by E. J. Noyes
She came back after five minutes, dressed in jeans and a faded tee with a screen-printed Eiffel Tower on the front. My eyes automatically went to her upper arms, now covered by fabric, and when I realized what I was doing I averted them again. My brain decided I needed to blurt something to try to cover up my very obvious staring, and decided on a very clever, “Um, are you hungry?”
“As established about ten minutes ago, I am.” She grinned, pulling her hair back and securing it in a ponytail. “You seem kind of wigged out about the self-harm thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Brooke, asking me if I was okay…
“Yeah, I am. I mean aside from being really upset that you had to deal with all that shit. I think it’s just that you, uh, surprised me I guess because I’ve never seen you without a blouse or jacket or something on.”
“You’re right, you haven’t,” she said calmly. “It makes my dad weird, so I always wear sleeves at work.”
“Oh. Makes sense.” I cleared my throat and decided I needed to suck it up and get over it, because apparently she had done just that. “Thanks for, well, sharing with me.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re welcome,” she said quickly, then came a softer, “I trust you with my cruddy childhood shit.”
Long moments passed just looking at each other, not needing words to fill the space between us. A weird sensation for me who could talk underwater, but not at all unpleasant. When the air settled, Brooke broke the quiet with a smiling, “I’m really sorry but I wasn’t actually expecting you to come around and I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t have any food. Do you mind if I just order something?”
“Course not, that sounds great. I’m not fussy, and I don’t want you to have to go to any trouble.”
Already on her way to the kitchen, Brooke glanced over her shoulder, smile already in place. “You’re not trouble, Jana.” A pause, and a laugh. “Well I’m sure you are, but it’s no trouble I should have said. There’s great Thai and Japanese a few blocks away. Or I probably could scrape up enough crap to go totally college student and we can have ramen and tuna with potato chips.”
“Any of those would be good.”
“Ramen it is!” She chuckled, and amended, “Kidding. Thai?” She opened a drawer and pulled out a menu.
“Sounds great,” I agreed, though I would have been fine with ramen. I would have been fine with anything as long as we were hanging out together. “But beer and Thai before you play sport? That’s brave.”
Brooke laughed and patted her belly. “I won’t each much. Did you want a few things to share and then split leftovers for dinner? If you don’t mind mild on the spice-side that is.”
“Sharing sounds great, and I’m totally fine with not-spicy.”
Her smile was sheepish and self-deprecating. “Thanks. I’m a total wimp when it comes to hot food. I just can’t handle it. I like to be able to feel my tongue after a meal.”
I smiled, that strange nervous excitement feeling in my chest making an appearance again. “No, mild is fine by me.” It’s perfect.
We arrived at the park a little after two thirty and she settled me on a folding chair at the edge of a marked-out rectangle, with instructions to guard her water bottle and the cooler with my life. Brooke flashed me an almost maniacal grin before jogging over to join a group of women milling about in the middle of the field. She’d changed into a pair of running shorts, sneakers and a purple tank top, all of which served to showcase the fact she had a very capable body.
It didn’t take long to confirm my suspicion that Brooke’s Ultimate Frisbee team was made up of sporty, charming and funny lesbians, and the team name Disc Dykes simply confirmed it. I had no real clue of the mechanics of the game except for the fact it involved a lot of running, throwing, catching, diving, and leaping. Watching Brooke do all of the above, I realized just how athletic she was. A brief stab of jealousy at said athleticism was replaced by admiration and then something I didn’t want to admit could be akin to lust. Okay, it wasn’t akin to lust. It was lust.
Time to stop pretending those dreams and thoughts don’t mean anything. Time to stop pretending you’re in the dark about what you’re feeling, Jana. You’re physically attracted to her. Her, a woman, for the first time ever. Maybe not romantically, but you like the way she looks, you enjoy spending time with her. Wait, isn’t that kind of romantically?
Well great, knowing I felt that way was one thing. Knowing what to do about it or having the guts to do what I thought I wanted to do was a whole other thing. Mmmph. I stuffed my sexual identity crisis aside to concentrate on cheering.
