Everything but the Girl

by Saxon Bennett

  “No, I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Carol. I want you to know I’m there for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” Joy asked tentatively.

  “Yes.”

  It was the best “yes” Joy had heard in a long while and it felt good. Carol trusted her. Joy was glad she hadn’t sold the house to April. She was on Carol’s side and always would be. It was like she’d sworn an oath to protect this sad, beautiful woman.

  Chapter Twelve

  “When did you go to lunch with her?” Joy asked.

  “Yesterday. I stopped by the shop and she seemed depressed, so I took her to lunch,” Angela said over the phone.

  Strangely enough, Joy found herself jealous, as if Carol was her girlfriend. Joy enjoyed the time she got to spend time with Carol. It shocked her that her best friend now had another friend, and one Joy was starting to have feelings about (despite trying to convince herself it was nothing but friends talking through a lost love affair). Carol was depressed and talking about it helped.

  But Joy wished it was her Carol was talking to instead of Angela. Then again, how could she begrudge her friend having a lunch with a beautiful woman to talk with her about her ex-girlfriend? How many times, over drinks, had Angela and Joy commiserated on their single status?

  Angela clicked off shortly before Carol came bustling in with two bags of groceries, celery and leafy spinach sticking out the top of one of them. Joy went to grab one of the bags.

  “I’m making us chow mien tonight,” Carol said, her voice too cheery, “I went to the farmer’s market and picked up a few things. It’s nice having someone to cook for.”

  Carol was talking way too fast, like she didn’t want one open space in the conversation because something bad would slip out. “Are you all right?” Joy asked.

  Carol set the bag down with a thump. “I’m terrible. I went to see the mural again. I hate every square foot of that monstrosity. How could she do that to me?”

  “She’s heartless?” Joy ventured. She had learned to keep her mouth shut when a lover or friend went off the deep end because of a foiled happily-ever-after. Listening was best.

  “She’s a narcissistic bitch,” Carol said. Her being angry was better than her being morose. Anger could be good in certain situations. Hatred often followed love, sometimes one day to the next. Hadn’t Carol been blindsided? It was like her life had been T-boned by an unexpected car crash. The worst part was that you didn’t see it coming.

  “She is heartless. I guess that’s what makes it hard. I thought she loved me. How could she stay with me for that long and not love me? It doesn’t make sense.” Carol unloaded the groceries, placing the produce in the sink to be washed. Joy would offer to do that part. With Carol’s help she was becoming a good sous chef. She washed and chopped and cleaned up. It made her feel useful and, more importantly, it made her feel domestic. This was platonic bliss.

  Carol looked to Joy for a response. “I can’t even imagine trying to figure out love. Hazarding a guess, she did love you for a long time. I can’t imagine being together for that long and hating each other or faking your way through,” Joy said.

  “Oh, Joy, we both know couples like that.”

  Joy was stuck. It was true. She’d once known a couple who had been together for nearly twenty years. Joy had been envious of their relationship, only to find out that they secretly despised each other, just not in public. They were toxic. But they couldn’t have always felt that way. They’d fallen in love once. They just didn’t know when to quit.

  “But how do I know when it started? Did I neglect our love so much I didn’t know it was dying? How can I fall in love again if I don’t know what I did in the first place?” Carol said.

  That was a good question and one Joy didn’t have the answer to. “I don’t know. I’ve never quite figured out what I did wrong. I don’t think I’m a bad person. I tell myself I haven’t found the right woman,” Joy said.

  “You are nice person,” Carol said.

  “So are you. What are we doing wrong to have us in this pit of despair?

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put this all on you,” Carol said, as she pulled some bread and cheese from the grocery bag.

  “It’s okay to talk it out. You should see Angela and me after one of our breakups... we laugh and cry for at least a week.”

  “A week?” Carol said incredulously.

  “Okay, may be more than a week,” Joy said.

  “I should say so. Otherwise I’d feel like an emotional slacker.”

  “You’re not. You’re grieving and it’s perfectly all right to feel sad about it,” Joy said.

  “Is it bad of me to wish she was feeling as heartbroken as I am now?”

  “Only if April breaks her heart.”

  “If only,” Carol said. “Feel like washing some veggies?”

  That seemed to broker the end of the discussion about Debra until Carol asked abruptly, “Is she pretty?”

  “Not at pretty as you,” Joy blurted before she could stop herself.

  “So, she is pretty,” Carol said. She opened the fridge and put the cheese away. She slammed the fridge door. “Debra always had good taste.”

  “Because she picked you?”

  “No, because she was always flirting with good-looking woman; not enough to bed them but enough to get ego-stroked. But who knows, maybe she was bedding them all this time. She did a pretty quick change-up between the girlfriend we saw at the mural and April.”

  “She used to flirt in front of you?”

  “Suffice it to say, I was in the room. Whenever I confronted her with it, she said I was being absurd.”

  “I think they call that gaslighting,” Joy said. She turned on the sink and rinsed the vegetables. The veggies smelled pungent and nutritious. Since Carol did the cooking, Joy was eating much better, if not downright healthily.

