by A. K. Rose
“Yeaarrahhhh” came the reply, the difficulty of forming an actual word amplified by the hand and probe still in her mouth.
“Okay, I sort of figured based on your X-rays. Looks like we need a root canal on the number fourteen. Do you want to do it now, or schedule for a better time?”
Jessica thought for a moment. She didn’t really have time in her day to be sidelined due to a dental procedure. She certainly hadn’t planned for a root canal that day. The tooth had been bothering her for a while, but she kept putting off doing something about it. “Let’s schedule it for later. I have a mountain of work for this afternoon. I’ll see if I can find someone to drive me.”
+ + +
On her way back to the office, Jessica wondered who she could get to drive her to the dentist on Friday. Ordinarily, that would be a Cassie request, of course. They did those sorts of things for each other all the time—airport runs, moral support at doctor’s appointments, picking up the mail and watering plants when one was out of town. Cassie had been by her side when she’d had the chicken pox the year before—a gesture for which she was eternally grateful. Adult chicken pox was no laughing matter.
Screw it, she thought, deciding to break their separation pact. It was just a dentist appointment. Certainly it was okay to ask for a ride to and from a root canal. A quick text and it was done.
Hey, sorry to bother you. I have a big favor to ask. I need a root canal. Any chance you could take me? It’s at five on Friday.
Surprisingly, Cassie replied almost immediately confirming she’d be happy to provide the ride, that she’d pick Jess up at work at 4:30.
+ + +
“How’ve you been?” Jessica asked tentatively as she fastened her seatbelt. Cassie drove her Jeep like it was a sports car, an out of character trait for an otherwise timid person. She knew she’d need every inch of protection she could get to stay in the seat around the corners.
“I’ve been . . . good. You know? Surprisingly good, honestly. How about you? Oh, wait, don’t answer that yet. Where am I taking you?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, go towards Bee Cave Road. She’s in that general area. And, I’ve been good, except for this damn tooth. It’s been bothering me for months but I just kept putting off doing anything about it. I thought it would just get better on its own, I guess. But, no, I’m not that lucky. Root canal Friday sure isn’t like our Friday dinners . . . oh, geez, Cass, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve just been missing you.”
Cassie turned her head to survey the space behind them as she shifted the Jeep into reverse, her left leg slowly releasing the clutch and sending the vehicle into a backwards crawl. All of a sudden, shifting perfectly became of utmost importance, as if how well she worked the clutch was a reflection of her inner calm in spite of her friend’s admission.
“I know. I’ve missed you too. I have.”
“Anyway, I appreciate you driving me. My dentist assured me I’d be able to drive afterwards, but you know how I am with pain. I wasn’t quite convinced. I mean, she’s going to go in and drill out the root of my tooth! There’s no way that can be good.”
“It’s no trouble at all, really.” Cassie focused straight ahead now, unable—perhaps unwilling—to catch the green eyes of her friend with her own. Those eyes cut straight to her heart, and she just couldn’t look. Not yet. “And no, that doesn’t sound good at all.”
What had always been such an easy relationship had devolved fast. Silence hung in the air like a wet fog, its ability to burn off unclear. They didn’t have enough conversation material, not even close, so Cassie reached over and turned the radio dial. Music would fill the awkward void of missing conversation. It would have to.
They drove west from downtown to the quaint area around Bee Cave Road, an oasis of kitsch in the otherwise urban city. When she’d been directed to that general area of town, Cassie had a momentary worry that there was a chance Jessica’s dentist was Rachel. She’d dismissed her concern as fast as she’d had it—what were the odds?
As it turned out, the odds were good. Very good. She found herself parked in front of a one-level medical office with simple lettering on the door, Rachel Gifford, DDS. There was also an orthodontist’s name on the door, but she knew they weren’t there for orthodontia.
“Jess?” Cassie inquired as she pulled up on the parking brake.
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something”
“Of course, anything. We’re past secrets now, right? Go for it.” Jessica rested her hand on the door handle, half-engaging it and half holding off while she waited for her friend’s admission.
“I think I’m dating your dentist.”
Jessica’s head turned to her left in a flash, a blur of ginger hair following a split-second later, her eyes focused intently on Cassie’s for the first time that afternoon. Ten seconds prior, she thought there was nothing her friend could say that would surprise her. This news surprised her.
“I’m sorry? You’re dating Rachel?”
“Well, we’ve been on a couple dates, yeah.”
“That’s . . . Cass, that’s amazing. I’m really no good with the gaydar thing, clearly, but that’s great. She seems really nice.”
“She is.”
“Okay, well, we definitely need to talk more about this, but I have this little matter of a root canal from your girlfriend waiting on me . . .” Jessica pulled on the door handle, opening the door to the outside world, one foot on the blacktop in an instant.
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Cassie called out, unsure. Was Rachel her girlfriend? It was too soon to know. They’d been on two dates. That hardly classified them as exclusive. They were seeing each other the next day, Saturday, to hit the farmer’s market, but again, was that even a date?
“Okay, whatever you say. But, does this mean you’ll hang out with me now? Like, tonight, when I have a big swollen cheek? Will you come over and eat ice cream and watch bad romantic comedies with me? Please?” Jessica was out of the car now, her face peering in between a small opening separating the door and its jamb.
