by Geonn Cannon
“And?”
Molly shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s good.” She shook her head and said, “I’m not going to discuss my sex life with my sister’s...”
“Say it,” Robin said. “I was your sister’s lover.” She reached into the collar of her shirt and withdrew a silver chain. A ring hung from it, a simple silver loop. “Your sister gave this to me two years ago. I told her that I would never be with anyone else, and she told me the same. We made love that night and I called her my wife.” She tucked the ring back into her blouse. She felt like something had snapped inside of her. “We were together for three years, Molly. Your sister had me in her life for three years, and you and I never found out about each other. That should break your heart. It breaks mine. Because I feel like I never fully knew her. The difference between us is I’m going to find things out. I’m going to learn new things, like about Beth and cutting her hair in high school...but you? You’ll never let yourself accept who she was, so you’ll never get to know who she grew up to be. And that’s why I feel...really, really sad for you.”
Robin turned and stormed down the street towards the harbor. She didn’t bother to look back, didn’t give a damn about the selfish Molly Page. There were tears in her eyes, sadness from the new knowledge of her partner, pain at what April had been through in high school, anger at Molly, all gathered in her mind to bring the tears.
She didn’t stop until she reached the bed-and-breakfast. There had been a note in her welcome packet about the kitchen being open at all hours. The hosts would cook for breakfast at seven in the morning and dinner at eight at night, but guests were free to fend for themselves at other hours. Robin pulled open the fridge and scanned the various foodstuffs for something to eat. She wasn’t particularly hungry; she just felt the desire to murder something.
Tuna fish in a Tupperware container called to her. She withdrew it, along with a jar of mayonnaise and a half-loaf of wheat bread. She put the fixings on the counter and angrily put the sandwich together.
“Don’t eat angry.”
“I’m not eating angry.”
“You’re eating angry,” April said. She hugged Robin from behind and laced her fingers together on April’s stomach. “You’re going to eat angry, you’re going to eat everything in the fridge, and then when you’re a big, fat lady you’re going to roll over and smother me in our sleep.” She kissed Robin’s earlobe. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Your sister,” Robin snapped. “Why does she have to look so much like you?”
“I know. She could be my twin.”
“It’s not fucking funny,” Robin said, although she was smiling. She cut the sandwich into quarters and transferred the four pieces to a plate.
“You’re not going to eat that in bed, are you? You know how I feel about crumbs.”
“You’re dead,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. She took a bite but remained at the doorway of the kitchen instead of going upstairs to bed. She was halfway through the first quarter when there was a knock on the door behind her. She frowned and glanced upstairs. What was the protocol on answering the door in a bed and breakfast? She walked to the door and pushed aside the ruffled curtain.
Molly was standing in the glow of the porch light.
Robin groaned and turned the locks. She pulled the door open and glared silently at her lover’s sister.
After a moment, Molly looked up and met Robin’s eyes. “Tell me about my sister.”
Robin’s face softened, and she looked down at the remains of her tuna sandwich. She lifted one of the squares and held it out to Molly, a small peace offering. “What would you like to know?” she asked.
Chapter Eight
Robin opened the door to her room and gestured for Molly to come in. Molly walked to the chair in the corner and sat down, waiting until Robin had taken a seat on the bed to speak. “I’m not...I want to know my sister,” Molly said. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been so miserable these past couple of years. I cut myself off from her and it hurts.”
“You never answered my question,” Robin said. “What do you want to know? How much, I mean?”
Molly looked towards the window, tapping her fingernail against the wooden edge of the chair’s arm. “How did you meet?”
“In class,” Robin said. “She bumped into me when she was playing Shuffle Boom. Oh. That was... ”
“I know what Shuffle Boom is,” Molly grinned.
Robin nodded and looked down at her clasped hands. “It was nothing special, not eyes meeting across a crowded room. But I think I know what you’re really asking. You want to know how we got together.”
Molly shrugged.
Robin took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Instead of darkness, she saw the tiny pinpricks of light from a mirror ball, and instead of a quiet bedroom on a quaint island, she heard Elton John singing “Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting.” She let the breath out, and, just like that, she was transported back three years to a small high school gymnasium.
##
It was two weeks after their first meeting. Robin was standing by the punch table, watching as the kids danced and making sure they didn’t go overboard with the bodily contact. She held a squat, plastic cup in the palm of her hand, occasionally sipping the too-tart fruit punch as she scanned the crowd. The night had barely begun, and already she was checking her watch every ten minutes.
“Roped in,” an adult’s voice said from behind her.
Robin didn’t care who it was, as long as it was an adult, and turned to face her. She smiled and said, “Ms. Page.”
“Ugh, April. Please. I’m Ms. Page the rest of the week; I can be April to you.”
“Well, then I’m Robin.”
“I know,” April said. She walked past Robin to the bleachers and smoothed her skirt against her thighs before she sat down.
Robin thought back. “Did...I introduce myself in your classroom?”
