Wrong Number, Right Woman

by Jae

  Heather laughed, and that was when Eliza knew she really was jealous. Her friend had a habit of making light of things that caused her pain, almost as if doing that would make it hurt less when others made fun of her.

  “Nah.” Heather waved her hand. “I know I’m your number one lesbian friend.”

  Eliza straightened to her full five-foot-six height to look her in the eyes. “I don’t rank my friends. You know that.”

  “It was a joke. Come on, let’s pick some sexy shoes to go with that outfit.” Heather tried to walk away, but Eliza grabbed her sleeve and held on, not allowing her to break their eye contact.

  “I really like Denny—and I think you’ll like her too once we all get a chance to meet.” She tugged on Heather’s sleeve to make sure she had her full attention before continuing. “But you’ll always be my favorite neighbor, my go-to for craft advice, and the person I can count on if I need a hug or a kick in the ass.”

  “Oh yeah. Ass-kicking is my specialty.” Despite Heather’s words, her voice vibrated with emotion. She gave Eliza a smile, and this time, it seemed less forced. “Never mind me. I’m being silly.”

  “You’re being human. And I’m sorry if I made you feel neglected or insecure about our friendship.”

  Heather looked at her with a slight shake of her head. “God, you’re so mature. Tell me again why you’re single?”

  “Because, according to my best friend, I’m being too picky.”

  “You are. You left-swiped on three perfectly nice guys this week alone. But seriously, it’s not like you’re neglecting me. It’s just… I’ve never known you to spend so much time with one person. I mean, I know you have other friends, of course, but this feels different.”

  Eliza nodded. “It is.” She thought about it for a moment, trying to pinpoint what made her friendship with Denny so different. It was hard to put her finger on it, so she settled on: “Probably because we’ve never met in real life. Somehow, that makes it easier to tell each other stuff.”

  Heather hummed her understanding and glanced at her wristwatch. “Damn. You have to get going.”

  Forgoing the sexy shoes Heather had suggested, Eliza shoved her feet into her yellow sneakers. She pressed a kiss to Heather’s cheek, grabbed her purse and keys, and dashed to the door. “Get yourself some sugar,” she called over her shoulder.

  “You too.” Heather’s throaty laughter drifted after Eliza as she sprinted to the stairs.

  Later that night, Denny was debating whether to watch another episode of Central Precinct or wrap up her binge-watching session for today when her phone pinged. She snatched it from her bedside table, eager to hear how Eliza’s date had gone.

  There was indeed a new message from Sneaker Woman. Denny made a mental note to finally change the name in her contacts.

  Ice cream, brownies, or M&M’s?

  An indulgent smile curled Denny’s lips. Only Eliza could think that was an acceptable conversation opener. Hello to you too, she texted back.

  Eliza sent an emoji rolling its eyes. Hi there! So, which? Ice cream, brownies, or M&M’s?

  Yes please to all of them, Denny replied.

  Not helping! Pick one!

  Impossible. That’s like asking a mother to pick her favorite child.

  Houston, we have a problem, Eliza answered. Or in this case: Denver, we have a problem. I’m at the store, I can’t decide, and I’m starting to get hangry.

  Uh-oh. Can’t have that. Denny thought for a moment. How about vanilla ice cream with brownies and M&M’s sprinkled on top?

  OMG, you’re dangerous!

  Come on, admit it. You’ve already put everything in your cart, haven’t you?

  Instead of a reply, Eliza sent a photo showing the contents of her shopping cart: vanilla ice cream, brownies, and a huge package of peanut M&M’s.

  Denny laughed. It was amazing to see how well she knew Eliza already, even though they had been texting for only a month. Why are you getting hangry? Didn’t your date take you to a restaurant? How was it, btw? If Eliza needed to overload on sugar, probably not great.

  Short, Eliza replied.

  The date or the guy?

  Both. I think I beat my personal record for shortest date ever. We didn’t even make it to the main course.

  What happened? Did you fake an emergency?

  No, he did, Eliza answered. At least I think it was fake. Or do dogs really get appendicitis?

