Macy’s mom stood by the picnic table. Cam assumed the man with her was Harold. Dorianne took Kenny by the hand and pulled him over. He went reluctantly. Macy’s mom introduced Harold to the couple, and it dawned on Cam that she didn’t know the woman except as “Macy’s mom.”
Macy glanced in their direction and looked over at Sharon’s house. Cam’s gaze followed hers. Sharon’s car still wasn’t there. Turning, Macy saw Cam and smiled. Cam perked up. Macy was so beautiful.
Macy approached her. “I love what you’ve done with that retaining wall.”
Cam’s face grew warm. The muscles in her shoulders stiffened at the memory of hauling all the blocks.
“It looks great,” Macy added.
“I’m glad you like it.” Cam looked away, a little embarrassed and still wondering about Sharon.
“She’ll come,” Macy said, as if reading Cam’s mind. “She said she would.” They both looked to the driveway next door, almost like they could will her to come home.
Cam couldn’t get over how sweet Macy was about trying to help her with Sharon. That was what she loved about Macy—such a kind heart. Add that to the perfect smile and those incredible dark eyes… No wonder she thought about Macy constantly.
Michael called out to Macy from the grill, “Can you please grab more paper plates?”
Cam sighed. Michael would do anything to reclaim Macy’s attention.
Macy placed her hand on Cam’s back for a moment before going off to assist Michael. Cam stared over at Sharon’s, not moving, so as not to dissipate the lingering warmth of Macy’s touch.
“Cam, come see what Bella can do.”
She smiled at Jeremiah and made her way over to him.
“Look.” He turned to the dog. “Bella, sit.” The dog stood, wagging her tail. “Sit.” Wag. “Sit.” She cocked her head to the side. “Sit, sit, sit.”
Jeremiah crossed his arms over his bony chest and marched away. Bella sat.
Cam patted her head. “Good girl,” she said.
Cam chugged half her orange soda and went inside and helped herself to a hefty amount of rum. She swirled the can carefully, trying to mix it without sloshing.
Back outside, Cam hung on the periphery and watched Michael’s friends. They seemed nice enough. An older man was talking to Macy. Cam thought he was the anesthesiologist but wasn’t sure. What Cam was sure about was that she didn’t like the way the guy was looking at Macy. He also touched her arm way too much as he spoke.
The wall Cam had engineered around a group of three skinny pines changed the dynamics of the yard. She wondered if anyone other than herself and Macy appreciated it. Sharon maybe? She glanced over at Sharon’s driveway. Still no Miata.
Taking several chugs of her drink, Cam watched Jeremiah with Bella. From the look of his gesturing, Jeremiah was trying to get her to roll over.
Cam went inside for another soda. She poured most of it down the kitchen sink and added rum. The last time she’d been drunk was at Courtney’s. Her girlfriend’s parents came home unexpectedly, broke up the party, and kicked them all out. As usual, Cam’s buddies stuffed her in the backseat of the car. Just “one of the guys.” Travis drove, and Ryan sat up front with him.
Travis always took the turns rough, trying to send Cam to the floor of the car or make her puke. His plan never worked, because Cam was never as drunk as they thought she was. Until that night. She was drunk and, once again, just along for the ride. Since she’d just picked herself up from the floorboard, Cam didn’t know what they were up to until Travis and Ryan threw their arms up and yelled, “Score!” They’d driven right through old man Gibson’s yard, taking out his three row garden and decapitating his scarecrow.
Cam shook off the memory and took a long drink. Things were going to be different. Cam had grown up, she was a woman, and was really liking the warm and confident feeling she was getting from the rum. She was sure other things would be different now, too. If she had a chance to be with Macy, she wouldn’t blow it. Not like with Robyn or Courtney.
Cam looked next door, and it became clear. Cam didn’t care what Sharon had told Macy, Sharon wasn’t coming.
