Faye looked down at me, looking at the fear on my face before she shook her head. She stroked my hair before saying gently, "Let's just stay here for a while."
Relieved, I nodded and burrowed into the crook of her neck, glad to have time to figure intimacy out before we tried again.
Chapter 21: Eyes Open
After a few minutes of laying in tense silence, Faye broke from my embrace. I knew we weren't going to be able to stay there forever. She had to have brunch with her parents, and the bed wasn't going to hold us together forever. She took a shower, and since I didn't have anything else to do, I made her bed and picked up a few pieces of clothing on the ground.
It was odd, looking at her bed made like that. I'd never seen it made. It seemed almost like we would never return to it, which made me anxious.
After her shower, Faye was more withdrawn. I expected it, since she had to pull herself together to go see her parents for a final few hours. Wanting to give her all the fortitude I had, I drew her gently into my arms, not as a lover would, but as a mother or a friend or a kindergarten teacher would.
"You're almost there," I said. "Once they leave you can come back and sleep the rest of the day."
"I'll need it," she mumbled. She almost sounded like she was sniffling, but she was fresh from her shower, her light coat of a makeup perfectly painted on.
I pulled back and held her hands. "You look great," I said.
Faye laughed as though I was joking and pulled away. She bent down and picked up her purse, barely making eye contact as she walked toward the door.
I wanted to know when I'd see her again, wanted to be sure that we'd get back to where we'd been. I hadn't seen her in so long. So I took a risk.
"There's this cool singer playing tonight at Michael's. I know it's not your scene, but I'd love it if you'd come see my new work. It should be pretty mellow."
Faye swallowed and gave a subtle nod, which sparked a flicker of hope.
"Yeah?" I asked, surprised and happy.
"Sure," she said. Her voice was so tired, I felt bad asking. But I wanted to make sure she didn't come home and spend all night crying, especially since I couldn't be with her.
"It's tame," I said. "Not too…" I made a sparkling motion with my hands and Faye gave me a weary smile. Then it faded, and I was left still unsure.
I wanted to know something about the future, wanted to know if I was still welcome in Faye's oddly made bed, but I couldn't ask outright. So I did the next best thing. "What should I do with the key?" I asked, pulling it from where I'd stuck it in my pocket.
If it were possible, she avoided eye contact even more.
"Just leave it on the desk."
My heart sank as I gingerly set it on the desk and picked up my own keys.
"Have fun with your parents," I said.
She nodded and didn't say anything more as we walked downstairs out into the fog.
I went back to my apartment, suddenly feeling exhausted. I'd gotten up in the middle of the night, not realizing how hard it would make my day. I didn't have time to go back to sleep before I went to work to start setting up for our evening event. I barely had time to shower before rushing to Church Street to open for the day.
I texted Faye once I was certain that she had dropped her parents off at the airport. I gave her the address and time for the event, telling her I was happy she was coming. She didn't respond, but I figured she had gone back home to sleep. The image of her sleeping made my heart mellow a little. She was at peace in sleep usually, and now that her parents were gone, hopefully she could start to recharge and get back to the girl I knew and loved so much.
I was started to get the hang of things at Michael's. I knew the opening procedure and had stopped getting my keys confused. I knew which of the kitchen staff were more likely to be friendly to me, and I was starting to recognize a few faces among the patrons. The small bar felt dusty and ridiculous compares to Jules', where only the top shelf bottles stuck around for long. At Michael's, guests never ordered more than a glass or two of wine to go with their food, and it was rare to see the liquor used.
I put a little Reserved sign on the smallest table in the back of the cafe for Faye. I wanted to do what I could to put a smile on her face tonight. I found a tiny vase of fake flowers and put it next to the candle that would be lit shortly before the show started. This wouldn't look like a date, since I was working, but I wanted it to be a nice night out for her.
