“What happened?” Amara exhaled deeply.
“I couldn’t be without her.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “So, I dealt with her confusion and tried to help her through it. I wanted her to be with me. I wanted us to be able to tell people we were together. But she worried so much about what her father would think or do to her, that she kept asking for more time. I kept giving it to her. We went out with some of my friends that Friday night. I wanted to introduce her to them as my girlfriend. We’d been together for over two years by then. We’d pretended to date boys, of course, but neither of us had done anything with them out of respect for the other. We’d both developed rather prudish reputations.” She laughed.
“The boys didn’t catch on?” Amara chuckled with her.
“No, I don’t think anyone had caught onto us. Anyway… At that dinner, I sat next to her, but I couldn’t hold her hand. I couldn’t put my arm around her because she was so scared. I took out a napkin and wrote that I missed her. I even kissed it, I think. I passed it to her under the table.”
“You’re here, and I miss you?” Amara asked.
“Yes.” The woman leaned forward. “How did you–”
“It’s still in the Bible,” Amara explained.
“She kept it?”
“Yes.”
“That night was the first time we made love,” she said after a moment. “It was also the last.” She leaned back and wiped a tear off her cheek. “She couldn’t do it anymore; she needed to have a normal life. She believed in her faith, in what her father had told her was right, and in what she’d learned in Sunday school. What we had was wrong.”
“She ended it?”
“She’d done it before, but she’d always come back. This time, I knew it was different. I lost her that weekend.” She tried to smile through the clear pain. “We didn’t talk after that. I lost my best friend and my girlfriend all at once. I focused on school, got a part-time job, and tried to move on. It took me a while, but I graduated, got my career started, and met someone I was finally able to let in. We’ve been married now for twenty-five years. We made it legal only a few years ago, but we did the commitment ceremony a long time ago.”
“Wow,” Amara let out unexpectedly.
“Yes, wow.” The woman laughed at the reaction. “Her name is Marissa, and she is the love of my life.” She smiled widely, and Amara believed her. “We met during my first year of graduate school. A while later and one night, we went to a Christmas party held by an acquaintance she knew from her work at the university. She was an administrator there back then.”
“The Christmas party?” Amara’s mouth went dry.
“It turns out, yes.” The woman’s smile completely disappeared. “Your mom saw us there, Amara. She was there with your father. You were already in the picture. She noticed the rings on our fingers first, I think. She introduced me as her old friend from high school. And I won’t lie, that stung.” She paused. “Your father was very nice. He told me about you. Your mom stopped him for some reason. Back then, I assumed it was because of our history. But I think maybe it had more to do with your name than that.”
“Does my dad know any of this?”
“I don’t know. I met your father once. He was kind. It was a party, though, so he moved on and mingled. Your mom went to the bar, and – well – she had a few too many. She then pulled me aside, yelled at me for everything, and they left. I actually tried to stop her from getting in the car. She was drunk; I could tell. She didn’t listen. Your dad–”
“Wait… Hold on… Why did you try to stop her from getting in the car? My dad drove that night.”
“No, honey.” The older Amara paused. “I watched them drive off; your mom was driving the car that night.”
CHAPTER 26
“Hey, babe.” Hillary smiled at Amara.
“Hey.” Amara’s greeting was less than happy.
“What’s wrong?”
Hillary wrapped her arms around Amara’s waist as they stood outside of the arcade.
“Can we go inside?” she asked and pulled back from Hillary’s embrace.
“Do you not want me to touch you out here?” Hillary looked around as if they were being watched.
“No, it’s not that.” Amara leaned toward her. “I just had a weird day.”
“You’ve had a lot of those recently,” Hillary reminded. “Is the weirdness why you met me here instead of coming to my place first, like we’d planned?”
“Yeah. I needed some time alone after.”
“After what, Amara?” Hillary questioned.
“Hey, you two.” Keira waved them from just inside the door she was holding open. “We’re waiting on you to order.”
“Later?” Hillary whispered to Amara.
Amara nodded at her, took Hillary’s hand, and they made their way inside. Keira walked ahead of them toward the bar where her wife was sitting. Emma smiled upon seeing them. Joanna and Greene were already at one of the games, playing against one another. Hillary had always loved their relationship. Joanna seemed like the perfect fit for Greene. Hillary knew it was only a matter of time: all her friends would be married to each other. She glanced at Amara and smiled at the thought of maybe having her to come home to every night for the rest of her life.
“Keira, Emma, this is Amara.”
“And who is Amara?” Emma asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“God, you two got married, and now Keira’s more annoying features are rubbing off on you, Em,” she jested. “Amara Simmons is my girlfriend; you both know that.”
“Hi.” Amara waved at them.
“Nice to meet you.” Keira pulled Amara in for a hug.