Cam found Macy looking toward Sharon’s a few times, too. Then Macy caught Cam catching her. At first Cam looked away, like she hadn’t been staring at Macy, but then she didn’t try to hide it. It was liberating not to care if Macy knew she was looking at her.
Macy’s mom and Harold left right after some of Michael’s important doctor friends. It didn’t matter to Cam; their faces had all started to swirl together.
Kenny hung out with his wife, standing behind her and watching as she talked to Jeremiah, or watched Bella not sit.
“Hey there.”
Cam spun around at the sound of Macy’s voice. She must have moved too quickly, because she almost lost her balance.
“What’s going on?” Macy asked.
“Sharon stood us up.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”
“She hates me,” Cam said. “Aunt Sharon hates me.”
“Aunt Sharon?” Macy sighed. “You can’t replace Jess with Sharon.”
“I’m not trying to.” She looked at Macy for a long time. “You are so beautiful.”
Macy gave her a funny look, took the soda from her hand, and sniffed it. The intimacy of the act almost choked Cam up. Macy’s face twisted. “What’s in here?”
“Orange soda.” Cam slurred the word soda.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you the truth.” Cam took a deep breath and pointed to where Michael stood by the grill. “He’s not good enough for you. You should be with me, because I love you so much. There it is—I love you so much.”
Cam realized she was sobbing, and all the remaining faces were swirling in her direction.
Macy was asking her not to say things like that, so she decided to kiss her instead. Cam took a clumsy step toward her.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Michael was suddenly there. He handed the long spear-looking fork thing to Macy and herded Cam into the house.
Cam could barely see Macy through the screen door. Macy stood in the yard with her hand to her mouth. “The truth hurts, huh?” Cam asked Michael, as she fell against the kitchen counter.
The next thing she knew, Michael had her jacked against the wall. She figured Michael would tell Macy it was because she couldn’t stand on her own, but Cam knew it was really about Michael being jealous of her.
Michael’s face was close to hers. “Don’t forget where you are.”
Like I could, Cam thought. Then she puked on Michael’s expensive shoes.
Michael backed away, and the next thing Cam knew, Kenny was taking her to the bathroom. Once the walls quit throbbing and messing with her head, she confided in her coworker.
“He’s always been jealous, because he knows me and Macy are perfect for each other.” She tried to get up but went right back down on her butt. “Macy and I have so much in common. Neither of us really knows our fathers, and we aren’t close to our mothers.”
Cam could tell Kenny still wasn’t convinced, so she added, “And I’ll be a good co-parent for Jeremiah.”
“You mean a good playmate for Jeremiah.”
“No.” Cam’s chest heaved. “I love Macy so much.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“I won’t.” But her protest ended when she started puking again. The bathroom spun around and around, and Cam had a fleeting thought that it was like she was back at Courtney’s.
But it wasn’t Courtney’s house, it was Travis’s car.
Cam looked out the back window, making brief eye contact with Mr. Gibson as the man stood in the rubble of his zucchini and scarecrow. But then the pieces of squash became a mangled yellow dog, and it was Cam standing over it.
“I didn’t do it,” she blubbered. “I was just along for the ride.”
“Sure you were, kid,” Kenny said, standing behind her. “That’s what you keep saying.�
�
†
Something squeezed Cam’s head. Crushing pain. Her face felt warm. “Shit,” she whispered. “Where am I?”
“In bed.”
The sound of Macy’s voice made her jump. Cam looked down. She was in a wife-beater tank but still had her pants on. “What the hell?” She felt her head and was surprised to find that no one was sitting on it. Oh yeah… hangover.
“Here.” Macy held out her hand.
Cam couldn’t look at her.
“Take the aspirin. I promise it’ll help.”
She took the two tablets and the glass of water Macy offered. After forcing down the pills, she set the glass onto the bedside table and stuck her head under her pillow. “Sorry,” she said from beneath the cool cotton. She waited a few seconds for Macy to reply, but she didn’t.