I still hadn't heard from Faye by the time the performer arrived to do her mic check. I figured Faye must be as tired as I felt, only emotionally exhausted too. I thought about the way she'd shook in my arms last night, unable to tell me what was wrong, and sent as many wishes for gentle dreams as I could in the direction of her apartment.
By the time people started arriving for the show, I still hadn't heard from her. Maybe she wanted to slip in the back unnoticed. I busied myself helping the performer set up her mics and checking the balance in her monitor. I checked in with the waiter and the sound board operator. I checked my phone; still no word from Faye. But it wasn't like she needed to send me a text that she was on her way.
But after Michelle had sung her first song of the night, Faye still wasn't there. I started to get anxious. Was she upset again? I tried to reason with myself that she was often running late — usually because we'd been having sex and she didn't want to get out of bed to get to class — but I was still on edge. When Michelle took her set break, I was frantic with worry. Had Faye gotten in a car crash? Was she drinking alone again? Was she angry with me? Lying in bed crying?
I texted her what I hoped wasn't an accusatory You okay?
She answered right away, a mysterious, Yeah.
Where are you? I asked.
She paused before typing out, At home.
I stared at my phone before scrolling up to check that I had sent her the address and correct time for the event. It was there. She'd gotten it.
And she'd decided not to show up.
I was nervous for Faye to meet my friends. I wanted to make a good impression on her, and even though my friends were all smart and witty and fun, I didn't know if they were anything like Faye's friends. My anxiety translated into arranging every cracker and carrot stick meticulously on its plate, sweeping up every crumb, and inspecting every glass for smudges. Justine gave me a subtle warning with her eyes that I was getting too worked up, but she didn't say anything, only went back to making one of her amazing salad dressings before sprinkling it over the lettuce I'd washed three times.
My friends Kendra and Julian arrived before Faye did, and while it was good to catch up with them — I hadn't seen them much since I'd been dating Faye, had I? — my anxiety didn't settle until I saw Faye outside the door, smile beautiful as ever, graceful as she handed Justine a bottle of wine. Seeing her face gave me the usual rush I got around her, which made my anxiety flare for a moment before calming. We were still waiting for a few more of my grad school friends to arrive, and I found myself shifting awkwardly on my feet, not knowing what to say.
It's harder than it should be when you try to mix two groups of people. Justine was one part of my life, Faye another, my friends another, my job another. I started thinking this had been a terrible idea or that maybe I was introducing everyone too soon. Maybe we could go see a movie after a quick dinner so we wouldn't have to talk.
But once everyone had arrived, all the anxiety I'd felt about keeping conversation flowing disappeared. I realized Faye was one of those people I would never need to babysit in social situations. She talked to everyone and was interested in what they had to say. My friend Kendra gave me a thumbs up behind Faye's back, and I blushed a little.
The conversation didn't die down once we sat around the living room with our plates. Everyone turned their attention to Faye when Kendra asked about her journey towards working at The Chronicle. Everyone was in awe of her success, and I felt my chest puff up with pride.
But the story Faye told w
asn't one I'd heard before. When Kendra asked about college, Faye paused, contemplating her fork for a second before she said, "When I came out, my parents tried to pull the plug on my degree. So I got a job and took out crazy loans to stay in school. My friend Isaiah helped me out a lot. I stayed with his parents over the summer so I didn't have to go home. After a year of that, I dropped out and went to Columbia for journalism."
It was silent for a moment and I was worried.
"Wow," Kendra breathed.
Faye gave a shrug that attempted to downplay how hard she'd worked to be where she was. "It was what I had to do."
Kendra nodded, and then there was silence. I'd had no idea that Faye's parents had been so vicious in their reaction to her coming out. I felt foolish for not knowing something so basic about my girlfriend. Had I just missed the details of that story? Forgotten them in my relentless attempts to protect myself against Faye's charms? Or had she just not told me?
