Fire and Water

by Amanda Kayhart

  “Oh?” Diane replied, her face pinching with concern. She slid down next to Michelle. The hard surface was cold underneath her, so she inched close to Michelle for warmth. “I’m listening. Whatever it is.”

  “He fell asleep,” Michelle said.

  Diane frowned. “Who did?”

  Leaning her head back against the wall, Michelle closed her eyes. “For the longest time, I replayed the same scene over and over in my head, hoping it would turn out differently if I thought about it hard enough.”

  Diane fixed her eyes on Michelle.

  “My parents had date nights on Fridays,” Michelle said. “I’d stay with my aunt and uncle overnight, have a sleepover in Sawyer’s bedroom. It was funny that morning, I remember walking downstairs feeling something was different. Not sure what, so I plopped down quietly and turned on Nickelodeon like I always did.”

  Diane kept her eyes steady on Michelle, her breathing slowed, anticipating the painful journey Michelle was about to lead her on.

  “The house was quiet,” Michelle continued, voice shrinking into a shallow whisper, “but I heard some voices coming from the kitchen. I assumed it was my parents, but it was my aunt and uncle, and they came into the living room and sat on the couch. I knew immediately something was wrong.” Michelle paused briefly, looking to the sky as she dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “They said the driver of the semi was overworked and fell asleep when his truck crossed the double lines. Corporate negligence, violating labor laws, or some bullshit like that. At the rate of speed he was going, my—they didn’t—”

  Diane swallowed and reached out to hold Michelle’s hand—her skin cold and clammy. Clearing the tears from her own cheeks with her other hand, Diane held on tight to Michelle, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  “There was a large settlement between my aunt and uncle and the trucking company,” Michelle said with a teary eye roll and a sniffle. “They set up a trust for me, and I inherited it when I turned twenty-one. I didn’t want anything to do with it. How was money supposed to fix anything? ‘I’m sorry you don’t have your parents any longer, but here, buy something nice for yourself instead.’”

  Diane cringed, listening to Michelle’s anger saturating her voice.

  “This. The studio. My house,” Michelle said, “it all came from the accident. I never intended on using it. I felt dirty—sick—just thinking I could somehow benefit from their deaths.”

  “What changed?” Diane asked gently.

  “Therapy. Anti-depressants.”

  “I’m very familiar with that combination.”

  Michelle eyed Diane. “Are you?”

  “I’ve been seeing my current therapist for over ten years now,” Diane said. “Taking care of one’s mental health is so important, tragedy or not.”

  “It really is,” Michelle said. “After what happened, I wouldn’t be the person I am without a large support system. But, I…”

  “I’m here,” Diane said, giving Michelle’s hand another squeeze. “Take your time.”

  Michelle sighed and stared down at her lap. “Some delusional part of me thought I’d be over it by now. Like I was waiting to not feel so awful, so I wouldn’t feel guilty spending the money. I thought there was no chance in hell I’d feel this way, for this long. Time heals all wounds, right?” Michelle snickered. “What a load of crap.”

  “They’re your parents.”

  Michelle wet her lips with a solemn nod. “I know.”

  “Grief is not an illness.”

  Michelle closed her eyes. Diane turned and took Michelle’s chin with her fingers and drew her face up until she looked Diane in the eyes.

  “Grief is not something to heal yourself from. To be cured of. There’s not an antidote. There’s only the deep love you have for someone, and the natural, enduring feeling of loss when that person or people are no longer there. There’s no shame in grief, no matter how much time has passed.”

  Tears streamed freely down Michelle’s face, and Diane opened her arm and invited Michelle closer. A long silence fell upon them, and Diane was thankful for the brief reprieve. She was speechless. Overwhelmed by Michelle’s courage to share such vulnerable aspects of herself. Yes, Diane lost her parents too, and there would always be a deep, persistent hollowness from that experience. But the manner and the timing of Michelle’s devastation, nothing could compare to that. What she wouldn’t give to free Michelle from that painful burden. Diane pulled Michelle closer and held her tightly.

