Gold

by E. J. Noyes

  The elevator was crowded, and I managed to get a spot right at the front, but couldn’t reach the panel. A woman in a very nicely cut suit had her finger hovering over the buttons, and she glanced at me before asking, “What floor?”

  I answered with a smile and a quick, “Ninth, thanks.”

  The doors opened on the fourth floor and I stepped out to let my button-pusher exit. Just as I was about to slip back into the elevator, my phone rang with an unknown number. Having a conversation in a closed space with people listening was near the top of my rudeness list. I backed away from the closing doors. “Hi, this is Aspen.”

  The caller was cheerful. “Aspen, it’s Richard, the handyman.”

  “Richard, hey. Any problems?”

  “Not a one. The fence is all fixed and I greased up the hinges on that back gate for you too.”

  “You’re my hero.”

  He laughed. “Tell that to my wife. I’ve just emailed you the invoice. Thanks again for the work and let me know if there’s anything else you need done.”

  “Will do. Thank you.” I hung up and opened the email. I noted nothing amiss and followed the link to pay for replacing the few partly rotten sections in my back fence.

  The elevator announced its reappearance and as I stepped forward, eyes still on my phone, I felt the hard brush of my shoulder against someone else. I was looking up to apologize when I smelled it.

  Her.

  My apology came out as a squeak. Cate stood rigidly beside the elevator doors, staring at me with a mixture of shock and what looked like annoyance. Cate. What the hell? Unconsciously, my gaze drifted downward from her face. A fitted, light blue polo shirt showed no cleavage, but the swell of breasts was evident. Tailored black slacks. A pair of flats that meant she had to raise her chin to look at me. My stomach twisted with both anxiety and desire. God, I still wanted her. So much for the past almost five months of telling myself I was totally over her.

  She looked different with her hair pulled back in a neat French twist instead of a messy ponytail with those perpetually escaped bits around her face. I’d forgotten the exact color of her eyes, the little point at the end of her ski-jump nose, the mole on her neck. Even her voice wasn’t as I remembered when she asked, “Aspen? What are you doing here?”

  I held up my phone and offered inanely, “My fence was broken.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Stupid stupid. I shook my head. “Sorry, I just got an email. A phone call. Sorry, I’m just…surprised to see you.” Surprised and slightly panicked. The space she’d left inside me, the one I’d spent so many months trying to fill, opened wide again.

  “Likewise.” Cate shifted slightly to the side, putting distance between us, and I felt her acute discomfort. Her eyes flashed with something I’d never seen in them before. Fear. But I could find no explanation for it and my panic rose.

  Drawing a deep breath, I managed to keep my voice steady. “I have an appointment with a pain specialist.” I pointed at the ceiling. “Um, on the ninth floor.” I glanced around, desperate to get away. Across the hall stood a closed glass door, where C. M. Tierney PT, DPT was listed along with a couple of other names.

  Oh. Shit.

  The smile she gave me didn’t reach her eyes. “I see.”

  Fidgeting, I mumbled, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

  Cate tucked her leather tote under an arm. “Yes, I do.” Those blue-gray eyes were now strangely expressionless. “I’m sorry, I have appointments this morning but it was nice to see you again, Aspen.” She sidestepped past me.

  “Cate, wait. Please.”

  She stopped, as I’d asked, and turned around. But she didn’t face me head-on, instead stood at an angle as though readying herself to leave, or block an advance. “Yes?” she asked mildly.

  “Look, I’m back for, well, a while I guess and if we’re going to maybe bump into each other in the lobby here or whatever then I don’t want it to be awkward.” I pushed a hand through my hair, trying to shove the annoying bits back from my eyes. “I get that it was just a vacation fling for you. Really, I’m over it.”

  “Over it?” Slowly, a shaped blond eyebrow rose.

  I smiled, feeling sheepish like I’d been caught in a lie. “Well, okay. I was kind of upset for a while but, really it’s fine. We can be adults about this.”

