We were okay. She'd just needed a break from people for a few days, and it had nothing to do with me.
Sometimes love gives you the preposterous notion that everything is about you. It's not. Love is letting someone else's light fill you and shine out.
The sex was even better than I remembered. The brilliant desperation that had brought us together months before was back. Paired with how close we were now, it propelled us higher and higher, gasps wheezing and tongues frantic. It was explosive.
There was no way she could be like that with me if she didn't love me.
Afterwards we lay panting in silence for a few minutes, and I couldn't help the dopey grin that spread through my whole chest. All my worry and doubt was gone, released with the touch of her hand. It was a needed vacation.
"I thought you were mad at me," I admitted, tucking my head against Faye's shoulder.
"I could never be mad at you," Faye mumbled.
I hummed, thinking that surely there was something in the world I could do to make her mad at me. I didn't want to find out, though. I just wanted to bask in our reunion.
Part of me also wanted to know what had happened with her parents, but I didn't want to see her sad again. Joy was always precarious with her, and right now I needed joy.
And because it was joyful and true, I heard myself saying intentionally for the first time: "I love you, Faye."
She didn't move or say anything, only kissed the top of my head.
I would have to take her actions instead of her words, it seemed. I didn't have another choice.
"What are we doing tonight?" I asked, trying not to let her silence drag me down.
Faye sighed. "I have to see Claire." She didn't sound happy about it.
"What happened?" I asked.
"They called off the wedding at the last minute.” I could practically hear her eyes roll into the back of her head.
I thought back to the night I'd met Faye and how she'd told me she didn't think Claire's relationship with her fiancé would last.
"You called that one," I said.
"Unfortunately," Faye sighed.
"You're a good friend for taking care of her," I said, giving her a squeeze. "It takes a patient person to do that."
Faye was still for a moment before she said, "I'm not nearly as patient as you."
Hearing her acknowledge how hard I worked to be understanding and patient with her felt like another release I didn't realize I needed. Her praise wasn't easily earned, and I felt very proud of myself.
"Thank you," I said.
I sat down in my desk chair, feeling my limbs stiff and my face blank. Had I really just quit my job?
As I felt my brain start to spin again, I started moving to prevent it from running away too fast. I opened a drawer and looked down at the mess of hair ties, pens, staples, bobby pins, and white-out bottles that were nestled between staplers and hole punches and rulers. I stared for a minute before slamming it closed and walking back to the copy room and picking up an empty box. Then, I frantically pulled everything out of my desk that was mine, not taking so much as a paper clip or post-it that didn't belong to me. I didn't want anything that wasn't mine. I packed the small plant and the picture of my family and the tiny picture of Faye I kept hidden in the drawer. I packed it all away and picked up my purse. The last thing I did, after turning off my computer, was take off that horrible lab coat one final time, draping it over the back of my chair, glad to be rid of its drabness.
I walked out into the drizzling fog, not saying goodbye to anyone.
I got to the bus stop, suddenly feeling self-conscious about carrying a box full of office things home on public transportation. Everyone would assume I'd just gotten fired, and therefore think I was an irresponsible or negligent employee.
The more I thought about it, the more I imagined what the people on the bus were thinking, and the more I realized what a huge thing I'd just done. I'd just quit my job. I'd just given up my paycheck and my health insurance and the whole reason for getting my Master's degree. I'd just taken everything I'd worked for and flushed it down the toilet.
I'd just done something so foolish and impulsive, I deserved every assumption the other passengers had about me.
I felt my breathing start to get shallow and quick. My body went hot and cold again, and I felt dizzy.
What was I going to do now? How was I going to pay my bills?
Desperate to feel anything but what I was feeling, I pulled out my phone. The first person I wanted to talk to was Faye.
I held the phone to my ear with my shaky hand. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail. I cursed under my breath and hung up. She was probably in a meeting at her important job that she'd worked hard and sacrificed for. She would never do something so stupid as to quit just because it was hard and it didn't make her feel special. She would probably think I had just done the stupidest thing in the world.
Seconds after I hung up, just as the shame and fear was threatening to cover and drown me, my phone vibrated in my hand. Faye's face popped up and I surged with anxiety.
"Hey," I said, shame clogging my voice.
"Hey," she said, voice gentle and quiet. "Sorry, I couldn't dig my phone out of my purse fast enough. What's up?"
"I did something stupid," I squeaked. I heard tears pinching my voice as I started shaking.
Faye must have heard my panic because her voice turned worried. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Okay..." Faye said, worry creeping into her voice. "Do you want me to come over instead of going out tonight?"
Dreading telling her what I'd done but eager to feel her calming presence, I said, "Yes."
I must have sounded desperate, because she said, "Do you need me to come right now?"
I sniffled before saying, "No."
"Are you sure?"
Again I paused. "Yeah."
"Okay..." Faye said, increasingly uneasy. "Is there anything I can do?"
I shook my head, swallowing before I said, "No."
"Okay..."
I heard a muffled announcement over the speaker on the bus and decided to use it as an excuse to get off the phone. "I'm at my stop," I said, glancing at the cardboard box on the seat next to me. "I have to go."
