A Brew in Time

by Robin Roseau

  “What?” she asked.

  “I guess we’re getting right to it, Merry,” Summer said. She stepped away and collected an envelope, and then the two sat down in the chairs opposite from us. She tossed the envelope onto the coffee table beside the drinks.

  “You went through my things!” Janie exclaimed angrily. “You had no right.”

  “If you don’t want me in your room, you should be faster about collecting your clean laundry,” Summer replied. “And if you have things you’re keeping secret, they shouldn’t be in plain sight on your desk.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  I considered picking it up and looking for myself, but I was on Janie’s side, and if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.

  “It’s a college acceptance letter,” Summer said. “Early decision.”

  “It’s not early decision,” Janie corrected. “It’s early action. They’re not the same thing.”

  “Explain the difference, then.”

  “Early decision means if you’re accepted, you are obligated to attend. Early action is like regular decision, but early. You can apply to as many as you want. And I did. It’s no big deal. I decided I don’t want to go. I already sent my letter.”

  “This letter?” Summer asked, producing one and laying it down on the coffee table.

  “You had no right!” Janie screamed. “How did you get that?”

  “You left it in the mailbox for pickup. I grabbed it, not realizing it wasn’t the regular mail.”

  “And you’re going to tell me we can’t afford it. You could have left it in the box. It’s a polite letter thanking them for consideration.”

  “Well, I admit; when I saw a letter to Caltech, I was curious,” Summer replied. “But when I saw their offer letter, I was beyond curious. Tell Lydia the full story, or I’ll tell my version.”

  “It’s no big deal!”

  “Janie?” I asked

  She turned to me. “I applied to the same schools you said you were going to apply to.”

  That was the moment when I began to have a glimmer of understanding why we were here, but I didn’t have the whole story, not quite yet. It would come.

  “Tell her the rest, Janie,” Summer said.

  “They offered a scholarship,” Janie said quietly.

  “Who did?”

  “Caltech.”

  “Okay. Who is Caltech?”

  “California Institute of Technology,” Mom said.

  “California,” I whispered.

  “I’m turning them down, or I will as soon as I mail that letter.” She leaned forward to snatch it from the coffee table, but Summer got there first.

  “How big of a scholarship?” Summer asked. Janie folded her arms again, and this time she shrugged me off. “How big?”

  “Full ride,” Janie said. “There. Happy?”

  “Deeply proud, honey.”

  “Was that sarcasm?”

  “Honey, you not only were accepted into one of the best technology schools in the country, but they offered a full ride. You’re right. I couldn’t have afforded to send you. I think I read that letter five times, and then twice more to Merry.”

  “You had no right.”

  “Maybe not, and we can discuss that at my intervention, but this is yours.”

  “I don’t need an intervention.”

  I looked at Mom. She wasn’t watching Janie. She was watching me. I felt like she was trying to talk to me telepathically, and then she nodded, gesturing her nose at Janie.

  I turned to my girlfriend. She was staring at the coffee table, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. “Is it a good school?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I know it’s all the rage to lie to your mother,” Summer said. “I certainly lied to mine. But it’s a particularly bad habit to lie to your girlfriend.”

  “You shut up, Mother,” Janie said. “It’s none of your business.” That was the harshest I’d ever heard her be.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Is it a good school, Janie?”

  She didn’t look at me for a minute. No one spoke until she turned her head. “Yes.”

  “How good.”

  “For technology, top 5 in the country.”

  “Tell her about JPL,” Mom said gently. “Tell her about Palomar. And I don’t even know what LIGO is. Start with JPL. What does it stand for?”

  “I don’t recall this is any of your business either, Mrs. Davis.”

  “Janie,” Mom said gently. “Tell Lydia the truth.”

  I waited a moment then asked, “What was that first one, Janie?”

  “JPL.”

  “What’s that stand for?”

  “Jet Propulsion Laboratories.”

  “What do they do, Janie?” Mom prompted.

  “Work for NASA.”

  “And Palomar?”

  “It’s just a telescope.”

  I looked at her. She had turned away from me. I turned her chin towards me. “A telescope?”

  “Kind of a big telescope. They actually have three. The big Hale telescope is 200 inches.”

  “Is that big?”

  “It used to be the biggest in the world,” she replied. She shrugged. “Now all the coolest work happens with Hubble, and soon the James Webb. Or radio telescopes.”

  “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any universities out where Hubble is sitting,” I said.

  “Cute,” she replied. “I’m staying here.”

  “Does size matter? I thought size didn’t matter.”

  Mom and Summer both scoffed. Janie offered a droll expression but said, “It’s about available light.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not about magnification; it’s about available light. Look. If you have a mirror this big,” and she cupped her hands into a circle about six inches across, “then you only get the amount of light hitting this surface. The amount of surface area grows with the square of the radius. If this is five inches, and Hale is 200 inches, that means it’s 40 times bigger diameter.”

  “But 1600 times as much light.”

  “So you can see really, really dim things. And it’s on a mountain, so less atmosphere in the way.”