The match went for about an hour and a quarter, with a few timeouts and a halftime break. Brooke had run over, winked at me and squirted water into her mouth before running off again. Mmm. Very athletic. I’d spent most of the game watching her, cheering every time she caught the Frisbee or made a good throw or caught the disc in the goal area to score, and had to remind myself to also cheer for the other women wearing purple.
The Disc Dykes gathered around each other for excited shouts and high fives. Weird game but fun. Sabs would definitely like it, and undoubtedly be excellent at it. Brooke came running over and paused ten feet away to do a cartwheel. Then she slowed to a walk and strolled over. I passed her the water bottle, received a smiling thanks in return.
Breathing heavily, Brooke lifted her tank to wipe her face, showing a flash of tight tanned stomach and a red-gemmed silver navel piercing. I stared, all too aware of something strange flitting through my chest and curling into my stomach. The something felt suspiciously like the feeling I got when I saw a cute guy at the gym. Or…the way I’d felt during the Grape-Nuts dream. And the first kissing dream. Yep, totally attracted to her. Stop staring, Jana.
Brooke dropped the water bottle into the cooler. “What did you think?”
I forced down the inappropriate feelings and responded with a bright, “Very energetic. You were great. Congratulations on the win.”
“Thank you.” Brooke extracted a container of orange segments from the cooler and offered it to me before taking a piece herself.
I popped the orange into my mouth, crushing it between my teeth, enjoying the sweet juiciness of the cold fruit. Brooke sucked the end of her thumb and forefinger before eating her own portion of orange. Sweat glistened on the dark golden tan of her arms and shoulders, and the ridges of scars. Seeing them now wasn’t quite as upsetting as earlier.
She grabbed another segment, and when I shook my head, she took the last piece as well. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to join the team?”
I spluttered a little before answering, “Hell no. Thought I told you, I’m the kid everyone laughed at in gym class. I can’t catch or throw to save myself. But Sabine said she wanted to come check out a game and she might join the league.”
“Oh, awesome. I’d like to meet her.” She seemed genuinely pleased at the idea. “It’s a pity I can’t tempt you. Purple suits you.” At my smiling head shake, she sighed. “Fine, I’ll give up. Listen, I think everyone’s pretty much done so we’re ready to head off.”
Once Brooke had called out to her teammates that she’d see them at the bar, we gathered our stuff. The walk back to her car was silent, the cooler carried between us, and she swung it lightly, forcing me to do the same. Silence had never been my strong point and once we’d stowed our gear, I felt the urge to say something and managed possibly the lamest thing. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Brooke grinned. “Thanks for screaming out my name. Really helped my performance.”
Jesus. Christ. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing witty came to mind. I managed to push out a slightly wavering, “You’re welcome.” Even lamer than saying nothing at all.
Brooke’s eyebrows raised fractionally. “Are you all right?” She reached around me to snag a gray linen hoodie from the backseat.
“Yep. Absolutely.” I took a step back and bumped against the front passenger door.
As she shrugged into the hoodi
e, Brooke stared at me. Then a lightbulb-moment smile lit up her face. “You seem uncomfortable, Jana. Does my flirting bother you?”
“No, not at all.” I wanted to add that I liked it, but I couldn’t quite find the right combination of words, which was utterly stupid. I…like…it. There, easy to say. Only not so, especially for me who’d never thought of a woman as anything other than a friend until very very recently. Now, maybe-want-to-be-more-than-friends was pretty much eighty percent of my thoughts when near Brooke.
She nodded slowly, still holding my eyes with hers. “And does me being a lesbian bother you?”
“No!” I said quickly. “Not at all, I mean you know my sister’s gay, so obviously I have zero issues with it. Ugh, God, I’m so sorry. I hate when people say that, you know like I’m not homophobic because I know a gay person. I’m not racist because I work with an African American. Shit, fuck! I’m not racist. I’m not homophobic or anything phobic except arachnophobic. And sometimes my sister’s friends flirt with me, and it’s seriously not a problem. Also sometimes women who aren’t my sister’s friends do it too and that’s also not a problem. Aaand I’m going to stop rambling and shut up.”