“Maybe. I was a little distracted at the moment,” April said. Robin wanted to ask what, exactly, had distracted her, but April continued speaking. “I peeked at your mail cubby in the office.”
Robin laughed. “Oh, so you’re a snoop.”
April nodded. “New teacher coming in mid-semester? You’re the hot topic in the break room. There are a ton of conspiracy theories about why you’re really here.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint everyone, but I’m pretty mundane. Nothing too scandalous in it. I was going to move here anyway when Ms. Newberry got sick. The school board called me up, asked if I would be willing to move early and...here I am.”
April shook her head. “No. You’re a spy from another school.”
“I am?”
“That’s the favorite conspiracy theory at the moment. You came here from West Hamilton High. You’re going to get into our good graces, then weasel your way onto the football team and steal our playbook.”
“Right in time for the big game next month.”
April pointed at her. “The fact you even know there’s a big game next month is a nail in your coffin, missy.”
“Oh, no,” Robin laughed. “What can I do to buy your silence?”
“I don’t know,” April said. “I’m not cheap.”
Robin pointed at the punch table behind her. “Glass of punch?”
“It’s a start.”
Robin poured a glass and handed it to her. She hesitated for a moment and then sat down next to her. “What did you mean when you said ‘roped in’?”
“You’re the new teacher,” April said. “All first-year teachers get roped into chaperone duty at the prom.”
“Oh, you’re...?”
“Oh, no, I’m a volunteer. Believe it or not, I had nothing better to do on a Friday night than sit here, drink crappy punch and watch prepubescent boys try to cop a feel on the dance floor.”
“I don’t,” Robin said. “Believe it, I mean. Come on, you’re a happening chick. Not unattractive.” April grinned and ducked her chin agai
nst her chest. Robin laughed and said, “Now you’re even cuter. You honestly have nothing better to do on a Friday night?”
“Well, I think Stargate SG-1 is on TV.”
“That’s sad, Ms. Page.”
“I’m used to it, Ms. Fraser. Besides, you said ‘happening chick.’ I may be sad, but you’re painfully out of touch with today’s lingo.”
Robin laughed and leaned back. “Actually, I volunteered, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have anything better to do, either. And I never got to go to my prom, so this is a nice substitute.”
April said, “No one asked or too many people asked and you couldn’t decide?”
“I had a date, I just...” She cleared her throat and said, “Just, ah...we didn’t want to waste money on the tickets. We went out by ourselves and had a great night, just the two of us, for half the price. It was win-win in my book, but I still always wondered what I’d missed out on.”
“In that case,” April said, gesturing at the gym. “Behold. The splendor, the glamour, the unrelenting cliché of it all.”
Robin laughed. “Well, at least there are pretty lights.”
“There are those,” April agreed.
Robin called out to a boy whose hands were traveling a little too far south on his date and then sagged against the bleacher. She looked at April, her soft hair resting on the shoulders of her square-necked peasant blouse. Robin had been drawn across the room by that blouse, so elegant and out-of-place at a high school dance that she just had to get a closer look. She shook her head to stop herself before her admiration turned to staring and turned the question around on April. “So, what about you? Prom? Date, no date...?”
A look of sadness came over April’s face. “No. Sort of like you. I went out with a friend, but I didn’t really have that good of a time. I had other things on my mind”
“I thought she meant pregnancy,” Robin interjected, three years and hundreds of miles away. “Now I guess she was talking about you and Beth.”
“So it looks like we’re both trying to capture a little of the past, huh?” She held out her punch glass, and Robin tapped hers against it. “To what we’ve missed in the past.”
“To not making stupid mistakes and missing anything else.”
“Hear, hear,” April said. She took a sip and looked out at the dance floor again. “Dylan! Hands above her belt!” She shook her head. “They’re all hormones at this age.”
“I remember,” Robin said. “Good old days.”
April snickered and sipped her punch.
At the end of the night, April and Robin followed the last stragglers out to the parking lot. “Don’t stay out too late,” April called to one of the couples. “We’re going to random-call parents. Let them know what times kids left here.” The boy and girl waved and laughed as they headed for the car, and April muttered, “Look at them. You think they’ll make it home before sunrise?”
“Would you have gone straight home after such a magical night?” Robin asked.
April grinned. “Magical. Right.”
“Well, it was to them. Probably. The dancing, the beautiful gowns...it was like being grown-ups. Maybe for the first time in their lives. They’ve gotta be pretty high on that right now.”
“Let’s hope that’s all they’re high on.”
“I did a bathroom check,” April said. “Nothing worse than tobacco.” Robin put her hands in the small of her back and leaned into them. “Ugh, God, I know what you mean. I get wiped out just sitting on a bench for three hours. These kids dance for four hours and are ready to go until sunrise. It’s not fair. We’re too old to have fun, and they’re too young to appreciate it.”
“Hey, we’re not too old for some stuff. We’re in the prime of our lives.”
“Really.”
“Well, I am,” April said. “I don’t know how old you are, Grandma.” She slowed her pace and moved behind Robin, reaching out and grasping her shoulders. They walked like that, in a follow-the-leader position, with April gently kneading her new friend’s shoulders. “Where’d you park?”