  “That’s why Hubble is in space.”

  “Right. No atmosphere at all.” She shrugged. “It’s not like they let undergrads touch it.”

  “And it’s not like Caltech is a steppingstone to a job at JPL, or anything like that,” Mom said. “And it’s not like you know what opportunities you’re turning away from. And it’s not like, ten years from now, when you know you could have been working at JPL, but instead you’re working for a bank or something, that you won’t blame Lydia.”

  “Mom!” I complained.

  “Would you have thought of that last part?”

  I glared at her but then admitted, “Probably not.”

  “Then I’m not apologizing.”

  “I’m going to school here,” Janie said.

  I turned back to her. “That’s a mistake.”

  “No it’s not! I’ve been in love with you for nearly three years, Lydia, and now that I’ve got you, I’m not letting go!”

  “Who said anything about letting go?”

  “You’re staying here. You told me. You don’t want to leave your family. I get it. You didn’t apply to any out-of-state schools.”

  “And I wouldn’t have been accepted to Caltech, anyway,” I added. “If you didn’t want to go, why did you apply?”

  “Because when I applied, I didn’t know if you would love me back, and if you couldn’t, being far away seemed like the best choice.”

  “Janie,” Summer said. “She deserves the truth.”

  “Fine!” Janie screamed. “I want to work at JPL. I want to at least see Palomar. Man will be going to Mars, and if Elon Musk doesn’t do it first, then it will probably involve JPL. I want all that.” But then she was sobbing. “But I want you more, Lydia!” Then she thre
w her arms around me, sobbing as I held her.

  And I started crying, too, because I knew I was going to have to send her to California.

  Even if it meant breaking up with her.

  * * * *

  We talked. We talked for hours. We got her talking about her dreams, something she and I hadn’t really done before, and I felt kind of shitty for that.

  It was probably 10 PM before she said, “Mama, I was accepted at Caltech.”

  “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

  It was 11 when Summer said, “If I’m not having to pay anything for you to go to school, that means I can afford airline tickets for you.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “And maybe Lydia could fly to California for spring breaks,” Mom added.

  Five minutes later, I began treating it as decided. “I can’t believe my awesomely cool girlfriend got into such an awesomely amazing college. When you’re a famous astronaut, I can tell people I was there the night you told your mom you were going to Caltech.”

  “You’d never even heard of it before tonight.”

  “So? It’s still awesome. Like. Totally.”

  “Why are you talking funny?”

  “That’s how they talk in California.”

  “What?”

  Mom and Summer both snickered, and then Summer said, “Gag me with a spoon.”

  And Mom replied, “I’m like.. freaking out.”

  I turned to Janie. “What are they doing?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I have a hard time believing you remember that song, Summer,” Mom said.

  “Oh, and were you alive?”

  “No, but one of my babysitters used to play it.”

  “It was my mom,” Summer admitted.

  “Do you know what they’re talking about?” I asked.

  “Not a clue. Am I staying over tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  * * * *

  “Caltech, huh?” Dad asked over Friday night dinner.

  “Yeah,” Janie said.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  Graduation

  Life was perfect.

  I was in love. So was she.

  Our parents were cool. So were our friends.

  We weren’t the only lesbian couple at school, but we were the best-known. I don’t know exactly how that happened, but everyone seemed to know our names. And yeah, we got some weird comments sometimes, but it was rare that Janie or I had to skewer someone. Rose or Jenny always seemed to be there and do it for us, or a few times one of the other guys around would say, “Dude, when Rose hears about that, your life is going to be a living hell.”

  We went to prom together, each of us wearing the most fabulous gowns. Mom and Dad surprised us. They hired a limo. It began at our place. From there, we picked up Janie. My heart nearly stopped; she looked so beautiful.

  Then we collected Rose and Jenny before getting their dates for the prom, and it was six of us in all, riding in the back and feeling like we owned the world.

  That was the first surprise. There was a second, but we wouldn’t find out until later.

  Prom was lovely. Janie was lovely. We danced together, especially for the slow songs. But when Kate Westeren asked me if she could dance with Janie, I said, “If she wants.” And so she danced with Kate, who we both barely knew, and Rose pulled me onto the floor.

  I got a few other dances, and Janie did, too, but mostly, we danced with each other.

  But then it was time to go, the end of our senior prom. I led us to our limo, and it was there we saw Ron, Jenny’s dad. “I’ll drive them home,” he offered. “Good night, Lydia and Janie.”

  The driver held the limo door for us. We climbed in, and the door closed, but I looked out the window to see Rose and Jenny getting into the car. When I turned back, Janie was holding up an envelope addressed to the two of us. It was in Mom’s handwriting. “What is it?”

  She opened it. There was a note and a card key like the kind they use at hotels. “We love you. Room 733. Brunch downstairs, 10 AM.” was all the note said.

  The limo didn’t take us home but instead pulled up in front of a fairly nice hotel. That was when we laughed. The driver helped us from the car, but not until he had pulled a rolling suitcase out of the trunk.

