The Thousand Mile Love Story

by Natalie Vivien

  Andee gulped down more air, shutting her eyes and pressing her fingers to them. She saw spots of black and purple and orange behind her lids.

  “Just let me get dressed,” she said, and stood. Tiffany glanced down at the floor, biting her lip, but Andee knew she was hiding a smile.

  Andee had set out her outfit the night before. This was the first time in over ten years that she was going to see Robin Barnes, and the rebellious part of her wanted to make certain that she looked good. That she looked like she was doing something wonderful with her life. That she looked like she did not, in fact, have nightmares about Robin to this very day. She wanted to look cool, detached, and really, really sexy—because who wouldn’t when confronted with the ultimate ex?

  So she’d selected her favorite pair of jeans (which, she was well aware, made her ass look spectacular) and a t-shirt that had a gigantic pair of sequined lips on it. This, she had on good authority, made her boobs look spectacular. She brushed her brown hair carefully and put it up in a high ponytail, smoothing a pink bandana over her head (she’d driven in Tiff’s convertible before and knew exactly what to expect), and donned her pair of sunglasses. The last thing she put on was the locket, slipping it inside her shirt.

  She was as ready as she’d ever be.

  “You look great,” Tiff cooed when Andee stepped out of the bathroom. Tiff held one of the suitcases in her hand and had the other handle popped up and out of the roller suitcase. “Come on,” she said, cocking her head toward the door. “I told Robin that we’d be early…” She trailed off. The way she’d said Robin made the word sound like an apology.

  “Okay,” said Andee, taking her keys off the table by the door and tossing them into her purse. She took one last look around her apartment, let Tiff move past her, and then she was on her doorstep, locking the door.

  She picked up one of the suitcases, breathing out.

  The trunk of the convertible was large enough for at least two dead bodies, Tiffany had joked (most people who knew Tiffany, however, would have wondered about the levels of joking and seriousness in that statement), and with Andee’s two small suitcases next to Tiffany’s tent and vintage suitcases (they didn’t even have wheels!), the trunk still had plenty of space left. Tiffany slammed the trunk down, the sound echoing up and down the street, and opened her front door, her heels clicking on the pavement of Andee’s driveway.

  “You wore heels, really?” asked Andee, opening the passenger door and folding her curvy form into the seat. Tiffany adjusted the rearview mirror and tipped her sunglasses back down onto her prim little nose.

  “A lady always wears heels, darlin’,” she said, in her best imitation of a movie star from the fifties.

  “Not a lady who’s about to drive a thousand miles,” said Andee, and—she realized—she was chuckling in spite of herself. Maybe it was the fierceness that Tiff had when she pressed her toes down on the gas pedal, or the way she gripped the steering wheel like it might run away with her. Tiffany was all bristling, fiery energy all the time… Of course she’d wear stilettos on a thousand-mile road trip.

  Andee should have expected it.

  ---

  “When was the last time you saw Jill?” asked Tiffany loudly, hair flying out of her braids as they roared up and onto the highway. Andee put her hand on the tops of the two to-go coffee cups in their holders to keep them from flying to freedom.

  “When she and Leila came for the afternoon. Remember, in May?” said Andee, pushing the bandana off her head. The wind raked over her scalp, letting it cool off. It was so hot.

  They drove along the highway where, in the distance, the mountains rose blue and majestic; closer at hand, the cars rose furious and selfish, apparently unwilling to share the road. Tiff swerved to avoid a Michigan license plated-SUV that descended upon their lane without a turn signal or room to merge.

  Tiffany laid on her horn and held up the single finger salute for far, far, far longer than necessary.

  “I think that van was full of nuns,” groaned Andee, scrunching down in the front seat a little further, trying to keep her face from being glimpsed as they passed the SUV, the car gunning as Tiff punched her delicate foot down hard on the gas.

  “Then they’ll have something to talk about at confession,” snarled Tiffany, reverting to her smile in a blink. Tiffany had a tendency to turn into Miss Hyde when she was driving.

  Not for the first time in their first fifteen minutes on the road, Andee secretly wished she was behind the wheel herself.