  Michelle wiped her tears with her shirt sleeve and leaned her head on Diane’s shoulder. “Do you know what I miss the most about them?”

  Diane kissed the top of Michelle’s head. “Tell me.”

  “Their hands,” Michelle laughed and sniffled. “I know that sounds ridiculous. Especially my dad’s. He was a farm mechanic; he’d travel around Vermont fixing equipment. Combines. Tractors. Bailers. That sort of thing.”

  Diane smiled listening to Michelle’s voice lighten as she talked.

  “My mom would always get on his case about how nasty his hands were,” Michelle said. “I can still hear her nagging voice in my head.”

  They laughed together.

  “Knuckles were black, caked in oil and grime, no matter how long he’d wash his skin for. His passion was tattooed on his skin.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Diane smirked, nudging Michelle.

  “I loved the way he smelled. Rich mechanical smell with a hint of laundry detergent and mud.”

  “It sounds like you were very close.”

  “Yeah. We were.”

  In this moment, Diane felt more connected to someone than she had in a long time. This intimacy. Honesty. Vulnerability. It was everything she’d lacked in her life and desperately wanted. Michelle wiggled closer, and Diane held on, leaning her head on top of Michelle’s. How different things were between them. This unexpected softness from Michelle was opening her heart in ways Diane never expected. She didn’t know if she should fight it, or give in to the warm, delicious feelings filling her heart. She looked up at the stars above them, listening to the hum of traffic on the street and gave into the moment, savoring it all.

  “I was close with my dad, as well. He loved those strawberry hard candies,” Diane spoke quietly with a smile, her fingers moved lazily up and down Michelle’s arm as she talked. “He’d sneak them to me in church on Sunday mornings, and I’d unwrap them slowly without Mom or the preacher catching us. We’d giggle together when the older parishioners gave us a disapproving scowl.”

  Michelle laughed.

  “Still, whenever I hear that sound,” Diane said, “that crinkly, distinctive, cellophane sound, I swear my dad is sitting right next to me, sneaking me candy. I look around. Every time. I know he’s not there. But it’s instinct. The heart will always search for what it’s missing.”

  “That’s sweet.” Michelle smiled as she lifted her head from Diane’s shoulder.

  “Maybe a little foolish,” Diane shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face.

  “No. Not at all.”

  “It’s okay if it is,” Diane said. “Sometimes being foolish is the point.”

  Michelle smiled at Diane. There was a shift inside her. Diane didn’t know if it was the evening together, the intimacy being on the roof, under the stars, or simply the unmistakable desire Diane had for Michelle. Whatever the cause, Diane leaned into the feeling, placing a soft kiss on Michelle’s lips.

  “Thank you,” Diane said, sweeping an appreciative touch down Michelle’s face.

  Michelle leaned back with a curious expression. “For what?”

  “Bringing me here,” Diane said, looking around. “Sharing all this with me. I understand the courage it took to open up like that.”

  Michelle pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “It means a lot to me,” Diane said. “Thank you for trusting me to be someone you can be vulnerable with.”

  Michelle wet her lips, and Diane caught the split second of Michelle’s eyes dr
opping to Diane’s mouth, and the nervous swallow that followed.

  “I’d like to share more with you,” Michelle said.

  Diane smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Michelle kissed Diane again, then stood, helping her up off the ground. “So, the restaurant was a good surprise?”

  “Michelle,” Diane said, latching onto Michelle’s hand as they walked towards the door, “as it’s turning out, absolutely everything about you is a good, and very pleasant, surprise.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Humming in the kitchen, Diane pressed the mixture of chocolate graham cracker crumbs and melted butter into the glass pie dish, making the crust flat and even. Diane wasn’t a chocolate lover, but she had to admit, the chocolate mousse concoction she’d whipped up that morning was seducing her sweet tooth. Especially with the bowl of rich, dark chocolate shavings she’d placed to the side, ready to garnish upon completion. Too bad this bake was for Sawyer. She’d only hoped, labeling himself a chocoholic, he honestly meant it. Because this pie packed a serious chocolate punch. Opening the oven, Diane slid the empty shell in, set the timer, and turned around to clean her mess while the crust cooked. On the counter, Maureen looked unimpressed on the laptop screen surrounded by the explosion of sugar and graham cracker crumbs. Or maybe, her best friend was simply jealous the pie was too far away to taste.

