by Erin Zak
“Thank you,” Stevie said loudly over the roar of the L train. “Have a good night.” She leaned in and kissed Bernadette on the cheek. “You’re beautiful. Try to remember that.” Her words were whispered against Bernadette’s ear, and it made her melt into a puddle of goo. She watched Stevie walk away before she stepped into the train car. The doors slid closed, and it took off toward home.
Chapter Eight
“You realize it’s been almost two weeks since we’ve seen each other?”
Bernadette looked over at Sarah from her position on the bed. It was funny because she hadn’t realized. The only thought she had in her mind these days was Stevie. And it had been two weeks since she’d seen her. It made her mad at herself, though, because Sarah deserved better. She was a nice person, and she was cute. Her Polynesian parents passed on their dark skin and flawless complexions. And she had beautiful long dark hair she never wore down. She normally pulled it up into a bun away from her face. Except when they had sex. Bernadette liked when she would wear it down, and Sarah knew it.
She reached over and pulled gently on a lock of Sarah’s hair hanging over her bare shoulder. “We’re seeing each other now. Is that not enough?”
Sarah sighed. “I need to see you more, though.”
“You know that isn’t possible.”
“I don’t understand. You see Connie all the time. It seems awfully strange you can make time for her but barely make time for me.”
And there it is. Sarah’s needs, which Bernadette was in no place to accommodate. She wished she could blame Sarah’s age on her inability to understand why she wasn’t in a position to be the perfect girlfriend. After all, Sarah was quite a bit younger than her. But it wasn’t Sarah’s immaturity or her neediness that was getting in the way. It was all her. And sadly, Bernadette knew that. But telling Sarah she was a great person, an okay lay, and someone she didn’t plan on spending the rest of her life with was not exactly a conversation she wanted to have. For some reason, her ability to stand up for herself had disappeared entirely over the years, especially when it came to the possibility of hurting someone. Even if it meant not being completely honest. If telling the truth would leave a scar, she would rather be miserable.
“I like you a lot,” Sarah whispered as she ran a finger over Bernadette’s bare nipple. “And I don’t think you like me the same amount.”
Her breath hitched at the harsh reality of the truth. And also at the contact.
“And I wish you’d be honest with me.” Sarah leaned in and placed her mouth on the now erect nipple and sucked it gently. She glanced up at Bernadette and smiled. “You know I’d still be your booty call if you needed it.”
Bernadette laughed. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes.” Sarah’s hand moved down Bernadette’s body to between her legs. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to commit.”
“What if I’m never able to commit?” Her voice trembled as Sarah pushed a finger inside her. She closed her eyes and moaned. “Sarah,” she whispered. “We’re trying to have an adult conversation.”
Sarah chuckled as she pulled out, then pushed in again. “Having trouble focusing?”
“Sort of.” It all felt good, but Bernadette wasn’t going to be able to climax, so why even start? After all their times together, Sarah never had the patience to figure out what Bernadette wanted, which should have been a big indication about their relationship. She wished she would have realized Sarah’s lack of patience was going to stretch throughout her entire being. She clamped her legs together and moved so Sarah had to extract her fingers. “I don’t want this right now.” Bernadette felt herself starting to pull back, to hide the truth that so badly needed to come out. “Look,” she started as she pulled the covers over her naked body and gathered her courage. “I am never going to be able to give you what you want.”
Sarah’s eyes went from hurt to devastated, and Bernadette felt her entire body fill with regret. Not because she didn’t want to break up with Sarah but because she didn’t want to hurt her. And how did she break up with someone and not hurt her at the same time?
“You would never get what you want from me. I am never going to up and leave and be free. I’m never going to give you the love and support you want. You deserve to be with someone who will do that for you.”
“Bernadette,” Sarah whispered. “Are you breaking up with me?”
All she had to do was say Yes, but instead she sat there, clutching the sheet and cursing at herself for not being honest.
