A Wish Upon a Star

by Jeannie Levig

  Leslie had texted, I’m up & at it. How’d you sleep?

  There’d been a longer wait than usual for the reply. When it came, there was a smiley face. One of those times when a friend with benefits would have been nice.

  Leslie had an immediate reaction from her libido, a stirring between her legs and a flash of Erica climaxing, but a twist of anxiety knotted her stomach as well. She wasn’t sure how to interpret the comment. Was Erica thinking of their time together, subtly asking for more, or was she lamenting the loss of Kathleen and reconsidering that decision? Either one bugged Leslie but for different reasons. If the reference was to Kathleen, it was pure jealousy. If Erica was talking about Leslie…She wasn’t sure she wanted that role in Erica’s life. The realization had surprised her. She’d drafted and erased several responses, then settled on an answering smiley. She’d have to think about it, and maybe they could discuss it tonight. They’d be attending the fundraiser dinner and dance for the children’s center, so they’d have some time without Siena. Maybe afterward…There was that flash again. She shook her head to clear it.

  “Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” she said, coming back to Siena. “But it might involve you keeping a secret. Is that okay?”

  Siena nodded. “As long as I can tell Gus.”

  Leslie chuckled and moved to the couch. “Gus is right here. He’ll already know it.” She got comfortable. “Besides, it’s not a secret from him. I was just wondering what you and your mom usually do for her birthday. I’d like to surprise her with something.”

  “My mom doesn’t have a birthday,” Siena said flatly. She was petting Gus, her focus on him.

  Leslie was shocked. “What do you mean? Of course she does. Everyone has a birthday.” Could it be that Erica didn’t celebrate hers?

  “Why does everyone have one?” Siena seemed intrigued, as though this had never occurred to her.

  “Because if you’re a person walking around on this planet, it means you were born.” Leslie drew her legs up under her and got comfortable. “And that’s what a birthday is—the day you were born. So she does have one, and it’s next week.”

  “How do you know?” Siena eyed her.

  Leslie’s face warmed. She was a little ashamed to admit the answer. “I sort of…sneaked a peek at her driver’s license when her purse got put in my car after the carnival.”

  Siena’s expression didn’t change. “You’re not supposed to open her purse. Her purse is a private space, like your bedroom, or your bathroom drawers. It isn’t nice to open someone else’s private spaces without asking them if it’s okay.” Clearly, Erica and Siena had had this conversation. Siena narrowed her eyes. “But she opens my bathroom drawers to get my toothpaste and my hair brush, and she’s never asked me if that’s okay.” She paused thoughtfully. “How come she gets to do that but we can’t open her purse?”

  How quickly things went off track. “Hmmm, that’s a good point. Maybe you should ask her. I’m sure she can explain it to you.” Leslie could see that conversation going on for a while, and she wanted to figure out Erica’s birthday. “Do you want to know the secret?”

  Siena’s eyes brightened, and she nodded.

  “Okay.” Leslie rubbed her hands together. “There’s this pizza restaurant in Chicago, where you and your mom used to live, that your mom really, really loves. She told me it’s one of the only things she misses about Chicago.” She paused for effect.

  Siena leaned closer.

  “And I looked up the restaurant online and found out that they’ll ship their pizzas anywhere,” Leslie continued. “So I thought—”

  “Why would they put their pizzas on a ship?” Siena looked puzzled.

  “No, no,” Leslie said. Damn. She’d been doing so well. “They don’t put them on a ship. If you ship something, it’s like when you mail it, like if I mailed you a letter, it would come to your house in the mail.”

  “I like mail,” Siena said with excitement. “Did you mail me a letter?”

  “Okay…no.” Leslie waved her hands in a cancel that gesture. “I didn’t mail you a letter.”

  Siena’s face fell.

  “But I can, if you’d like.” Leslie couldn’t stand seeing Siena’s sad face. She was blowing this.

