by Anna Cove
Lena came close and took my hand, bringing it into hers. She rubbed it, warming the top of my hand. "I was wrong. That was unacceptable and abusive, and I promise I'll never do it again."
She seemed sincere, but so had all the other women I'd dated, women similar to Lena. There must have been something broken inside of me that made me a target for these women. Something that screamed—I hate myself, feel free to hate me too. Was there someone out there who would actually treat me well? Was there? Admittedly, none of them had ever called themselves abusive. They'd laughed it off or said they were just kidding. Lena was a new animal, maybe not a pink elephant at all, and I wasn't quite sure how to handle her.
"I have feelings for you." The lines around Lena's mouth deepened. "I'm admitting it to you because denying it is stupid now. I obviously have feelings for you. Many, many feelings."
"Not all of them good," I said, dazed.
"Not all of them. Some of them involve you naked writhing under me." Lena brought my hands to her lips. "Let's forget all that business of being friends. Friends don't have sex like us. I want to do it again. Properly. With dates."
She pulled me close and pressed a tentative kiss to my lips.
A tiny fire sparked deep within me and I knew if I fanned those flames, even a little, I could make love to her. I could get myself there.
But the effort seemed too daunting in that moment.
"I'm sorry." I clasped my hands between us, forming a barrier between our hearts. "I—uh—I've got to clean up and help Aunt Helen today. Without me at the shop she's really been struggling, and she's not as young as she used to be."
Lena nodded, though she wasn't dumb. The excuse was flimsy. I was supposed to spend all day at the festival and she knew that.
"I hope you'll forgive me," she said.
I closed the door behind me without saying another word.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LENA
That wasn't me.
The things that came out of my mouth when arguing with Alice were from the old Lena. The bitter and depressed Lena. The Lena who couldn't do anything right with anyone she dated. I'd seen her before during my time with Tara. I should have known better. Alice had been so hurt. Why had I done that? Why had I said those words?
From Saturday night on, I didn't leave the house. I crawled into the dusty twenty-year-old mattress I'd been using and stared at the wall.
I spent the weekend like that.
Monday passed.
Tuesday, my phone rang, pulling me from the poisonous fog for a moment. I checked the screen. Tara. Nope. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. Two texts came through, one after the other. My phone beeped. Then beeped again. It would beep until I checked, so I brought up the screen of my phone.
Need more money, Lena. Please send soon.
Nope.
I stretched, slipping my phone under my pillow, then curled up in a ball.
The doorbell rang.
What is up with these people today?
Groaning, I slammed the pillow over my head to block it all out.
Then there was light. The pillow vanished from my face. "Are you ill?"
I rolled over, feeling a little like the air was molasses. At the sight of Alice, all done up with her hands on her hips, I scrambled to sit up. Shit. "No—I. I had no idea you were coming today."
"How long have you been in here?"
My stomach growled in response. I'd barely left the room since Saturday. I shoved a hand through my greaseball of hair. "Not long. I... I couldn't sleep well last night. I wanted to tell you..."
I shoved my legs out of the bed, stumbling as I stood on weakened legs.
Alice closed her eyes. "Why don't you shower, and I'll make you some breakfast and we can talk, okay?"
"I'm sorry," I said, the words escaping.
"Shower and we'll talk." Alice turned, and her heels clicked aggressively on the floor as she left the room.
In the light of day, I saw the terrible state of my room. I couldn't smell, but it probably smelled musty. She had seen me like this. I scrambled to pick up my discarded clothing, to fold it, as if I would have another chance to show her I wasn't a complete slob. I made the bed, too, though I would have to change the sheets after this weekend. Then I showered as quickly as I could, scrubbing my skin.
When I emerged, the smell of bacon soaked the air.
I dressed quickly and went downstairs and into the kitchen. Alice set a plate of eggs and bacon and fruit salad in front of me without making eye contact.
Though I was starving, I placed my hands on either side of the plate. "I need to apologize for what happened the other night."
Alice set her plate down opposite me and took a seat. Her makeup completely covered the adorable freckles over the bridge of her nose, the orange-pink of her lips. She moved slowly, shifting the fork so it was straight. "Go ahead."
"I should never have called you a whore. That was completely out of line. I'm sorry."
"Thank you." Alice picked up her fork and took a dainty bite. She chewed for a long time, long past what was required for a bite of scrambled eggs and swallowed.
My chest compressed with fear. "Do you forgive me?"
"Yes." She took another bite, so slowly, and swallowed. She pointed at my food with her fork. "You better eat, or your food will get cold."
I picked up my fork, keeping watch on her slow movements. "So, we're okay."
"Of course." She brought her eyes to me and pasted on one of her wooden smiles. "Everyone makes mistakes. Plus, it was partially my fault for baiting you. I was trying to find out if you liked me. I guess I found the answer."
Rather than making me feel better, this comment, this forgiveness, made me feel worse. What did she think I felt about her? Did she think I actually believed her a whore? Shit. I had royally screwed this one up. "I think you're wonderful," I said.
