“Put that fire out before you get roped in, Shannon.”
How was I supposed to know that’s what my own best friend meant? The one who had never shown a hint of homophobia before that moment? When I had no reason to believe that I would ever – could ever – be attracted to another girl? I had Nick. We were already planning what we might want to do after we graduated in two years.
Yet as Andrew taught me once again, most relationships aren’t forever. I should’ve known there would be opportunities for my walls to come down and my heart to wander toward people I would have never noticed had they never made themselves known to me.
To this day, I struggle to decide if I’m grateful or horrified.
***
Shannon sat back from her laptop. The photo edits had given her serious eyestrain, but instead of looking at a wall or entertaining herself with Decks for a few minutes, she turned to her phone and opened her web browser.
“Get your daily horoscope!!!”
She groaned, because the lead-in had taken her information from her phone and supplied, “You will have sudden memories…”
Well, no shit. Who wrote this stuff? Was this what Jess wrote for a living? Crappy horoscopes based on the arbitrary day of one’s birth?
She clicked it. Curiosity had gotten the best of her again.
“You have sudden memories flooding back to you after a chance encounter with an old friend. Those in relationships are best to assess the true meaning of these memories and whether they are meaningful to who you are with. Single people should take this as an opportunity to open more doors into the past and find something you missed before.”
Shannon shut off her phone and resumed her photo editing. The pictures of Stephen and his fiancée covered her large monitor, their fake smiles and tentative touches making her think of her relationship with Andrew.
They had met a year after Shannon graduated college, after she moved back to California and began her job hunt in earnest. Andrew was a few years older than her and part of the recruiting department of one of the major corporations she interviewed with before deciding to go solo. I can’t believe I thought that was a great idea. What was I thinking? Dating a guy who interviewed me? The man had asked for her number when he called to inform her she didn’t get the job!
Why had she said yes? Was she really that desperate for a lover again?
She went out to her balcony and lit up a cigarette. Her elbows dug into the wrought iron guardrail separating her from the quiet side street below. The sounds of 21st street chimed in the distance, but from her perch, she saw nothing but old Victorian rooftops and the greenery of nearby Forest Park. Joggers and dogwalkers were the only people she saw on the sidewalks below. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the stars to be out, not that the clouds would allow her the view, anyway.
Shannon was not a religious or spiritual person, but she always felt a certain connection to the stars. They were brighter in Oregon – bigger, too, although that could’ve been the great distance in latitudes between Portland and SoCal – and when the clouds moved their asses, Shannon felt like she was transported to a cosmic place where only she was allowed. Crisp, fresh air and the rustling of evergreen trees gave her added delight she couldn’t get back home.
Big dipper. Little dipper. Orion, Cassiopeia… Shannon had taken astronomy in college to fulfill her science requirement. A deliberate decision to allow her some meditative peace of mind.
Her campus boasted a small grove of trees that were perfect for separating oneself from city life and indulging in some stargazing. Her astronomy professor commended how willing she was to press her eye against a telescope and jot down the designs of stars, some of which had yet to be named. She harbored dreams of buying a name for one of those stars. A romantic wedding present, should the opportunity ever arise.
She used to think about buying a star for Nick. Then Andrew. Would she ever get the chance?
Those stars were tainted now. Not dirty, but simply tainted. Because she couldn’t gaze at them without thinking of Jess and her astrology books and charts.
“Astrology is something else…” her professor had mused almost a decade ago. “You might think that because I am a scientist of the stars that I want nothing to do with astrology. I admit, there isn’t much scientific about it, but it’s interesting, nonetheless. I don’t want to discount that there might be untold powers beyond our atmosphere. Look at them. Do you see the raw power in those stars? They burn with seemingly endless energy until their inevitable ends. Who is to say that their energy doesn’t affect us in some way? Maybe not like the astrologists say, but I will not be the first person to say it’s impossible.”
Shannon didn’t believe in astrology, like she didn’t believe in the divinity of a man named Jesus. She didn’t need to, when most of her life made perfect sense without the aid of metaphysics. She felt a certain way because of brain chemistry and biological functions. Hormones, endorphins, raw, materialistic urges… they needed no further explanations. Why did she need stars to tell her what she already knew?
Being born on February 10th meant she was an Aquarius, but beside that song in that one musical, she didn’t need to know anything beyond that.
So why did she wear that necklace Jess gave her? More than one barista had commented on it, each one smugly proclaiming that they knew what it was before Shannon said a word. How do so many people know about this? Am I always that out of the loop?
Or did she simply want to think about Jess whenever she saw her necklace in a mirror?
Unfinished business remained. Because of her own foolish reasons that manifested when she was younger and dumber, Shannon had never given that encounter any closure. Besides, she saw the look on Jess’s face the first time they bumped into each other in Portland. That wasn’t the look of someone seeing an old, long-ago flame. That was the countenance of a woman who had seen a ghost.
Me. I’m a ghost of her past.
She looked up at the sky again. The first star of the night appeared before her very eyes.