  Siena smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Okay.” Note to self—write and mail letter to Siena. Now… Leslie took a deep breath and considered her next words carefully.

  Siena had drawn herself into a cross-legged position and was watching her expectantly.

  “You know how sometimes you get a package delivered to your house?” Leslie asked, hoping this one would be clear.

  Siena thought for a minute. “Like a box?”

  “Exactly,” Leslie said, holding up her hand for a high five.

  Siena grinned and slapped it. “Uh-huh,” she said in answer to the question.

  “All right. Those were shipped to you from the company that sent them.” Leslie waited.

  “Okay,” Siena said after a beat.

  Leslie nodded. Okay. “So the restaurant will ship the pizzas here from Chicago, and we can all eat your mom’s favorite pizza for dinner on her birthday.”

  “In a box?” Siena asked, double-checking.

  “In a box.” Leslie added the confirmation, watching as Sienna processed.

  “Okay,” Siena said lightly. “I don’t like stuff on my pizza.”

  “Then we’ll make sure one is only cheese, just for you,” Leslie said, hoping to conclude that part of the conversation. “Now, what about a birthday present?”

  “You said the pizza was the present.”

  “That’s her present from me.” Leslie was glad to see Siena was still fully engaged in the plans. It would mean so much to Erica. “But you should give her something that’s from you, too.”

  “Like what?” Siena asked.

  “I don’t know.” Leslie reached between them and combed her fingers through the fur on Gus’s rump. She was enjoying this conversation. “What do you think she’d like?”

  Siena was quiet for a moment. “I could draw her a picture,” she said finally, but her tone lacked conviction.

  Gus flipped onto his back and pawed the air.

  Siena rubbed his belly, still thinking. “I could sing her a song,” she said much more enthusiastically. “And I could teach it to Gus. We could both sing it.”

  Leslie laughed. “I know she’d like that.”

  “But she’s already heard all the songs I know.” Siena’s voice dropped, matching the look of discouragement on her face. Then she perked up again. “I could make up a brand new song for her.” The wheels were clearly turning. “What should I put in it?”

  “Anything you think she’d like. It’s your gift to her,” Leslie said. “I’d make sure to include I love you, though. Moms always like to hear that.”

  Siena hesitated. “But I don’t know if I do.” She flopped back into the thick upholstery of the couch. It all but swallowed her. “I don’t know what love feels like.”

  Leslie didn’t recall ever having actually thought about what love felt like. Does anyone, or do we merely say the words? She revisited all those times she’d held Elijah and looked into his bright green eyes, or even now as she sat here and looked at Siena. She softened as something moved within her. “Well, I feel kind of warm and tingly inside when I love someone. Do you ever feel that?”

  Siena crinkled her forehead. “I don’t think I have tingles in me.”

  “Okay, well, let’s see.” Leslie shifted in her seat and stretched her legs to rest her feet on the coffee table. “Does it feel good when your mom tucks you in at night and reads you a story?”

  “I like it a lot. And it’s even okay if she kisses me then. I don’t like it when other people kiss me,” Siena said. “Is that the same thing?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” They might be getting somewhere. “Most people don’t mind when the people they love kiss them.” Who’d have thought she’d be si
tting around some Saturday morning trying to explain feelings to someone who didn’t have the same feeling process other people did? And what did she know anyway? She couldn’t even figure out what she felt for Erica. “And how does it feel when she makes you macaroni and cheese?”

  “That’s my favorite dinner. She makes it for me when I do good at something or when I’m sad. That makes me want to smile.”

  Leslie nodded and raised her eyebrow. “Again, the people we love make us want to smile. Anything else?”

  Siena cocked her head. She didn’t speak for several beats. “I like it that she smiles more now that you came to live with us. I think she likes you being here more than when Mr. and Mrs. Mumford lived here.”

  Leslie had difficulty focusing on the real topic with this new piece of information, but she managed. She slapped her thigh. “People always want the ones they love to be happy. That settles it. With all those things, it seems safe to say that you do love your mom.”

