Choices

by Lyn Gardner

  “It was a little over a year, but yeah, I’m sure,” Robin said, nodding. “And I know it sounds like a cop-out, like I’m trying to rationalize the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my entire freaking life, but I’m not. I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake after I finally ended it, thinking about everything. I dissected our relationship like it was a frog in biology, and that’s when I realized I was never in love with Pam. I was in love with the idea of being in love, which in its own way helps to explain why I overlooked so many things for so long. I kept trying to hold on to the dream.”

  “What dream?”

  “The dream of a perfect life, a perfect mate, a perfect everything.” Robin sighed and shook her head. “And even when her façade began to crack, and the true Pam started oozing out, I still refused to let go of the dream, but day by day, that dream turned into a nightmare...and I finally woke up from it.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Me, too,” Robin said, looking over at Judy. “But that doesn’t mean I still don’t kick myself almost every flipping day for letting it happen. I mean, Jesus, I’m a mystery writer. I’ve spent hundreds of hours reading about sociopaths, trying to get in the right mindset to write my villains, but reading about them and experiencing one firsthand...let me tell you, it’s night and day.”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “You have no idea,” Robin said, pivoting to look out the windshield. “Up until Pam, I can honestly say I was fucking clueless as to just how twisted they can be, and even now, even after everything I went through, I still can’t fathom how someone can feel no remorse or guilt about anything. The sky’s the limit with them, and whatever it takes, they fucking do. They don’t look back. They don’t regret. They don’t own a goddamn conscience. They just plow through life, shoving the people they’ve shattered to the curb while they look for their next fucking victim!” Robin shouted as she slammed her fist against her thigh.

  The longer Robin spoke, the louder her voice had become, and Judy was now hunching her shoulders against the volume. “Hey. I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hand on Robin’s leg. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “It’s okay,” Robin whispered as she blinked away her tears. “Shit happens.”

  The corners of Judy’s mouth drooped. “I wish there was something I could say or do.”

  Robin gazed out the window at the hotels and bars whizzing by, and as they approached a row of conifers lining the road, Robin looked toward the heavens. The sky was the bluest she’d ever seen and with nary a cloud to block its view, the sun was free to flood the earth with all its brilliance.

  “You know what?” Robin said, turning toward Judy. “It’s too pretty of a day to cloud it up with all my crap. How about we stop traveling down this memory lane?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Judy said, flipping on the left turn signal. “What would you think about making a right?”

  “Um…I hate to break it to you,” Robin said, quickly looking out the window. “But you’re making a left.”

  “I know I am. I was talking about memory lane,” Judy said as she made the turn.

  “Oh,” Robin said with a laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Let’s talk about Thanksgiving. What’s your favorite part?”

  “The food. Duh.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “In what way?”

  “Do you have a family favorite?” Judy said, shrugging. “Like with mine, my mom used to make homemade cranberry relish instead of getting the kind in a can, and we always had to have green bean casserole.”

  “Is that the stuff with those onion things on top?”

  “Yep.”

  Robin tried to keep her lip from curling. “And you like that?”

  “Hate it.”

  “Thank God.”

  Judy glanced at Robin. “You, too?”

  “I tried it once. Declan’s family always makes it, but smothering fresh green beans in mushroom soup and sprinkling sodium enriched fried onions on top just doesn’t do it for me.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Well then, we can cross that off our shopping list.”

  “So, was there anything special you and your mom always had to have?”

  Robin’s smile reached her ears. “Celery stuffed with cheese and pimento spread, and sweet potato casserole with marshmallows on top. It just wasn’t Thanksgiving without it.”

  “Okay. I’ve heard of the spread, but not the casserole.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I mean I’ve had sweet potatoes before, but never with marshmallows. It sounds kind of weird.”

  “Oh, it’s so good. Declan couldn’t get enough of it. Although...” Robin stopped and tapped her finger on her chin. “Come to think of it, Gabby hated the stuff, which means it’s not for everyone. I don’t have to make it.”

  “No, I think you should. I’m up for trying new things.”

  Robin smirked as she glanced at Judy. “Are you now?”

  Judy’s cheeks turned rosy, and she shot Robin a quick look before turning her attention back to the road. “As long as you don’t say you like oyster stuffing, I think we’ll both be putting ourselves into a food coma in a couple of days.”

  ***

  Three days later, Judy came into the house and immediately knew Robin had started without her. Breathing in the aroma of freshly baked cornbread, Judy hung up her coat, gathered up the packages she had put on the floor, and made her way to the big kitchen. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she chirped, entering the room.

  Robin looked up from the cookbook she was reading, and her smile brightened the room instantly. “Happy Thanksgiving to you.”

  “I thought we were going to do this together,” Judy said, placing the shopping bags on the counter on the island.

  “We are, but the cornbread has to cool down before we crumble it up for the stuffing, so I thought I’d get it out of the way,” Robin said before glimpsing at the assortment of cloth sacks in front of her. “What’s all this?”

