by Erin Zak
“Come in real quick. I need to get my coat and things.” Stevie waved a hand for Bernadette to enter, and when she did, her boot heels clicked on the old wood floor. The sound was almost deafening in the small quietness of Stevie’s apartment. She noticed Bernadette staring at the family photos Gram made her hang. Two of her parents, two of her and Gram, and one of all the cousins. She always felt a little self-conscious when it came to being studied, but it also gave her a thrill that Bernadette was the one doing the studying. As Stevie maneuvered past Bernadette’s backside, she placed a hand on Bernadette’s hip and heard her small surprised intake of air. Stevie didn’t smile, even though she wanted to light up like one of the trees would that night at the lighting ceremony.
“Are these them?” Bernadette’s voice was so soft, caring, understanding. “You look like your mom.”
“You think so?” Stevie pulled her parka on and zipped it to her neck. She could feel Bernadette’s eyes on her, and all it was doing was creating a desire to crawl into her coat closet and hide. Why did she think this was a good idea, inviting someone into her space?
“Yes,” Bernadette finally responded. “Your eyes. You have her eyes.”
“Everyone tells me I look more like my dad.”
“The nose, yes.”
“I have his cleft chin.” Stevie made herself stop, take a breath, and look over at Bernadette. “And his humor, apparently.”
“Oh?” Bernadette looked back at the pictures. “How old were they?”
“Mom was thirty-five. Dad was thirty-six.” Stevie shrugged. “They were pretty fucking cool.”
“You get that from them, too.” The rush of heat Bernadette’s compliment created flew up Stevie’s neck and across her face like a Lake Michigan wave. And Stevie knew the instant Bernadette noticed it because when she made eye contact again, she smiled, chuckled, and lifted her chin. “Is that what happens when someone embarrasses you?” Her voice was smooth and beautiful when she asked the question. “Because if so? I think I’ll enjoy it.”
“Not funny.” Stevie shook her head and pulled her knit cap on. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to embarrass you.”
Bernadette rocked back onto the heels of her boots and pursed her lips before she said, “I highly doubt it.”
“Oh, just you wait.” Stevie spun around and picked her gloves and scarf off the hallway coat hooks. “Let’s go. Before you think you’re all high and mighty because you made me blush.” She whisked Bernadette out of the apartment, and they made their way down to the lobby. The ride in the elevator was quiet save for the soft chewing Stevie could hear as Bernadette worked at the piece of gum in her mouth. Stevie watched her in the mirrored doors, watched as she studied the floor, watched as she blew a bubble and quickly popped it with her full red lips.
Bernadette exited the elevator first, and Stevie’s eyes were glued to her as she strode. She could see jeans peeking out from the bottom of her coat. Her boots were black, slouched slightly, and came up to the middle of her calf. Stevie chastised herself for barely being able to take her eyes off Bernadette, but dammit, she was so sexy. How was that even possible? She was dressed as if she was going to live on the Arctic tundra.
The air was frigid when they got to the street and turned toward the L platform. The beautiful thing about living in a city with public transportation was not needing a car, but the way the temperature had fallen over the past week, Stevie sort of wished she could afford one.
With heated seats.
And a heated steering wheel.
And heat, period.
Maybe she didn’t like the cold after all…
The silence between them as they waited for the Red Line L train was a little frustrating. Stevie wasn’t a fan of silence. She loved her alone time, but it was the silence when she was with someone that bothered the hell out of her. She constantly wanted to know what the other person was thinking, what she was feeling, and in this particular circumstance, how she was dealing with whatever was going on between them.
The constant need to know had pushed other girlfriends away in the past, which was why she sort of swore off relationships, focused all her time and energy on her career, and kept her heart clear of heartache. It worked. It really did. Or at least, she kept telling herself it worked.
And if she heard back from SNL, if Lorne Michaels wanted to hire her, if she needed to move to NYC at the drop of a hat, she would tell herself her plan of never taking her eyes off the prize worked. She knew never falling in love would make for a lonely life, but up until now, she hadn’t wanted to share her hopes and dreams with anyone. Not a soul would stop her. Not Gram. Not Aunt Lucille. Not Harper. Not any of her other cousins and family members. And especially not Bernadette.
