Sea Glass Inn

by Karis Walsh

  Mel moved around the room, picking up empty plates as soon as they were set down and returning to the house at every opportunity.

  She could feel Pam watching her from her post on the edge of the room. Her determination to be a good host drew her over to Pam occasionally, and she chatted about the food or the weather before she would find some excuse to move away again. Observing the wedding had made Mel start to think about how she would have planned hers differently if she had been completely unconcerned about conventions and what her family and friends expected. Imagining the food and music and outfit she would have chosen was entertaining. Imagining herself at the altar, not as a young bride but at her present age, seemed daring somehow. But hopeful. But imagining Pam standing next to her, reciting vows, kissing her, would only get her hurt. Pam had come right out and said she would never be interested in any sort of formal commitment. And Mel didn’t really want one, either. In her experience, marriage meant compromise. She had almost forgotten who she was. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  Pam sat on a folding chair along the back wall of the studio. She watched Mel return to the house yet again, merely to throw away a couple of paper plates even though there was a garbage can in the room. Pam wanted to leave, needed to get far away from the happy couple and their friendly guests. She had felt claustrophobic during the ceremony even though it was outside, and now she was out of place. At a normal party, she would have been able to mingle with the strangers, but adding a commitment ceremony to the event made it too uncomfortable for her to even consider joining the conversations around her. Her reasons for staying sounded weak even in her own mind. Mel might need help cleaning up after the party ended. A guest might get drunk and cause trouble. Mel might need to talk. Pam was staying because she wanted to explain herself to Mel, to rephrase what she had said when they were moving the boat.

  She had been caught off guard by Mel asking whether she had ever wanted to get married. Of course she had. She had proposed, had wanted to start the adoption process so Kevin would be her son legally as well as emotionally. Diane had rejected both ideas, refusing to make any legal or public commitment. Looking back, Pam could see her own urgency in the matter was due to her insecurity in the partnership, her sense that Diane’s jealousy of her talent would eventually drive them apart. She had been trying to secure her relationship with Diane and to protect her ties to Kevin. She was his mother in every sense but the one recognized by law. And Diane had used their lack of legal bonds to keep Kevin from her. Pam couldn’t forgive her for it. She had fought all her life against a society that kept her from having equal rights. To have her own partner use that prejudice against her was unbearable.

  “Want some tiramisu?” Mel asked. Pam looked up to see Mel standing by her chair. She nodded and accepted the plate from Mel’s hands.

  “Thanks,” she said. She grabbed Mel’s wrist as she was about to walk away again. “Sit with me for a few minutes.”

  “I really should…”

  “You should help me eat this,” Pam said.

  Mel hesitated and then sat down with a sigh. “I could use a break. I’m glad I’ll only have to worry about breakfasts for the guests most days. If I have to organize a party every weekend I’ll go crazy.”

  “This is a big event for your inaugural weekend. Once you’ve done it a few times, it won’t be as stressful.” Pam took a bite of the tiramisu. “Mm, this is wonderful. Try some.” She handed her fork to Mel and watched her sample the creamy dessert. Mel licked some mascarpone from the corner of her mouth, and Pam looked away.

  “The grooms seem happy,” Pam said, eager to get her mind off Mel’s tongue and to return to their earlier topic of conversation.

  Mel shrugged and took another bite of dessert. “I looked happy on my wedding day, too. In fact I was happy. Blindly so.”

  “Would you go back and change it if you could?”

  “No,” Mel said, giving the fork back to Pam. “I have Danny because of my marriage, and I’d never want to give him up. But I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “You mean getting married? Committing to just one person?”

  Mel hesitated. “Exactly.”

  “Life’s too short for monogamy.” Pam raised a forkful of tiramisu in a mock toast then put the fork with its uneaten bite back on her plate. Mel was just like Diane, keeping the option to walk out the door at any time. Pam could understand it since Mel had been betrayed, had lived too many years in self-denial. But for some reason understanding didn’t stop her from being disappointed to hear Mel’s admission.