“I have never asked you to leave your situation.” Sarah wiped at her eyes.
The word situation smacked her across the face. It was indeed a situation, wasn’t it? But instead of agreeing, she resented Sarah for calling her out. “How many times have you asked me to leave my mom?” When Sarah sat there, emotion drying on her face, and didn’t respond, Bernadette clutched at the sheet a little tighter. “You get so upset and mad at me because I can’t give you what you want. And yes, you should try to understand me, but you also need to be with someone who will give you what you want. And it’s selfish of me to want you to stay when I know I’ll never be who you need.”
“I keep telling you that I’ll wait for you, though.”
“Wait for what? What? What are you waiting for?” Bernadette’s eyes went wide. “For what, Sarah? For my mom to die? Is that what you mean?”
“Jesus, Bernadette! Why the hell would I ever want that? Do you think I’m an awful person?”
She was reaching with that last remark, so she took a breath. “Then what?”
“Maybe for you to admit why you can’t move on.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Sarah swallowed so hard that Bernadette could see her throat move from the action. “You hide behind your mom, but you and I both know why you don’t want to commit.” Sarah sat completely still with a determined look on her face. “And her hold on you isn’t getting any less as time goes on.”
The feeling of being trapped settled over her heart and mind as Sarah continued to bore holes into Bernadette with her eyes. Bernadette stood up and took the sheet with her, wrapping it quickly around her body. “I think you need to leave.”
“Bernadette—”
“No.” She pointed at the door. “Get dressed and leave. Please.”
“So that’s it? After all this, you’re going to break up with me? Because I called out your bullshit? Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?”
And this time, Bernadette finally said, “Yes. But I don’t give a fuck.”
* * *
“I thought Sarah was staying the night,” Phyllis said when Bernadette sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.
It was a dreary, rainy Monday morning, and the last thing she wanted to do was have a conversation with her mother about Sarah. She barely slept the night before. She tossed and turned with the reality of having hurt someone. Not sleeping was going to catch up with her fast, especially since she was supposed to interpret for an elementary school class at the Field Museum later in the day.
She shook her head and signed, “No. She went home.”
“Is everything okay there?” Phyllis brought her mug of coffee to her lips and peered at Bernadette through the steam. “Don’t forget that I’m deaf, not blind.”
“Funny,” she signed. She was laughing, though, because it definitely was comical. “We broke up. It wasn’t working out.”
“Bernie…”
“What, Mom? What?”
“Was this because she couldn’t handle this arrangement?” Phyllis motioned to the two of them and smiled.
Bernadette didn’t answer. She sipped her coffee and kept her eyes glued to the Chicago Tribune.
“You know I don’t need you here all the time.”
Bernadette still didn’t answer.
“Stop acting like you’re the one who can’t hear,” Phyllis said rather loudly. It made Bernadette look at her. “Talk to me.”
“No
,” she signed.
“Talk to me right this instant.”
She furrowed her brow. “What’s the big deal? So I don’t have a girlfriend? You never liked that I was gay anyway.”
“That isn’t the problem, and you know it. You are so afraid of commitment that you hide away here, acting like I need you all the damn time, and I don’t. You know I get around fine. I don’t need you. And I’ve been telling you I want to go to a retirement community for months. And you don’t listen to me.” Phyllis picked her mug of coffee up and said, “You have no idea how frustrating it is to know you can’t hear but to also know that no one else is hearing you, either. It’s infuriating.”
She placed her hand on her mother’s. “I made a promise to Dad.”
“Screw your father!”
“Mom!”
“No, Bernie.” Her mother began to stand up but stopped and looked directly at her. “I am and always have been a strong woman. Your father was a great man, but dammit, he died. And I don’t want to die alone in this house while you resent me for something he made you promise. I didn’t make you promise. I never would have. You are supposed to live your own life. Not mine.” She finally stood up and briskly walked away. It made Bernadette almost smile because she knew her mother did it so she didn’t have to continue having a conversation she couldn’t hear.