Faye redirected the conversation back to my friends, asking how they'd all met me and how long they'd been in San Francisco. I watched it all play out in front of me, amazed at the grace of Faye's social skills, feeling for the hundredth time like the luckiest girl in the room.
Time flew by and I could tell from my friend's faces that they were having a good time. I was shocked when someone said it was almost midnight and they should be getting home. Faye said goodbye to everyone at the door with me, then turned to me with a gentle, triumphant smile.
"Think they liked me?" she asked, face smug with certainty that they did.
I toyed with the idea of teasing her with a noncommittal response, but I was so proud of her and so grateful she'd carried the conversation all night, I didn't feel right doing that. So I wrapped my arms around her neck and drew my body close to hers. "Definitely," I said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, "But not half as much as I like you."
Faye gave me a peck on the lips and then pulled away.
"Lie down," she said, gesturing to the couch.
Suddenly tense with uncertainly, I glanced at the couch. Was she going to make a move on me now?
But she didn't even catch my gaze as she turned and walked into the kitchen. I heard the tap go on and she started moving dishes.
She was cleaning up from the dinner party I'd thrown for her.
"Sweetie, you don't have to do that," I called. It was such a sweet gesture, but I couldn't have asked for anything more from her that night already.
"I know," she said, "but you did all the cooking, so I'll do the cleaning."
"Justine did most of the cooking," I pointed out.
Faye didn't respond, and I heard the scrape of plates as she continued doing the dishes.
I walked into the kitchen to find her with Justine's apron fit snug around her waist, gloves up to her elbows as she ran the sponge over a plate.
"Stop," I said, trying to shut off the tap.
She swatted my hand away and gave me a pointed look and yanked her head back toward the living room. Feeling reprimanded and grateful, I slunk back into the living room and lay down, feeling exhaustion seep from my body into the couch. I listened to the sounds of Faye doing the dishes and thought, for the thousandth time that night, how lucky I was to have her.
After twenty minutes the tap shut off, and Faye came back into the room. She had shed the apron and gloves, and though her eyes looked a little tired, she was smiling. I moved to sit up but she said, "Stay, stay." Instead she gently lifted my head and sat on the end of the couch, placing my head in her lap. She leaned down to peck my lips, and I felt her body go soft, a stark contrast to her poised alertness around my friends. After a few moments of soft kisses, she pulled back and murmured, "Tired?"
I gave a gentle nod, feeling her leg on the back of my neck. It was warm and sturdy. Then her hands threaded into my hair and began combing it back over her lap, making my scalp tingle. I closed my eyes and smiled, humming.
"Feel good?" she asked.
I nodded, adjusting my head so she had better access to more of my scalp. Her gentle, short nails felt good in my hair.
"Your friends are great," Faye murmured.
I smiled, lulled into a near stupor by the feel of her hands in my hair. I could have fallen asleep, but gradually her hand stopped, and I wondered what she was doing. I opened my eyes and found her gazing down at me. Self-conscious, I gave her an awkward smile. I was strange to know she was watching me lie there like that.
But then she said, "Hey, pretty girl," and I didn't feel so awkward. I rallied my strength to sit up and kiss her in earnest, to thank her for being so easy to be with.
I knew it was late, but I didn't want to say goodnight to her yet. I wanted to marinate in the pride and comfort I found in her, to bask in such a successful merging of my worlds. So I kept kissing her, telling her with my lips how grateful I was for her.
And as I kissed her, my mind flickered to my bedroom. There was a bed there where we could keep kissing until kissing wasn't enough. The thought formed and I felt a tug towards the room in my body, wanting to pull Faye with me.
But just before I could find the words or the strength in my body to guide her there, Faye pulled away, taking a deep breath as she smiled at me.
"You throw a great dinner party," she said. "I've got a lot to compete with when it's my turn."
My face grew warm, and I knew I wouldn't be able to form the words to invite her into my bedroom now. And even if I had, she seemed to be heading for the door.