  Siena broke into a huge grin. “Okay, I’ll put it in the song then. But it might have to rhyme with something.”

  “Of course.” Leslie bit back a laugh and let herself enjoy her own moment of love. “So…we have pizza, we have presents, and if you’ll tell me what kind of cake you think she’ll like, I can arrange that.”

  “Chocolate with chocolate frosting.” Siena showed no hesitation on that item.

  “Chocolate it is,” Leslie said. “I think we’re set.”

  They got online and ordered the pizzas, then started on the cookies, but Leslie kept drifting back to the criteria they’d established for knowing you loved someone.

  She couldn’t deny any of it where Erica was concerned. She certainly liked it when Erica kissed her, Erica definitely made her smile, and she loved seeing and making Erica happy—hence, the pizza being shipped all the way from Chicago. And yet, did that truly mean anything? Surely, a seven-year-old’s love was much different, less complicated, than that between two grown, baggage-laden adults.

  But no, it wasn’t. Love was love. And if she went any farther down this road, she was going to have to admit she’d fallen in love with Erica.

  And what am I supposed to do with that when all she wants is a friend with benefits?

  * * *

  At seven fifteen, Leslie checked her reflection in her bedroom mirror as she fastened the gold and onyx choker around her neck. The strapless tuxedo jumpsuit she’d bought for the fundraiser fit her perfectly, and she was happy with the way it looked. It’d been quite some time since she’d attended any kind of formal affair, and although she didn’t usually like dressing up this much, tonight it felt nice. She was looking forward to the evening, not so much the schmoozing and hobnobbing, but certainly the dancing with Erica. The rest she could tolerate for the sake of the center.

  As she reached the bottom of the steps, she was greeted by a wolf whistle.

  “My, my, Ms. Raymond, but you do clean up nicely.” Erica’s voice was sultry. She was seated on the Shere Khan tiger couch in the jungle, wearing a classic little black dress with shimmery black stockings and strappy black heels. She smiled alluringly.

  “And look at you,” Leslie said, her tone revealing the surge of arousal that had hit her, she was sure. “How many of those sexy dresses do you have hidden away?”

  Erica rose. “I knocked, but I figured you were getting ready,” she said, sidestepping the question.

  Leslie wanted to take her into her arms and kiss her senseless, but she knew if she did, the rest of the evening would be lost. She was hoping there’d be the opportunity for such things later, but first, they had to get through cocktails, networking, dinner, and dancing, plus a conversation about Leslie’s revelation from that morning concerning being friends with benefits. She’d gotten a little clearer on it as the day had passed, but she remained unsure of exactly what she needed to say. Leslie held out her hand. “Shall we go?”

  Erica interlaced her fingers with Leslie’s and they headed for the car.

  On the drive, that strange silence that had been between them throughout the week settled over them. What was that? What happened to their banter and the ease with which they usually moved from one topic to the next? What happened to their friendship? The only thought in Leslie’s mind was that damned friends with benefits thing. Why couldn’t she come up with anything else? And why didn’t Erica?

  “Those cookies you and Siena made this afternoon were good,” Erica said finally. She sounded as though thinking of the subject had been just as much of a struggle for her as Leslie was having. “I’ve never had coconut chocolate chip cookies before.”

  “Siena found the coconut in my pantry and wanted to see what happened if we added it.” Leslie shifted as she changed lanes. “I bought it to try making coconut shrimp one night this week.”

  “That sounds good.” Erica stared out the windshield.

  How could they be close enough that Erica clearly knew the dinner was for all of them and still only be able to talk about coconut on a date? Maybe this isn’t a date. It didn’t start out as one. It’d only begun as Nell suggesting Erica come with Leslie for the dancing. Maybe that was their problem—there was just too much confusion around them. Silence shrouded them again. Jeez, does Erica feel as idiotic as I do?

