by Erin Zak
Stevie couldn’t feel her legs. Or her arms. Did she even have them any longer?
Josie handed the margarita back and motioned toward Josh, who was now completely engaged in conversation with Mikayla. When Josie leaned in, she placed her hand, palm side down, on the table and smiled. “Don’t go there with him. His thing is to hit on all the newbies. Not that you aren’t cute enough, but take it from me—it’s not worth it.”
“I won’t. I promise.” The sound of her own voice shocked Stevie. Apparently, she wasn’t completely paralyzed.
“She speaks!”
Stevie blushed.
“And blushes,” Josie said, her hand still flat on the table, her other hand now on the back of Stevie’s chair. “You’re adorable. I think we should be friends. I’ll take care of you. I won’t let these dickheads mess around with you.”
Jesus Christ. Was she being hit on by Josie Bell? “Okay,” Stevie whispered as the thought continued to roll around in her head.
“I’m not hitting on you.” Josie smiled. “I like to take care of certain newbies, especially when we come from the same place.”
“Oh, thank God.” Stevie watched Josie’s eyebrows rise, and she immediately felt like an asshole. “Wait—no. That’s not what I mean. I just…you’re Josie Bell. And you’re gorgeous. And I’ve been crushing on you since I was eighteen.”
“Oh, really? Eighteen, eh?” Josie laughed. “I’m so old.”
“No way.” Stevie leaned closer to Josie. “You’re what? Thirty-one?” The laugh bubbling from Josie’s mouth was wonderful. With each passing moment, Stevie tried to focus more and more on letting go of the uneasiness that had plagued her since the moment she got the phone call from the casting director. It wasn’t working. At all. But she was at least trying her hardest. She felt as if it was, at the very least, a mark in the win column.
“You are too kind, kiddo. Try adding about seven years.” Josie moved her hair behind her ears and glanced around the table at the other cast members and writers. “Let me tell you a secret. You listening?” She glanced at Stevie and then seemed to focus on the glass of water in front of her. “You’re never going to get over the fact that you’ve made it big. It’ll never get old. And it’ll never lose its luster. I can promise you.” She paused, visibly breathed in through her nose, held it for a beat before letting it out, and finished with, “But if you can’t settle into it a little, you’re going to be miserable forever.”
The feeling of guilt mixed with regret flooded Stevie’s body. Here she was, getting the chance of a lifetime, and all she could think about was how miserable she was. How much she missed Chicago. How much she missed Bernadette’s laugh, her smile, her hands…her lips…the way she tasted and smelled. The more time that passed after the horrible airport good-bye, the more she hated that she’d left Bernadette and chosen her stupid career over a lifetime of happiness and love. She should have stayed. She should have never even considered leaving. Instead, she didn’t listen to her gut. She got on the damn plane and had been miserable ever since. The embarrassment she felt about being unhappy when a million other people would kill for the opportunity was consuming. She struggled every single second of the day. She sighed and tried to gather her thoughts, but the only thing she could come up with was, “It’s that obvious?”
Josie turned, shrugged, and gave Stevie half a smile. “I saw your audition tapes. You have a lot of talent, kid.”
Stevie could hear the uncertainty, so she smiled and asked, “But?”
“But you’ve got something going on, don’t you?” Josie moved her hand in a nonchalant way as she motioned from Stevie’s head all the way down to her toes. “You’ve been stutter-stepping since you got here. You’re unsure. And scared, which was not at all how you were when you auditioned. Twice. So you gotta let it go, get over it, or figure it out. Because if you don’t or you start thinking about going back home…” Josie paused and straightened, pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Admitting defeat?” The way she said those words made Stevie think maybe she was again speaking from past experiences. “You’re going to hate yourself for the rest of your life.”
“Who talked you out of leaving?” Stevie asked as she tilted her head and continued to watch Josie’s reactions.
“Maya Rudolph.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Maya fucking Rudolph had a come-to-Jesus meeting with you?”