"It's getting late, and we both have work in the morning."
Work wasn't something I wanted to think about now, but I knew she was right. We couldn't pretend we wouldn't regret staying up late the next day.
She took a deep, resigned breath and stood up. With one last kiss to my cheek, she said, "Goodnight, Riley. See you tomorrow."
Knowing my bed would be there another day, I murmured goodnight back and watched her pick up her purse, smiling as she closed the door behind herself. I went to bed glowing with pride.
The following day at work, the drudgery was worse than usual. After lunch, I was standing at the copier when Dr. Turner came in.
"You don't mind staying late tonight, do you?" Dr Turner said. His expression indicated that it wasn't a question.
Ever the obedient employee, I said the thing I was supposed to: "Of course not." Inside, I started to cringe.
He tapped his papers on the counter and gave a stiff smile. "Excellent."
I was left standing at the copier, the flicking and whirring of the papers inside speeding up the contents of my mind.
Faye and I had a date tonight. If I stayed late, I'd have to cancel or postpone our plans. Being around Faye was one of the only things that made my job bearable on days I knew I'd get to see her. I couldn't lose that one thing today. I just couldn't.
But I was doing the responsible thing, right? This promotion was a big deal. Co-authoring a study that we hoped would get major professional recognition would look so good, I'd be free to find a job at a better company afterwards.
The longer the copier droned through its collating and whirring, the more I thought. It was becoming harder and harder to justify taking the promotion. Was it worth sacrificing time with Faye? Worth spending time with Dr. Turner? Worth the misery of becoming more entrenched in a company I hated in a field I wasn't sure I liked?
I suddenly felt so trapped, I had to leave the copy room before my copies were done. I didn't care if some smug new employee found them and turned them in to Dr. Turner. I just blocked it all out.
I needed to talk to someone who would help me figure out how to stop panicking, someone who would make this promotion not feel so ominous and gloomy.
I would have called my mom or dad, but I didn't want to explain the climate of my work honestly to them; I didn't want to confess that my boss had a sexual harassment lawsuit in his not-so-recent past and that he'd pressured me to date his jerk of a nephew and that I was the only woman on the payroll aside from the r
otation of decorative women who worked the front desk. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn't tell my parents. Or, for that matter, my sister, who would encourage me to document every inappropriate look or touch or comment. I wasn't going to go down that road with Turner. I just wanted as much distance from him as possible.
So that ruled out telling Kimi.
The only person to call would be Faye, who couldn't be objective because she despised my job almost as much as I did.
So I was left sitting in my chair staring at the carpet, feeling so alone.
I wanted to be recognized for my intelligence and hard work. I wanted something impressive on my resume. I wanted a bigger paycheck.
But at what cost?
As my blank stare bored into the industrial carpet, I felt myself rising. I began walking. My heart started pounding and my throat felt tight and my limbs were cold. I rounded the corner toward Turner's office and rapped on the jamb louder than I meant to. His head popped up from where he was stooped over a file.
"Yes?" he said expectantly.
I stood stock still for a moment, feeling as though I was on a train I couldn't get off. I swallowed, feeling words in my throat that I knew were going to come out.
Shakily, but with as much conviction as I could, I murmured, "I quit."
Dr. Turner's face was blank for a moment before he gave me a puzzled smile. "Come again?"
"I quit," I said, giving a lackluster shrug. "I'm done working here."
Dr. Turner lifted a hand and his mouth drifted open as he frowned. "But I just gave you a promotion!" he said, chuckling at the absurdity of what I was doing.
"I don't want it," I said. "Not from you. Not from this company."
Dr. Turner let out an offended guffaw. "Opportunities like this aren't easy to come by, Montgomery," he said, giving me another condescending laugh.
Done trying to justify my intelligence, my worthiness, my opinions, and my existence to a man who would never hear me, I shrugged again. "I still quit."
Wherever the Dandelion Falls Page 44