Alice stood, picked up her plate and mine, and threw them into the sink, food and all. She wiped her hands together. "Why don't we get to work? I don't know about you, but I'm way behind where I want to be."
"Alice, I..."
But it was no use. She left the kitchen. I took a moment to compose myself before I followed her out through the dining room and into the sitting room where she had left off. "Alice, I think we should talk about this some more."
"There's nothing to talk about." Alice leaned over and pulled a notebook from her basket. "I've forgiven you."
"But you can barely look at me."
She swiveled her head, standing, glaring at me. Then she returned to her basket and pulled out a pen. How could I ask her forgiveness if she wouldn't listen to me? I'd been more straightforward with her than anyone I'd ever dated. I apologized. I'd laid myself out there. What more could I do?
For now, I followed Alice's lead. I retrieved my laptop from the room upstairs and set to work at her side. Truly, I didn't work, I watched her. She didn't seem to be having as much trouble as me. She didn't stare off, she just did her thing. Who would have thought that it was me who couldn't keep things casual?
"Alice," I said, "I really want to talk—"
"I really don't. I've got work to do."
"Please, Alice. I want us to be okay."
"We're fine."
"No. We're not." As soon as I snapped the words, my chest tightened. I closed the top of my laptop, knowing what I had to do next. Knowing what would happen if I stayed here for one more minute. "I've got to go to San Francisco for a couple of weeks. We have a meeting with an investor for the app, and I really need to make sure all is well there. Can you hold down the fort while I'm gone?"
Alice stopped and blinked. "Yeah," she said on a whisper.
"I'll come back. I promise."
"Sure." Alice shrugged one shoulder tensely.
I nodded and set off upstairs to pack. Space. That's what I needed. Space. Maybe it would be enough to stop the downward spiral.
...
ALICE
I hadn't told anyone about the fight between me and Lena, not Timothy, Kieran, and Dorothy when they stopped by. I didn't even tell Aunt Helen. It felt like something that was ours, that was part of our intimacy.
For two days, I let myself be angry. I let myself rage at her, at what she'd done to me. She'd made me feel like trash. On the third day, I pulled myself back together and headed to work.
It didn't go well.
I'd wanted to yell at her, but Lena had been living in her own private hell. When she'd started apologizing, I found myself getting angry at her for not letting me get angry at her. Yeah, it was that ridiculous.
I held my breath for almost the whole stay until she had said she would go back to San Francisco, then it all came out in a whoosh.
Relief.
That was the overwhelming feeling on hearing the news.
Who experienced relief when the person they were supposedly falling for left? Clearly, I needed to figure something out. So, Tuesday night, as Lena flew across the country, I sat on my bed, staring at myself in the mirror.
"Do you love Lena?" I asked my reflection.
I could. The answer surfaced as if coming from someone else rather than inside me.
"What are you going to do about that?"
This time the answer didn't come so easily. This was a bit more complicated. I wasn't stupid. I knew I had been cold with Lena. I had put her off when she'd tried to apologize. At the time, I just couldn't handle it. Now, she was leaving.
At that, a thought did arise. I already miss her.
Crap.
I couldn't let this happen again. I couldn't put myself in a situation where I let someone abuse me and convince me I wasn't worthy enough. Aunt Helen was right. This was something that happened to me when I lost myself in love. I was older now. I couldn't let myself do that.
I stood and walked toward my reflection in the mirror. Then I took a sharp right and found my notebook. My pen had somehow gone missing—it always went missing when I needed it—so I took an old lipstick and the piece of paper and went to my bureau.
I wanted Lena.
But I wanted myself, too.
There was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt I'd seen on Facebook once that had stuck in my mind. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
I scribbled it on a piece of paper and tucked it into the frame of the mirror.
Then I stepped back and regarded my reflection.
I sighed, reading the message over and over until I almost believed it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LENA
By the time I returned to our offices, I'd gotten a handle on my situation. It was nothing a three-hour plane ride couldn't fix. Already, I'd benefited from the space from Alice. I felt calmer. Clearer. Ready to take my time here in San Francisco and return to Gardner when I was ready.
When I arrived at the office, no one was there. I used my key to open the door and walked inside. It smelled the same as it always had, musty smothered with cranberry candle scent.
It was the middle of the day on Tuesday. I'd expected someone to be here, Tara, at least. Or our assistant, though I'd told Tara to let her go. The remaining offices were empty. Someday, maybe, to be filled.
I strolled to Tara's desk and scanned the calendar on the wall. Meeting inv Salata, 1PM.
Meeting... investor? Salata was a small Italian restaurant in town. Tara's favorite.
I let the bag slip from my shoulder and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I dialed Tara, but it went straight to voicemail. How many times did I tell her I wanted to be at these meetings? Had she even alerted me to this one?
The clock on the wall read 1:36 PM—I could still make it to Salata in time for the meeting if I hurried.
Traffic wasn't bad at this time in the afternoon, and I made it to the restaurant in thirty minutes. When I arrived, I took a moment to arrange my hair in the rear-view mirror. A pang struck me then. Alice. Alice.
No. I couldn't think of her. Not now. Not when Tara was taking another meeting behind my back.