“She sure the fuck did.”
“No way.” Stevie shook her head while she chuckled. “How the hell did you respond?”
Josie shrugged. “I said okay, and I got my act together.”
“Wow.”
“Look,” Josie said as she situated herself in her chair so she was fully facing Stevie. “Your life will never be the same after this special airs on New Year’s Eve. Never. You will be recognized everywhere you go. As the season progresses, you will say good-bye to any shred of privacy you thought you had. You’re going to be famous. Do you understand?”
Stevie was frozen in place as Josie stared at her, expecting an answer Stevie was not prepared to give.
“Don’t tell me that isn’t what you’ve wanted since the moment you snuck out of bed late on a Saturday night to watch these people.” Josie’s expression softened. “I want you to be great. I want you to not ever look back.”
“Why, though? You don’t even know me. What if you end up hating me?”
“Ha!” Josie smacked her knee. “You are me, my dear. And if I can survive and flourish, you can, too. And also”—she stopped and leaned super close to Stevie, so close Stevie could smell her perfume over the scent of tacos and tortilla chips—“I’m leaving at the end of this season. No one knows yet. Well, Lorne does. But that’s it. And truthfully? I was asked, by Lorne himself, if I would groom you. So…”
“Are you serious?”
Josie nodded and reached for a chip. She piled it high with guacamole and shoved it into her mouth. “It’s good, but dammit, it’s nowhere near as good as Mercadito.”
* * *
There was a huge part of Bernadette that wanted to say no when Connie asked via text if they could meet and talk. She only said okay because she needed closure. She’d also made a promise to Rosie she still hadn’t honored, so might as well kill two birds with one stone. Bernadette was sort of enjoying her life the past few days without Connie constantly running around her mind. It was weird how freeing getting her heart broken by Stevie had been. What else she was going to discover about herself in the wake of the heartache?
When the old-fashioned was delivered to Bernadette as she sat at the bar waiting for Connie, she took a deep breath and let it go slowly. She was trying to branch out, try new things, embrace the side of her Stevie so easily uncovered. So far, walking on the slightly wilder side was working. She picked the drink up from the bar and swirled the liquor in the tumbler. She couldn’t help but remember the amazing bourbon Stevie had given her, and a lump started to form in her throat. Bernadette hated how much she missed Stevie. The ache inside her was leaving a hollow space. Bernadette hoped one day her heart would inhabit that space once again. It hadn’t happened yet.
After the first sip burned her tongue and her throat, she took another to dull the pain. The drink was way better than she thought it was going to be, so she raised the glass at the bartender, and he gave her a thumbs-up from the opposite end of the bar. He was a complete hipster millennial and oddly very attractive, so Bernadette kept a bit of her flirtatious side showing, just in case she decided to swing the other way for a night. She always had a thing for the young ones, though. The young ones were the ones she used to carelessly fuck in order to not get attached. Unfortunately, the last young one broke her heart instead of the other way around. Maybe it was time to try to settle down, find someone older to build a life with.
Stevie’s age was never the problem, though, was it? Bernadette took another sip of her drink and let it burn the entire way down.
It was only a matter of time before she broke down and reached out to Stevie. She was dying to know how she was, how things were going, if Stevie missed her like she missed Stevie.
As an earthquake of emotion started to shake inside her, she felt a hand land on her shoulder and squeeze. She knew who it was, but as she looked over at Connie, she felt the barely burning embers of love start to come to life. Connie looked incredible. Her hair was straightened, her makeup was nowhere near as heavy as normal, and she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a cardigan. How was she going to ever have closure if barely looking at Connie made her feel like this?
“Vodka tonic with a lime,” Connie said to the bartender. Bernadette was impressed that Connie didn’t rely on her to order the drink. But her cockiness returned as she signed, “I need you back at the shop. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Connie’s self-absorbed attitude was all Bernadette needed to throw water on the smoldering embers. “I’m not coming back. I told you that already.”
“This new interpreter is killing business.”
