by Cynthia Dane
For many years, the horses were gone. They fell out of favor with my father in the years following my brother’s death. After my father died, I sold the remaining horses to an old family friend who had been admiring them for years. Then, I allowed this large house to fall into disrepair. I could have sold it, but I guess it was better to pay the taxes on it every year instead of worrying that I might be selling the bad energy to some other family. I really couldn’t bring myself to do it when a convent offered to raise the money to buy it at a steep discount. They wanted to turn it into a summer camp for at-risk kids in Los Angeles. As noble as the pursuit sounded, it only drove me to board it up and hide it away from the world more. What at-risk kid needs the bad energy of my brother’s murder hanging over them as they try to make sense of the unfair world?
Today, I sit in the study off the master bedroom and watch the trees sway in the breeze. Recently, a landscaping crew came through to rake the leaves and trim the hedges. The autumn flowers are blooming long enough to offer some photographic opportunities before they, too, succumb to the earth. If I close my eyes and strain my ears, I can hear the murmured voices of the people who were kind enough to choose this cursed place as their temporary home away from home.
It’s been a long year, although the past three years cumulatively have blown by so quickly that I can barely keep track of what’s happened. Three years since I came out as a woman and subjected myself to endless public and media scrutiny about my identity and the truth behind my life. People who had never heard of me were suddenly experts on who I was and what had happened. Three years of fielding questions that have absolutely negatively affected my business, not that we’re hurting so hard that I have to think about who to lay off and what to sell. I’ll get by. I’d rather use my own money to keep things afloat during trying times than hurt other people’s livelihoods.
Three years since Natalie came into my life.
She’s somewhere in this house. Everything to do with it had been her idea. Shortly after I came out, I brought her to this house and explained everything. I took her to the spot where I watched my brother die and felt my own life slip away. I walked her to the places where my father once brought me to “teach” me to be a man. She got to see the same sunsets I did, back when I forced my voice lower and my posture different from what felt natural.
None of it feels natural now. The only thing that feels natural is holding her in my arms as I fight back the tears of what I once went through.
When she suggested that we transform this property into a haven for women we trusted and create a safe space for those in search of solace, I thought she was crazy. But Natalie never suggests something unless she already believes in it. She’s also not afraid to throw together a budget and show me that something is possible. Although she refuses to let me pay her for the work she does on my behalf – trust me, she gets a generous allowance as my girlfriend – I swear to God she’s the most effective assistant I’ve ever had. (Sorry, Brooke.) I chalk it up to her understanding my broken brain in ways no one else has ever tried.
In the beginning, the few women I approached about investing into the repairs and permits necessary to transform this into a rental space with a full staff and event coordination, were hesitant to believe in our vision. I’ve received both pushback and quiet support. Some people took a while to come around, but when they did, I could hardly believe that it was happening. Soon, this place of fear of the haunting ghosts of my pasts could truly be transformed into happy memories.
We were so close to completing it after a few setbacks, too. Then the pandemic occurred, and everything was brought to a screeching halt. If you told me a virus would consume the earth in early 2020, I don’t know if I would have believed you. I certainly didn’t believe Natalie when she started preparing for us as early as January. Then again, she has been spending more and more time speaking with her family in Taiwan. There was even talk of us moving abroad and living there for a while, “just until things settle politically here in America.” That didn’t happen. While I would find us ways to get into one of the safest places on Earth, I took this as an opportunity to not court my agoraphobia, but to slowly put the finishing touches on this manor I’ve hated most of my life.
It’s a strange place to be. For as long as I’ve struggled to be one with the world as I truly am, it’s now that it’s not longer possible. Can you imagine if a global pandemic happened while I was still a man to the world? How would that have change my life? Would it have been worse, forcing me into more hiding and worrying that I would never know true freedom? Or would it have emboldened me to try things I never had before? Would that be when I relocated to a place like Taiwan and lived life openly as a woman, knowing nobody would recognize me?
As futile as it is wondering these things, it’s inevitable. It’s how my brain continues to work after all these years. Because, no matter how much I tell myself that there is a wonderful woman like Natalie in my life, my brain remains convinced that we must go through every scenario that could possibly happen. All of them God-awful, of course.
Speaking of Natalie, I hear her coming now.
She has such familiar footsteps, whether she’s barefoot or wearing those strappy heels that are currently tip-tapping against the restored hardwood floors of our personal suite. Although these rooms may be rented out in the future, they are ours to use whenever we are here. That was the one stipulation I asked for when Natalie and I sat down with a lawyer to draft the rules of what is to soon become our little hideaway from the rest of the world. There are even horses back in the stables, though you won’t convince me to get on one anytime soon.
“Thank God.” I turn in my chair, putting the view of the hazy sky and green trees behind me. Although we are mostly away from some of the worst fires in California, the smoke continues to blow in our direction. It doesn’t detract from the beauty coming my way. “Finally. Someone to liven up the place around here.”