  “While you took yesterday to write, I took it to shop,” Judy said, fumbling in the bags for only a moment before pulling out a bouquet of red, yellow, and white mums. “And I bought these.”

  Robin did a double-take. “You bought me flowers?”

  “Well, technically, I bought them for us. Thought it would add to the holiday,” Judy said, glancing around the room. “Do we have a vase?”

  “Yeah...um...pantry on the right. Bottom shelf.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So...what else did you get?” Robin said, peering into the bags.

  “I bought a few bottles of wine since I’m always drinking yours.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I wanted to,” Judy said, shooing Robin away from the sink, so she could put some water into the vase.

  The concept of reincarnation, like the existence of ethereal beings, weren’t topics Robin had ever given much thought to until moving to Mackinac. But now, she was a firm believer in ghosts, and she was also convinced that in a previous life, she must have been a voyeur.

  In place of blue jeans, Judy had on a pair of straight-leg corduroys, the charcoal shade a hair darker than the gray lace-up open knit sweater she was wearing, and Robin drank in the view as if she had spent a week in the desert. With Judy busy trimming the stems of the flowers, Robin took her time, her eyes raking over the woman standing at the sink, and it wasn’t until Judy turned around when Robin awakened from her not-so-PG rated daydream.

  “Something wrong?” Judy said, placing the vase on the island.

  “What? No,” Robin said, spinning toward the stove. “But I better break up this cornbread, so we can start on the stuffing.”

  ***

  When it came to dancing, Robin always preferred slow over fast. She adored holding her partner close, and in tandem, they’d glide across the parquet floor in breathless abandon. Breasts would lightly brush
up against breasts and hands would rest on hips, curvaceous and soft, and although seldom labeled as a public display of affection, Robin found that dancing, with the right partner, very well could be.

  The music playing on the radio was top forty, hardly what most would choose for a dreamy, sensual rumba, but throughout the morning, unintentionally, one was performed. Side-by-side they chopped and minced, stirred and seasoned, sampled and smiled, their arms or hips occasionally touching as one reached, one moved, one tasted. The kitchen was large, but more than once a hand found its way to the small of a back, a light, silent signal that the other was passing by.

  Robin relished every touch. They had worked together renovating rooms, and each had easily guessed the other’s move so they wouldn’t get in the way, but this was different. This was personal. This was comfortable. This was...intimate.

  Amidst the smell of onions and celery sautéing, Robin fell more in love with Judy as each minute passed. She tried to stop herself, tried to stop gazing, wondering, and wanting, but it would have been easier to stop a train without brakes from coming down a hill. Robin knew it was Thanksgiving, but it felt more like Christmas as one gift and then another was revealed, every detail about Judy growing crisper in the warm confines of the kitchen. The way the woman’s eyes would light up a millisecond before a grin would appear. The way she’d poke her tongue between her lips as she chopped the last little piece of celery, and the way she’d squint, studying her mother’s recipe for the cranberry relish were presents all the money in the world couldn’t buy.

  The deafening whir of the food processor jolted Robin from her thoughts, and her reaction was not lost on Judy.

  “Well, now that I have your attention,” Judy said with a laugh. “Could you hand me that bowl?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Robin said as she reached for the Pyrex. “So what else needs to be done?”

  “This is it,” Judy said, scraping the cranberry mixture into the bowl.

  Robin looked around at counters empty of pots, pans, and food. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, we put the turkey in the oven two hours ago, and the casseroles are in the fridge. So, once I finish this, we can relax for a few hours. Where have you been?”

  “I guess I was just...I was just enjoying the morning.”

  An easy smile played at the corners of Judy’s mouth. “I know what you mean.”

  ***

  “Too soon?” Robin said, holding up a bottle of wine as she walked into the living room.

  Judy glanced at her watch. “It’s almost one, so I’d have to say no,” she said, reaching up to take a glass from Robin. “And thanks for finishing up in the kitchen. I could have helped.”

  “I know you could have,” Robin said as she filled the two glasses. “But since you’re cleaning up after dinner, I figured it was the least I could do.”

  “You cheated on that race.”

  “I did not. It’s not my fault you dawdled,” Robin said, and relaxing on the sofa, she took a sip of her Cabernet. “Very tasty,” she said, looking at the dark ruby liquid in her glass. “Good choice.”

  “Thanks,” Judy said, resting her head on the back of the sofa.

  As the distant sounds of music from the radio in the kitchen made its way to their ears, almost in unison, both women sighed.

  “This is nice,” Robin said softly.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Yeah?”

  Judy rolled her head to the side to look at Robin. “Holidays were never like this with Scott, or with my family for that matter.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, with my family it’s always hectic and loud, and with Scott, it was just another day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wasn’t that much into holidays. He’d always get me something for Christmas, but the rest was just like any other day except for the food I made for us.” Judy snickered when Robin raised an eyebrow. “I know that goes against the grain of all liberated women on the face of this planet, but sometimes it was just easier to do it myself than to have him underfoot.”