  Mel stood and took the plate with its half-eaten dessert from Pam’s unresisting hands. She collected a few more empty cups and plates as she walked through the studio. The party was starting to break up, and Mel headed back to the house with a few of the wedding guests who were staying at a hotel in town. They asked for business cards, and Mel gave them a couple from the dwindling pile she had carried in her pocket. She shut the front door behind them and added design brochures to the lengthy list in her mind. She had been so consumed with the physical building, she had barely thought about advertising the business. But she had made contacts tonight and had even booked a group of four for the weekend before Christmas.

  She tried to dredge up some excitement about the successful launch of her business, but she kept returning, instead, to her declaration to Pam. No, she wasn’t interested in a relationship that stifled her, changed her into someone unrecognizable as an individual.

  But could she find some way to share a commitment, love, and support with another woman without losing herself in the process? Or could she be satisfied with casual dating? Casual sex, the kind Pam seemed to prefer? Maybe, if their physical attraction was too strong to deny.

  Or if neither of them was willing to offer more. Why not?

  She returned to the studio in time to say good night to the last of the guests. Pam wasn’t there, but Mel could see the shadowy figures of a person and a dog, and the glowing tip of a cigarette, in the back of the yard near the beach access. She quickly cleaned up the remnants of the party. Thanks to her constant trips back to the house with bits of garbage, she had very little left to do. Piper joined her and trotted at her heels, looking for handouts as Mel stacked the trays of leftover food and stowed them in her fridge. Finally she carried a box of liquor bottles back to the house and set them on the kitchen counter. Piper lost interest and slipped into the darkness of the backyard, presumably going back to Pam. Mel considered following her to explain to Pam that she had only agreed with her dismissal of marriage because it was too late to start over again, too exhausting to think of learning the ropes of a completely new kind of relationship. As a lesbian. As a woman who made her own choices and didn’t passively rely on her partner. Mel could barely remain strong and independent while on her own. How could she stay that way if she was partnered with someone confident and self-assured?

  Someone like Pam. Pam, who had no interest in an exclusive, committed relationship. Mel moved away from the back door. She turned off the lights, leaving the back porch lit up for Pam, and went downstairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pam came into the kitchen, damp and chilly even in her heavy coat. She poked through the fridge and dished up a plate of rigatoni with sausage, heating it in the microwave and settling at the kitchen table with an eager Piper at her feet. She had spent the past hour sitting in the cold October rain, relieved to be away from the celebrating guests and on her own. She had told herself she was hanging around at the reception to help Mel clean up, but instead she had hidden in the shadows waiting for everyone to go into the inn or back to their hotels. Waiting for the lights in the house and studio to go out and signal that Mel had gone to bed.

  She’d left the reception but hadn’t gone far. She could have ducked into Danny’s room and locked away the crowd. Or driven into town for a drink. But she had sat close to the studio, her coat wrapped around her like a cocoon, and listened to the voices an
d laughter from the party. Mel had brought laughter here, color and dimension permeating the inn and even seeping into Pam’s life. Pam was very aware of the effort Mel had put into this evening, from her renovations on the inn to her backbreaking work on the garden to her realized vision of the studio. What Pam hadn’t expected was to see so much of her own input throughout the day. Her garden design, her arrangement of the ceremony space, some suggestions she’d made for decorating the studio. She had created art—not on canvas, but art nonetheless.

  She alternated between eating and feeding bits of sausage to her dog while her mind recreated the scenes she had made. Trying to paint, needing to paint, always filled her with pain, but her contributions to this day had been emotionally effortless from concept to creation, without the usual angst and self-doubt and hurt. Why? Because of Mel. Because Mel was so hopeful, so willing to take risks and work hard as she brought her dreams to life. Without fear. No, in spite of her fear. Pam put down her fork and rested her head in her hands.