I swear that was meant to be flirtatious. Yet Natalie looks at me with wide, frightened eyes that immediately put me on edge. Even when she relaxes her shoulders and forces a smile, I can’t help but see her hand curled around something in her grasp. She puts her hand behind her back and fronts me another smile. It’s as fake as the pretense that going for a walk outside right now is good for your health.
“What? You think I’m lying?” I get out of my chair. I’ve been long done with my work, anyway. My computer is off and my books are closed. The only reason for me to still be in here is because I like the view – and the quiet. With other people in the house right now, I need my private escapes. “You are absolutely stunning in this dress. What is it? A Katherine Applebee?”
I place my hands on her hips. The soft cotton of her strapless dress is lovely to the touch, but I enjoy the curves beneath the white skirt and the apricot-mosaic of her bust more. I can’t help it. I see Natalie, looking lovelier than a depiction of Venus, and all I can think about is bringing her into my arms and feeling safe for a few more precious seconds.
“You’re too much.” She flicks a button on my blouse. “I can’t help but notice the binder and the flowy shirts lately, Erica.” Natalie turns in my arms. Before I can see what’s in her hand, she presses it against her chest. All right. I don’t mind staring down her cleavage. Nor do I mind encircling my arms around her waist. Her warmth guides me as we sway in place. “Which one of our lovely guests is inciting your power moves this time?”
She could be referring to any of them. Although it is technically my friends – and their other-halves – staying with us, it is no secret that we can sometimes be too much for each other. I am grateful to the likes of Maxine Woodward and Margaret Sloan for extending a friendly hand to me in the wake of my coming out, but I would be lying if I said I enjoy their constant presence. Still, neither of them really hesitated when I asked if they would like to continue some of their quarantining here in my corner of California. Sloan was the first to haul her girlfriend down from Portl
and, citing “absolute boredom and anarchy and a great need for some fucking privacy,” and it was only after she arrived that her bestie Maxine agreed to leave her already isolated mansion to join me. Just yesterday, we were joined by an old friend of mine that the others are salivating to get to know better. But Vanessa Richards doesn’t suffer many fools. She looks for good investments and sexual camaraderie before anything else.
I don’t want to know what they’re all doing with each other behind closed doors. My life is much more fun when it’s just the one woman I trust enjoying my body – and my time.
“You’re the one who makes me dress however I do,” I say with a flourish that sends her spiraling out of my arms. My aim is to knock her trinket out of her hand. Instead, her skirt wafts around her legs, showing off that irresistible flesh. We’re due downstairs for dinner in forty-five minutes. Would it be too much to swing by the bedroom first? Or just do it right here on my desk? Not like anyone is outside right now!
“You’re such a flatterer.” Natalie curls up against me once more. Finally, her face is flushed with flirtations instead of whatever strangeness had crept upon her a short while ago. “And devilishly gorgeous. No matter what you wear or how you wear it.” Her hand rests upon my abdomen. How long has it been since such a move last made me nervous? I can’t remember now. It’s been so wonderfully long since I last worried about being myself around her. “Do you have a few minutes? There’s something I need to ask you about.”
“Does it have to do with what’s in your hand?”
Her pleasant visage instantly drops. “Look, Erica, you know how I am. I don’t go looking to sneak through things, but…” She opens her hand. There, in the center of her palm, is a black box I had secured in one of my safes. “When something catches my attention, I look into it.”
“Natalie…” Of course I know what it is. How could I not? “My goodness.”
“So. Is this what I think it is?”
I take the ring box out of her hand. Sure enough, when I pop the lid, I see the princess-cut diamond engagement ring I procured from an antique store not too far from here. It really was a steal. I only wish I could have said I picked it out myself. Don’t tell Natalie, but Brooke was the one who snapped a picture of it for me when I implied over dinner a few weeks ago that I was thinking of asking Natalie to marry me.
Because what better person to discuss it with than your former fiancée who is now married to another person?
“Yes,” I confess. “I was waiting for the right time. Like when the smoke dissipates a little and we could go for a walk to the lake.”
She blushes. Is it because of the ring, or because she’s remembering what happened the last time we stole a moment to ourselves by the lake? Let’s just say it’s a good thing there were no paparazzi around. They would have received a considerable payday for those photos…
“You were going to ask me to marry you?” Natalie touches her hands to her cheeks. I know she’s already stolen a peek at the engagement ring, but she’s acting like she’s never seen it before. Maybe she’s looking at it with a new understanding. After all, there were other explanations I could have given her. Maybe I was holding on to it for someone else. Maybe it was my mother’s engagement ring and I wanted it appraised. But no. I will tell her the truth.
“I’ve been thinking about it since the moment you told me you loved me.” I pull the ring out of the box and hold it between us. Although there isn’t much natural light in this hazy world, the diamond glitters. It’s real, too. If I hadn’t bought vintage, I would have procured a perfectly good fake stone to align with our ecological beliefs. But Brooke knows us both too well. She didn’t send me a picture of this ring unless she was sure we would both love it. Natalie is my princess, after all. The princess who rode into my life on a lily-white horse and demanded to speak to the man in charge of such a ludicrous kingdom.