Amara hugged her back, but Hillary could see a little bit of discomfort there. She hoped it was because of whatever had happened that morning and not because her girlfriend was uncomfortable around her friends. Amara shook Emma’s hand next and turned back to Hillary.
“Joanna and Greene are over there.” Hillary nodded toward the two women who were now kissing. “Of course.” She rolled her eyes.
The group of six ordered drinks and appetizers. They took turns talking and playing games. Greene and Joanna were very competitive. This was one of the things they did regularly. Keira and Emma joined sometimes, but neither of them paid much attention to the games. They were there for the conversation and food. Amara played a few games with Greene and then Joanna. She then played basketball against Hillary; they were both terrible. And they also tried their hands at air hockey; Amara ended up winning by one goal. She laughed and appeared to forget about what had been bothering her earlier.
Hillary watched the group as they stood around a small table and drank after finishing up their games. If Kellan and Reese had been there, it would have been perfect. But finally having a girlfriend standing next to her while everyone else had their own significant other next to them, felt as close to perfect as she could get. Amara showed no signs of discomfort. She didn’t shy away from Hillary’s touches and initiated many of her own. She laid her head against Hillary’s shoulder many times and rubbed Hillary’s back. It was as if they’d been together forever.
When Keira and Emma decided it was time to go, Greene and Joanna opted to play one more round to win enough tickets for the next prize they were aiming for. Hillary checked with Amara, and the woman’s eyes told her she was tired, so they said their goodnights. Hillary looked forward to her friends telling her later about how much they liked Amara.
It was late when they arrived at Hillary’s apartment. Hillary was exhausted, but she wanted exactly two things more than sleep: she wanted to make love to her girlfriend, and she wanted her girlfriend to tell her what was wrong. Unfortunately, she got neither of those things. Amara asked if she could take a shower. Hillary didn’t ask if she could join her. It was clear Amara needed a few minutes of alone time. When the woman emerged, she was dressed for bed. They climbed in together, Hillary turned off the lights, and they shared a goodnight kiss. Amara cuddled up
into her body. Hillary held onto her and wished she could take away whatever was bothering the woman she loved.
◆◆◆
Hillary woke up way too early again. Amara had that effect on her. It was Sunday morning. Hillary had no reason to be up before noon. But Amara was clearly awake beside her; she was fidgeting. Hillary could feel her feet moving under the blankets. She heard the woman sniffle lightly and then felt Amara’s arm sliding over her own torso. From that, Hillary opened her eyes and smiled. She covered Amara’s hand with her own and pulled her tighter to herself.
“Good morning,” Amara said.
“Is it? It still feels way too early to me. Is the sun up yet?”
“Yes.” Amara laughed into the back of her neck. “I have to leave soon, remember?”
“Church. Right,” she muttered.
“I have some time before I have to go, though.” Amara slid her hand under Hillary’s shirt.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve missed you.”
“You have?” Hillary asked.
“Of course, I have.” Amara slid her hand back out from under Hillary’s shirt. “You don’t doubt that, do you?”
“No, babe,” Hillary said.
She then rolled onto her back. Amara was staring down at her with an expression of concern.
“Before I go, can we…”
“Are you asking me for a quickie?” Hillary laughed.
She placed both of her hands on the sides of Amara’s face and pulled the woman down to connect their lips.
“I guess.” Amara smiled into the soft kiss.
Hillary rolled them over, topping her girlfriend in the process, and replied, “Happy to oblige.”
She leaned down and immediately attached her lips to Amara’s neck, which was vibrating with laughter. The alarm went off just as Hillary’s hand slid under Amara’s pants.
“I forgot to turn it off.” The woman swiftly moved to grab her phone and turn off the annoying buzz. “Oh,” she said after.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Amara placed the phone back on the table, but her mood had definitely shifted.
“Amara, what’s going on?”
Hillary leaned back on her feet, kneeling in front of Amara’s outstretched legs.
“I just got a text message earlier that I missed.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth?”
“I did tell you the truth,” Amara replied defensively.
“I mean about what’s going on. There’s something up that you’re not telling me.”
“I want to talk to you about it; I do. I promise.”
“But you’re not?” Hillary moved to stand. “I know this is all new to you, but you can trust me.”
“I do trust you, Hill. I’m just not used to having someone to talk to about things.”
Hillary understood in that moment that this wasn’t about their romantic relationship or Amara’s lack of trust in her. It was because Amara had so little experience with real friends; she hadn’t had a best friend she could bounce things off of. She didn’t have anyone she could get advice from.
“I get it.”
“I’m trying,” Amara said. “I promise.”
“I know you are. I’m sorry.” Hillary laid back down on the bed and turned to face her girlfriend. “I can just tell something’s wrong, and I want to help if I can.”
Amara turned to face her as well and then explained, “The text is from a woman I met yesterday. She knew my mother when she was young. It’s a long story, and not one I can tell you right now because I need to go, but I promise I will as soon as I can. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Hillary agreed immediately. “When can I see you this week?”