"Okay," Faye said, calmer now that she knew my location. "I'll be over in a few hours."
"Okay. Thanks." I hung up without saying goodbye, wiping my face before drawing my scarf up over my mouth and ears, shielding as much of myself as I could.
I had made a terrible mess of my life.
I had barely gotten home and put down my things when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it must be a package, I opened the door and was surprised to find Faye on the other side. She was dressed casually and it was only three in the afternoon. Had she not gone to work today?
"Hi...," I mumbled, dreading that I'd have to tell her what I'd done. I didn't want to see her try to mask her disappointment in me. I should have just told her on the phone.
Faye stood rigid in the hall and her face was stricken. She looked afraid. I was puzzled.
Before I could ask anything, Faye wrung her hands, eyes flittering around the inside of my apartment she had yet to set foot into.
"Riley," she mumbled. "What did you mean when you said you did something stupid?"
I swallowed, trying to figure out how best to explain the illogical thought process that had led me to quit my job.
But before I could, I heard her ask me, "Did something happen with Dr. Turner?"
I didn't want to talk about Dr. Turner. So I fidgeted and saw Faye start to fidget too.
"Riley…" she said, searching out my gaze. "Did you two…?" She let the sentence hang unfinished.
I was stunned and insulted. Was she that distrustful of me? After everything we'd said to each other about trust and not having adequate collateral?
My mouth hung open for a moment before I turned and slumped back to my room. "No," I muttered. "
I did not cheat on you."
I heard Faye enter the apartment and shut the door behind her. I didn't want to look at her. I mean, Jesus Christ, she was supposed to come comfort me. That's all I'd wanted.
"Okay," Faye mumbled.
I made it into my room and was tempted to close the door behind me. I was so hurt, I didn't want to be around Faye.
I sat cross-legged on my bed for a moment before I slumped over and rested my head on the pillow, facing the wall. I wanted to cry, but my anger was too hot to let tears through. Instead I just went rigid, ears tuned to Faye's delicate movements behind me.
She made her way through the living room, sliding her purse over the back of Justine's chair before approaching my door. She stopped and asked quietly. "May I come in?"
Not trusting myself to speak, I gave a stiff nod to the wall in front of me.
Faye eased her way into the room, pausing to survey the surroundings. It was so quiet, I rolled onto my back so I could see what she was doing. She looked around the room until her eyes fell on the cardboard box resting on my desk chair. Her mouth opened and she took a few careful steps towards the box and peered in, examining the contents before reaching in and pulling out a tiny figurine of my college mascot.
Holding it in her hand, she looked up at me with pained worry. "Riley, did you get fired?" she asked, almost whispering.
Then I felt the tears start to rise, hot and quick in my eyes. I shook my head just as Faye became blurry. “I quit.”
Faye gasped and rushed forward, setting the figurine on the bedside table. She extended her hands to me, but stopped at the last minute. She eyed my quilt and asked, "May I sit?"
I nodded again, reaching up to wipe my face.
Faye sat on my bed and leaned over, brushing my hair from my face as though she wanted to hug me but didn't want to invade my space. It felt like she wanted to hold all of me but was being careful so I wouldn't break.
"I don't know what I was thinking," I said, voice wavering. "I just — it was like I went on autopilot. I walked into his office and told him I was done."
Faye stroked my hair for a few moments before she said, "I'm so proud of you."
I scoffed. "It was stupid and impulsive."
Faye shook her head. "It was something you needed to do."
Feeling my anxiety rise up like a wave threatening to crash, I started rattling off the reasons why my impulsive behavior had been dumb. "But how am I gonna pay my bills? What if I get sick? What about my résumé?"
Faye just kept looking down at me until I couldn't bear it anymore and closed my eyes to keep my tears under control.
"Riley, you were miserable there," she said.
I sniffled, trying to clear my sinuses so I could speak clearly. "But we have to make sacrifices to get where we want to be. I'm sure someday I would have found something I didn't hate..."
Faye was quiet for another moment before she said, "As someone who has made plenty of sacrifices for her career — including some that were the wrong ones — I still think you did what you needed to do."
"I should have found something else first," I argued, feeling my self-hatred start punching around in my chest. "Now I don't even qualify for unemployment because I quit! I'm not going to be able to pay my rent or my credit card bill or buy groceries..."
"I'll help you out," Faye said all too eagerly.
I recoiled at that. For some reason it was the worst thing she could have said.
"No," I said, pushing her hand away from my face. "The last thing I want is for you to sugarmama me."
I realized immediately I had come across much harsher than I intended to.
Faye put her hands in her lap, pinching her knees together as she looked toward the closet. It was sickeningly quiet for a few seconds before she said, "I'm not trying to sugarmama you. I care about you, and if you need help, I want to provide it."
Remembering what a sweet, loving heart Faye had, I softened and reached for her arm again. "I know. I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm just a little freaked out. Being accused of cheating on you didn't help."
Faye's shoulders drooped. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't about you... When you called, you used the same words Callie used when she told me she cheated on me. So my mind just went there." She looked at me with a sad smile. "Part of my baggage."