She doesn’t look so sure of herself now. Do you think I doubt her saying yes? I wouldn’t have entertained the question unless I was sure. You don’t make love to this woman for three years and wonder if she’ll say yes to marrying you. Not after everything we’ve been through together. The hell I’ve told her about. Everything that is dear to us. No. She will absolutely say yes, but I don’t know when or how. I haven’t thought that far ahead. The ring was a spur of the moment decision. There hasn’t been a good time to plan with everything going on in the world. Now, with guests in the manor…
“I can wait for a more appropriate time,” I say, slowly lowering the ring from her gaze. “I want to do it right, after all. You deserve a proper proposal we can tell everyone when they ask.”
“Erica…”
Is that disappointment in her voice? “I’m sorry. I did not intend for you to find out this way. The surprise is gone. To be fair, though, I thought you might be on to me, after some of the conversations we’ve had this year.” I refer to the frank pillow talk about our future. With everything the way it is this year, I’ve become more open about my dreams for our relationship. I’ve never made it a secret that I want my own family. Maybe no kids for now, but a small wedding with the love of my life and referring to her as my wife would be lovely. I almost had that years ago with Brooke. I could have it now with my beloved Natalie.
“I’ve suspected you were thinking about it, but I did not expect to find an engagement ring in your desk.”
“What were you doing in my desk, anyway?” I glance at it behind me. The one I’ve been sitting at all afternoon without realizing the ring box was missing. Trust me, if I had noticed, there would have been answers to glean from the staff. “I had it in the locked drawer.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Natalie holds her hands up in apology and bites her lip like she’s about to be punished. You know, I might give her a swat later, but my favorite form of erotic punishment is withholding the main event. Not that I can often hold myself back from it. But when I do… “I was looking for the copies of our birth certificates I thought you kept in there. My aunt needs them for our visas if we’re thinking of going to Chinese New Year in Taiwan again next year. She wants to take care of it now, since we don’t know what the virus is going to do…”
“Natalie.” I shake my head. “I’m not angry. I know you have a copy of the key.” In my defense, she almost never has cause to go through my desk drawers. Like she implied, there’s not much in there besides copies of important documents. And engagement rings. What? It fit and was easy to lock! “Am I a little disappointed the cat is out of the bag? I mean, maybe.”
She wraps her fingers around my hands, including the ring still clenched between my forefinger and thumb. These are hardwood floors, Natalie. If I drop this ring, there’s a chance it will fall into a crack somewhere and we’re shit out of luck.
“This is perfect.”
She must be kidding. Surely. My Natalie, the queen of bombastic power plays and the goddess of putting me in my place when I’ve fucked up, is content with a proposal like this? I must be dreaming. She’s been exchanged with a changeling. The woman I’ve been making love to since we arrived here isn’t my Natalie at all, but some clever imposter.
This is a woman who deserves Champagne in a botanical garden and me on one knee. She deserves a flight to Europe, where I twirl her on a chilly cobblestone streets and ask her to be mine forever. Why are we not on a private island, our bodies exposed to the sun and surf, my arms wrapped around her as I whisper my dreams into her ear? The least I could do is take her out to dinner and slip the ring into a glass of whatever, awaiting her lips to discover it.
No. The least I could do is be the prince she has been fantasizing about since she was a little girl. She’s told me as much at least half a dozen times.
“Natalie.” I get down on one knee. Her hand touches her mouth, a humble squeak alighting my heart with the knowledge that she was in no way expecting this. I take her left hand and hold the ring up for her to inspect with those alarmingly bright, astute, and curious eyes that I fell i
n love with three years ago. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Something sparkles in the corner of those amber eyes. The day may be hazy outside the windows, but the sun shines bright between us. “No…” she begins, “you have to do it right. If you’re going to get down on your damned knee, you have to say the right words!”
That’s her. That’s the woman with an attention to detail that I’m going to hold close to me for the rest of my life.
“Natalie Chen, would you marry me?”
“That’s right.” The tears are officially here now. So is her smile. “Don’t make it about me becoming a wife. This is about us getting married.”
“You haven’t said yes.”
She hops onto her toes. How can I not smile back at her? This isn’t just about her enjoying the moment. It’s mine, too, isn’t it?
“Yes. Of course. Oh, my God. Yes!”
I hold her left hand still in mine as I vainly attempt to slip the ring onto her finger. When Natalie finally figures out what I’m doing, she holds still, but the titter in her throat and the smile on her face hits me right in the chest. Naturally, the ring is a perfect fit. It hadn’t been when I purchased it. Brooke took it to a jeweler and had it sized. I daresay she knew Natalie’s ring finger size better than I did. I’m not usually looking at my girlfriend’s hands to size up what kind of ring I should buy her…
“Wow.” I clench her fingers within mine and gaze up into her glowing face. “I didn’t think it would look this nice on your hand.” While I’m not the suavest person getting back up on her feet, I manage to not stumble or take Natalie down with me. “It’s absolutely radiant. Just like you.”
Natalie gazes down at her hand, finger rubbing the stone and a tiny grin on her face. “I think this is the part where we’re supposed to embrace and kiss in front of the windows.”