  “Gotcha.” Robin paused long enough to take a sip of wine. “And speaking of that, what are your thoughts on Christmas?”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little early to plan Christmas dinner when the Thanksgiving turkey is still in the oven?” Judy said, sitting up so she could take a drink.

  Robin’s heart didn’t do a flip. It did a double axel with a twist at the mere hint of spending Christmas together. Robin knew she needed to get her grin under control before it jumped off her face and splattered all over the room in the shape of yellow smiley faces, so hiding behind her wine glass, she took a leisurely taste of the Cabernet. Several seconds passed before she reined in her excitement enough to speak. “No, silly,” Robin said, putting the glass aside. “I wasn’t talking about food. I was talking about decorating, because from what I saw in the basement, Adele loved it as much as my mom did.”

  A low chuckle rose in Judy’s throat. “Let’s just put it this way. I’ve been playing Christmas music since the beginning of November.”

  “Me, too!” Robin said, perking up in her seat.

  “You didn’t today.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you liked it or not.”

  “Robin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Go change the station.”

  Robin beamed, and she went from sitting to standing in record time. “Yes, dear.”

  Judy leaned back again, and stretching out her legs, her features softened. If she became any more relaxed, she was going to fall asleep, except a second later, Judy was scrambling not to drop her wine as an ear-splitting scream echoed through the house. Managing to set her glass on the table before she leapt to her feet, Judy rushed to the big kitchen and found Robin standing by the sink. “What’s wrong? Did you cut yourself? Burn yourself? What’s going—”

  “It’s snowing!” Robin screamed, spinning around.

  “It’s snowing?” Judy marched over and slapped Robin on the arm. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen snow in forever.”

  Judy placed her hand over the heart pounding in her chest. “Your mom lived in Indiana, Robin. I’m almost positive they have snow there.”

  “I know, but once I moved to Florida, she always came down there to escape the snow, so I haven’t seen it since I was a kid.”

  “Which explains why you just screeched like one, I’m guessing.”

  “Yep,” Robin said, looking back and forth between the window and Judy. “So, do you wanna go out and play? Do you? Do you? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

  Judy snorted as she looked at the large flakes drifting by the bank of windows. “I think I’m a little too old—”

  “Oh, come on. Please? We can just go for a walk. What do you say?”

  Judy glanced down at the suede ankle-high boots on her feet. “I don’t have on the right shoes.”

  “What size do you wear?”

  “Seven. Why?”

  “I wear an eight and I have plenty of boots. With a couple pair of socks, they should fit you,” Robin said, her words coming faster than the snow as she clasped her hands together. “Pleeeease? Pretty, pretty please?”

  Feeling as if she would be stealing candy from a child unless the right word came out of her mouth, Judy caved. “Okay, but—”

  “Yes!” Robin said with a fist pump.

  “On one condition.”

  “Okay, anything.”

  “No snowballs.”

  Robin lowered her chin just a smidge and then raised her eyes. “Would I do that?”

  A disco ball didn’t hold a candle to the sparkle now appearing in Robin’s eyes, and Judy tried her best not to keep her mirth in check. “I’m serious, Robin. No snowballs.”

  “Okay. No snowballs,” Robin said with a pout.

  “Promise me.”

  “I just said—”

  “Promise me, or you’re going alone.”<
br />
  Robin puffed out her cheeks. “Fine, I promise. I won’t throw a snowball,” she said as she made her way past Judy to fetch some boots. “Party pooper.”

  ***

  As they made their way up Market Street, Judy looked down at her feet. “How come you have so many boots? It’s not like you needed them in Florida.”

  “Because I like boots, and there were always a few weeks every year I could get away with wearing them without sweating my toes off.”

  “But these look new,” Judy said, glancing again at the insulated duck boots she was wearing.

  “Okay, so I bought a few more pairs once I got here.”

  Judy’s laugh steamed in the air. “You and your shopping. I’m definitely going to have to keep an eye on you.”

  Robin smiled as she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. “Then you should know I’ll probably go shopping next week. I keep forgetting to buy warmer gloves.”

  “Are you all right? Do you want to turn around?”

  “Not a chance,” Robin said, gazing at Judy. “I just want to take a walk in the snow. Okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Judy said, gesturing with her head. “Lead the way.”

  They continued up Market in silence, occasionally blinking away the lacy flakes attempting to settle on their eyelashes. Near Cadotte Avenue, the sound of children’s laughter reached their ears and the giddiness of toddlers playing in the first snow of the season brought smiles to their faces.

  Judy had glanced over at Robin a few times, but it wasn’t until they reached the intersection of Hoban and Main to make their way home when Robin’s expression seemed to darken. “What’s wrong? Why so sad?”

  Robin took a deep breath and shook her head. “I was just thinking about my mom, wondering if she ever walked down this street in the snow. She always loved this island, but I never gave it a chance...until now. Four years too late.”

  “You can’t think like that.”

  “Also, too late.”

  Judy turned in front of Robin, blocking her path. “Stop.”

  “Yeah, well I kind of have to since you’re in my way.”

  “No, I mean about regretting things.”