  “It’s going to be so weird to have the gang all back together,” said Tiff, adjusting the rearview mirror again and pushing her sunglasses up her nose. “I mean, think about it… You haven’t seen Rob in, what, ten years?” She glanced sidelong to see if her comment had upset Andee, but Andee was carefully schooling her features as she put her hand out the window, letting the wind rush over her palm and fingers.

  “Something like that,” she sniffed noncommittally.

  What she was really dying to ask was what Tiffany answered, as if she could hear Andee’s thoughts: “She looked great, last time I saw her. She still has those crazy colors in her hair,” the woman chuckled. “Do you know what she does now?”

  Andee feigned mild interest. “No… What?”

  “She calls herself an ‘Extreme Vacation Coordinator.’ She’s hired by executive types—you know, the ones who always work too much and are super uptight and never see their kids—to take them on, like, death-defying adventures. Like skydiving and scuba diving and cave diving… That kind of stuff.”

  It didn’t surprise Andee one bit. Robin had always been a daredevil, always pining for the next big adventure, seeking out her next hit of adrenaline. She had talked about wanting to see the world and experience a wide variety of people and places. In college, Robin had sworn that she’d travel the earth with just her backpack, and Andee had no doubt that, since then, she’d probably actually done it.

  “That’s cool,” said Andee, staring out the window, her stomach beginning to work itself into knots again.

  True…Robin had hurt her terribly. But it wasn’t as if Andee didn’t want Robin to have a happy life. And by Tiff’s description, her career sounded perfect for her. It stunned Andee a little that she was so happy that Robin was happy; a wash of relief moved through her like a wave and then was gone.

  “You know she asks about you,” said Tiff, voice so quiet that the wind made it difficult to hear her, and Andee wondered if she’d said it at all. But Tiff glanced at her, then, brows arched behind her sunglasses.

  “Really?” she squeaked, and cursed herself for sounding so pathetic. Tiffany cast another sidelong glance, but this one was slyer, more discreet.

  She was grinning.

  “Yes. Every time we talk, actually.” Tiff licked her lips and fished into her pocket for her lip-gloss. “I always tell her you’re doing really well… If you were wondering.”

  “Of course I’m doing really well!” Andee bristled, folding her arms and sinking lower into her seat as she watched the outline of the mountains and the blur of the trees whiz past. “Why wouldn’t I be doing really well?”

  “Andee, you are doing really well,” said Tiff gently. “I was just stating a fact.”

  Andee blew out a sigh. “Yeah,” she whispered, mollified. The wind whipped her voice away.

  And then Tiffany answered Andee’s second wordless question: “She’s not seeing anyone right now.”

  “Oh,” Andee muttered quietly.

  They’d gone to a pretty progressive college, populated with a high percentage of lesbian ladies, but while every woman in the Adventure Lezzies was (obviously) a lesbian, no one in their group had had the luck that Robin had for getting girls.

  They’d even made jokes about it.

  Robin was funny, magnetic, dangerously attractive. Even straight girls had a tendency to turn their heads when she passed by in the hallways or when she argued (or agreed) with one of the professors, lounging at her
desk with her head to the side and a sly smile on her lips. Andee could count on one hand the women she had been in a relationship with over the past ten years, and she wondered how many hands Robin would need to do the same...

  That was a deeply unfair and unkind thought, she knew. But, still, it’s what Andee thought about when she closed her eyes and saw, again, the terrible surprise on Robin’s face and the nameless girl in the bed, holding the sheet against her perfect, and perfectly bare, chest.

  But Tiffany was not done talking.

  “You know, if you want me to shut up about this, I will,” she told Andee in perfect seriousness. Andee didn’t look her way, but shook her head.

  “No. Talk about whatever you want to talk about,” she said, glancing at a particularly pretty meadow that they sped past. There was a riot of wildflowers that gave the wind that washed over their faces a luscious scent.

  “You know she’s only had three girlfriends?”

  “That’s not true,” said Andee immediately, but now Tiff was shaking her head.