So why even do this? Why put her heart through possibly finding a soul mate within this dark-haired beauty?
And the only thing she could hear when she asked herself the question was Constance’s words echoing in her mind.
You’re going to meet someone who will change everything about who you are…Are you prepared?
And she wasn’t.
She wasn’t ready.
Her brain knew that.
So why didn’t her heart?
* * *
“Here.” Bernadette pulled out a hand warmer from her pocket and broke the tiny metal piece inside. She watched as the chemicals reacted, then slid her hand into Stevie’s pocket where her left hand was jammed. “A gift from me to you.” She waited for Stevie’s hand to grab on to the packet before she pulled back. She watched as Stevie’s eyes went wide and then softened with the realization of what was happening. Stevie’s eyes were almost too much to handle. Especially the way they stared right into hers, as if she had the answer to a question Stevie didn’t have the courage to ask. “I have a couple more. I figured we’d need them.”
“You’re a regular Girl Scout.” Stevie sighed deeply, closed her eyes, and smiled. “This is amazing.”
“Before he passed, my father bought fifteen cases of them.”
“Jesus. Was he a doomsday prepper?” Stevie laughed and then stopped when she looked at Bernadette. “Oh, shit. He was?”
Bernadette laughed. It felt so good to laugh. “I’m totally playing with you. Your face, though…”
“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?”
“I do not. In fact, I don’t normally make a lot of jokes…I’m sort of boring.” Bernadette cleared her throat and motioned toward the approaching train. “That’s us.”
“You’re hardly boring.”
“Maybe you don’t know me well enough yet.”
They finally found seats on the train near the window, facing forward because Bernadette could never ride backward on anything. She would get motion sickness thinking about motion sickness. She felt the need to explain, but Stevie was so easygoing when they kept moving from car to car in search of perfect seats that Bernadette decided to let go of her worry for once.
When Stevie leaned back in her seat, she pressed her parka-covered arm into Bernadette’s. The temperature in the train car seemed to double without warning. She wondered if her upper lip was perspiring. It was always the first place she’d start to sweat. Her mother called it the Whitney Houston lip, which was supposed to help with the self-consciousness. And it sort of did. Not all the time, of course, because that would mean she’d successfully stopped the anxious voices in her brain, which was not always possible. Especially not with Stevie Adams sitting with her arm pressed against hers.
“So, you broke up with your girlfriend?”
Stevie’s voice broke through Bernadette’s nervous thoughts and pulled her back to reality. She nodded before glancing at Stevie. She was staring out the window, the scenery flying by as the train sped downtown, so she responded softly, “Yes.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I barely know you.” She stared straight ahead. “I don’t think you get to know all the details yet.”
“I don’t
want all the details.”
“Only the juicy ones?”
Stevie turned her head and smiled broadly. “I mean if you want to tell me those…”
“I do not.”
“Well. That’s not any fun.”
“I said yet,” she said as she continued to keep her eyes on anything but Stevie. “Why don’t you try to get to know me a little better?”
Stevie positioned herself so she was facing her. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Surprise me. Tell me something I wouldn’t know about you at first glance.”
She finally gained the courage to glance at Stevie. Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough to cause warmth to pool between Bernadette’s legs. She blinked once, then twice, before she finally found her voice. “I’d leave my entire life if Jason Bateman wanted to marry me.”
Stevie let out a laugh which startled a woman across the car whose nose was buried in a book. “I thought you were a lesbian.”
Bernadette was laughing along with Stevie. “I am. But it’s Jason Bateman. Come on.”
“Tell me something else.”
“No, it’s your turn.”
Stevie looked up as if searching for something out of the ordinary. “I have seen The Godfather more times than a person should be allowed to.”
“I’m jealous of those rich kids who got to backpack through Europe right after high school, and I’m still bitter about it. All these years later.”
“I don’t know how to swim.”
“I have never had a pet.”