Cam peeked out. She recognized the look of disappointment on Macy’s face from the many times she’d seen it on her mom’s. Cringing, she repeated, “Sorry.” A rush of memory ambushed her. “Does Michael want me to leave?”
“He did, but he’s over it now.” Macy reached for the glass. “We aren’t making a habit of that sort of behavior, are we?”
“No.” Cam felt like she was twelve years old and had just been caught sneaking a cigarette.
As she started to put the pillow back over her head, a wave of nausea catapulted her out of bed. She barely made it into the bathroom.
When Cam came out, Macy was at the table with Michael and Jeremiah—a perfect, happy little family eating Sunday morning breakfast. She didn’t make eye contact on her way back to bed. Not that it mattered. She was pretty sure there wasn’t a place set for her at the table.
†
Michael took Macy to Antonio’s Broad Street Bistro for a romantic, jazz-flavored birthday dinner. The exposed brick walls and colorful art worked well with the casual ambiance, which complemented the seared scallops and soft music. But a tension headache had threatened Macy all evening, so, when they got to her house, she didn’t ask Michael in.
He wasn’t thrilled, but he understood. “Put an ice pack on your head. That usually works wonders.” Then he kissed her quickly and left.
As Macy walked in the front door, J-man rushed her. “Mama, Mama, Emma called.”
“What?” She swept him up in her arms and hugged him. “Tell me what she said,” she whispered, knowing her voice would set the tone for his.
“She said to tell you happy birthday,” he whispered back.
Her heart thudded, and she held him tighter. “What else did she say?”
“She misses me. And she got a dog, too.”
“She did?” Macy kept her voice light, hoping her cardio-acoustics wouldn’t give her away.
“Yeah, and I told her all about my Bella.”
Macy felt the beginning of a squirm from J-man, but she wasn’t ready to let go of him.
“Mama.” J-man giggled.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Too tight. I can’t breathe.”
He giggled some more as she let him go. She gave him a little tickle for good measure.
Macy grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge to wash down some aspirin. She’d wait on the ice pack, give the drugs a chance first.
Her mother was in the den, cross-stitching. Seems there was trouble in paradise, so she’d volunteered to sit for J-man as a way to get out of the house for an evening. Macy got the idea that Harold was keeping her on a pretty tight rein, which was not the way to keep her mother’s interest.
She looked up when Macy walked into the room. “How was dinner?”
“Very nice.”
“Good.” She held her project away from her, giving her no longer perfect vision a little help. “You know, you didn’t tell me how your lunch went with Dorianne yesterday.”
“It was good.” Macy sat on the other end of the sofa.
“How’s she doing? I’m so glad you two are friendly again. I always liked that girl.”
“Yeah,” she answered, distracted by the red blink of caller ID on her phone.
“I can remember when you two started experimenting…” Macy’s heart lurched before her mother finished, “with makeup.”
Macy laughed with relief.
Her mother shot her a look over her cross-stitch. “She was a lot better with it than you were. I guess she still is.”
She knew what was coming––the foundation and blush lecture, how mascara and lipstick weren’t enough.
“You were such a natural beauty, more so than Dorianne, but she always knew how to work with what she had instead of just letting herself go.”
Macy ignored the dig. She no longer cared what her mother thought about her makeup or wardrobe. There were things in life much more important, and Macy contemplated spoon-feeding the idea of one such thing to her mother. There was no reason to admit she had been thinking nonstop about wanting to be Dori and Kenny’s surrogate, so she just asked her mother what she thought about a couple having a friend or relative carry a child for them.
“You’re talking about Dorianne and Kenny?” Macy gave her a puzzled look, so she added, “Not much gets by me, young lady.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think they’d be good parents, and it’s a shame things haven’t worked out for them.” She put her cross-stitch down.
“Do you think they should do in vitro?”