I let my anger build, keeping my face blank, as I walked into the restaurant. When I entered, the hostess smiled.
"Just one today?"
I strained to look over her shoulder. "I'm meeting someone here. There she is."
I gave the hostess a reassuring smile and set off toward Tara and a woman. I couldn't see the woman's face. She had a mane of curly short gray hair. Tara was so involved in conversation she didn't notice me charging toward them. She didn't see me until I appeared next to the table, and the look of surprise on her face was so satisfying I wished I could bottle it up and keep it on a shelf somewhere.
"Hi—hello. I'm sorry I'm late. I'm Lena Luck. I'm Tara's partner for this project." I held out my hand to the woman, who looked vaguely familiar.
She took my hand, glancing at Tara, who gave her a little shrug, like they knew each other and had a secret language. "I'm Sarah Huck."
There it was. That's why I recognized her. Sarah Huck was the wife of one of the only openly gay senators in California and an heiress in her own right.
That sly... "Tara, do you mind if we talk for a moment?"
"Sure." Tara's silky hair slipped off her shoulder as she rose from her seat. She turned to Sarah. "We'll be right back. Feel free to continue eating."
Sarah's eyes darted between us, but she nodded.
I grabbed Tara's wrist and dragged her into the restaurant bathroom, the only place we could get out of sight. "What the hell?"
"I'm taking a meeting."
"Without me. Didn't we talk about this?"
Tara lifted her chin. "Yes. But this is my job. This is why we partnered. I handle the people, you handle the background."
"Except you proved untrustworthy."
"Do you mind lowering your voice?" Unlike the many times we'd fought before, Tara managed to keep her voice level and unaffected by emotion.
I swallowed to stop myself from saying something rude in response. It wouldn't help. I had to keep my cool. "How did you get a meeting with her?"
"I have some connections, some friends."
I nodded, then started shaking my head. "Seriously, Tara, what are you thinking? You can't even explain how the interface works."
"That's not necessary here. We need to make them—"
"Of course, it's necessary. They need to know how the app will function."
"You're going to have to start trusting me again."
"How can I trust you when you keep going behind my back?"
"This will only work when you have more than one person on the project. You can't do everything, Lena."
Yes, but I had to do everything, precisely because of moves like this. "You have to include me in these decisions. What if her support comes with strings? What if she wants something politically?"
"With a fitness tracking app?"
"It's a habit app," I said through my teeth. "This is why you should wait for me. You don't even know what the fucking app is."
"Of course I do. It was my idea."
"But I put it into practice. I made it real. You couldn't have put it together if someone held a gun to your head."
Tara dragged in three long breaths. Her hand trembled as she tucked a long strand of her blond hair behind an ear.
"Your looks won't get you everything," I said. I recognized this was out of left field, but, damn, she thought she could get all trembly and I would crumble. I wouldn't.
"You know what? I don't have to listen to this." Tara turned toward the door then flung back to me. Her fists clenched at her sides. "We have an investor outside who is interested in funding our app and you're making her wait because you want to do it yourself? I know you can't trust me personally, but this is business. We have to present a unified front to close this deal. You need to trust me on this."
"I don't," I said. She needed to hear the truth. "That's the problem."
"Could you at least pretend?" Tara said, tears gathering in her eyes.
>
"What's the point?"
"Because you loved me once."
"Ha." I crossed my arms. "That was before you cheated on me. That was before you dropped me like hotcakes after we decided to try and work it out. That was before you blackmailed me into keeping you as my business partner. You know what? I don't care anymore. I'm done. I don't even care what you tell people about me. I'm not going to deal with this any longer. Get out of here, Tara. Go."
Tara opened her palms to face me. "You pushed me to all that. I quit my job for you. I gave up everything for you and still you never trusted me. You treated me like a criminal even before I had offended."
"Get out," I said.
Tara's lip trembled. "You're making a mistake."
"The only mistake I made was thinking I could go into business with you."
"Is that what you really think?"
I shrugged.
Tara opened the door and slammed it behind her.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Then I splashed my face with water. Once all the trembling anger had disappeared I walked back into the restaurant to find Sarah sitting at the table, typing something into her phone.
I took Tara's empty seat.
Sarah set her phone face up on the table.
"Let me tell you a bit about our habit tracker," I said.
"I'm going to stop you right there. I'm sorry, but I can't support you."
"But you haven't heard my pitch."
"I heard plenty. The walls of this place must be made of tissue because I heard just about everything you two said. And I'm sorry, I can't support a business that doesn't respect women."
Sarah stood.
I stood. "The business is run by women. We have women coders. I don't see how that's not supporting women."
"You. I heard what you said..."
"We have a history. She—"
"You're both terrible to one another. Toxic. I don't need that in my life."
I swallowed as heat soared through my face.
She left, and I sank into the chair, running my hand over my face. How had I let that moment get so out of control? I needed some time away—away from Tara, away from Alice—away from it all. Because I was starting to feel myself spiraling back into the dark place I swore I'd never go again. No matter what, I couldn't go there. Not again.