  “Believe it or not. But I’d rather you believe it,” said Tiff, taking a sip from her coffee and grimacing. “Not enough sugar. Damn. Did I say two packets?”

  “You said two packets,” said Andee woodenly. “What do you mean she’s only had three girlfriends?”

  “And none of them were serious.” The glasses slid down Tiff’s nose, and when the redhead looked at Andee, she had one brow up imperiously.

  What did that mean?

  “Andee…” said Tiff, her voice so quiet that Andee had to strain to hear her. “I sided with you. I always sided with you,” she said, glancing at her. “But I think it’s important for you to know that I think—”

  A semi honked as it put on its brakes in front of them. A deer was bounding across the two-lane highway a few cars ahead, and Tiff slammed on her brake, too, narrowly avoiding collision.

  Andee breathed in deeply.

  “Whatever happens,” said Tiff, gritting her teeth and pushing down on the gas pedal, “I just want you to promise me that you’ll give Robin a chance to explain herself. Because you never did.”

  “What the hell is there to explain?” The hurt welled up in Andee’s voice, and she didn’t try to conceal it. “She cheated on me! She cheated on me, and I have no idea for how long it was going on, and she lied to me, because she told me…” Andee trailed off, gulping down her tears and wiping beneath her eyes with her sleeve. She let the wind whipping through the car dry her cheeks. She told me she loved me.

  “I’m just asking you if you would please give Robin a chance, just to talk,” said Tiff, tightening her hands on the steering wheel.

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” said Andee, words flat and mumbled.

  “Just…just think about it,” said Tiff, sighing. She was exasperated—it was obvious—as she took another sip of coffee and made a face. But what she was asking Andee to do wasn’t fair.

  It’s not as if Robin hadn’t tried to explain it.

  Robin had called her. She’d sent Andee flowers. She’d come beneath her dorm room window like someone from a scene out of a Shakespeare play or a really bad eighties movie. She’d written her letters. She’d come to her classes. But every single time, Andee had simply shut down. Robin had always begun with, “It’s not what you were thinking,” but—really—what else could Andee have been thinking? What else could it have been? As Robin’s roommate, Kimberly knew the truth and had guiltily confessed to Andee that Robin had been seeing that girl for at least three months. Three months. Despite telling Andee that she loved her, that she would spend the rest of her life with her. And then…

  Andee gulped down air as they reached the exit for Greensboro. Tiff had told her at the beginning of the trip that, after they picked up Robin, they’d leave North Carolina and head up to Blacksburg, Virginia, where Jill lived. They’d stay at Jill’s condo overnight, and that would conclude the first day of their epic road trip. From Greensboro, it wasn’t very far to Blacksburg, even with crossing over the state line.

  But as they rolled into Greensboro, it seemed like an eternity until nightfall.

  They took a couple of turns, but Andee could never have gotten them back to the highway. She wasn’t seeing much of the scenery, her eyes blurred with memories. And then Tiff was braking…

  She parked on the street of a sleepy little suburb. That was odd—this didn’t seem like someplace Robin would have lived—but then Andee looked up and took in the old, brick building. It was from the Victorian era, probably, and had been converted into separate condos that, judging from the exterior, were probably pretty industrial looking on the inside. That was Robin’s aesthetic…she loved things with a history; big, airy open spaces that rose around her like the caves she loved to climb in.

  “I’ll just be a minute…just…” Tiff turned off the ignition, glanced at her best friend and sighed. “Just wait here?” she said gently, and Andee nodded, pulling down the visor and glancing in the mirror. Her hair looked ridiculous, and she was very glad that she was wearing sunglasses, because it hid the wide-eyed look of wanting-to-be-anywhere-but-here.

  All in all, she looked terrible, but it could be worse.

  Andee thought about it for a long moment before she opened the passenger side door, shutting the bright green thing as quietly as she could. She stood, then, leaning against the car. She didn’t want to meet Robin sitting, but then she wondered if it was the best decision, because her legs were quaking. She tried for an air of nonchalance, and was wondering if she looked terrified or nonchalant (probably more terrified) when she heard laughter from inside the building.