  I pulled the suitcase. Janie held my hand and had the card key. And after a slow elevator ride, we found our room.

  I was exhausted, but we made love for hours, and we didn’t have to be quite so quiet about it.

  Summer Job

  “I hope you’re eating a hearty meal,” Jay-jay said merrily. “I’m going to work your skinny little ass off.”

  “Jay-jay!” Serephine said, slipping from her chair and running to the woman. Jay-jay picked her up and spun her around. “Again!” She squealed. “Again!”

  And of course, Jay-jay did just that before saying, “I have to set you down before I get dizzy.”

  And so she did, but Serephine hugged her about the waist and said, “I love you, Jay-jay.”

  “I love you, too, little one.” She looked at me. “Eat up. Daylight’s wasting.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “You said seven.” I glanced at my phone. I wasn’t late. “Who gets up at seven?”

  “Complaining on your first day?”

  “You promised to teach me,” I fired back.

  She laughed. “So I did. Eat up. I’ll explain in the car.”

  At that, I nodded. Three minutes later, I presented myself. And then Jay-jay did something she had never done before. She looked me up and down. I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not checking you out,” she said. “I’m checking your clothes out.” She did it again, her gaze landing on my feet. “Got boots?”

  “Like… winter boots?”

  “Work boots.”

  “No. Should I have?”

  “Don’t worry about it. What are you wearing under that?” She pointed to my tee-shirt.

  “Jay-jay!”

  “Regular bra?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Do you have any sports bras? Trust me, girlie. Go change bras.”

  “You’re my boss. Are you supposed to be talking about bras to me?”

  “Or not,” she replied. “It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll be quick.”

  She nodded, and I ran to my room.

  * * * *

  In her truck, she was quiet for a minute then asked, “Did I offend you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m just looking out for you,” she explained.

  “Jay-jay, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your clothes.”

  “Oh. I thought you were giving me shit. I was giving you some back.”

  “You’re a lot like your aunt,” she replied. “We’re good?”

  “We’re fabulous,” I said. “I have questions.”

  “Let’s talk about daylight, then you may ask whatever you want.”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “Most cities have rules how early we can begin work. If a city doesn’t, a homeowner might. I’d have us starting at first light, if I could, but most places, I can’t.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “Do you want to be outside, working under the sun, at 3 in the afternoon?”

  “Oh. Should that have been obvious?”

  “Probably not. Some of my crew can handle it.” She looked over at me. “Don’t give me shit when I’m looking out for you. I can’t always tell when someone is serious.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Just in the future. You had other questions.”

  “Am I really worth your time?”

  “Any questions that aren’t stupid questions?”

  “It’s not a stupid question,” I said. “This isn’t about friendship, or ‘borrowing me’ when you want to see a Pixar movie. You’re running a business
, Jay-jay.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Do you think I’m going to go easy on you because you’re Jackie’s niece?”

  “You might go easy on me because…”

  “Because Karla and I don’t have any daughters?” She left the rest unsaid.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think I’d be doing you any favors if I did? You said you wanted to learn.”

  “I do,” I said. “Anything you can teach me, but not if it costs you, Jay-jay. That would make me some kind of selfish bitch.”

  “Well, you’re not a selfish bitch,” she replied. “You’re not going to be doing finish carpentry. At the start, you’re going to be doing the shit work. Mostly that means cleanup. Fetch and carry. Stack this here. Move that there.”

  “You’d get more work out of someone big and strong.”

  “I’ll get plenty of work out of you. If you weren’t doing it, I’d have to have someone I was paying more than I’ll pay you doing it. That person might be faster, but I’d rather put her on something more in line with her skills. Understand so far?”

  “I guess.”

  “Next. Anyone can learn to swing a hammer. It ain’t rocket science, like your girlfriend is going to learn. I can teach anyone that. What I can’t teach is reliability and responsibility. Or maybe I can, but it’s a whole hell of a lot harder.”

  That actually felt good, and I vowed to myself I wouldn’t disappoint her.

  “Now,” she added. “You’re soft.”

  “Janie likes me soft.”

  “You’re probably going to hurt tonight. You’re going to hurt all week. I really don’t have time for complaining. Being sore is one thing. However, if you actually get hurt, or if you get blisters, then I need to know. Can you tell the difference?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “What are we going to be working on?”

  “We’re booked through the entire summer,” she said. “The current project is a home addition. It’s just two rooms; we’re turning a rambler into an El.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you just said.”

  “It’ll be easier to show you. We have two decks after this. Those are pretty small projects for us, but one has a fence, too, and it’s a big yard. We’re scheduled to frame a house beginning August first, but that might slide.”

  “Why would it slide?”

  “We can’t frame until the concrete is cured. Weather is a player. I’ve got a woman who wants us to tear out her existing detached garage and build a new one, but she’s on a budget, and so I told her we’ll slip her in when we get openings in our schedule. She’s fine with that, as long as it’s up before it snows.”