“I’ve never had spaghetti.”
Bernadette gasped. “What the hell? Are you kidding me?”
Stevie’s face was completely devoid of emotion. “Is that a deal breaker?”
“Y’know,” she started as she leaned forward, “the pizza was bad enough. But I’m Italian, for Christ’s sake. What do you mean you’ve never had spaghetti?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Stevie looked as if she couldn’t control her straight face for much longer. “I completely understand if it’s too much for you.”
She glanced behind her into Stevie’s eyes. “No, it’s not too much for me.” She continued to examine Stevie. She was so not what typically attracted Bernadette to women. She usually wanted a woman who didn’t challenge her, a woman she never had to chase, a woman who would never understand her place in Bernadette’s life.
Then in walked Stevie, all legs and arms and a skinny body and clumsy adorableness, and it was starting to frighten her. Because now Bernadette knew the chance existed that she was going to get close to this woman only to be hurt by her in the end, which was why she purposely picked the wrong woman every single time before.
* * *
Downtown Chicago during the Lights Festival was the most magical place. The sidewalks were packed with people who were nice and tourists who weren’t annoying. Well, they weren’t as annoying. Bernadette tried to make it down to the Lights Festival every year with her parents, but the last couple—when her father was sick and then after he passed—she couldn’t find the enthusiasm to make the trek downtown. When Stevie asked her, she started prepping herself the very next day for the melancholy she was bound to feel. But watching Stevie’s love for the city as they made their way through the packed Magnificent Mile was enough to help her forget the sadness of losing her father.
When the parade started, they found an area where the view was pretty good, considering the crowd. Stevie’s excitement was palpable. There was something so endearing about watching an adult appreciate things normally reserved for children. Stevie seemed more excited about seeing Mickey Mouse on the float than anyone else around them. She whooped and hollered when he came by and cheered with the kids. Bernadette felt her entire body responding to everything about Stevie. From the way her knit cap was pulled down to the way she would sing along with the Disney songs. It was all wonderful, and she couldn’t get her head around why this particular woman seemed to light every ounce of her being on fire.
“This is so perfect.” Stevie leaned in to her. “I love this parade so much.”
“I can tell.” She gazed at Stevie’s profile, her lips, her nose, eyelashes, cheekbones. Stevie was seeping into her, and at this point, she wondered if it was even worth fighting.
“It’s been a long time since I came to this and had a good time.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“I’m being serious,” Stevie said when she moved closer to Bernadette’s ear. “There’s something kinda cool about sharing this with you.”
And there went Bernadette’s heart, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. She kept her eyes glued to Stevie as she turned her attention back to the parade. Bernadette waited a beat…two…three…before she finally leaned into Stevie’s space and whispered next to her ear, “I am so happy I met you.” After those words came out of her mouth, Stevie turned to face her. They were so close to each other. She could feel Stevie’s breath; she could smell it: spearmint and cocoa from their earlier cups of hot chocolate. Were they going to kiss? Oh no. She was not ready to kiss. It was bound to ruin everything. Because kissing always led to sex, and then sex led to issues and worries and anxiety and oh fuck. Bernadette turned her face so she was no longer staring into Stevie’s beautiful eyes.
Bernadette was thankful the parade was almost over. She wondered what the quickest way out of this situation was, aside from throwing herself in front of a CTA bus. The stress she was feeling was sitting on top of her chest, right above her sternum, and it was getting heavier and heavier. She focused on breathing, on the last few notes of “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes,” and on the thought of how Stevie’s lips would feel pressed to hers.
And then she felt something grabbing her, turning her around, and pulling her into a hug. “Connie!” Bernadette’s heart went from beating for Stevie to lodging securely in her throat. What was she doing there? Connie hated crowds a hundred times more than Bernadette did. She pulled away from the hug so she could sign, “Hello, what are you doing here? Dave and the kids with you?”