  “You’re making me hungry,” Maureen hollered into her phone. She had to yell. Her temporary office—equipped with a makeshift desk of plywood and sawhorses—in Kelly Ann’s restaurant was in the heart of the construction zone. Drilling and hammering, and the loud, pulsating hiss of nail guns detonated in the background. Diane could hardly hear Maureen over the commotion. “That pie looks amazing, babe.”

  “Thank you. I was just thinking the same thing,” Diane said with a smile. “You look amazing in your protective equipment, by the way. You’re really rocking that hard hat yellow.”

  Maureen flashed Diane a flirty wink from under the plastic helmet. The accessory looking oddly cute with her white dress shirt and gold necklace plunging between her cleavage. “At least one of us is busy working,” Maureen teased. “Are you getting any writing accomplished over there Ms. Future Author, or are you using your sabbatical to simply play with sugar and flour all day?”

  Diane chuckled, brushing her hands off on her Aerosmith t-shirt. “Both. I’m getting my book done don’t worry. I’m only baking one pie today. Although…” she paused, “I don’t know if Michelle likes chocolate, but maybe I should whip up another one for her while I’m at it. I haven’t made her a pie recently.”

  Maureen snickered.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “We’re barely ten minutes into our conversation and you’re already mentioning her,” Maureen said, leaning back in her foldable chair. “That crush of yours is still going strong, I take it.”

  Turning to the sink, Diane chewed the inside of her cheek, fighting a grin as she ran the tap. She dampened a clean dish cloth, staring at the hot water streaming over her hands, avoiding any self-incriminating glances at her friend.

  “So how are things between you and Michelle?” Maureen asked, her voice floating up curiously. “Are you two still going at it?”

  Keen word choice, Diane thought as her face heated. She mushed her lips together, adding a dollop of dish soap to the wash cloth. “Fine. We’re fine.”

  “Just… ‘fine’?”

  “Yes.” Diane schooled her features before risking a side-eye at her friend. “That’s—we’re—I said we’re fine.”

  Diane wasn’t ashamed of what developed between her and Michelle. She wasn’t trying to be deceptive. Or secretive. If anything, Diane was grounding herself from floating up to cloud nine. Stopping herself from shouting everything from the rooftops like a smitten fool. Michelle made her feel good. Sexy. Intelligent and worthy. And along with all that, Saturday night was transformative. Something shifted between Diane and Michelle. Something deep and raw. Diane felt closer to Michelle, more than ever before—having nothing to do with capping the night off, under the city streetlights, kissing frantically against Diane’s Mustang. The memory of Michelle’s fingers tangled and tugging her hair still made her knees weak. But it wasn’t only their sexual chemistry Diane found so alluring. They connected emotionally, and Michelle hadn’t left Diane’s thoughts since they parted three nights ago. That was the real dilemma. Diane was getting caught up in Michelle. Head-over-heels, lost and dizzy for this woman—

  “Earth to Diane,” Maureen called, snapping her fingers. “Hello?”

  Diane’s eyes flashed open. She snapped her head toward her laptop. “What?”

  Maureen laughed. “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re having your own private Flashdance moment over there.”

  Diane inspected herself. Her red shirt soaked straight through to her skin. “Oh, crap.”

  Maureen laughed harder.

  Diane grumbled. Somehow, she’d hit the sprayer, soaking herself with water. She turned off the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, dabbing herself dry.

  “Clearly, there’s something more than neighborly going on between you two.” Maureen dropped her elbows on the desk and leaned in with a knowing grin. She pointed her finger at her best friend. “You need to spill, and you need to spill it now.”

  Diane clenched her teeth. “All right. Perhaps…there’s been some kissing going on.” She restrained a guilty smile as the small white lie slipped out. Maureen didn’t need to know the extent of their kissing. Or how they’d hardly done anything but kissing since they started. Or how they were having trouble keeping their hands off each other.