Power emanated from the expanse of the universe. Did the people who conjured the world’s first religions feel this same power when they met their gods and goddesses? Was this the sensation of spirituality others in the modern age insisted on existing, even in the cement streets of metropolises?
Shannon would always be a healthy skeptic, but she was also weak to influence when her heart was empty and desperate to believe in the connections between human beings once more.
She wondered if that old email of Jess’s still worked.
Chapter 7
Jess
The subject line simply read, “Can we talk?” Words Jess had pondered ever since they first hit her inbox two nights ago.
Now she sat on the bus heading into downtown. She didn’t usually go downtown this late in the day, but when the old love of her life messaged her to meet for dinner and drinks, she was inclined to go for it.
Deep down, she was still a smitten college student. A baby dyke hardcore crushing on the first girl to ever validate her sexuality. A fool.
Jess had spent more time choosing her outfit that night than she had crafting a response to Shannon’s email. Funny. Once upon a time, Jess spent whole hours writing and rewriting emails to Shannon. “Hey, do you think we could study this weekend?” “Do you need any help with the next party? Maybe I should run for dorm council LOL.” “There’s a red sweater in my room. Is it yours?”
“Are we okay after last night?”
What did it say that Jess no longer cared to write more than a short response and get on with her day? That she had matured? That she had moved on from Shannon’s indecisive spirit?
Hardly. She could say that all she wanted, but her heart laughed to hear it.
That was the source of her stress tonight. Old habits had reared their ugly heads, and now Jess risked exposing herself to hurt once more.
Oh, well. She wouldn’t fit the lonely lesbian stereotype unless she kep
t sacrificing herself to the altar of possibilities!
The bus slowed down as it entered downtown. Jess pulled out her pocket mirror and checked to make sure she got rid of her bed head. I need to get it cut so badly. Her hair wasn’t naturally soft and fluffy like Shannon’s. Jess needed serious combing to make her hair presentable to the public after it had grown an inch or two. To think! She used to have hair all the way down to her butt!
I cut it because it was time for a change. Because I wanted to look gayer.
She laughed now, but that haircut had changed her fate. Cutting the locks of her gender normative life hadn’t only allowed her to enter the next phase of her life, but it sent out that message that she was a woman to approach, to engage with, to date. Or so twenty-year-old her said when she went into a salon and cut off the hair she had been growing since she was seven.
Shannon had loved it. That was enough to tell Jess that she made the right decision.
***
Memory #7
“Oh my God, Jess, is that you?”
I had been minding my business – as usual – when Shannon stopped me on my way to check my mail. I didn’t know she was around. I was still getting used to having the wind hit the back of my neck and such a light feeling on top of my head. After thirteen years of long hair, this was like a revolution of my own person.
And apparently Shannon’s.
“Holy shit!” She circled me, taking in the new look – the new me – and instantly comparing it to the old me she had once known. It was only two weeks before summer break and my mind was filled with fears of finals. Except the moment I saw that look of awe on her gorgeous face, I wondered if my luck was about to change. Was this the moment when she finally took notice of me? When she finally got that I was GAY! GAY! GAY! and she should join me for some serious college experimentation? “You look so good! I almost didn’t recognize you!”
Was that a real compliment? I couldn’t tell. “Thanks. I needed to get all that crap off my head, you know? That was hair I had since I was a little kid. I’m in my twenties now. Time for something fresh.”
“It’s totally fresh!” She extended her hand before pulling it back again. “Can I touch it?”
My eyes widened. Never, in a million years, did I think I’d hear those words come out of Shannon Parker’s mouth.
We had touched before. On accident, like when she crashed into me with her bike. But she had never gone out of her way to touch me, let alone such an intimate part of my body. My hair! She wanted to put her hand near my face. Tenderness! Save me, God!
“S… sure,” I stuttered. Whether it was because it made my hair look great or because it made this moment less embarrassing, I was grateful that I had shampooed my hair earlier that morning. “Knock yourself out.”
She grinned as she fingered my bangs and ruffled the topmost part of my head. “No gel?”
The world spun. She. Was. Touching. Me! “Nope. Hate the stuff,” I squeaked.
My ankles had weakened. My stomach performed elaborate somersaults in front of a frightening audience. My heart was a hurricane in my chest. Every time Shannon Parker stroked a strand of my hair, I risked collapsing in the middle of the walkway and dying from the elation racking my body.
“I love it, Jess. It’s sooo you.” She stepped back. Was it over? No more touching? How could I make her do it again? “I mean, you always looked good, but this hair really accentuates your style. Promise me that you’ll never change it.”
“Okay,” I said with a toothy grin. I would promise her every paycheck I received for the rest of my life. That’s how much of a fool I was for her. “I really like it too, so I think I’ll keep it.” Her compliments emboldened me. I had the guts to ask her something that would have mortified me to say only a day before. “Is it my turn to touch your hair now?”
She stepped back. “Huh?”
“I mean… you touched my hair. It’s only right that I get to touch yours.”
That logic instantly hit her. “Oh! Sure. Why not?”