  Tension lines tightened the edges of her mouth and her response was clipped. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “You’re not sure we should be adults? I’m trying to be polite here, you’re the one who made this choice for me, Cate.” I raised both hands. “For what it’s worth, it was a choice I didn’t agree with.”

  “I did what I thought best to enable you to move on.” She lifted her chin, finally meeting my eyes. “You look well, Aspen. Please excuse me, I really do have to get going.”

  There was nothing for me to do but watch her walk through her door, leaving me with those words. To enable you to move on. Numbly, I pressed the elevator call button.

  Doctor Maxwell was a sweet older gentleman with the no-bullshit approach that I appreciate. I vaguely registered us discussing stem cell therapy, a different drug for nerve pain and also some cognitive behavior techniques, which of course I would need to see a therapist for. He probably thought I was mentally compromised, given that I was so unbalanced by running into Cate again that I could barely formulate cogent replies. He was so kind and earnest that I felt guilty for being such a shitty conversationalist.

  For the rest of the day and night, my all-too-brief and extremely awkward conversation with Cate ran through my head. It went back and forth like a metronome stuck on the fastest setting. Anger, frustration, sadness, annoyance, confusion. What did she mean? She was pushing me to move on but not herself? No, I was reading too much into her phrasing. She felt nothing the whole time we were together, nothing beyond pure physical satisfaction? Or she fell for me and couldn’t move on herself but wanted me to?

  Nothing made sense and the more I tried, the more confused I became. In the end I decided that I wanted to talk to her so I really could move on, because if my reaction was anything to go by, I obviously hadn’t. Then there was the gut feeling that refused to go away—seeing Cate again was clearly a sign. Stupid superstitions.

  Sometime after midnight I drafted a short email asking if she’d meet me for drinks or coffee, just to talk and clear the air. I tried to make it neutral but in the end, I couldn’t help myself. If she decided not to take me up on my offer then I wanted her to at least know a little bit of how I felt. Before I could second-guess, I typed out I meant everything I said in Australia, about what I want. I’m sorry that I wasn’t who I presented myself as, but I’m trying very hard to be that person. I added my phone numbers at the bottom and pressed send.

  A read receipt for the email waited in my inbox the next morning. But there was no reply. Well, at least I knew where I stood. Nowhere near Cate, obviously. Knowing for certain was both upsetting and strangely cathartic. I hadn’t expected her to do an about-face and tell me she wanted to try again, but I had at least expected an acknowledgement.

  I deleted the taunting reminder that she’d seen my words and chosen to ignore them, and decided it was time to collect the pieces of my heart that had been scattered anew and keep going.

  * * *

  A week after my run-in with Cate, I halfheartedly watched people making their way to the lifts while waiting for Stacey to arrive for our session. Filling my days with planning or training made it easier not to dwell on what had transpired with Cate. It also helped that Stacey was Mary Poppins in the flesh—eternally cheerful, always enthusiastic, and one of the most hard-working and dedicated people I’d met. She had so much talent and drive, it was both awesome and frightening. Actually more frightening than awesome, and I held her in my hands like a person holding a three-day-old chick, terrified I might crush her or somehow mess up nurturing her to her full potential.

  The feeling of purpose, of being needed
and respected slowly patched up some of my broken pieces. But it felt tenuous, as though something still wasn’t quite right. I knew exactly what it was, and also knew there was nothing I could do about it. It would have been easy to join a dating site or hang around at Après to pick up a casual bedmate. But I didn’t want a quick screw and see you later. Not now. Not after the possibilities Cate had shown me. I wanted more and I had no idea how to get it.

  I’d seen the latest Star Wars movie, and all I could think about was how Gemma and I had planned an epic movie marathon to prepare for seeing The Last Jedi. And Cate had laughed and told us she’d go away for the weekend and leave us to it so she wouldn’t have to listen to that damned theme song one more time. I’d been so close to what I wanted and fallen short again.