  “I fucking knew it.” Maureen slapped the desk with a smirk.

  “Yes, yes. Congratulations.” Diane threw the towel on the counter. “You were right.”

  “I’m always right.” Maureen crossed her arms and looked at Diane with a satisfied smirk. “I knew you wanted to slip your tongue into that snarky mouth of hers ever since you got there.”

  Diane rolled her eyes.

  “So?” Maureen asked. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” Diane asked dryly. Her shirt was still damp, but she first wanted to address the mess she’d made, and turned her attention back to the counter. She wiped the surface down.

  “How is she? Is she a good kisser?” Maureen asked. “I bet anything she’s a good kisser. She can’t look like that and not know how to kiss.”

  Diane poked her tongue into her cheek. “Yes,” she admitted. “She’s good.”

  Maureen groaned. “Come on, Dee,” she whispered, “you’re killing me here. Feed me some juicy details. Nothing PG. The good stuff.”

  A few specific qualities flashed in Diane’s mind. How Michelle liked to roll Diane’s bottom lip between her own and suck the sensitive skin until she whimpered. Or how she’d nearly come undone under Michelle’s fingers, digging hungrily into the soft flesh above her hips, and the long, needy, grind against her as they’d kiss. Don’t even get her started on how Michelle always went for her weak spot, kissing and nipping at her neck. Good lord, what wasn’t good about kissing Michelle? Every single thing made Diane hot and extremely bothered.

  “Okay,” Diane said. She dropped the wash cloth and looked at Maureen. “A few details. But that’s all you’re getting. I’ve got a pie to finish.”

  Diane was only going to throw a few, miniscule details at her best friend, but as she began, she couldn’t resist diving deeper. Toting her laptop to the living room, Diane set the computer down on the coffee table and filled Maureen in on everything that happened in the last several weeks. And how’d they made dinner plans for some time that week, once Michelle and Shawn caught up with their long list of commissions.

  “Wow,” Maureen said, flabbergasted. Removing her hard hat, Maureen’s brown hair whipped freely about her face, as she took their conversation outside, trading the loud construction chaos to the crashing sounds of ocean waves. The Gulf glistened in the Florida sunlight
behind her. The water bright and blue. “That’s…that’s not what I was expecting at all. You’ve got it bad for this woman.”

  Diane let out a dismissive snort. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had proper make-out sessions,” she said. “That’s all. It’s fun. And we enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Clearly,” Maureen said. “I should have known the chemistry between you two would be off the charts.”

  Diane frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “The piece?” Maureen said, fighting with her hair in the wind. “The glass piece you two came up with together? It’s fucking incredible.”

  Diane perked up. “She sent it to you? Michelle didn’t tell me that. So, you’ve seen it? Are you sure you like it?”

  “Like it?” Maureen laughed outright. “Are you kidding, Diane? I am the first one to admit, I have ridiculous expectations, but your design blew me away. It’s so perfect. So cohesive with my aesthetic. And the details? Holy shit. I even voiced my concerns about finishing such a large-scale, intricate piece in the timeframe we needed, but Michelle assured me it’s no problem.”

  Diane pictured their lighted chandelier they designed together in her mind. She didn’t think the piece was that impressive. Or detailed enough to warrant concern for completing it for the restaurant’s grand opening. But then again, Diane was not a glass blowing expert. There was probably more to it than Diane realized. It was a solid concept, though, and Diane was happy to receive such outstanding praise from her usually overly critical best friend.

  “Well, good,” Diane said, her chest swelling with pride. “Michelle and Shawn are pros, and it’s definitely in good hands. I’m glad you like it so much. And Kelly Ann? Did she see it? What does she think?”

  “The same. She can’t wait to see it installed,” Maureen said. She stepped back into the construction area, sidestepping workers and equipment strewn about the former hotel’s gutted interior. “You better watch out, or I might wrangle you two again for future projects. After this enlightening conversation, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind collaborating with Michelle in other places besides the glass studio.”