Citywide

by Santino Hassell

  For the next thirty minutes I sat in one of the large arm chairs in the living room and stared outside. We were supposed to be getting ready for a hike, and I was already trying to figure out how to get out of it. The idea of being stuck around everyone for an extended period while having to be “on,” as I was internally screaming, would make me want to dash myself down to the rocks.

  To prep for my inevitable plea to not go on the trek, I told Marisol that I wasn’t feeling well, and she didn’t press me too hard. The mood of everyone coming out of their meeting with Scott and Melanie was light, but I couldn’t focus enough to plan what I’d say. My thoughts were scattered, and I was frayed.

  All of this had been such a bad idea.

  I felt Angel’s eyes on me when I walked into the library to meet with Scott and Melanie, but I ignored him. Maybe that would be how I’d get through the next night and day.

  I schooled my face into calm neutrality and joined them at the circle of soft arm chairs and couches in the corner.

  “I think it’s great you guys are doing this,” I said. “It feels more valuable than a feedback ticket put in a box on your door.”

  “We want you to feel heard,” Melanie said. “It’s important to us that the staff here looks at Berger & DeFrancis as a home.”

  I nodded, looking between them. “Why?”

  They blinked at me. Scott flushed a bit, obviously not having prepared an answer to something that should seem obvious.

  “We value a consistent team,” Melanie said. “And we want to keep the team we have for the long run.”

  I nodded slowly, sitting up straighter. “That makes sense.”

  Melanie looked at me, waiting, like she knew I had a lot more to say.

  “I love working for you both,” I said, surprised at how honest it felt to say. “I love what you do—what we do—and every time one of our doctors gets their H1-B, or the rare time we get an O-1, I feel like I’ve accomplished something. And it feels good to believe I played a part in positively impacting someone’s future.”

  A slight smile danced on Scott’s face before he smoothed it away.

  “I know that sounds idealistic, but for me to have continued working in a place with such a low glass ceiling, those feelings were important to me.”

  Scott frowned. Melanie did not.

  “Why do you see it that way?” Scott asked finally, rumbling in his Long Island accent.

  “Because despite the praise I do get for my work—which I’ll add is important because other bosses I’ve had never acknowledged their employees . . .” I rolled the words around in my head, “it’s been made clear that my skill and work ethic won’t allow me to advance salary-wise, and that’s a difficult pill to swallow. So while I love the fact that you acknowledge our work, and you organized this trip, and your desire for longevity, I can’t really pay my bills with those things.”

  The words fell into the room and were met with a stilted silence. They looked at each other, then Scott said, “Thank you for letting us know.”

  For the second time, I wanted to Fucking. Scream.

  “I want to work here,” I said. “That wasn’t a subtle hint that I’m looking at other jobs, or a heads-up to start seeking a replacement. You wanted me to share my thoughts, and I did. And actually, I have more.”

  “By all means,” Scott drawled.

  I didn’t want to turn on him, but his tone was tipping me in that direction. “I can’t help but think that you’d be responding differently if it were Kip in here discussing this. And I trained him.” Inhaling through my nose and then exhaling slowly, I looked them square in the face and word vomited all over them. “I can’t help but wonder sometimes if you don’t consider my salary, or my hard work, as seriously as the people with spouses and families, because you assume a woman my age, who’s single, would be more willing to put up with being underpaid. Maybe you even assume that single women aren’t worth as much investment because we’re less tied down and therefore less predictable because you think we might pick up one day and relocate for some man once we get hitched. It’s partially why I said Angel and I were engaged.”

  At last, they responded with real emotion, even if it was nothing more than Scott looking at me sideways, and Melanie doing a double take.

  “So, you’re not . . .”

  “We’re involved,” I confirmed. “But I exaggerated because the culture in your firm is very geared toward men or married women with families, and I felt like I needed to belong to get ahead. And I want to get ahead here, which is why I made that choice.”

  Scott was looking like he’d just swallowed a handful of nails, but understanding had fallen over Melanie’s face like a curtain.

  “I’m sorry you felt that way, Stephanie,” she said. “You’d be considered an equal part of the team regardless of your relationship status or orientation.”

  It sounded like something straight out of an HR manual, but I knew Melanie. If she hadn’t meant it, she wouldn’t have said it at all. She’d just have denied, denied, denied.

  “We’ll be discussing raises as the busy season draws to a close,” Scott put in gruffly. “So don’t start looking for other jobs just yet.”

  “Like I said—I’m not.”

  A yet hung in the air, but I felt positive about the meeting once I walked out. I let the feeling, and my relief that my thoughts and desires were finally in the open, bolster me. Maybe I’d go on the hike after all.

  I packed a tent and a sleeping bag because I intended to spend the night in the campgrounds that ran along the trail instead of at the lodge. I’d already wanted to do it, but the desire had grown over the course of the afternoon. Regrets and bitter thoughts were running riot in my head, and I needed to clear them out. To be away from all the people, Kip and Dee especially, and maybe get some space from Stephanie.