  Carol pulled a wok from under the counter. She got out oil. They kept from meeting each other’s eyes. Perhaps this was closer to their hearts than either one was willing to admit.

  “I’ve enjoyed living with you,” Carol said.

  Joy’s heart pounded. “Are you leaving?” She’d grown fond of Carol and she would miss her if she left.

  “I’m not going anywhere. What I’m trying to say is I’m glad I have you and Angela in my life.”

  “Oh,” Joy said feeling stupid.

  “That got me thinking. Platonic can be a good thing. Friends who don’t become lovers but stay close seems brilliant right now,” Carol said.

  “It’s probably is. For now,” Joy said, feeling her heart soar that Carol wanted to stay close. It might not be a kiss, but it was a kind of cuddle, if words could be such things.

  She chopped the carrots and diced the watercress and onions.

  They ate dinner in companionable silence at the kitchen table. Carol broke it. “Why is love so complicated?”

  “Because it would be really boring if it wasn’t. Did you ever have those apathetic moments when you felt like you didn’t have the energy to deal with your partner?”

  “She made me tired. Debra was high-maintenance and insecure about her work, despite critical acclaim. She competed against a lot of people to get the mural space. I’m proud of her but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about the content of this last one. Nor do I have to be.” She ate her chow mien and appeared pensive. Joy remained silent, not wanting to break her train of thought. “Thank you for being here for me. I want you to know I appreciate it,” Carol said.

  “I know you do. And you’ve caught me at a good time.”

  “Why is that?” Carol asked, pushing her plate away, half eaten. The chow mien was good; it wasn’t the food.

  “I’m taking a hiatus from women. I’m tired of the drama.”

  “Don’t forget the heartache,” Carol said.

  “Those are burned in my memory; I won’t forget. I suppose I let my love die and never got it back in time to stop the demise of the relationship.”r />
  “So, you’re saying I’m not special with my memories and the death of love?”

  “No, you are definitely special,” Joy said, holding Carol’s eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Joy said, holding the cashmere sweater Carol had handed her. It was sage green and soft, soft enough to be a caress. “Thank you.”

  “I wanted to. You’ve been kind to me, and you didn’t have to be. You didn’t have to become my friend. You didn’t have to listen or understand how I felt, but you did. For that I wanted to thank you. I needed you and you were there. It’s refreshing after the back-biting group I lived around before. And you’re honest about your thoughts and feelings, which makes you a good listener with a shoulder to cry on. I thank you for that, too,” Carol said.

  Joy was stunned. It was a soul-searching speech and she was stuck for words. She put the sweater around her shoulders and knew this would be as close as she could get to having Carol wrap her arms around her like a lover, instead of a tearful friend. She would treasure this article of clothing with a full heart. Carol’s voice broke into Joy’s ruminations, making her feel like she was coming up for air from a sea of emotion.

  “The color looks good on you,” Carol said. She took a step forward and adjusted the sweater. “Try it on. It goes well with your complexion.”

  Joy obeyed, feeling again how supple and soft the sweater was. It was as if she had touched Carol’s body. She was going way over the top with this sweater thing. Carol had given her a gift to say thank you. That was all. She needed to talk to Angela about these new and dangerous sensations that were coursing through her body.

  All these warm thoughts faded away when Carol said. “I’m going out of town next week on a buying trip. I figured I better show you how the espresso machine works. I’ll make some frozen dinners if you’d like. I’ve got a girl who comes in and works the shop when I need her. I took today off to prepare.”

  “You don’t have to do that for me,” Joy said.

  “I want to.”

  “I would love it then. You know how I feel about cooking.”

  “You despise it,” Carol said.

  Joy laughed. “Have you ever met anyone who hated cooking as much as I do? Angela and I live like heathens: pizza, Chinese food, and whatever else that’s cheap and easy.”

  “You’re right. You two are heathens. You know, I really like Angela. I hope she gets that shop next to mine. She’s worked in that shit-shack far too long,” Carol said. Did Carol like Angela in a more-than-friendship way, Joy wondered. Carol spoke of Angela fondly.

  Was Joy misreading Carol’s signals of their domestic bliss, like in the days of Victorian platonic girl-love, which ended with one of them getting married and breaking the other’s heart? What would happen when Carol did find a girlfriend? Would she return to her old apartment leaving Joy bereft? Joy needed to put the kibosh on these future-seeking thoughts.

  “I’ve invited Angela over for lunch. I was hoping you could join us. I’m going to be cooking all day and a lunch break will be a nice respite.”

  “Why are you so nice to me?” Joy blurted. “I mean I don’t really get it. We live this life like we’re partners and what happens when you leave? Where do I fit in?”

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

  “I think you do,” Joy said. She went to her room and shut the door and instantly felt foolish. She leaned against the door wondering what Carol thought of her outburst. What a silly mess she had gotten herself into. How embarrassing. She must apologize.

  She came out to apologize to Carol. Carol was gone. She called out and checked the apartment, hoping Carol hadn’t run off for good. What a stupid thing to say. Why would Carol think they were anything more than friends? Carol kept sending her mixed signals and Joy didn’t know what to do with her feelings. This whole thing was madness. What had she been thinking?