  She still struggled every time she picked up a brush, every time she looked at the world and was tempted to capture what she saw, how she interpreted it, on canvas. But Mel had given her this gift, this way to take what her mind created and express it somehow. To let go of the constant filtering, censoring, of her inborn need to create. Pam had no faith it would last, doubted it would transfer to her art, but she was grateful for this brief chance to remember how easy art used to be.

  Why, then, had she spent the whole evening lurking around Mel only to disappear the moment they would be alone with each other?

  Why not share how thankful she was for what Mel had given her? Pam knew exactly how she wanted to thank Mel. Her mind had imagined plenty of scenarios with Mel as the focal point. With Pam’s hands, her mouth, her tongue painting Mel’s expression into one of arousal, ecstasy, release. Pam had no doubt she could bring this vision to life.

  And she suspected Mel was interested, too, if only in a temporary affair. Mel’s adamant dismissal of marriage bothered her more than it should. But Mel wasn’t Diane. She had paid her dues, and now she should be free to date, to experience life without being chained to someone else. Instead of being disappointed, Pam should be happy for her.

  She rinsed her plate and put it in the dishwasher. More than being happy, she should be relieved to find out how Mel felt. Pam sorted through the box of liquor bottles Mel had left on the kitchen counter and pulled one out. Pam didn’t want any attachments, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to Mel. And even if she couldn’t express her gratitude in words, she could thank Mel with her touch, with shared passion, because now she knew they shared the same dating philosophy. She had tried to hide her physical interest in Mel because she had seen Mel as someone who wouldn’t settle for less than forever. Now she knew better.

  Pam hesitated outside of Mel’s bedroom door. She didn’t hear any movement coming from within the room, but she juggled the paraphernalia she held and freed one hand to tap on the door. She was about to give up and go back to her own room when Mel opened the door.

  “Hey,” Pam said. “I’m sorry I didn’t stick around and help clean up. I had to let Piper out.”

  “It was easy,” Mel said with a shrug. “And I don’t expect you to work around here. You’re a guest.”

  Pam stared at the opening of Mel’s silky bathrobe as her shrug widened it slightly. She obviously wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The faint hint of roses brought Pam back to a different doorway, to Mel standing outside her room wearing a bulky old robe, oblivious to how sexy she looked. Judging by the deep red silk barely covering Mel’s body tonight, doing little to hide her nipples as it slid over her breasts, she had figured out a thing or two since then. Pam desperately needed this encounter to end differently than the first, with them both on the same side of Mel’s door. She dragged her eyes back to Mel’s face. “A guest? Well, that explains the hours I spent digging sod out of your backyard.”

  “Oh, well, that was—”

  “That was a friend helping a friend.” Pam smiled at Mel’s obvious discomfiture. She held up the tequila bottle. “I thought you might want to celebrate after your triumph. Today couldn’t have gone better.”

  Mel hesitated. A relationship with no commitment, no ties. Pam had said she wanted nothing more. If she invited Pam into her room, so late and when she was wearing nothing but a short robe, she would be sending a clear message. It had been a long day, after a long month, after a difficult year. She didn’t want to be alone, even if Pam was only offering her company for a night. A friend helping a friend. She stepped aside and gestured for Pam to come in. She had made her decision already, when she had showered and shaved and put on her new robe. Hell, she had made it the day she bought the robe. But now she had all the facts. If she wanted Pam, she’d have to accept her terms. And she really wanted Pam.

  “I haven’t bothered decorating down here,” Mel said as Pam walked by her into the sparsely furnished room. She had bought new bedding and a couple of throw rugs and blankets, but she didn’t have the time or money to sink into her private rooms. “There’s no place to sit…”

  Except on the bed. Mel didn’t say it out loud.

  Pam sat on the shag rug in front of Mel’s bookcase. “This is fine,” she said. She set out the tequila bottle, a couple of shot glasses, and a salt shaker. “I like the color scheme you’ve chosen. Very early Italian Renaissance.”