  Robin.

  Andee breathed out, feeling the blood leave her head, and she gripped the car door handle, but there was nothing to be done. The cool waves of Robin’s laughter drifted through the air toward her, and Andee hated how much her heartbeat accelerated when she heard it. That laughter was warm and open, like a sunlit field. Andee carefully schooled her features, leaned hard against the car door, and then there she was, in the doorway.

  Robin stood, a big backpack dangling from her fingers that she slowly, carefully, put up and on her shoulder. Tiff stood behind her, averting her eyes.

  Robin stared at Andee.

  She looked exactly the same. No. That wasn’t true. She had laugh lines around her eyes, now, and her brunette hair (though still short) was styled differently. There were streaks of blue throughout her hair, and she still looked better in a pair of jeans than anyone else on the planet. She had on a plain black t-shirt, and her sneakers were ridiculously orange. The way she stood, one hip pointed toward Andee like a curling, inviting finger, was raw sensuality. Or maybe that’s how Andee had always read her. But as Robin cocked her head, letting a sweep of blue and brown hair fall into her eyes, as she stared out at Andee, her mouth curling up into a ghost of a smile, Andee felt her heart skip a handful of beats.

  She was the most beautiful thing that Andee had seen in her entire life.

  And Robin could never be hers.

  Andee folded her arms in front of her chest as Robin trotted down the last few steps to stand beside the car. Andee’s body wanted to curl toward hers, Andee wanted to step forward, put her arms around Robin’s neck, give her a hug…but Andee stomped down on all of that, swallowing as Robin raked one hand through her hair, shrugging the backpack off her shoulder as she stood a respectable distance away. Tiffany took the backpack and wordlessly unlocked the convertible’s trunk.

  “Hello,” said Robin, then. Her low, throaty voice sent a shiver through Andee, and Andee wished with everything she had that Robin could not still do that to her. But she did.

  “Hi,” she said, cutting the word short and purposefully staring at the ground over her crossed arms. Robin shifted her weight toward her, as if she was reaching out to her, and Andee glanced up.

  “How have you been?” asked the woman, putting her hands into her jean pockets, drawing her shoulders together, mouth downturned. It
was an unnatural expression for Robin, and Andee cleared her throat.

  “Good, good,” said Andee, trying very hard to sound flippant. She did not succeed. “And…um, you?”

  “Good,” said Robin, eyes narrowed and searching Andee’s. It was too intense. This was all too intense, the blue piercing Andee down to her core and back. Andee felt so exposed beneath Robin’s stare, like she’d melt into the concrete of the street and wash away to nothingness.

  “Nice place,” said Andee, switching her voice to something cooler, now. If she couldn’t sound flippant, she could sound cold, couldn’t she? Yes, she thought, watching Robin lean back from her, watching her frown deepen. She could.

  “Yes,” said Robin, still searching Andee’s face. What she was looking for? An olive branch? Didn’t Robin know what she’d done to her? Andee’s hands were balling into fists, and she was about to say something sharp when Tiffany cleared her throat, opening the driver’s side door.

  “Who’s riding shotgun?” she asked the two women sweetly. Robin glanced at Andee, flipped the hair out of her eyes again, an effortless movement that Andee followed, feeling her breath come in short gasps. She was so beautiful, so graceful, so sensual, so…

  “She can have shotgun,” said Robin, inclining her head toward the front seat, her hands still deep in jean pockets.

  “No, no. I had it all the way here,” said Andee, swallowing.

  “I want you to have it.”

  Andee bristled. She didn’t want Robin to want her to have it. “I’ll sit in the back,” she said clearly, opening the back door and springing into the broad bench seat, shutting the door behind her with a smack.

  Robin sighed, her shoulders dropping, but she shook her head slightly, opened the passenger side, and slid next to Tiff.

  “We’ve just picked up our first passenger from another city, ladies! This means the road trip has officially begun!” Tiff practically chirruped as she started the engine, the thing roaring to life just in time to keep Andee’s sigh from being heard.