Brooke laughed, the sound echoing around the parking lot. “Your rambling is really cute. I’m sorry, the flirting is kind of an unconscious thing. I know you’re not, uh, inclined that way.”
“No, I’m not.” Those three words sounded choked, like my throat wanted to close to stop them coming out. I wasn’t inclined that way, was I? How could I be inclined toward women if I’d never thought of it before now? I’d never thought of a woman the way I thought of Brooke—as a good friend, someone I really enjoyed spending time with…but with something more, something romantic-ish teasing at the edges of our friendship.
“Great. I promise I’ll try to tone it down. Girl Scout’s honor.”
“But I didn’t think you were a Girl Scout.”
“Busted.” Grinning, she stepped closer, reached around me again and pulled the door open for me. “So, can we go get beer now?”
“Mhmm. Absolutely.”
It was a short drive from the playing fields. A short, slightly awkward drive because every time I thought about something to say, it turned into innuendo. So I mostly said nothing. As we walked from the car, Brooke fumbled with the zipper of her hoodie, muttering expletives under her breath. Laughing, I dragged her to a stop just outside the bar. “Let me. Clearly walking and zippering are beyond your capabilities at the moment.”
“Thanks. Seems I used up all my coordination on the field.”
Head down, I zipped her up, careful to stop just below her breasts. “There, all done.”
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat, then tugged open the bar door and gestured that I should go inside.
As thanks for the motivation I’d provided, Brooke insisted on buying me a drink, and with a bottle of Bass in each hand, she led us to a table where a petite platinum blonde sat with a pint of beer. Brooke made quick introductions. “Jana, this is Beth. Beth…Jana.”
Beth rose slightly from the chair so she could reach over to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. Congrats on the win. You caught the winning throw, right?” The almost-white hair sticking out the back of her ball cap was hard to mistake.
Beth’s smile was immediate, and cocky. “That I did.”
Brooke set our drinks down on the table then pulled a chair out for me. “And she’ll never let us forget it. Where’s everyone else?”
I stared at the chair for a moment before I sat down, trying to figure out why I felt suddenly emotional. It didn’t take long to work it out. Brooke had pulled a chair out for me, and the way she’d done it had been so natural and unaffected. Just a polite gesture. The woman may as well have just issued an invitation for a date.
Beth pointed over her shoulder. “Immy’s at the bar. Everyone else bailed after the game.” She raised fingers as she listed, “Hangover, sick kid, first date that needs four hours of prep, a sick girlfriend.”
“Ah, well I guess we’ll have to make up for our missing comrades.”
“Damned straight.” Beth raised her beer and took a long gulp as another purple-shirted woman rushed up, armed with a wineglass.
Before the newcomer said anything to anyone else, she thrust a hand at me. “Hey! I’m Immy. Great to meet you.”
“Jana.” I shook firmly. “And you too.”
“I heard you yelling from the sidelines, you’ve got a nice set of pipes.”
I dipped my head. “Why thank you. If I’d known how competitive it was I would have practiced.”
“She actually started practicing her yelling almost a month ago. At me,” Brooke supplied.
I nudged her. “That was unintentional. And only one time.”
“Yeah, but you have to admit it was a time to remember.” The way she said it, low-voiced and almost sensual sent an unexpected thrill through my stomach.
“Mmm, it was,” I said because it was the only thing I could think of to say around the unnerving but admittedly pleasant feeling she’d evoked. Such a wordsmith, Jana. Who the hell lets you get up in front of judges to speak on someone’s behalf about life-changing things?
Brooke smiled, brushed her hand over my forearm then turned back to her beer and her teammates. The conversation flowed naturally, and it was easy to fit in with these long-time friends even though most of the talk revolved around the game, partners and kids before looping back to the finals match for which they’d just qualified.
“Will you come cheer for us again, Jana?” Immy asked, cheeks flushed with excitement and maybe wine, as she leaned on the table. “You seriously drowned out most of the other team’s cheer squad.”
