Like a Book

by Bette Hawkins

  “Sure. Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans, and all that stuff. Speaking of major procrastinators, have you spoken to Dad lately?”

  They laughed over their cups of coffee, gossiping about their parents. Trish was in the middle of a sentence about their mother’s new obsession with golf when she noticed the way Leigh’s gaze had caught on something behind her.

  “Don’t turn around,” Leigh whispered.

  “What, who is it?”

  Trish watched Leigh’s face, trying to figure out what was going on. Unable to resist having a peek, Trish looked back toward the front of the diner.

  Her ex-partner stood by the counter with her arm draped over a woman’s shoulder. It was completely Katrina’s style to make it clear to the whole world that she was part of a couple. Sometimes Katrina had made Trish feel more like an ornament than a partner.

  Katrina had changed her hairstyle, something she did often. The changes were usually dramatic. She now had a blunt fringe, her dark brown hair cut to just above her shoulders. She and her new girlfriend had rolled-up yoga mats under their arms, which was surprising given that Katrina had always said that yoga was “hippy-dippy nonsense.”

  Trish snapped her head back around. She guessed that her expression of shock must have mirrored Leigh’s.

  “Oh Jesus. I really don’t want to talk to her. Can you see if they’re getting coffee to go? Or are they being seated? We need to get out of here if they’re going to be staying. I can’t be in the same place as her.” Trish covered her face with her hands.

  “Trish!”

  Trish jumped in her seat, then composed herself and forced a smile onto her face before she turned around.

  Katrina strode toward her, and Trish stood to receive a hug.

  Katrina had changed her shampoo. Her body felt strange against Trish’s. Trish had a surge of longing, then an equally powerful sense of shame. When they pulled back from one another, Trish looked at the woman who was standing next to Katrina, a petite brunette with a trendy haircut.

  Katrina and her girlfriend had put their yoga mats down like they weren’t just stopping to say a quick hello. Katrina surveyed the table, checking out what Trish and her sister were eating.

  “You didn’t reply to my message, when I wished you a happy birthday. I was hoping you were okay,” Katrina said.

  Trish stuck her hands in her back pockets. “Oh, that’s right, you did message me. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little busy. Thanks for that.”

  Katrina’s companion was openly staring at Trish. Keeping one hand on Katrina’s arm, the woman stuck out her other hand, and Trish shook it.

  Katrina smiled. “This is my partner, Ash. Ash, this is Trish.”

  “I figured it was you,” said Ash. “It is so nice to meet you Trish. I’ve been suggesting we have you over for dinner sometime.”

  Trish laughed, an awkward huff that came out without her meaning it to. How long had Katrina waited to replace her? In an instant, she was going backward, erasing the past couple of months and all the little ways that she had moved on.

  “How have you been?” Katrina asked, with her head tilted.

  “I’m great! I just started a new job, it’s going really well.”

  “That’s so good to hear. I’m glad for you. Well, we’d better keep moving. Our coffees must be ready. We’ve got a lot to do today. We’re getting our new place all set up. Hey, Leigh.”

  “Hi and bye,” Leigh said.

  “It’s lovely to see you,” Trish said, looking between Katrina and her new girlfriend, a fake smile plastered on her face.

  “We’ll call you,” Ash replied.

  When they left, Leigh patted Trish’s hand.

  “Well, that was fast. She sure didn’t waste any time. This is my partner, Ash.” Leigh affected a posh tone to imitate Katrina, enunciating each word carefully as though she were giving a speech.

  “I know! I can’t believe it. They’re moving in together already.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. That’s what I’d call a rebound.”

  “Maybe. God, what if they were dating before we even broke up? Do you think that could be it? Maybe that’s why she left.”

  “Stop it, you’re making stuff up out of nowhere.”

  “Okay. I just think it’s very fast. Don’t you?”

  “Of course it is, but it’s a rebound thing, like I said. Why did she get on your case about that birthday message? I thought you told her you didn’t want to be friends, that you didn’t want to keep in contact and stuff?”

  “Like she cares what I want. She thought I was being immature for not wanting to be friends after we broke up, that’s what she said.”

  Trish pushed her plate out of the way and put her forehead on the table. When Leigh put her hand on Trish’s back, she lifted her head again, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were really gone.

  “You know what that is, just another control tactic, honey. You have every right to have whatever kind of relationship with her that you want, especially when she was the one who wanted to end the relationship in the first place. I hope you’re not actually going to go over there for dinner if they follow through and ask you,” Leigh said, sneering. She’d always made fun of Katrina’s pompousness when it came to things like serving dinner. It was all about matching settings and starched napkins, recipes drawn from the latest celebrity chef.

  “I don’t know, maybe. I’m curious, I guess. Jesus, I’m in a rut, aren’t I? And she knew it, it’s like she could see it just by looking at me. I can’t stand that pitying look she was giving me.”

  Leigh held up a finger, wiggling it back and forth. “Do not worry about what she thinks. God, I can’t deal with her, I never could. You deserve so much better than that cold, stuck-up sorry excuse for a person.”