* * *
“Gram!” Stevie shouted from the laundry room. The washing machine was rocking back and forth, making a horrific sound. “I need you.”
Gram pushed her large body into the small space. “What the heck is going on back here?” Her short gray hair was in rollers, and she was wearing her normal ensemble of polyester pants, a floral button-down shirt, and her orthopedic shoes. She had a cardigan on because she kept the house at sixty-six degrees in the winter. The electric company, Commonwealth Edison, was not about to get another cent of her money. “Stevie, you have got to learn how to load clothes properly.” She opened the lid, and the machine slowed and stopped rocking. “The clothes have to be even in here. You’re going to have to start going to a Laundromat.”
Stevie gasped as she watched her grandma rearrange the clothes in the washing machine. “You would make me go to a Laundromat? Are you serious?”
“You can still come over for waffles and coffee. But that’s it.”
“Come on, Gram.” Stevie followed her grandma out of the tiny laundry room and into the kitchen. The waffle iron was filled with batter, and a fresh waffle was in Stevie’s future. She was there to pick up her cousin, Harper, because in a moment of sheer stupidity, she’d agreed to be a chaperone for a class trip to the Field Museum. The only benefit was getting to see her grandma. And also the best homemade waffles in the history of waffles.
“Sit down,” Gram commanded. She slapped a hot waffle on the plate in front of Stevie and motioned toward the butter dish and the bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup. “Eat.”
“Gladly.” Stevie got to work lathering butter on the waffle, then doused it with syrup. She dug in, and the first bite was heaven, as always. “God, Gram, I miss these.”
“You can come visit more often, y’know.”
“I know, but it’s hard. I’m up so late all the time and then have to teach classes at the theater. It’s crazy these days.”
“Mm-hmm,” Gram hummed. She sat across the table and sipped on her coffee that was more hazelnut creamer than actual coffee. “How is the show going? Did you ever hear back about your audition for…what’s the show again?”
Stevie swallowed her mouthful of food and shook her head. “No, I haven’t heard a word yet. And it’s Saturday Night Live, Gram. You act like it’s some new show you’ve never heard of before.”
“Is that the one like The Carol Burnett Show?”
“Yes, Gram.”
“I loved that show.” Stevie watched as her grandma’s eyes seemed to glaze over as she reminisced.
“I know.” Stevie laughed. “I used to watch it with you. Remember?”
“I do.”
“One of my improv friends who’s writing now for SNL said it’s not bad I haven’t heard. She said sometimes it takes forever because Lorne is so busy. I guess I understand. He’s one of the most powerful men in show business.”
“I don’t want you to move to New York City, so I’m fine if you don’t make it.”
“Grandma!” Stevie shouted around a mouthful of waffle. “That’s so mean.”
Gram leaned her head back and laughed. Stevie absolutely loved when her grandma laughed. It was one of her very favorite sounds in the entire world. She had a laugh that could melt a cold person’s heart. It was wonderful and full-bodied, just like Gram was. Stevie hoped she inherited her laugh from her grandma, even though she was pretty sure she sounded exactly like her mom. Or what she could remember of her mom’s voice. “I’m joking around with you, kochany.” Stevie’s heart warmed at her grandma’s term of endearment. It meant loved one in Polish, and whenever Gram used it, it made Stevie forget she was basically an orphan. “Don’t worry. You’re going to make it. Keep your head up.”
“I’m trying. I promise.” Stevie moved the last bite around her plate and looked up at her grandma. “So, I had my tarot cards read a couple weeks ago.”
“Stevie, dear, you know that’s the devil’s work.” Gram shook her head. “Your parents would be horrified.”
“They weren’t even religious.”