I glanced at Brooke, whose pleased smile confirmed I’d be welcomed back. “Sure, if I can make it. I’d like that.”
Beth nodded absently. “Cool.” She’d been staring at me since we’d arrived, but not in an appraising or appreciative way. Rather it was curious yet tentative at the same time. Three-quarters through my beer, I decided I had to bring it up. “Do I have something on my face?” I asked, hoping she caught the teasing tone.
She straightened, dragging her sweating pint glass toward herself. “Huh? Uh, oh no…sorry, it’s just you look really familiar and I can’t quite place it. Are you sure we haven’t met before today?”
I offered a smile. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t.”
She frowned, still looking thoughtful. “Have you done any sort of television or magazine modeling stuff?”
“Nope.”
“Never been in porn or had a private sex video leaked online?”
Brooke half-rose out of her chair. “Hey, come on, where are your manners? There’s boundaries for new people, Beth.”
Grasping a handful of Brooke’s hoodie, I tugged her back down. “It’s okay,” I murmured.
Beth’s smile was charming. “Sorry, you know it’s just a logical conclusion.”
“No worries. And no, no porn. Must just be a doppelgänger then.”
She bounced her eyebrows. “Hmm. Sounds hot.”
Brooke grunted and took a long swallow of her beer.
“Thanks. I think.” Suddenly it twigged as to why she thought I looked familiar. It was a long shot, but entirely possible. “You might have seen my sister, Sabine around the, uh…” I made air quotes. “Scene. Before she got old and boring that is.”
Beth stared some more, her eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled. I could almost see the cogs turning, and it took her another few seconds before she exclaimed, “Ha! Holy fucking shit, you’re right. You’re Sabine Fleischer’s younger sister? The lawyer?”
“Mhmm, the one and only.” Of course I felt compelled to add, as I always had when someone did the “Oh, you’re Sabine Fleischer’s younger sister, I hope you’re as good a student-slash-athlete-slash-human as she is” thing, “But you know, I’m my own person too, not just her sister.”
“Oh, well I’m a friend of
Sabine’s from the bad ol’ days.” She snorted. “So, last I heard, she was getting married.” At my nod, she barreled on, “About fucking time. That woman’s been marching toward eternal commitment for as long as I could remember.”
I turned the bottle in circles, leaving smears of condensation on the wooden table. “Yeah, Rebecca’s great. They’re really happy.”
“I should call her. I will call her.” Beth leaned in. “So, uh what are you doing hanging out with the Disc Dykes? I didn’t think you were gay, if what your sister’s told me—and it’s a lot because she never fucking shuts up about her family—is true.”
“No, I’m not.” I glanced sideways at Brooke, who now wore an oddly neutral expression. “I’m just a ring-in cheerleader who’s also crashing your pub time.”
“I see…” Beth drew her answer out, musing as she looked between Brooke and me. “Well, the more the merrier, I say.” She raised her glass. “So, is Sabine’s number the same?”
We had another drink, and more easy conversation for almost an hour before Beth declared she had to get her ass home to her girlfriend, and Immy groaned that she had to pick up the kids from her mom’s place. We said our goodbyes, went through the usual might see you at another game scenario, and Brooke led the way back to her car. She stuffed her hands in her pockets as she walked, jangling her keys. “Sorry about Beth. I forget that she can be a little full-on, especially with new people.”
“No, it’s fine. That sort of thing doesn’t bother me.”
“You sure? You seemed kind of upset about her being your sister’s friend.”
She’d noticed my mood shift? I’d barely noticed it, and it’d been my mood that had shifted. “Oh, no, that’s not it. It doesn’t bother me whose friend she is.” About to leave it at that, I decided I wanted to share my childish annoyance with her. Feeling like an idiot, I elaborated, “She just hit a raw nerve that’s all. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life being Sabine’s younger sister, you know? Like at school, or meeting the parents of her friends, or going to her horse competitions, her track competitions, her gymnastics competitions—it was always that thing of Are you as good as Sabine? It kinda grated on me, like this constant feeling that I wasn’t as good as her. And I guess it’s never quite gone away.”