Why not, huh? Here I went, touching the one thing I always stared at when Shannon was within fifty feet of me.
Oh my God. Her hair was so outrageously soft. For the longest time, I debated whether her hair color was real. It looked impossibly red, yet such a dark hue that you had to squint your eyes to see the highlights in the sun. Yet hair that had been dyed so many times couldn’t possibly be this soft, right? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never dyed my hair before. All I know is that such volume couldn’t occur in nature.
Or could it?
“Is it reaaaal?” I shot back at her with a jesting tone. It made Shannon giggle. That beautiful melody was the kind of sound I needed more of in my life.
“Of course it’s real!”
I pulled my hand back. Reluctantly, I might add. “So…”
“Oh, shit, I’ve gotta go.” Her backpack fell off her shoulders as she turned around abruptly. “I was on my way to a meeting when I saw you. Great hair, Jess! See you around!”
She waved as she took off. It was only then, as I stood in the middle of a busy walkway outside the student union, that I realized we had been more intimate in those few precious moments than we had ever been over the past few months.
It would be more than enough to get me through the summer holidays. I swore to God that by fall, I would be more than ready to officially seduce Shannon Parker.
If she would ever have me, of course. Hope and determination could only get a girl so far if she met a wall of resistance.
That day, I had enough hope to fell every wall in my vicinity.
***
Jess entered the noodle house ten minutes late. It had been on purpose, although she feigned it as a mistake when she messaged Shannon and said she was behind due to the buses running slow at rush hour.
She didn’t want to be the first one. She didn’t want the potential disappointment of waiting twenty minutes only to be stood up. God knew she had been on enough dates like that in her life.
Not that this was a date, obviously. Falling into that trap would be a grave mistake. I haven’t felt that level of delusional hope in a hundred years. The days of being powered by a single touch to the hair had long faded. Jess was too cynical and too guarded to fall into that trap again.
Even if the trap were laid by Shannon Parker, the seductive devil in a little black dress.
Oh my God. Why? What was more shocking? Shannon’s presence in the corner of the noodle house, or what she wore? Shannon rarely wore dresses. Or at least, she never wore them back in college. She was forever a jeans kind of girl, like Jess.
So what the hell was she doing in a body-hugging black dress? A triangle cutout in the chest showed off a hint of cleavage, although the long sleeves attempted to give her more decency. She may have worn dark tights beneath the tighter skirt, but that dress did nothing to hide the outline of a fit body worth dreaming about.
No, no, no. Jess really did not need this. Especially when she was dumb enough to show up in her casual-date-best as well!
Nicest jeans. A button up shirt. A form-fitting black denim jacket she only brought out when she wanted to impress the world. Even her jewelry had been pulled from the depths of her boxes. From head to toe, she was bedecked in a look that screamed, I’m meeting someone important.
They definitely looked like they were on a date. It didn’t help that candles burned on the tables and wine was served.
What the fuck was happening!
Jess hadn’t chosen this place. When she agreed to meet for dinner, a poisonous mix of trepidation and anticipation in her heart, she had suggested they get Asian cuisine. Shannon claimed to have known the perfect place, but Jess had never heard of it before. How was she to know that this place was set up for couples and rich old friends?
“Sorry I’m late,” Jess said, wrapping her purse strap around the back of the chair. Shannon sat on the bench along the wall, her jacket tastefully draped around her slim body. Jess felt like a fat freak
emerging from her outerwear, but the heat was cranked and that sweat on her brow could have as easily come from the anxiety crowning her brain. “Really got caught in traffic down by the university.”
Was that grin practiced? Or was Shannon really that excited to see her? And was she wearing that Aquarius necklace again? Jess was so confused that she could vomit because she didn’t know what else to do.
“No worries.” Shannon waited for Jess to sit down before continuing. “Hope it wasn’t too long trapped on that bus. I don’t ride them that often, but I know how cramped they can get at this time of day.”
Jess couldn’t help herself. “Still riding your speeding deathtrap around unsuspecting girls on their way to class?”
Shannon blushed. “Sorry about your scar.”
“I consider it one of the better mementos from my time in college.”
Shannon looked as if she didn’t know what to make of that. Don’t make anything at all. Please. I’m already dying of embarrassment. Why did I say that?
The waiter offered Jess a menu. Shannon made a suggestion, but everything she recommended was much too spicy for Jess’s bland tastes. I’m such an Oregonian. I can’t stand anything spicier than a bell pepper. Even then… She asked for low sodium fried rice, whereas Shannon ordered more than mild stir-fry.
“So…” Jess’s struggle to think of anything to talk about warbled against her lips. “How’s life in Portland treating you?”
Shannon tapped her fingers together. “It’s not so bad. Really reconsidering where I live, though. When I moved here, I had someone else helping to pay the rent. Now that it’s only me on my photography income… ah…”
“I mean, you live in Nob Hill. Could you ask for higher rents?” Jess wanted to leave it at that, but something else Shannon said made her ask, “You’re no longer living with that person?”
The One That Ran Away Page 6