  Mel joined Pam on the purple rug, tugging on the robe as she tried to cover as much of her thighs as she could. She had bought it the day after Pam had agreed to sleep in the downstairs room while the wedding party was at the inn, just in case they ran into each other in the hall. Only because it looked so perfect on the hanger. Sexy, but mature. Exactly the type of robe a confident, self-assured woman would wear. But now she suspected Pam would see right through the fabric to the awkward, long-dormant part of Mel with no idea how to begin a seduction scene. She looked around the room, anywhere but at Pam. She had chosen the colors because she liked the way the shades of red, blue, mauve, and gold blended together. She had picked the dark-red robe because it blended with the bedroom’s color palette.

  “I was trying for light, bright, and airy upstairs. I wanted something warmer and richer down here. What are those?”

  Pam held up a baggie. “I found limes in your fridge. Can’t have tequila shots without limes.”

  “They’re key limes. I was going to make a pie.”

  “The tequila won’t know the difference,” Pam said with a shrug.

  She poured two shots and handed one to Mel with a lime wedge.

  “I haven’t done this since college,” Mel said. She followed Pam’s lead and licked the inside of her wrist before shaking some salt on it.

  She tossed a few grains over her left shoulder. She might not make it through the rest of the night without looking inexperienced, but tequila shots she could do. “As I recall, these lead directly to impaired judgment.”

  “That’s the plan,” Pam said. She winked and raised her glass.

  “To you. For a successful opening weekend.”

  Mel downed her shot, trying to keep from making a face at the unaccustomed taste. The salt and lime didn’t help much. She imagined a much sweeter taste on her tongue as she watched Pam drink her tequila. Pam’s short hair was windblown from sitting outside, and Mel wanted to run her fingers through it. To lean close and smell the ocean breeze on Pam’s skin. Taste the salt air where it had touched her cheek, her neck.

  Pam winced when she bit into her lime. “Ugh, they’re bitter,” she said.

  “That’s why the pie recipe calls for two cans of condensed milk.”

  Mel tossed her rind in a nearby wastebasket. She needed something to do with her hands since she was still too nervous to initiate any physical contact. Even sitting across from Pam, she felt an energy, an intimate closeness. As if the unspoken certainty of where the night would lead was something palpable. Pam handed her another lime wedge and refill
ed her glass.

  “Truth or dare?” Pam said as she poured herself a shot.

  Mel laughed. Her imagined trysts with Pam had sometimes started with deep conversations, sometimes with no words at all but just a headlong rush into a passionate kiss. Usually the latter. But they’d never started with silly games. She felt a little of her tension ease as she played along. “You’re trotting out all the old favorites tonight. What’s next, Candy Land?”

  “Post office. But we’ll get to that later.”

  Mel hesitated. She was too nervous to do more than sit across the rug from Pam and anticipate the night she had imagined so many times since their first meeting in August. She hadn’t yet mustered the courage to touch Pam’s hair, or her arm, or her calf as it rested only inches from her own. Whatever the dare might be, she wasn’t quite ready for it. “Truth,” she said, choosing what seemed like the safer of the two.

  Pam took her shot first. She felt a slight softening of lines and edges, and the lime didn’t taste quite as bitter this time. She had just come up with the idea of hiding her serious questions within a childhood game. The amused smile on Mel’s face indicated she had made the right decision. Keep the mood light, but still get the information she needed. Keep the evening playful and not serious, and she and Mel would both get what they wanted without being trapped by any expectations or obligations. It was all a game.

  “Have you ever had sex with a woman?”

  Mel coughed as she swallowed her tequila. “You don’t mess around, do you?” she asked when she could speak again. “Yes, I have. I had girlfriends in high school and college. But I was attracted to some guys, too, so I thought I was bi. I figured I could just switch it off and pick the more conventional option.” Mel shrugged. She paused, trying to find a way to explain her decisions to Pam. A way to justify them to herself, since she’d never fully understood how she had missed something so significant. She had berated herself for years for being too blind, too unaware to figure out her own sexuality. But tonight, sitting across the rug from Pam—anticipating the night ahead before they’d kissed or even touched—she suddenly understood why.