  Denny scratched her head. I have no idea. Do they even have an appendix?

  I could google it, but I think I prefer to pretend his dog was really sick and he was heartbroken at having to leave. Easier on the ego than assuming he didn’t like the way I looked or found me boring.

  How could anyone think Eliza was boring or not beautiful enough? I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with the male population of Portland.

  Thanks for not assuming there’s something wrong with me.

  Denny had a feeling the failed dates were affecting Eliza’s self-esteem more than she cared to admit, so she tried to cheer her up with a joke. Well, your eating habits are questionable, but otherwise…

  Ha! Ever heard of not throwing stones when you live in a glass house?

  I’ll have you know I’m eating carrots.

  Carrots? Really?

  Denny took a picture of the marzipan carrots Salem had bought to decorate an Easter cake, which she hadn’t gotten around to making.

  Carrots, my ass!

  What? Denny grinned as she typed. I never said what kind of carrots.

  Oh shit. My ice cream is starting to melt. I’d better get it home.

  Denny chuckled. Talk to you later. And enjoy your after-date ice cream.

  I’ll send you a pic when I have my bowl in hand, just to be mean. Eliza added a grinning devil.

  Thanks a lot. This time, Denny didn’t hesitate to send back the one-finger salute emoji.

  Fifteen minutes later, Denny’s phone dinged again, and she wasn’t surprised to see the promised picture pop up on her screen, accompanied by the words, Yum, yum, yum. Don’t let it be said that I’m not a woman of my word.

  Denny eyed the scoop of vanilla ice cream, slowly melting on top of a huge brownie. Colorful M&M’s had been arranged on the ice cream to form a smiley face. Mmm, that looked good. She abandoned her carrots, climbed out of bed, and wandered into the kitchen, phone in hand.

  Two minutes later, she sent back a photo of her big bowl of caramel apple pie ice cream with chocolate syrup drizzled on top. You’re such a bad influence!

  Eliza instantly replied. Me? You were eating marzipan carrots! Besides, why are you getting after-date ice cream when you haven’t suffered through a date?

  Denny took a big spoonful of her ice cream. The combined flavors of yumminess melted on her tongue. Believe me, I’ve suffered through enough bad dates in my lifetime to deserve all the ice cream I can eat.

  So you haven’t had any luck with online dating either?

  I haven’t tried it yet, Denny texted back, spoon in mouth. Regular dating is bad enough.

  Wait? You haven’t tried online dating? Not even once? Three wide-eyed emojis followed. You do know this is the 21st century, don’t you?

  Yes, I’ve been informed of that fact, thank you very much, Denny answered. I just think it’s too clinical. Too superficial. You know?

  Well, we met online, and our conversations are neither clinical nor superficial…are they?

  Denny dropped her spoon into the bowl to answer faster. No! Of course they aren’t. But we’re not dating. A little voice in the back of her mind added: unfortunately. She silenced it. But most people swipe right only on the hot people, not on average-looking folks. That’s the superficial part I don’t like.

  I’ll give you that, Eliza answered. I hate that too. So if you don’t do online dating, how do you meet women?

  It was embarrassing to admit, but Denny wanted to be honest with Eliza. Their open communication, without pretenses, was what she loved ab
out talking to Eliza, and she trusted her not to judge. Well, mostly, I don’t. I hate bars and clubs. All I do is hide out in a quiet corner and cling to my beer, half hoping and half fearing that someone will come talk to me.

  Ugh, I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound like a nice time, Eliza responded. Okay, so that’s out. What about meeting women elsewhere? Something like a book club or a cooking course. Heather met her last girlfriend at a leather craft workshop.

  This topic depressed her. More ice cream was in order. Denny slid a big spoonful into her mouth. I tried that, but I’m not great at starting a conversation and I’m even worse at flirting with women. I’m just not spontaneous or witty.

  I beg to differ, Eliza replied immediately. You’re smart, a wonderful listener, and really funny. Yesterday, during lunch, you made me laugh so hard my boss came in to check on me because she thought I was sobbing. You’re great, and any woman should consider herself lucky to date you!