Bernadette rolled her eyes. Of course that was the real reason Connie wanted to talk. “You’re ridiculous.” Bernadette shook her head slowly. “That was it? That was all you wanted?”
“No.” Connie paused. She looked as if she was gathering her thoughts, but Connie rarely thought before she communicated, so it didn’t make sense. “I miss you.”
Connie missing her was not enough to change her mind. “No, you don’t. You miss being able to control the entire situation.”
“Not true. I feel more comfortable with you near me, which has always been the case. You know it just as well as I do.”
“I can’t come back and continue to put my love life on hold because you’re jealous of me spending time with other people.”
Connie looked hurt, but Bernadette didn’t care. “Is this all because of the client you were seeing?” Connie wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow.
“Admit that you were jealous. Because you know it wasn’t only about me breaking your stupid rule.”
“I am not admitting anything.”
“Of course not.” Bernadette flipped both hands. “Brush everything under the fucking rug.”
“What do you want me to say?” Connie looked over each shoulder before she shrugged. “Yes, I am jealous.” Her signs were passionate. She was clearly not happy about being called out. “I’m jealous that you’ll leave me, and I’ll be left alone with a husband who still struggles with ASL and two grown kids, one of whom hates me because I won’t let her go to the school she wants to go to. So, yes, I’m jealous and scared.” Connie’s shoulders slumped, and she looked as if she was going to cry, which, truth be told, scared the hell out of Bernadette.
“I have put every single relationship on the back burner when it comes to you. And most of those relationships never had a chance of surviving like that.” She took a deep breath. Clean break. Closure. “Are you ever going to leave your marriage for me?” She watched Connie, her stoic expression, her green eyes, her inability to give a straight answer. “That’s what I’ve always wanted. And please don’t act as if you’ve had no idea. I’m too tired to accept the lies.” Again, Connie sat completely still. Eyes locked onto Bernadette. “You need to let me go so I can get past you because you are never going to be able to give me what I want.”
Connie’s chin was quivering. “Okay.” Her eyes were welling with tears, but instead of crying, she turned away from Bernadette, faced the bar, and took a sip of her beverage.
Bernadette was struggling with the feeling of relief as well as wanting to smack Connie. Why was she so fucking dramatic? She reached over, put her hand on Connie’s arm, and when she looked over, Bernadette smiled and signed, “Rosie is absolutely going to NYC. So you need to get on board.”
Connie’s very audible sigh was a good sign. “I know.”
“She’s going to be an amazing author. You need to let go and let her fly.”
“So I’m supposed to lose you and also lose Rosie?” Her signs weren’t coming with as much fervor, which could only mean one thing—she was getting ready to get up and leave if Bernadette didn’t change her tune. The number of times she had seen this exact reaction was ridiculous. The only benefit was she could pinpoint with surprising accuracy what Connie’s next move would be. Anger, followed by denial, then drama, and finally pity.
Bernadette dropped her hands to her lap before she finally responded with, “Maybe if you didn’t hold on so tight, you wouldn’t be so afraid.” And just like that, as if she had blocked the entire stage direction of the scene, Connie pushed her stool away from the bar. Normally, she would let Connie win. But this time, she grabbed Connie’s arm and squeezed it. “No,” she said forcefully, out loud, and at a high enough volume the entire line of customers at the bar looked. “Not this time. You’re not leaving.” She was floored after she watched the range of emotions travel across Connie’s face when she didn’t stand up and leave. She situated herself back on the stool, folded her arms across her chest, and glared straight ahead. All Bernadette could do was roll her eyes. Connie was being ridiculous. And thankfully, the bartender approached them and motioned toward their drinks. Bernadette eagerly nodded and watched as Connie also nodded her response.
After the second round was delivered, Bernadette grabbed the sides of Connie’s stool and swiveled her so they were looking at each other. “Look. You know I like Stevie.”
“No. You love Stevie,” Connie signed while rolling her eyes.