  An uncharacteristic fifteen minutes late, Stacey rushed up to where I was loitering near the gear racks. I clipped into my skis and glided over. “Hey. You ready?”

  “Yep. Sorry, got caught at school.” When she turned to face me I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her uncharacteristically dour expression. Anything other than cheer from her was out of the ordinary. The kid even grinned while she did tire flips at the gym. Something was really up. Most concerning was the small, slightly swollen cut on her lower lip.

  I leaned in to get a closer look. It looked fresh. “You all right?”

  She brushed me off. “Mhmm. We going to head up?”

  “Yeah.” I let her go ahead and she remained silent while we were in line for the lift—another anomaly. Once we’d begun our climb, I dug in. “Wanna talk about it?”

  Stacey shrugged. “Not much to say.”

  Her demeanor led me to a logical conclusion. “Did someone hit you, Stace?”

  Shoulders squared, eyes on the slope ahead, she nodded. “I got into a fight when I was leaving for training. Just some girl saying homophobic crap.”

  My anger flared but I reined it in. Just. “I see. What happened?”

  Stacey shrugged, as though being hit was no big deal. “She saw me saying goodbye to a girl I’ve been kind of dating. Got in our faces with the usual bullshit, and I told her to fu—, uh go away.”

  “How’d you get hit?”

  “I was in the way of her and my friend.”

  “What about your friend?” I asked quietly. “Did she get hurt?”

  At that she faltered. “I…I’m not sure. I don’t think so but she had to get to class.” Her head snapped up. “I didn’t hit the other girl back, I swear.”

  “Are you going to report it to a teacher?”

  “Not sure what good it’ll do,” she mumbled.

  I drew in a few deep breaths. “Stace, what happened was bullying. I really think you should tell a teacher about it.”

  All I got was a mumbled, “I guess.”

  She was distracted during training, taking a fall during an easy short turns drill. There was nothing to be gained by continuing so I pulled up half an hour early, and told her to get home for a hot shower. We walked down to the parking lot together and at her car, she gave me a grin, at once cocky and vulnerable. “I’ll let you know if I’m grounded.”

  I couldn’t imagine why she would be if things had happened as she’d said. “Get home safe, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I wrestled with myself, trying to decide if I should say something. After my quick internal debate, I decided I couldn’t help myself. This girl incited something protective in me, something that made me both satisfied with helping her, and empty because it only heightened what I didn’t have. I grasped her shoulder gently. “Stace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know there’s nothing wrong with caring about someone, right? What is wrong is bullying someone for that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She nodded and a little of her usual sweetness come back when she smiled. After a long inhalation she asked, “Did you always know? That you were gay?”

  I blew out a breath. “Yeah, I think I did. But it was seeing Sandra Bullock in Speed when I was twelve that really rammed the idea home.”

  Stacey grinned. “Margot Robbie for me.”

  I returned her smile. “Good for you.” My smile dimmed a little as reality intruded again. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Let me know, all right?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “And you know you can call me any time if you want to talk about things. About anything.”

  “I know. Thanks, coach.”

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not now. Growing up, I’d had a few scraps because I’d never hidden the fact I liked girls. But things were supposed to be different now. People weren’t supposed to say shit like that, and I hoped I hadn’t made things worse with my advice. Maybe I was stupid to think I could just insert myself into someone else’s life the way I had imagined I could with Cate. How the hell was I supposed to be a parent, if I wasn’t even sure of myself around Stacey?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The week after Christmas was quiet, with Stacey taking a five-day break from training to visit family, and Hayley spending the holiday with her in-laws in Florida. It’d been arranged before I’d known I would be home for good, and she’d apologized and worried and groveled. Finally, Hayley promised me that next year they’d come to Colorado for Christmas. My cold-hating sister was really sucking up. I’d rubbed it in by pointing out that despite her best efforts to prevent its occurrence, this meant I would finally get to put Anna and Davey on skis.