  “Tell me what you really think,” Trish said.

  “I never did that while you were together, and maybe I should have. I held my tongue for way too long. I can’t do it anymore. I hate to see her making you feel bad about yourself. You’re not even together anymore and she’s still doing it to you.”

  “Can you blame me? Look at her, she’s ready to move in with someone and I’ve gone on like, one date since she left me.”

  “There’s no point making comparisons. Katrina’s her, you’re you, and you’ve always been totally different,” Leigh said. “But to put it bluntly, yes, you’re in a rut. You don’t have to keep believing that you’re only worth whatever she thought of you. You can change things any time, you know that, don’t you?”

  Trish shook her head. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know how much I wish it was.”

  Leigh sat staring back at her, and Trish could almost hear the gears in her brain turning. Leigh must get so sick of her complaining, but she never said anything about it. Leigh was her cheerleader, always encouraging Trish to make things better. Maybe Trish owed it to her to meet her in the middle.

  Trish smacked her hand down on the table. “You know what, screw it, let’s go out. I’m sick of sitting around the house feeling sorry for myself.”

  Leigh clapped her hands, her face brightening. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to take me up on that. You’re on, sister. We’re going to paint the town cherry red. Next Saturday night, it’s happening.”

  * * *

  June scanned the library. She didn’t want the coffee to cool down before she could give it to Trish. On the day that they had introduced themselves, June noticed that Trish had a coffee cup by her side. After consulting with Ollie, she realized that buying flowers as a thank-you gesture was too much, even if that was what she really wanted to do. Coffee was more casual, but it was only a good idea if it wasn’t handed over to Trish cold.

  Finally, she spied Trish on her way back to one of the main counters. And she was alone, which was even better news.

  “Good morning,” June said.

  Trish’s eyes met hers, their bright gray-blue taking her
breath away. “Good morning.”

  June put the coffee cup down on the counter. “I wasn’t sure how you took it.” June retrieved a couple of sugar packets from her pocket and laid them down next to the cup. “I wanted to say thanks for helping me the other day.”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you. But I didn’t really do anything.” Trish smiled sweetly at her while she sipped the coffee.

  “No, you did. You really calmed me down. I’m just glad it was you that found me in there and not anyone else.”

  “I was actually a little worried about you. I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. I was hoping there wasn’t something more serious that wasn’t obvious at the time.”

  “Nope, I’m fine aside from that bruise and being a little stiff and sore. I took a break from coming in to write because I was meeting with a friend, she’s helping me out with the book.”

  “This is good coffee.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “How was your meeting?”

  June rested her elbows on the counter. When she bought the coffee, there was no firm agenda in mind except to say thank you, but it was a nice bonus if Trish wanted to chat with her. She was still reluctant to talk about her writing, but she was okay with doing it if it kept the conversation going.

  “It was good. She supervised my thesis, so it makes sense for to help me with expanding it. I’m writing about romantic friendships in history, especially in 18th- and 19th-century literature.”

  “Romantic friendships?” Trish said. Her slim, fine-boned hands moved around the coffee cup. She had very nice hands.

  “There’s this idea that women during that time were involved in friendships that were romantic but nonsexual. It’s documented in letters, so we have access to a lot of sources where these women were passionately declaring their love for one another. And yet it’s so commonly accepted that they weren’t having sex with one another that they made a special name for it.”

  “I see,” Trish said, smiling. “And your argument is?” Most people were either becoming skeptical, or began to look vaguely hostile by this point in the conversation.

  “That the idea of the romantic friendship is a means of desexualizing women. The history has been written by men, mainly straight men. I’m arguing that it’s a method of erasing same-sex desire because they can’t imagine that it could be any different.”

  “Well, yes. It’s hard to imagine people interpreting relationships that way if they were between a man and a woman. If what we’re talking about were basically love letters.”

  “That’s exactly right. Straight relationships must be sexual because that’s what men and women do, but women aren’t supposed to want one another. Women in general weren’t supposed to be sexual unless they were receiving desire from a man. And you’re right when you call them love letters, that’s exactly how they read. This has all been explored before but it’s a body of work I want to add to.”

  “Are you far along in the process?”

  “I’ve been working on it for a couple of years, off and on. I’ve got a deal with a small press, but nobody will probably ever read it.”

  “I think it sounds very interesting. I’d want to read it.”

  “Thank you, that’s so kind of you to say. It’s important to me, probably because of what it represents more than anything. We’re always trivialized, that’s why it irks me. Of course, nobody can really know what went on in those relationships, only the two women involved, but I think there a lot of flawed assumptions.”

  “And so, what you’re doing is taking back that history, rewriting it. Reclaiming it.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” June said.

  “Well, then that’s a great thing. Are you on schedule to finish it on time?”

  “I will be if I keep writing at the same pace. Barring any further motorcycle accidents, of course.”

  Trish laughed so much it lit up her face.