“Yeah, you know, I’d like that.”
EIGHT
Jessica woke up with a throbbing cheek and cotton mouth, a vivid reminder of the procedure she’d had the day before. As she lay in bed blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she made a promise to herself to take better care of her teeth—she never wanted to go through this again.
The only benefit of her root canal was the unexpected opportunity to start mending fences with Cassie. They’d spent the evening together, re-building their fragile relationship, watching reality TV and making fun of the foolish things people will do for the hope of fame and a little money. It wasn’t totally normal, not quite as easy as it had been before, but she had hope that they would get there. It had only been a few weeks since Cassie had shared her secret—not all that much time in the span of their friendship.
As she stood at the vanity and tried to brush her teeth without bumping the tender area in the back of her mouth, Jessica’s mind wandered to her dentist. What were the odds that her friend would be dating her dentist? Cassie’s revelation had rocked her world a little bit; she had the slightest twinge of jealousy in the back of her mind. It made no real sense, but it was there, hanging out and reminding her of what she stood to lose.
From their talk the night before, she gathered that Cassie really liked Rachel. Maybe it would work out with them and she could have her friend back for good, or maybe, if it worked out with them she’d lose Cassie altogether. She really didn’t know and it was a lousy feeling. Once again, she felt like the bad guy in a situation over which she had no control.
A run would help her sort out her feelings—it always did—so she skipped breakfast and headed out the door to get some fresh air and see her neighborhood by foot. She and Cassie had run the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving the past three years in a row, and they were going to again this year—at least in her mind—so she needed the run anyway. There were only a couple weeks until
the race and she’d been neglecting her training due to a large caseload at work. Would they actually run the race this year? She didn’t know, but pushed the uncertainty to the back of her mind as she pounded the pavement in search of inner calm.
+ + +
“So do you actually know what to do with that squash?” Cassie asked, unloading their farmer’s market finds from a canvas tote onto Rachel’s kitchen counter.
“In fact, I do. I have a few tricks up my sleeve . . . you’ll see,” Rachel countered, letting go of the butternut squash she’d been holding, a smile spreading on her mouth as she locked in on the brown eyes opposite her. Those eyes were intriguing. They led to deep, dark places; they were mystifying and inviting at the same time.
Late October was surprisingly flush with good produce in Central Texas, but their visit to the market was about more than just fruit and vegetables. It provided an opportunity to hang out and talk while browsing, while squeezing oranges and grapefruits, tasting fresh snap peas, sampling persimmons and pears. It had been comfortable, almost as if they’d been shopping together for years. They’d bought coffee and muffins; talked to farmers about their crops, about what was in season where; sampled homemade toffee and tried hot apple cider. It was almost as if they were a couple. But were they? Neither knew.
“Tricks up your sleeve, huh?” Cassie was uncomfortable with the unyielding eye contact, but couldn’t seem to break it. The dentist had her in a momentary spell.
“Yep, like this one . . .” Rachel said as she stepped closer, taking the nervous hands of the woman in her kitchen and erasing the space between them, locking their arms straight and intertwining their fingers. She noticed that their fingers fit together like a puzzle, like they were meant to connect this way.
Rachel didn’t want to talk about winter produce; she wanted to kiss the discomfort off of Cassie’s face, to feel the warmth of skin touching skin, to bask in the scent of delicious perfume. To let her thoughts evaporate and instinct take over. She knew she needed to be the initiator in this delicate dance. The young lawyer may have chased down deadbeat dads during the week, she may have been assertive—even pushy—in her work, but she was mild-mannered and shy in her personal life. The hands gave her away. She’d noticed Cassie’s hands were always fidgeting, destroying some receipt or napkin, turning the glass from which she was drinking. By holding them tightly, she’d removed those nervous hands from the equation.
When it seemed her advance was appreciated, Rachel leaned in just enough to brush her lips against Cassie’s, tasting cherry-flavored lip balm, seeking a deeper connection. She worked her tongue in between parted lips and explored tenderly, gently. When a hand escaped her hold and found its way behind her head, when fingernails scraped her scalp, she knew it was okay to press a little. Cassie was into it.
Inertia took over until the immoveable mass of the kitchen island stopped them, hands now fumbling over the barriers provided by denim and cotton, breathing aligned in a heated symphony of desire.
Rachel generally believed in taking it slow, in getting to know someone before becoming intimate, but there was something about the blonde in her arms that urged her to put rules aside. Maybe it was because she was smart, maybe because she was shy and mysterious, maybe there was just some sort of intense chemical reaction between them in that moment. Rachel knew now she wanted Cassie in her bed, or on the couch, or anywhere really, except pinned up against a kitchen counter. It was taking every mental exercise she knew to restrain herself, and even those over-riding directions weren’t working. Her mind said slow down, but her hands had other ideas. She’d yanked on the hem of Cassie’s top, freeing it from the jeans it had been neatly tucked into and offering air space for her hands to work their magic. She wasn’t sure where she stood, but wasn’t being shot down. It was promising.