Connie looked gorgeous with her blond curls cascading out of her cream-colored knit cap, which frustrated Bernadette to no end. She wanted so badly to one day be able to look at Connie and not have her breath taken away by her best friend’s beauty. She wanted to not be affected at all by her. For someone who would never give Bernadette what she truly longed for, Connie had a hold on her heart that simply would not dissipate. “They’re here. They’re over by the Apple Store. Why are you here? I thought you didn’t come to this anymore.”
She prayed Stevie wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t engage, because Connie never forgot a face. She would remember Stevie, remember the reading, remember warning Bernadette to not touch the clients. Then she would put two and two together, and that would be the end. Bernadette would have to admit she was wrong for engaging with a client, even though it was unavoidable, and in the end, Connie would come out on top. Connie always won because no one could compete with Connie. Ever. Bernadette wanted to believe it wasn’t a competition, and even if it was, Stevie would win. She’d always win. She was kind and wonderful and, oh yeah, she was a fucking lesbian. And Connie wasn’t. Never would be. But Connie wouldn’t let go of Bernadette’s heart, even if she didn’t realize she was squeezing the life right out of it.
But when Bernadette saw Connie’s eyes go wide, she knew Stevie had indeed turned around. And she was right. Connie remembered. Instantly.
“What are you doing?” Connie’s face was hard. If she had spoken, her voice would have been dripping with fury. “You know you cannot do this. You know it. What the hell are you doing?” When she signed hell, she made sure to smack her gloved hands together. “I am so disappointed in you.”
“Look,” she started as she looked over her shoulder at Stevie and gave her an apologetic glance before she turned back to Connie. “This is new. Very new. I kn
ow you don’t get it and think it’s wrong, but I didn’t do the reading. You did. Okay? Please. You cannot be mad at me.”
“You skewed everything about her reading. Everything.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal?” Connie’s movements were so big, her signs so succinct, and her lips were moving as she mouthed every word. “You know this is a big deal to me. This is me. This is my life, my livelihood, my passion. And it’s not a big deal?”
“Connie, stop,” Bernadette signed. She held her hands up and sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“You end it.” Connie backed up a couple steps and then added, “Right now.” And she turned and stormed off, taking Bernadette’s breath with her.
“What the fucking fuck was that about?”
Bernadette felt Stevie’s hand wrap around her bicep and squeeze. “I’m not supposed to see clients. It’s one of the laws of the tarot she subscribes to…”
“Oh.”
She heard the disappointment in Stevie’s voice and turned toward her. “No, stop. I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, I mean, I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” Bernadette said softly. “Get coffee with me. I’ll explain.”
* * *
Stevie sipped her caramel macchiato as they sat at a quiet table in the Starbucks on Michigan Avenue. The liquid was so hot she burned her tongue on the first sip, so she alternated between blowing to cool it off and sipping. Stevie was still surprised they’d walked in and found a seat right away. Normally, that particular Starbucks was packed late into the evening. She guessed there was something to be said about going to an event aimed at children. All the adults had to get home to put the kids to bed afterward. Definitely a plus.
Eyeing Bernadette over the top of her paper cup, Stevie was trying to not jump to any sort of conclusion after the conversation she observed between Bernadette and Constance. Clearly, there was a lot of tension between them. Stevie was no stranger to tension, especially sexual tension. And she was incredibly intuitive. She had a way of seeing things other people weren’t aware of or at least weren’t aware they were letting show. And now, after the entire exchange and the rapid sign language and Constance’s tiny puffs of air to accentuate words, Stevie was fairly positive she knew what was happening. But would Bernadette tell her? Especially as Stevie took in the way Bernadette’s body language had gone from open and willing to closed off and nervous. It was absurd how quickly the change happened. Stevie was never one to question why someone was comfortable in front of a crowd one minute and then horrible one-on-one the next. After all, being onstage doing improv at the theater was way easier than doing stand-up. She’d tried stand-up once and sweated herself into a tizzy. It was even harder than auditioning for SNL. At least for SNL she knew it was going to be nerve-racking. But stand-up? Fuck. She pitted-out her shirt and her pants. It was horrifying. Bernadette seemed completely at ease onstage in front of thousands of people but could rarely calm completely down in front of her.