  Except, of course, as soon as I planned to do it alone, I began imagining how dope it would be to lay out at night and look at the stars with her. To kiss her under the moonlight. Make love to her with no one around to leer at us the next day, because I was still mindful that these people were her coworkers. It wasn’t us fucking in one bed while T-Bone and Chris slept a few feet away on a cruise ship.

  We started out the hike not talking to each other, and attached ourselves to different groups to avoid even walking together. We didn’t go very far or hike for very long, but after a while, the feel of being outside and not forced into a room with a bunch of people eased my nerves. Everything uncluttered, and I replayed my conversation with Stephanie, and thought I’d been an asshole to get so uptight.

  It was plain as day to anyone that I adored her, and she’d likely been about to remind me that this was all an act. And you know what? She was right. It was some purely selfish shit to be resentful over my feelings expanding due to all the supposed playacting while hers didn’t. She didn’t owe me anything, and it was stupid to think this retreat would change her mind.

  My eyes drew to her as we walked, and the way she was staying off to the side instead of with the rest of her colleagues. She was unreadable, which was normal when Stephanie was in a bad mood. The first time I’d realized she was good at shielding herself that way had been when she’d come to my house for dinner when we were sixteen and had flatly told my mom that her own parents had left, and she didn’t know when or if they were coming back.

  My mother had freaked the hell out, and had even offered to let Stephanie stay with us instead of having an “aunt” look after them—a claim that was mad suspect since I’d thought her only functional relatives had moved away. There had been a fragment of a moment where Steph had looked at us in astonishment, and hope, before she’d realized my mother’s invitation had not extended to Victor. The shutters had slammed down on her expression again.

  The memory of her shutting down right before my eyes, and me being powerless, clung to me. It also prompted me to catch up with her quick, long-legged strides.

  “Hey.”

  She
glanced at me. “Hi.”

  “Can we talk a sec?”

  “About what?”

  I tried to smile. “How I acted like a dumb fuck?”

  Stephanie drew to a stop, letting the rest of the group get farther ahead of us. Only when their voices faded did she turn to me fully, her fingers wrapped around the straps of her book bag.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I got mad because you were about to remind me this was just a game, and I shouldn’t have.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, watching her watch me, and hoping her mask would crack. “And I said some fucked-up shit.”

  “Yeah, you did.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That little comment about how you’ll just stick to making me come or whatever? We don’t have to fuck anymore at all if you’re going to think and say shit like that. Don’t try to imply I’m using you for your glorious cock.”

  I cringed and looked away. “I’m sorry. Really. I never meant it that way. I was just being a little bitch.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t answer my question. Do you feel that I’m just using you for dick, and that is hurtful? Because if so, we can one hundred percent go back to being strictly friends.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Angel.” Stephanie grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Stop trying to act like some prince, always making it about me and my wishes and you pleasing me whether it’s in bed or otherwise. I want to know what you want.”

  I sighed slowly, but didn’t pull my face away from her tightening grasp. “Stephanie, sometimes I would rather be single for the rest of my life if it meant I’d still get to touch you even once a month. There has never been anyone for me but you, anyway. Every woman I was ever with knew that. Even in high school.” Her hand dropped. I didn’t look away. “I know that makes me sound like a loser, because it’s been so long and I’m no closer to getting over you.”

  She didn’t immediately respond, and I swore softly under my breath.

  “This is why I keep my mouth shut. It just turns into me dropping some desperate shit on you, and making you feel all pressured. I don’t mean to do it, but you have to understand, nena, I’ve loved you forever. I know you don’t feel the same way, and I’m not mad about it. Fuck, sometimes I wish I’d fall for someone else just so this could—”

  Stephanie grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me into a kiss. I didn’t think twice before slanting my mouth and deepening it. Maybe a day would come when this desperate ache for her would fade, and I wouldn’t rush into trying to satisfy it so constantly, but that wasn’t today. During times like this, I didn’t think I would ever stop needing her. Even after all these years.

  “Angel,” she said, pulling away just enough to breathe against my mouth. “I meant what I said that day. Three years ago in August.”

  I pulled back farther, searching her face. “We said a lot of things that day.”

  “I know. But I said I loved you, and at the time I didn’t mean it romantically, but . . .” She dropped her gaze to the ground between us, hands balling into fists. “I do love you. For the past year, I felt like I couldn’t admit it to myself without feeling like I was betraying my principles. But I do. And that’s me being honest.”

  There was an unspoken challenge in her voice, a now it’s your turn to be honest, but I could barely process it. I was too busy struggling with her confession. The idea of her loving me the way I loved her. Of what that could mean but might not mean, because of course my fucked-up brain was immediately cycling things through the gray scale of cynicism.

  I took a deep breath, put my hands on her shoulders, and said, “Anything I say right now is going to be over-the-top mush that might scare you off this fucking hike, so . . . how do you feel about camping with me tonight? Just us with no one to witness our conversation but the moon and stars.”

  Stephanie’s gaze shot up to me again, and she barked out a laugh. “God, you are ridiculously romantic sometimes. You’ll make some girl really happy someday.”