“Hey,” she whispered into Cassie’s ear, nipping at her earlobe, “I know we said it was too soon . . .”
“Hmmm?” Cassie opened her eyes, Rachel’s whisper jolting her back to reality. She’d been enjoying the moment, the touch of a beautiful, smart woman with skilled hands. She hadn’t considered the benefits of dating someone who worked with her hands until now.
“Too soon?” Rachel tried again, this time in the form of a question. “Or . . . could I talk you into moving somewhere more comfortable? Not that I wouldn’t consider doing things on this counter, but the granite is awfully cold.”
“Oh . . . no it’s not. . . I mean yes, let’s . . .” Where were her words? Cassie didn’t know. She was still on the fence about this whole scenario. Yes, she enjoyed Rachel’s company, and yes, she definitely enjoyed her touch, she’d been reminded of that fact quite clearly. They had something electric, there was no doubt about their physical compatibility. And yet, she hesitated, if only momentarily.
The truth was, she’d spent the night before hanging out with Jessica after the root canal, willing herself not to imagine them together as a couple, shutting out the idea that Jess might come around. She knew better. Even if she could change her friend—even if that was a remote possibility—she knew better than to be a straight girl’s experiment. She knew that scenario was ripe for disaster, but it didn’t mean she could make the thoughts stop.
Now here she was, opportunity knocking loudly with someone who wanted her back. So, she squashed those feelings for Jessica deep inside her being. She buried them six feet deep and shoveled dirt over them just for good measure. Cassie hadn’t slept with someone whom she’d actually wanted to in years. Sure, she’d gone through the motions with a few guys here and there, but it wasn’t the same. She needed this, didn’t she? A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, she reminded herself. You can do this.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to pressure you . . .” Rachel’s voice broke through the hurricane of thoughts in Cassie’s head and gave her an out.
“I’m sure,” Cassie offered, bending to kiss the curve where Rachel’s shoulder met her neck. “Mmmm . . . you taste good.”
+ + +
It was early afternoon on a Saturday, not that the time of day mattered in the grand scheme of things. Though she was the aggressor in this little rendezvous, Rachel generally preferred it to be dark when first undressing in front of someone new. She kept herself in shape, that wasn’t the issue. She just happened to have a secret that wasn’t a secret once she was outside of the protection and mystery clothes provided. They say scars are memories you can’t forget, and Rachel knew those words to be doubly true.
As they lay on top of the duvet cover on her bed, clothes still mostly intact, Cassie Hollander squarely under her, lips touching lips, Rachel Gifford knew what she had to do. She probably should have done it before they were actually in bed, but honestly hadn’t intended to be in this situation on this day. As much as she’d tried to go slow, it didn’t quite work out that way. They’d talked about their romantic pasts, their families, their weird habits and their taste in music. They had not, however, talked about this.
“Cassie? There’s just one thing . . .”
“Oh no . . .” Cassie’s mind immediately expected the worst. In her experience, there was no way “just one thing” could be positive.
“No, oh! I just heard that play when I said it—that didn’t sound good,” Rachel said, pushing herself up and leaning back onto bent knees. “I have no idea what you must think, but here’s the thing . . . this is kind of embarrassing.” She had to go through with it now. With that kind of set up, there was no other choice. “You know how I told you I don’t want kids?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, so, there’s more to the story,” Rachel offered, hesitating.
“Okay?”
“When I was nineteen, I actually had a baby. I wouldn’t even bother to tell you this—he’s not in my life—but I have a pretty decent scar from the C-section. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
“You . . . you have a son?”
This was not what Cassie expected.
<
br /> “Well, technically, yes. I had a son. I gave him up for adoption right after he was born. I’ve never met him; we’ve never talked. I have no idea where he is or how his life has turned out. I haven’t spoken to his father since we were nineteen.”
Cassie nodded along as this story was told, unfazed. If this was the news, it wasn’t so bad. There were certainly worse things than a scar from a C-section.
“Does that bother you?” Rachel finished, nervous anticipation visible on her face, unsure—as she always was—about the impending reaction. Sometimes it was fine; sometimes it wasn’t. Elise hadn’t understood how she could have had a child once, but been so against having any more. In reality, she knew her relationship with Elise was too stormy to be a good environment to raise children, but that was all in the past.
“No, not at all. Why would it?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well, I don’t see why it should. You were a kid, you had a kid. It’s in the past. Do you wish you’d kept him?”
“No, truthfully. I wasn’t equipped to handle a baby. I was in an experimental phase in my life, I didn’t know who I was yet, and I sure as hell couldn’t have taken care of another human. I wanted to set him up for a successful life and he got that with a lovely couple who wanted him more than they wanted anything in their lives. I feel happy to have given them their dream, but it wasn’t my dream. I do think about him; wonder about him. Who has he become? What does he look like? How are his teeth?” Rachel laughed under her breath at her concern for her son’s teeth—some things never change. “What’s funny is, I was actually on the Pill. I didn’t even consider getting pregnant a possibility.”
“So what happened, then? I didn’t know that was possible either.” Cassie sat up and was leaning against the headboard, legs pulled into her chest, full attention dedicated to the conversation.