  “Anyway,” June continued, “I didn’t mean to go on so much about it. I hope I haven’t bored you. What about you? Are you enjoying working here?”

  “You’re not talking too much at all. And yes, it’s a great job.”

  “Where did you work before this?”

  “Public library. I’ve mostly worked in public libraries, so this is a good change for me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. They’re lucky to have you here.”

  Trish looked surprised at the compliment, and June wondered if she had laid it on too thick, if she had come across as too eager. They fell silent and searched one another’s faces. Trish broke eye contact first.

  “Thanks again for the coffee. I should really get back to work.”

  “Of course. I’ll see you later.”

  As June walked away, Trish’s gaze was fixed to her back. There was a swagger in the way June moved, a loose confidence in her stride. It looked completely natural, like she wasn’t trying to do it at all.

  It satisfied Trish to find that her instincts about June had been right. June was attracted to women. There was surely too much personal investment in her subject for it to be any other way.

  Trish had no intention of ever acting on the chemistry she could sense between them, a delicious buzz that hit her in just the right way. Just because she was starting to feel ready to move on from Katrina, it didn’t mean that June was the kind of person she wanted to move on with. There was something a little bit wild about her that made Trish uncomfortable. It was the swagger, the motorbike, the way she dressed. It was evident in everything about the way June walked and talked that she was a player.

  June was sexy, but she wasn’t a serious prospect, and Trish had never seen the point of dating if there was no chance of a lasting relationship. It was a waste of time. She had wasted enough of that precious resource.

  The fact that June wasn’t her type didn’t mean that Trish couldn’t enjoy a little harmless flirtation with her. Trish was only human after all, and she needed some excitement in her life.

  Chapter Five

  “Are you sure I’m not going to be a third wheel tonight?” Trish asked.

  “If anyone’s going to be a third wheel it will be Andrew. He totally invited himself. You don’t mind him coming with us, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t mind! It’ll be fun for us all to spend some time together. Do I look okay?”

  Trish stood up and gestured down at her outfit. It had been such a long time since she’d been to a bar that she’d had to do some serious deliberating about what to wear. Eventually she had chosen tan boots, black jeans, and a black-and-white striped top. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and was wearing contact lenses rather than her glasses.

  “You look great,” Leigh said.

  Andrew walked in from the kitchen holding a bottle of wine, the stems of three glasses pinched between his fingers. “You both look stunning. Can I get you gals a drink?”

  “So where are you taking me tonight?” Trish asked, taking a glass from him and holding it out so he could pour the sauvignon blanc into it.

  “Andrew has a place in mind. It’s in the city,” Leigh said.

  “You’re not taking me to a meat market joint, are you? I don’t know what Leigh’s told you. But this is just about me getting out of the house, it’s not a hook-up thing.”

  Andrew pushed his hand down slowly. “Calm down, lady. It’s a great little place I go after work sometimes. This might surprise you, but I don’t actually go to lesbian meat markets. In fact, I wouldn’t know how to find one.”

  “Okay,” Trish said. “But if you try to set me up with anyone I’m leaving.”

  Leigh grinned. “Duly noted. Andrew’s got to work tomorrow, anyway. This is just going to be a quiet, relaxed night.”

  Immediately afterward, Leigh upended her glass and drained it.

  One glass of wine turned into several, and by the time they got into a taxi Trish was more drunk than she had been in a long time. They’d spent
hours joking about politics and movies and work. Being with Andrew made her feel like she had an older brother, something she’d always wanted when she was growing up. She was enjoying herself so much that it was hard to remember why she didn’t get out of the house more often.

  Andrew sat in the front seat of the cab next to the driver. As Trish stared out of the window, Leigh’s hand touched hers.

  “You’re not getting the blues, are you sis?”

  Trish turned to her. Was she so much of a wet blanket normally, that it made Leigh think that she couldn’t cope with a night out? Perhaps Leigh’s concern wasn’t misplaced. There had been a lot of times since the end of her relationship that Trish had grown melancholy out of nowhere and ended up crying on Leigh’s shoulder.

  “Not at all. I was just thinking about how fun this is. Thank you for taking me out.”

  “Yay.”

  They spilled out of the cab and onto the busy city street. It was full of people quickly making their way somewhere else or leaning against buildings to smoke cigarettes.

  “Where is this place?” Trish asked.

  “Down there,” Andrew said, pointing to a neon sign.

  They descended the stairs and Trish found that it was the kind of quiet place that she’d hoped for. It was dimly lit, with booths lining the walls. Andrew pointed to the only empty one and they slid onto the leather seats.

  “I’ll get us a round of drinks. Wine for everybody?”

  When he walked up to the bar, Trish checked out the brightly lit shelves full of bottles, and the people serving drinks behind it.

  For a moment, she thought that the barmaid might only look like June, but after a second glance she knew for sure that it was her. June wore a crisp button-down white shirt, and her hair was tied into a sleek ponytail. She looked cool and comfortable behind the bar, neatly handling a silver cocktail shaker.

  “What is it with running into people I know when I’m with you?” Trish said.