  That was the problem: Joy hadn’t been thinking. She had been feeling. What made her think that they were more than good roommates? Domestic bliss didn’t equal a love affair. They were playing house without the promise of sex.

  What Joy needed was a girlfriend to forget the woman she was falling love with. She slapped herself with the thought—risking another woman’s heart so she could fall out of love with a woman who didn’t realize the depth of Joy’s feelings toward her? It was a deafening blast of reality. People like Carol didn’t date people like Joy. They partnered up with exotic people like a muralist, not a real estate agent. She lay back in her bed and tried to figure out how she would apologize to Carol when she returned.

  There was a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock. It was eleven-thirty and Angela was here. How would she explain having a lunch date without the hostess? She tried to smile. Her face fell deep into a frown like she didn’t have the energy to raise the corner of her lips.

  “Hey, there,” Angela said. She looked at Joy. “What’s wrong? You look like you pulled a groin muscle at spinning class yesterday.”

  “It’s bigger than that,” Joy said morosely.

  “What is it?” Angela said, walking into the apartment.

  “I’m embarrassed. I tried to apologize, but Carol left. Then she is going to be gone for a week. I think I ruined everything.”

  “What did you ruin?” Angela said.

  Joy wasn’t certain what she had ruined because she wasn’t sure what she’d had. Why was this so hard? Why so many crossed signals? They were grown women. Why couldn’t they say how they felt? But how did Carol feel? Ugh, it was all such a mess, Joy thought.

  “Come in, I was busy screwing up my life again. Have you thought about dating Carol?” Joy said apropos of nothing.

  “What?” Angela said. “God, no. She’s way out of my league.”

  “I think I’m losing it.”

  “Why do you say that?” Angela asked, her mood bright. Carol had not only affected Joy’s life, but she was reaching her tendrils into Angela’s as well.

  “I don’t know. I’m confused and conflicted and worried about Carol. She rushed off and I didn’t get to say I was sorry for misunderstanding what’s happening between us,” Joy said.

  “Oh, I get it. You two are in the denial of love stage, especially since any relationship with Carol is essentially an epic rebound. We couldn’t hope to compete with that,” Angela said.

  “Are you infatuated with her, too?” Joy said.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? She is currently the damaged heroine and she’s beautiful at it. Don’t fall for this. Pull it back. Just let it go and she will, too. I hope.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, no matter how much you think you’re in love, this is one love affair I’m warning you off. Carol is too damaged right now and people do reckless things when they’re falling in and out of love,” Angela said.

  “You’re right. I need to let it be,” Joy said morosely but with determination. “I’ve got to go back to that place where we were roommates and friends. I hope she’ll let me.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t say anything. She’ll be back to get her things and you can talk then. Just tell her you were way out of line and you’re sorry.”

  “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

  “I’m all about simplicity.”

  ***

  Carol came home after lunch. Angela had gone to back to work. Joy was making a few calls about some prospective buyers and what they were looking for in a house. They were an upwardly mobile couple, she could tell from their chosen price range, and they wanted to start a family, so they wanted a child-friendly house.

  Joy was glad of the distraction and the women, Ms. Ella Snyder and her partner, Samantha Myers. They’d been specific in what they wanted which narrowed down her choices. It also meant they wouldn’t be chasing their way around the city looking for the perfect place. Joy knew just the one. The potential of a good sale pleased her. Her mood had picked up after lunc
h with Angela. Carol had fixed cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches before Joy had made her angry and she’d left.

  Carol came into the kitchen, where Joy had folders of potential homes for her new clients spread over the table. She hadn’t had time to fix up the tiny office she meant to use for her business. Right now, the kitchen table was doing double duty. “Hi,” Joy said.

  “I’m sorry,” they said simultaneously.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” Joy said. “I don’t even know where I was going with that. We’re friends who are roommates and maybe one day we’ll find the perfect women and until then we get to enjoy this, which I must say is better than knocking around an apartment by myself bemoaning my single state.”

  “I feel the same way. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Carol said.

  “I was just being stupid. You need a good friend and lots of time before you should even put a toe in the dating pool. Don’t think I won’t check your dates out. I’m your protector now,” Joy said.

  “So, you’re saying I won’t be allowed to date anyone that doesn’t meet your standards?”

  “Don’t forget Angela. She’s really going to check out your choices.”

  “Does she do that for you?” Carol asked.

  “Of course, and look how well it’s working out,” Joy said. She chuckled.

  “Marvelously,” Carol said. “Are we doomed?”

  “No, we’re just unlucky in love but the right person will come along, and everything will shine again, and you’ll forget about being sad or missing Debra. You’ll be ready when the time comes,” Joy said.

  “How do you know that?” Carol said, looking at the file folders with houses. She pulled one closer and studied it.

  “I don’t really. I just hope it’s true,” Joy said.

  “Me, too.”

  ***

  Angela called later as Joy lay on her bed reading. Carol was finishing up her packing. “Well, how’d it go?” she asked.

  “I got a new set of clients. And we had the rest of the cucumber sandwiches for dinner,” Joy responded.