  After only a second of hesitating, I grabbed her hand and started walking again. “Maybe someday it will be you.”

  As we finished the rest of the hike with the group, walking close enough to occasionally bump each other but otherwise quiet, I became terrified. Regardless of the burst of bravado-infused affection that had inspired me to tell Angel about my feelings, there was still part of me cowering.

  It wasn’t that I regretted telling him the truth. What I regretted was opening Pandora’s box of emotional discussions without an idea of what I wanted from him. Because that was what confessions were all about—one person vomiting up their feelings to another person in the hopes that their feelings would be met with a specific response. Why else would anyone fling those words into the air like emotional confetti? But I had no idea what I wanted from him. I wasn’t even prepared for a conversation past what we’d already talked about. He was in a great mood, but I was as conflicted as ever. It would have been wiser to stay quiet, but his sweet confessions had drawn out one of my own.

  And I truly did love him. So fucking much.

  I glanced at him repeatedly as we walked, but he just flashed me a smile or poked me in the side. As if everything was normal. Except it wasn’t. My mind was spinning, my heart pounding, and I had no idea what I was going to say during our campout. Not only because I wasn’t set up for this, but because I hated camping.

  By the time the rest of my coworkers returned to the lodge and Angel and I made camp alongside one of the tiny peninsulas dipping into the lake, the cooling air blowing off the water had marginally calmed me down. It helped that Angel didn’t dive into the relationship topic as soon as we were alone. He was more interested in meticulously arranging the tent, the one blanket and sleeping bag he’d brought along, and the minor provisions.

  “I can’t believe you know how to camp,” I said, watching him build a little fire. “Were you a Fresh Air Fund kid?”

  “No. I watch a lot of Survivorman.” Angel sat in front of the tent, facing the fire, as the sun continued to sink below the horizon. “I don’t really like animals and nature, but I like being alone. You don’t get much more alone than when camping.”

  I pointed across the lake where I could see dozens of people frolicking. “Not so alone.”

  “Yeah, wise ass, but they’re tiny specks in the distance and not here talking my ear off.” Angel gave me a wry look. “We can go back if you don’t want to do this.”

  “Who says I don’t want to?” I plopped down next to him in front of the tent. “I’m outdoorsy when necessary,” I informed him when he snorted. “It’s just usually not necessary.”

  “Smoking pot at Baisley Park doesn’t really count.”

  “Ha ha.” I swiped his little bag of goodies, and a grin swept across my face like a brisk wind. “You were going to make s’mores by yourself?”

  “Fuck yeah. That’s comfort food right there. I used to make them on the stove when I was little.”

  I could so easily picture mini Angelito standing at the stove, glaring at a burner and trying to figure out how to melt the chocolate without burning himself. I bet he’d have taken it so seriously.

  “You’re adorable sometimes,” I said.

  Angel snagged the bag and pulled out the graham crackers. “What am I all the other times?”

  “Somewhere between a pain in the ass and a sexy bastard.” I removed the rest of the ingredients. “Do you think it’s too hot for s’mores?”

  “Don’t be closed-minded.”

  Man, he was taking this seriously. It was charming enough for my fear to dial back a little more, and I was able to relax. With my legs stretched out in front of me, a cool breeze blowing my hair away from my face, and the sky turning purple and orange the farther the sun sunk, it was perfect.

  “Jerky, cheese, and water for dinner, with s’mores as dessert.” Angel shot me an apologetic glance. “Not very gourmet.”

  “Angel, we’re gonna be here for
one night. We’ll be fine. I’ll gorge on graham crackers and marshmallows.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Angel shoved a long stick of jerky at me and stretched out on the ground, leaning on his forearms as he stared across the lake. The breeze whipped his dark-blond hair around, tangling it and sometimes covering his eyes. I itched to smooth it away or tie it back in a small knot, but settled for watching. He was so serious as he contemplated the water and the families in the distance. Was he thinking about going for a swim or had his thoughts drifted completely away? There was no way to know, but I wished I could read his mind.

  “So we gonna talk about this?”

  The question jolted me. Apparently telepathy was unneeded tonight.

  I ripped off a tough piece of jerky, chewing with difficulty, and looked out at the water myself. “We can talk.”

  “You said you wanted honesty.”

  Nodding, I said, “I did. I do.”

  “Cool.” Angel shifted his attention from the water to my profile. I could see his intense gaze in my peripheral vision. “Then I honestly want to know what changed your mind.”

  The chunk of jerky caught in my throat, but I swallowed noisily. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’ve been saying you wanted to be friends with benefits for months. Saying you prefer it to anything else. Never once did you admit to having feelings for me besides friendship or sexual attraction. I thought you didn’t like me in that way. Or . . .” When I raised my eyebrows, a sheepish expression crossed his face. “There were times when I did think you felt the same way I did, but you’d always pull back. I wondered if you didn’t want to be in a relationship with a guy.”

  My jaw nearly dropped. “What the hell? What does that have to do with anything?”