  No one had ever said something like that about her. Well, other than Salem, but her sister was biased and didn’t count. Her cheeks burned, yet at the same time, she couldn’t stop her silly grin. Thanks, but I’m only funny when I can hide behind my phone, not in person. I freeze whenever I try to talk to a woman face-to-face.

  And the women you might be interested in never make the first move? Eliza asked.

  Denny swirled her spoon through the ice cream and plopped more of it into her mouth. I’m more on the butch side, so women often expect me to take the lead, but as I said, I’m bad at initiating conversations.

  I think you should be honest about that. Lesbians are probably not that different from straight women. I bet they’re just as sick of all the game-playing and of their dates pretending to be someone they’re not. I, for one, would be seriously impressed if a guy walked up to me and said: Hey, I’d really love to talk to you, but I’m shy and have no idea what to say.

  Denny sighed. If only she could date someone who shared Eliza’s attitude. So far, she hadn’t met anyone like her. But even if she did, would she have the guts to walk up to her and say what Eliza had suggested? She thought about it while she licked chocolate syrup off her bottom lip. That sounds good in theory, but putting all my cards on the table and confessing my insecurities to a total stranger… I can’t see myself doing that.

  I get it, Eliza answered. Maybe you should give online dating a try after all. At least you get a warm-up period and can get to know a potential date a bit before meeting them in person. I usually set up a first date pretty fast because I can judge whether there’s a chance for a connection better that way, but Heather tends to exchange texts for a couple of weeks. Do you think that might help you too?

  Well, it had helped when it came to chatting with Eliza, so maybe she was right. Maybe a little.

  Great. I’ll send you an invite for No More Frogs, if you want. You get a free trial month if a member invites you. What do you think?

  Denny couldn’t muster any real enthusiasm for the suggestion, but Eliza wanted to help, so she didn’t want to say no. I think I need some butter pecan ice cream to go with the rest of this.

  Is that a no, go fuck yourself?

  Eliza’s bluntness made her smile. If only she were more like that. No, that’s an I’ll think about it.

  Good enough. And don’t make yourself sick with too much ice cream.

  Too much ice cream? What’s that?

  Good point, Eliza replied. On that note, give me a second. I think I have some Rocky Road in the back of my freezer.

  Yum. Looks like we’ve achieved total ice cream compatibility.

  Eliza sent back the 100% emoji.

  Too bad they weren’t compatible when it came to more important things, such as their sexual orientation. But Eliza being straight was probably for the best. With her lack of dating skills, Denny would likely fuck up a wonderful friendship. Sighing, she stood to get a scoop of butter pecan.

  Chapter 9

  The next Saturday, Denny had the early shift, so she spent the afternoon catching up on her sewing while her sister leafed through a stack of gardening catalogs. Despite the after-date ice cream and all the other snacks she kept eating with Eliza, she could still button the pants she had started last month, but the pant legs were slightly too long.

  She rolled up the cuffs to the right length and inserted pins to keep them in place, which wasn’t easy to do while still wearing the pants. She had just finished on one side when her phone dinged.

  With the rest of the pins firmly clenched between her lips, she straightened to see how Eliza was spending her Saturday. Had she sold the dragonfly bowl at the market this morning? It had been so lovely that Denny had been tempted to buy it from her, but she’d been afraid Eliza would want to hand-deliver it, so she hadn’t said anything. The thought of meeting her face-to-face was as scary as it was wonderful. She hoped it would happen one day, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for it yet.

  As usual, Eliza didn’t ease into the conversation with a hi or how are you? Instead, her text said, Name your three biggest turn-ons and turn-offs.

  Denny nearly swallowed her pins. She quickly pulled them from between her lips and set them on the table. Jesus, Eliza! You almost turned me into a pincushion!

  Pincushion? Where on earth are you? At the acupuncturist?