She ran her hand over Amara’s back under her shirt and rubbed the skin there.
“Tonight,” she said almost defiantly. “I’ll come back later tonight. We can have dinner.”
“Can you stay over?” Hillary asked with what she knew were hopeful eyes. “It’s okay if you can’t.”
“I don’t know. I need to figure some things out.” Amara pulled back a little. “But I’ll be here for dinner for sure. Can I let you know about the staying thing then?”
“Of course,” Hillary agreed, though half-heartedly.
“Can you do something for me?” Amara asked as she leaned back into Hillary’s touch.
“Anything.”
“Can you tell me when it’s too much? When my baggage bothers you or gets in the way of us? You’re being so patient with me… You’ve been so patient.” She rubbed Hillary’s cheek with her thumb while cupping it. “I don’t want to ruin my chance with you because I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Only if you tell me the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have my own baggage, Amara. Caroline, my mom, and probably more than that. I need you to be patient with me, too, and tell me when I’m getting in the way.”
“Oh.” Amara smiled at her. “I think I can do that.”
CHAPTER 27
Amara sat in the same pew, in the same row of the same church she’d attended since birth, but there was something different about it now. The pew seemed older, more uncomfortable somehow. Her father seemed a little too eager to preach the word of the Lord. The people surrounding her looked funny to her today: like maybe they were all a part of this cult that worshipped her father instead of God. That wasn’t fair; she knew that. Her life had taken a strange turn, though, recently, and it had her looking at things differently.
The text she’d received that morning had been from the other Amara. They’d exchanged numbers the day before. Amara had asked her mother’s first love if she’d be willing to talk to her more, to tell her more about her mother when she was young. The older woman had agreed. They set a meeting time and place for later in the week. It was great for Amara to get to know her mother more, but it also had her wondering about how much her father knew about her mother’s past. Most importantly, though, it had her wondering why he’d lied to her about who was driving the car the night of her accident.
Her father wrapped up a sermon on treating others with kindness as Jesus preached. She’d heard a similar speech from him on an annual basis. He often recycled his sermons. He stored them on his computer, made edits periodically, and used the same general messaging over and over. Amara was in charge of making sure he didn’t repeat them too frequently. She’d done her job well over the years. She wondered now, as she listened to the music carry them out of their service, if he’d always wanted her to stay at the church for a reason. Did he want to purposefully shelter her because he’d known of her mother’s past? Did he want her to stay close so that he could protect her simply because of her mother’s death at such a young age? The only way she’d know would be if she confronted him, but now wasn’t the time for that.
She followed the rest of the flock out of the main service and into the lobby, where people greeted one another, exchanged hugs and handshakes, and talked about their weeks. Amara ran the gauntlet like she always did as the daughter of their pastor. She shook hands with new members, hugged ones she’d known for a while, asked questions about their children and vacations, and generally tried to pay attention to their answers. When she was finally able to make her way outside, she inhaled the fresh air deeply. Prior to that, she had felt claustrophobic. The church – that had been her home almost more than her actual house – was too small, too uncomfortable.
She allowed herself several minutes before returning inside to the church’s administrative offices. Once she sat behind her usual desk, it didn’t feel like her desk anymore. Her computer was still there. Her notebook, her pen, and her tiny fan were still in their usual places. But her chair didn’t seem to mold to her back how it once had. The fact that she’d never brought any personal belongings – even after all these years – suddenly spoke volumes.
Her father entered the room and moved straight into his office, as he normally did. He alwa
ys ended up with action items he needed to jot down after every service. Sometimes, he had to follow up with someone on a counseling session. Other times, he needed to plan a lunch or a youth group meeting. Mark followed him in, too, as he’d done several times in recent weeks. They closed the door behind them and, Amara guessed, went to work.
Mark nodded in her direction as he left. The nod came with a polite smile. That was the best she could expect to receive given that he was planning a life with her and she didn’t feel the same way. Her father came out a few minutes later, smiled at her, and took a seat in front of her desk.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Dad, I need to talk to you,” Amara said without answering his question.
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” she answered vaguely. “I was in your study the other night, running the virus program, and I found something on your shelf.”
“What shelf?”
“The one by your desk. You rearranged it.”
“I found some old books that belonged to your mother in the closet. I decided to put them in there instead. I thought you might want them one day. I actually planned to tell you about them. I’ve just been forgetful.”
“Did you look at any of them?”
“No. Most of them looked like her old books from college or her favorite novels.”
“You didn’t notice the Bible?” she checked.
“Bible? No. I have your mom’s old Bible. It’s in the desk drawer. I was going to give it to you on your wedding day.”
Amara softened instantly at his thoughtfulness and felt very strange sitting behind her desk, talking to her father like this. She was doing this wrong. She should have done it at home, over dinner, or while in the study with the Bible in hand to reference as she spoke.
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