“You’re right.” And Connie’s eyes snapped to Bernadette’s with her confession. “But your stupid sight-of-the-future bullshit was right, and I couldn’t let go of everything—with you, with my mom—and she’s gone. And I miss her terribly.”
“Are you going to always put my happiness before your own?”
Bernadette’s spine stiffened as she let the words wash over her. Did Connie really say that? To her? She opened her mouth to say something, then remembered she needed to sign it but had no idea what she even wanted to say, so she closed her mouth.
“You aren’t arguing with me now because you know I’m right,” Connie signed.
“You’re not right.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Okay, fine. You’re right.” Bernadette shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That I’ve been in love with you for years? Since high school? Since college? Since last week?” Bernadette sighed. “Since forever.” She watched Connie. She wasn’t surprised. At all. Which meant Bernadette spent the last thirty-five years hiding a secret which was never really a secret, and she instantly felt like the biggest idiot in the history of idiots. “Motherfucker,” she mumbled under her breath. “So? Now what?”
“Well, since I’m never leaving my family, ever, I think it’s time we maybe go our separate ways.” Connie’s hands rested in her lap for one beat, two, three. “You need to figure yourself out. Finally.”
“So that’s it?”
“Yeah,” Connie said softly. She reached over, placed her hand on Bernadette’s arm, and squeezed. “I love you, too.”
She wanted to crawl under the nearest table, curl into the fetal position, and fade away into oblivion. She was embarrassed, devastatingly so, but she was even more upset with herself for letting this whole thing get so out of hand. She closed her eyes and thought of all the times she’d passed up happiness because of Connie, because of her mom, because of her stupid inability to let go and let life take over. All the things she missed, all the good times, all the fun, and—holy shit!—all the sex.
“Can I make a suggestion?”
She looked up at the sound of Connie’s voice.
“Start living your life for you.”
If only it was that easy. Bernadette wanted to laugh because of course she should start living her life. But after years and years of putting other people’s happiness before her own, how was she going to start doing it?
Chapter Twenty-three
“What
a great suggestion. I was craving pizza.”
Harper grinned at Bernadette from across the table at Pequod’s. She looked so small in the booth all by herself. So different from the day Bernadette brought her there with Stevie. “I had so much fun with you and Stevie at the museum. Then you said we could hang out again. Like adults.”
Bernadette laughed. “I am an adult.”
“I know, but I’m not, so it’s super cool.”
“Well, I’m glad I gave you my number. And that you have a brand new iPhone to text from. How exciting.”
Harper pulled her phone from her tiny Coach purse, also a Christmas gift, and smoothed her hand over the screen. “Yeah, Santa was so good to me this year.” She leaned forward, her curls bouncing like springs, excitement on her face. “Also, I found out Santa is actually my parents. But don’t tell them I know. I think it’s fun to watch them get all weird about it. Like, of course I know.”
Bernadette couldn’t help but smile. “Oh? They don’t know you know?”
“Oh, please,” Harper said as she waved her hand in the air. “So, I have a question, Bernadette.”
She was hesitant, but Harper’s big eyes locked on hers, and she didn’t have a leg to stand on. “Okay…”
“Have you talked to Stevie?”
Sigh. She knew that question was going to be asked eventually, but she was hoping Harper would forget their common thread was Stevie. “No, not for a few days.”
“I have another question.”
Oh God.
“Are you two like, lesbians, or whatever?”
She swallowed because that was exactly what she thought Harper was going to ask.
Harper was fidgeting with the wrapper from her straw, wrapping it around her finger as tightly as possible. “I mean, my best guy friend Aiden has lesbian moms. They’re pretty cool, too. I got to meet them at his birthday party over the summer. And I think Stevie is one because she never has a boyfriend or anything. She never told me or whatever, but I feel like maybe that’s what she is.” Harper shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me. I can ask her, but she’s gone, and I don’t want to call her every day like I’ve been doing. She’s going to get sick of me.”