I grasped her arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry," I said.
Faye nodded and put her hand over where mine rested on her arm. "If I'd stopped to think for a minute about who I was talking to, I would have realized I was being silly."
I nodded. "We should have that talk about our exes," I said, dreading it already.
"We should," she said. "Not now though."
Relieved, I agreed.
She reached toward my face and cupped my cheek. "Can I take care of you?"
Seeing the intense tenderness in her eyes and realizing we were sitting on my bed, I grew cautious. "How?"
She ran her thumb over where a tear track had been. "Cook you dinner?"
Relieved, I nodded. Having a good meal with her was exactly what I needed. Even when I was exhausted and fragile, being around her felt good.
"Can it be at my place?" Faye asked. "I've got some stuff I've been meaning to use, and I don't want to make a mess here."
Since I didn't care either way, I nodded.
Faye smiled, happy that I'd finally accepted some of her abundant generosity.
I was glad to have a plan for the evening, since I'd just thrown out my plan in every other aspect of my life. But I still wanted to ground myself.
"Can I take a bath first?" I asked.
"Of course. Take a long hot bath and come over when you're ready."
Sighing in relief, I pressed my hand over hers, thanking her for being gentle and understanding. "Okay," I mumbled.
It had been a blissful eight months of dates and sleepovers and falling more in love with Faye. We both had families and jobs and other things that were important to us, but I felt, increasingly, like she was becoming more important than most things. I was so in love with her, and she with me, and although it was scary, I didn't have to chase her or ask her to chase me. We were just there, occasionally leaning towards or away from each other, but with our feet solidly planted. It felt so good, yet so precarious. Our separate lives were sometimes hard to fit together, no matter how perfectly jigsawed our bodies and hearts were. We had vastly different careers and sleep schedules, and our social circles didn't overlap at all. But what we were doing was working.
The toothbrush I had at her place and hers at mine quickly became a drawer, and then an area of the room. I started having to think for a moment about which clothes in my closet were hers and which were mine. The lines between us were thinner than I had anticipated would happen so quickly.
One Sunday morning we were lounging on Faye's couch. I'd swapped shifts with Nora the night before, giving me a rare opportunity to spend a Saturday night out with Faye. I'd taken her to a comedy show, and we'd both laughed until our stomachs hurt. Then we'd come back to her place and had some of the wonderful Riley-and-Faye sex we'd been having, where Violet wasn't welcome. I hardly had to work at all to keep Violet away from Faye these days. Things were falling into the places I wanted them; Violet stayed at Jez while Riley roamed freely everywhere else. Having sold my car, I was debt-free and living comfortably on my Jez earnings.
Things were pretty darn good except for the one thing we avoided talking about.
Faye wasn't out.
Faye had told Isaiah she liked women, been going to meetings at the LGBT center, and hanging out with the cute gay couple who adopted her like a puppy at the pound. She'd brought me along to meet Dave and Michael once, and I was relieved to discover they were as sweet and deserving of Faye's company as I'd hoped. They were a good influence on her. I even felt comfortable enough around them to out myself as a stripper after a few meetings, which hadn't even earned me a surprised blink from them. I wondered briefly if Faye ha
d told them, but when I asked her about it later, she said she hadn't. The wonderful thing about Faye was that I knew I could believe her. I supposed Dave and Michael just didn't care that I danced naked for a living.
But it also served as a harsh reminder that not everyone is like that. Given Faye's anxiety, I couldn't imagine her parents would handle the news that their daughter was a lesbian well if she decided to tell them.
I tried not to let myself feel like I was shrinking whenever Faye stepped out onto her tiny, chilly balcony to take a call from her mother or father whenever I was in the apartment. I was starting to feel like we were putting off sacrifices that would have to be made eventually. My anxiety grew, hoping her sacrifice wouldn't be me. I loved her too much to think about losing her because of something I couldn't control.
The anxiety wasn't overbearing. It didn't weigh on all our dates and it certainly didn't find us in bed. If anything, bed was our haven. We blocked out the rest of the world until one of us had to get up and rejoin the furious sea outside. But I know that I was always looking for the next sympathetic shore to hop off and bury myself in her once more.
Now Faye settled into the couch next to me and said, "Hey, pretty girl."
I grinned and leaned forward, pecking her on the cheek. "Hey, beautiful girl."
She gave me a bashful smile in return, but then her expression settled and I knew there was something she wanted to talk about.
"I'm planning to tell my parents tonight," she said.
I felt my body stiffen and chill. I wasn't expecting her to say that.
Don't get me wrong: I wanted Faye to be as out and proud as she wanted to be. I really did. But at the same time, I was so, so protective of her.
I didn't want Faye to come out for me. I wanted her to do it for herself. We'd only been together eight months, and while things were better than I ever fantasized they could be, that still wasn't much ground to stand on if — god forbid — Faye's parents cut her off and she had no one to turn to but me. I wasn't ready to be her only support. I didn't think I'd ever be. It's not healthy to be that isolated.
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