  I’d spent Christmas Day alone at home with the Xbox, a six-pack of beer and a frozen meal. Conditions were still sketchy, and I’d decided to give myself a few days off to relax. Good plan. Except by two days after Christmas, I was so bored that I gave in and went up for a bit of skiing. Parts of the mountain were still closed, but a morning of cruising around the blues and single black diamonds eased some of my disquiet.

  My phone rang as I stretched over my car roof to clamp the racks closed on my skis. Great timing. The edge of my jacket caught under the clasp and I had to tug it free, and then fumbling to yank a glove off so I could answer, I almost dropped my phone in the parking lot slush. My greeting was a slightly terse, “This is Aspen.”

  “Aspen…hi. It’s Cate.”

  My heart thudded erratically behind my breasts, dozens of thoughts racing simultaneously through my head. “Oh. Hey.” Very smooth, Archer.

  She cleared her throat. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No, not really. How may I help you?” I cringed at my ridiculous formality.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner. I just…didn’t know what to say.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She inhaled deeply. “I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.”

  Dinner. The meal most people eat at night. I shook the past from my head. “Okay. Yes, that sounds good.”

  “How’s Friday, say seven, at my place? I know it’s a bit of a drive, but I thought some privacy might be good.” Her words came out in a breathless rush.

  Only two days away, not enough time to work myself up into a real panic. Just a small panic. “That’s fine.”

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Yes, good. Thanks.”

  “Great. Uh, goodbye then.” She hung up before I could say bye.

  Score one for an awkward, teenager-esque phone conversation. I leaned back against the car, on the verge of calling Hayley, but her ire from our last conversation swept into my head and stilled my finger. When I’d mentioned running into Cate my sister had uttered some not-safe-for-child’s-ears words, and I didn’t want to find out what she’d say if she knew that I was going to Cate’s. Talking to my sister would probably be more stressful than soothing, and the next few days were going to be uncomfortable enough.

  Why now, when I’d managed to stuff Cate away out of sight and mind? I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers lightly to my eyelids. You promised to stop lying to yourself, Aspen. Cate was not out of sight or mind. She was deep under my skin
and always had been, marked like a tattoo in indelible ink.

  I tugged the lid off my emotions, allowing them to flood my thoughts. I’d missed her, badly. I still wanted her, badly. Despite how she’d hurt me, I understood why she’d done what she had, and if she indicated she wanted to see me again…

  I couldn’t say no.

  * * *

  It took me over an hour and a half to drive to Idaho Springs and find Cate’s house—a renovated two-story Colonial with a neat front yard and Christmas decorations in the windows and garden beds. Walking up the driveway I heard deep and authoritative barking from inside the house, which didn’t help my already frayed nerves. After I released the doorbell, the barking grew louder until it was right on the other side of the darkly stained door.

  Cate opened the door, leaning over to hold the collar of a squirming ridgeback. Cate was dressed much the same as she had been outside her office, only this time she wore a silk blouse instead of a polo shirt. This Cate was hard to reconcile with the woman I’d known and the change set me slightly atilt. She was no less beautiful. Just different.

  “Hey,” I said. Another point for articulate conversation.

  “Hi.” Her smile was warm, yet still felt slightly distant. “Come in. Sorry, I’ve only just arrived home. Sit,” she added absently. The dog sat, looking up at Cate with a dazed, slightly dopey expression, its tail thumping on the tiled floor. Cate stroked its head. “This is Taylor. Gemma named her after a certain pop singer who we are now too cool to mention in this house. Don’t worry, she’s all tough exterior and marshmallow inside.”

  “Good to know.” Shifting my focus from the dog to Cate’s face, I blurted a question that’d been nudging at me since she’d left me in Australia. “How is Gemma?” I hung my coat and tried to ignore the dog sniffing my legs.

  “She’s really good. Come on through.” Cate walked away, leaving me to follow. Apparently satisfied with me, Taylor strolled off and with a quiet huff dropped onto a dog bed in the corner of the dining room.