“I think it’s not my say. They’ve got the right to do whatever they wish. I’m a very tolerant person, you know.”
It wasn’t lost on Macy that she wouldn’t be so tolerant if it had anything to do with Macy. She wanted to raise that issue, but the pounding at the base of her skull told her to quit while she was ahead.
After her mother left, Macy colored with J-man. It wasn’t long before he lost interest and cozied up to the TV. Macy scrolled to the latest number on her caller ID and jotted it down.
She waited until after J-man went to bed to call Emma. She dialed slowly, fearful that her shaking finger might hit the wrong buttons.
Emma answered, and it was awkward for the first several moments. Then Macy decided she’d give herself a birthday present and just get to the point. She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I think about you a lot.”
“I think about you, too.”
“I mean think about you, like in a very intimate way.”
“You shouldn’t. You aren’t like that, remember?”
“Ouch,” Macy said.
“Sorry, that was a cheap shot. I thought it’d make me feel better.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
All at once Macy found herself telling Emma, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I wanted to call, to see you, but I was just too damned scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” Emma said, “but it isn’t okay to turn your back on a friend. Above all else, I thought we were friends.”
“We were. We are. God, I miss you.”
Emma didn’t respond.
Macy went on. “I have dreams about us, together. I mean like really together. Do you ever think about that?”
“Should I lie so we can stop this conversation?”
“You think about making love to me.” Macy was surprised when it came out sounding more confident than it really was.
After a slight pause, Emma said, “I have in the past.”
“Describe it.”
“Don’t do this,” she whispered.
“Come on, tell me all about it, Em.” Her hand drifted between her breasts, down to her belly.
She didn’t answer, so Macy continued. “In my dreams, it’s about your hands and your mouth, all over me. Then it’s my hands, my mouth, how sweetly you yield to me, how much we need each other.”
“Macy.”
She remembered the last time Emma had said her name in that half-pleading, half-needing way. “I wish you were here right now.”
Emma sighed. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to know if your eyes are more blue or m
ore green at this moment.”
“I’m guessing blue,” Emma said.
“I’m hoping blue.” Macy smiled, thinking of the conversation they’d had about Emma’s wardrobe not being the only influence on her eye color. They’d been walking along the river when Emma had admitted that the more passion, the more blue.
“We have to stop this,” Emma said, not particularly convincingly.
“No, we don’t. I shouldn’t have stopped us before either.”
“This can’t help anything,” Emma said.
Macy’s heart pounded. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you so much.” She almost choked on the words then wished she had.
“Why this now? What’s changed in your life that makes this okay now, when it wasn’t before?”
All Macy could do was repeat herself. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Where’s Jeremiah?” Emma asked.
“Sleeping.”
“What would you do if I walked through your front door this very second?”
“I’d—”
“Be truthful with yourself,” Emma said.
Macy glanced toward J-man’s bedroom door. She couldn’t answer.
“See? When we kissed, it was just the moment. You aren’t a lesbian.”
“But I’m pretty sure I am,” Macy said.
“Okay. Tell me about being a lesbian.”
“What?”
“At least tell me that you are one. You know, actually call yourself the L-word.”
Macy looked again at J-man’s door. “I really do want you.”
Without the least hesitation, Emma said, “If you want me, it’s because I’m unobtainable.”
“Are you?”
“I’m three states away. I’m not coming back, and you won’t leave Georgia. That’s pretty unobtainable.”
Macy was thrown by how decisive Emma’s words were. The image she’d had in her mind when she’d dialed Emma’s number now mocked her. There would be no heavy breathing into the phone as they whispered how much they wanted to touch, to taste… How could Macy have expected anything different? Who did she think she was, to think she could fix it all with a phone call?
The hand Macy had imagined as Emma’s still rested on her belly. She stared at it, feeling foolish. Once her body and brain were back in synch, she didn’t know if she wanted to cry or to laugh. She did neither. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Jeremiah says you got a dog.”
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