“Well, I’m horrified. Thank God I’m going to church Saturday night. I’ll have to go to confession now.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna tell the priest your heathen, lesbian granddaughter had her tarot cards read?” Her grandma shrugged and she saw the hint of a smile. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
The two sat in silence for a few beats until Gram finally said, “Are you going to tell me what they said?”
“I knew you were interested.” Stevie leaned forward and started to tell her grandma about the experience. She told her how she didn’t want to get them read, how she tagged along, how she got caught in the stupid bead curtain. Her grandma laughed at her clumsiness.
“You’ve always been a klutz. Ever since you were a kid.”
“Ugh, I know. And it hasn’t gotten any better. I genuinely almost fell over. This woman came out of nowhere and caught me.”
Gram stood and grabbed the coffeepot to refill both of their mugs. “So, the reading?”
“Sorry,” Stevie said after she took a sip of coffee. “It was very emotional. I cried, which was odd. I don’t know.” Stevie took a breath before she told her grandma how Constance kept talking about change, embracing things that happen out of nowhere. “She said something strange, which is what made me cry.”
“What was that?”
“Well, the accident came up. And she said sometimes pain can be beautiful.” Stevie picked her mug up and brought it to her lips.
“Interesting,” Gram said quietly. Their conversation was interrupted, though, by the front door swinging open, and an eleven-year-old Harper came bounding into the kitchen. Harper flew into her grandma’s arms and then immediately turned and found Stevie.
“Stevie! Hi!” She squealed. “I’m so excited. I think the Field Museum is my favorite of the Chicago museums.”
Stevie wanted to roll her eyes. This kid was such a geek. “Oh, I’m sure we’re going to have a blast.” She hoped she sounded far less sarcastic than she felt.
“Hey, you two,” her aunt Lucille said as she walked into the kitchen with Harper’s backpack. “Thank you so much for doing this, Stevie. Harper is obviously ecstatic.” Lucille was her mom’s sister, and Stevie had almost gone to live with her, but she was going through a divorce at the time. She’d remarried a dozen years ago and had Harper, who was a complete whoops since Lucille was pushing midforties when she had her.
“Of course, Aunt Lucille. I’m so excited. I haven’t been to the Field Museum in years.”
“Years?” Harper asked as she clung to Stevie’s waist.
“I go every year.”
“That’s because you’re a nerd,” Lucille said with a laugh as she squeezed Harper’s cheeks. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Okay, I have to go to work. You be good for Stevie. Don’t act like a know-it-all, okay?”
Stevie shared a knowing smile with Gram when Harper rolled her eyes. “She’s growing up fast,” Stevie said as Lucille rushed toward the front door.
“She’s eleven going on seventeen.” Lucille gave a mocking thumbs-up and said, “Have a great time,” as the door closed behind her.
Chapter Nine
Harper was one of the smartest kids in her class, and it was obvious she was the teacher’s pet. Stevie observed Harper as she took notes at each exhibit and raised her hand to answer almost every question the teacher asked. When the time came to split into groups, Stevie was happy to see there were enough chaperones that she was able to stay solo with Harper and help fill out the worksheet the teacher passed out.
“We need to find the dinosaurs. That’s going to be where we can answer most of these questions,” Harper whispered as she pulled out her map. The Field Museum was huge, with multiple floors, hundreds of different exhibits, and hundreds of elementary-school-aged kids running around. They needed a game plan. Stevie watched as Harper nibbled on her bottom lip as she navigated the map. “We are here. And we need to go here.”
“The stairs are right there. Let’s go,” Stevie rushed toward the stairs with Harper leading the way. “I think we could win if we get this turned in first.”
“Um, yes, we’ll totally win,” Harper said with a hushed voice, but her excitement was rubbing off on Stevie.
“You like school, don’t you?”
“I love school. It’s so fun. I like being smart.”
“I sort of hated school.”
“Why?” Harper stopped when they arrived at the start of the dinosaur exhibit and looked up at Stevie. “Is it because of what happened with your parents? That would make me hate school.”