“Over there,” Robin said, gesturing with her chin. “But, God, if you promise not to stop, I’ll just walk home.”
April laughed. “And I thought I was easy, won over with a glass of punch.” She released Robin’s shoulders and said, “My car is...” Robin’s smile faded as she followed April’s line of sight. “Son of a...”
A small yellow hatchback stood a few feet away. The front windshield was covered with shoe polish and smashed eggs ran down the driver’s side door. The front driver’s side tire was slashed and, as they walked around, they saw the same treatment had been given to the back passenger-side tire. “I...cannot believe...”
Robin had a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh, my God. Who would do this?”
“Jeremy Fucking Elliot. I failed him on a paper, and his coach pulled him from the homecoming game. Son of a...”
“Do you have...,” Robin started and then gestured at the second slashed tire. “Well, I guess a spare wouldn’t do much good.”
“I can’t even see through the window! I couldn’t drive even if I had four spares. And I would bet there’s sugar in the gas tank. Son of a...”
“Say it.”
April put her hands on her hips and looked at Robin. Then she shouted, “Son of a bitch!” She kicked the bumper. “Son of a bitch! I...hate this fucking car!”
Robin frowned. “What did the car do?”
April said, “Nothing. But now I have to pay to get the son-of-a-bitching thing cleaned. And I don’t even like it.” She huffed, turned to face Robin, and blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. Robin’s hand slid across her mouth, unsure which mood April was going to give into, and was relieved when she broke into a smile and started to laugh. “I hate this car.”
“It’s a hatchback.” Robin said.
April kicked the side just under the gas tank. She laughed and said, “It’s a stupid yellow hatchback. Covered with eggs. And shoe polish.” She wiped at her cheeks, exhaled, and turned to Robin. Her hissy fit over, she regained her composure. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and politely asked, “May I possibly get a ride home from you?”
“Of course. Come on.” She put an arm around April’s shoulder and guided her toward her own car. “Now, after the hatchback, it might be weird to ride in a luxury car like mine. I don’t want you to worry about messing anything up.”
April nodded and then smiled when she saw what Robin was pointing at. “Oh. Is that a Hyundai Accent?”
“A used 1999 Hyundai Accent, thank you very much. And it’s mine, all mine. After, like, nine more payments.”
“I’ll try not to scuff the floor mats.”
“They’re the factory originals.”
“Ahh, a collector’s piece.”
Robin laughed and unlocked the doors. April opened the passenger door and waited for Robin to clear the seat of binders and ungraded papers. She tossed them into the backseat, and April got in and fastened her seatbelt. “Straight home, or do you want to file a police report?”
April laughed before she realized Robin was serious. “Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll just report him to the principal and the coach. They’ll do worse than the police.”
“Right,” Robin said. “All right, then, if you want to point me in the right way...”
April gave a few general directions to get her started, and they left the parking lot. April sighed and rested her elbow against the window. “Ah, damn it...I’d probably be better off eating the insurance deductible and fixing the monstrosity than finding a car I can actually afford.”
“If there does turn out to be sugar in the engine, you’re probably wrong about that. Replacing the engine is always more trouble than it’s worth. Look, I know a guy in Bozeman, he has a used car lot, and he likes teachers. Not...I mean, he doesn’t like-like them, but he’s willing to make deals for them.
I could give him a call if you’d like.”
“I’d hate to impose...”
“Not at all. I’d be happy to help a new friend.”
April smiled. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” She continued to give instructions until Robin pulled up in front of her duplex. “Well, this is it,” she said. “My little slice of heaven. Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for keeping me company at the dance,” Robin said. “I was worried I'd finally made it only to have to spend the whole time playing wallflower.”
“I’m glad you didn’t mind taking a girl as your date,” April said, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her house.
Robin shook her head. “Not at all. In fact...ah...” She plucked at the rubber of the steering wheel with her fingernail. “What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this car, right?”
April nodded and finally looked over at her.
“No teacher lounge gossip?”
“I swear,” April said.
“I was run out of my last school because one of the parents found out I was...in a relationship with another woman. I tried to stay on, but...the parents were up in arms, the other teachers didn’t want anything to do with me. By the time I finally left, the relationship had fallen apart, and I was worried that I’d never get another teaching job anywhere in the world, let alone in the same state.”
“Why are you telling me this?” April whispered. “If it caused so many problems at your last school...”
“I don’t know. I guess...I like you. And I didn’t want you to find out later and think I was...coming on to you tonight.”
April’s “oh” was so quiet, Robin wasn’t sure she’d really heard it. “And the prom? I mean, your prom, back in high school. What’s the real reason you didn’t go?”
“I didn’t go because they didn’t allow lesbian couples.”
“Right. Well...um...if you do decide to come on to me, Ms. Fraser? Let me know.”
Robin looked up and met April’s eyes. She smiled and said, “Okay, Ms. Page.”
April smiled and said, “Thanks for the ride.”