  The second they walked in the door to the benefit, Molly swooped in and dragged Leslie off to meet Jason Reginald Lucas III. For the next hour, it was one Jason Reginald Lucas III after another, with a couple of Alexandria Templetons thrown in. These were the people who paid the bills at Raymond Children’s Center, though, so Leslie smiled and was gracious and appreciative. Without the money in this room tonight, there would be a lot of children with no bed to sleep in and no safe roof over their heads.

  Leslie kept track of Erica in the crowd. She seemed to be holding her own quite well, sometimes chatting with donors or board members, other times hanging out with Nell and Paula. Always, her eyes met Leslie’s, and her smile said, I’ll be right here when you’re done. Apparently, the awkwardness between them was only when they were alone—and not in each other’s arms. Good to know.

  When dinner was finally announced, Leslie found Nell. “Where are Erica and Paula?”

  “Restroom,” Nell said, smiling at a passerby. “What the hell’s up with you and Erica?”

  “What do you mean?” Leslie played innocent.

  “You two can’t keep your eyes off each other,” Nell said, keeping her voice low. “It’s a good thing Molly had you occupied, or the two of you would have been groping in the corner like teenagers at a house party. Give it up, cuz. Did you two do the horizontal tango?”

  Leslie knew she might as well fess up. Nell wasn’t going to let it go until she did. “What if we did?”

  Nell’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. “No way. Really? That’s great. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you’d do this.” Leslie wiggled a finger back and forth between them.

  “Do what? I think it’s great. I like Erica. It is great, isn’t it?” Nell stepped closer. “You didn’t get yourself in another situation with someone who doesn’t want what you want, did you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what she wants.” Leslie sighed. “I’m not even a hundred percent sure what I want.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Paula asked as she slipped an arm around each of them. She leaned into Leslie. “Are you all done rubbing elbows with the royalty? Ready to join us peons again?”

  Erica laughed from Leslie’s other side. She slipped her hand into Leslie’s. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  The four of them were seated at a big, round table with Molly and several donors. Molly kept the conversation focused and moving, so there was no opportunity for Nell to pin Leslie and Erica to the wall about what had happened between them. Thank God. It would be hard enough to bring up the topic with Erica in private, never mind trying to navigate it in a group forum. When the cover band took the stage, Leslie was
more than ready to hit the dance floor, if only for a moment of peace with Erica.

  She leaned close to Erica’s ear. “Would you like to dance?” she whispered.

  Erica turned and smiled at her. “Very much.” The pale blue of her eyes sparkled with what could only be delight.

  Erica’s movements were graceful and fluid as they moved through the first two songs. The music was a combination of lighter pop and some soft jazz, nothing too fast, so their steps and pace were relaxed. When a true slow dance began, Erica moved naturally into Leslie’s arms. Her hands were warm on Leslie’s bare skin as she slid them around Leslie’s shoulders and laced her fingers together at the back of Leslie’s neck. “Mmmm, this is what I’ve been waiting for all night,” she said softly.

  Leslie encircled Erica’s waist and took the lead. Her body responded to Erica’s proximity, to her words, to her breath fanning across Leslie’s cheek. She pulled her as close as propriety allowed and began an easy sway. “Me too,” she said quietly.

  “I’m very proud to be your date tonight.” Erica seemed to be back to her usual self, other than the desire evident in her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me. It feels good to be out with adults,” she added with a note of humor.

  Leslie laughed. “It is easy to get caught up in the parenting role. I’m sorry I neglected you for so long earlier. Molly’s a taskmaster, but I understand that my name and presence can make a difference.”

  “At least she wasn’t all over you tonight.” Erica tightened her hold on Leslie. “I’d like that to be my job later.” Her tone was teasing.

  Leslie smiled. “She’d never do that at a function like this. She’s in professional mode.”

  “I liked watching you,” Erica said thoughtfully.

  Leslie felt herself blush. “I could tell.”

  Erica smiled. “I’m sorry. Did that bother you?”