  No. Denny hesitated and glanced at her trusted Singer Heavy Duty sewing machine, which she had set up at the dining table. So far, she hadn’t told anyone but her family and Julie about her hobby. Some people would probably snicker at a butch who loved to sew. But Eliza hadn’t laughed when she had confessed to being too shy to talk to women. Plus she was a crafty person herself, so maybe she would understand. I was working on a pair of pants.

  Working on? Eliza asked. As in, you are sewing your own clothes?

  Yeah. I prefer to shop in the men’s section, but those clothes aren’t made for a woman’s body. I don’t have the money to have stuff custom-tailored, so I started to hem my jeans and then taught myself to do more complicated projects. She held her breath until Eliza texted back, which only took a few seconds.

  Wow, that’s so cool! Show me what you’re working on!

  She sounded so enthusiastic Denny no longer remembered why she had hesitated to tell her. One sec. I need to take them off first. I was trying them on to see if I need to shorten the legs a little.

  Before she even unbuttoned the pants, Eliza’s next message popped up below her own. No! Leave them on. I want to see what you look like in your new outfit. When Denny hesitated, she added, You need to send me a photo of you anyway.

  Denny scratched her head. Had she missed something? Uh, I do?

  Yeah. For the No More Frogs profile I’m going to set up for you, Eliza answered. That’s what the turn-ons and turn-offs question was all about, btw. That’s one of the prompts they have you answer.

  Denny’s stomach churned. I said I’d think about it, not that I want you to set up a profile for me.

  Okay, we’ll talk about No More Frogs later, but I still want to see a picture of you. I bet the new pants look awesome.

  But it wasn’t the pants that made Denny hesitate. After texting back and forth for five weeks, Eliza must have formed a mental image of her. She probably imagined someone who was slim and elegant, like Eliza, or way more athletic than Denny actually was, without those love handles and the extra padding on her belly. And for some reason, everybody always seemed to assume a butch woman would automatically have small breasts, and that definitely wasn’t true for her.

  Come on, Denny, Eliza texted. You’ve known what I look like from day one, but I still have no idea what you look like.

  Sturdy, Denny answered.

  Sturdy? That’s it? That’s all I’m getting?

  Denny sent back a shrugging emoji to buy some time while she tried to summon the courage to send her a selfie. Why the hell was this so difficult? Eliza hadn’t judged Denny for her interest in sewing; she wouldn’t judge her for a muffin top either. Part of her kne
w that, but another part still couldn’t let go of that old fear.

  Denny? You okay? What’s going on?

  Denny resisted the urge to pretend everything was fine. The last thing she wanted to do was lie to Eliza, who was quickly becoming one of her closest friends.

  I’m sorry if I pressured you too much, Eliza’s next message said. I just… I’m curious. I want to know what color your eyes are and what you look like when something I texted makes you laugh. But I know you’re a very private person. If you’d rather not send me a photo, that’s okay.

  I want to, Denny texted back and realized it was the truth. She wanted Eliza to know her, including the way she looked.

  Then what’s making you hesitate?

  Remember how I told you that I was teased for being chubby in school? Denny continued without waiting for a reply so she wouldn’t chicken out. Well, it wasn’t just a little teasing. It was the meanest bullying you can imagine. After that experience, it took me a long time to get to a point where I didn’t hate my own body. She glanced at her breasts, belly, and hips, the areas she struggled with the most. Making my own clothes really helped with that, but I guess I’m still not completely over it.

  I know exactly what you mean.

  You do? In Denny’s eyes, Eliza was perfect. She had the slim body and small breasts Denny had always envied.

  Yeah. Since I’m less than blessed in the chest department, I was teased in school too.

  Denny had never imagined they might have that in common.

  I’m mostly over it, except for moments when I’m trying on a nice dress, and the front gapes, making me look like a prepubescent girl in her mom’s clothes, Eliza texted. Not a sexy look, trust me.

  Denny had a hard time imagining anything not looking sexy on Eliza, but she abstained from saying that.

  It took me a while to find my own style and my confidence, Eliza added. But every now and again, I have a moment where I look at another woman and catch myself envying what she has.

  Wow. Good thing they were texting, not talking, because Denny’s mouth was so dry she doubted she would be able to speak.