking about, asking a few more questions before she put her hand gently on my arm and offered to get me another glass of wine.

  After that, I didn't feel self-conscious about my excitement. She even encouraged me, asking questions about the live chicken embryos and laughing with me at how silly we looked in the slow-motion video footage booth. When we got in the car after a wonderful few hours, my throat was dry from talking about everything we'd seen. The displays had incited more nerdy explanations that I thought I was capable of. But Faye had held her wine glass and listened attentively, nodding and smiling. I was tired, but most of me was wired with the excitement of being on a good date and letting my brain run so wild with nerdy science things. Something was swelling in my chest, and I didn't want to deflate by saying goodnight too soon.

  She must have been feeling the same way, because as we pulled out of the parking lot, she turned to me. "Would you like to come back to my house for a drink?"

  I felt myself freeze. I didn't know what to say. She wasn't really inviting me over for a drink. Vance had invited me up for a drink when what he wanted was to get in my pants. I knew Faye was nothing like Vance, but the meaning behind her words made my stomach curdle and the floating feeling in my chest wither. No matter how much I liked her, I wasn't ready to have sex with her. Even though I'd been with a girl before, it was still a big deal to me. The expectation she was unfairly laying on me made me chill.

  I thought back to the time my mom had sat me down in the small apartment I spent half my nights in as a teen. She hadn't had much money, and worked two jobs to keep the lights on and food in our fridge.

  "Riley," my mom said, pressing the flowers on her dress into her knees in an attempt to appear calm, even though she wasn't. "If any boy ever asks you to... make love... and you're not ready, you don't need to give him a reason. You can just say No thank you. And if he doesn't listen, get out of there as fast as you can. It doesn't matter if he's the senator's son or a millionaire. You decide when you want to... be intimate. Don't let him make you feel guilty for not giving him a reason." I had absorbed the embarrassment that bled through my mom's euphemisms and the way she forcefully squared her shoulders. Even if it had been one of those horribly embarrassing conversations, what she said to me stuck. I didn't have to give someone a reason for not wanting to have sex. I could just say no thank you, and that was enough.

  I swallowed, knowing I'd have to deliver the blow to Faye somehow. Falling back on the manners I'd been raised with, I said quietly, "No, thank you."

  Faye realized she'd crossed a boundary, because I felt her zip up uncomfortably. "Okay," she said.

  "We could stop at a wine bar or something," I suggested, wanting to elongate the evening. The later I got home, the more conversations with Faye I would have to play over in my head, more rapt gazes to paper the walls of my mind, more graceful gestures of her wrist to memorize
. I would have more things about her to savor until I saw her again. I needed those things.

  Faye brightened. "Okay," she said. "There's a nice place right near here."

  "Sounds good," I said, sitting up straighter.

  And even though a part of me panged guilty for dashing Faye's hopes of getting laid, I was proud that I'd stuck by my convictions.

  I opened the door for Faye, welcoming her into the sleepy morning at the closed peep show. I took her through the dressing room and up the stairs into the fishbowl that was the Box, holding the door open for her to follow me.

  Faye kept her hands close to her sides, her shoulders tense with anxiety as her eyes jumped around the room, trying to avoid her own reflection. She stepped up onto the floor where I stood, studying the mirrored walls and poles.

  Faye whispered, "Are you sure there's no one watching us?"

  I nodded. "Totally sure. The front door is locked and we have a security guard around the clock. The only people in the building are the dancers, and we don't go in the booths."

  Faye nodded, looking a little braver.

  "When there are people in the booths, those little lights go on," I said, tapping the colored dots sprinkled evenly across the mirrors.

  Looking at our reflections, I realized I had never been in the Box with so much clothing on. I had on jeans and a loose purple t-shirt that hung unevenly on my shoulders. Being so casual in the Box felt nice, kind of like I was just hanging out with Faye.

  There was a small panel that controlled the sound system in the corner, and Faye's eyes latched onto it like a lifeline.

  "Is that for the music?" she asked.

  I nodded and walked over to it. I pushed a few buttons and the speakers in the ceiling crackled a bit. Faye looked up like we were about to fall on her.

  "Got any requests?" I asked.

  Faye pursed her lips. "Beyoncé?"

  I gave a smile and queued up Naughty Girl as Faye ventured further into the room.

  As the first tight, meaty chord of the song played, Faye eyed the pole, looking up and down its full length. She seemed intrigued, as though she'd never seen a pole in person.