Jamie whimpered. “But then she won't want to talk to me any more.”
“She might still want to be friends,” Paul suggested encouragingly.
Jamie gave him a withering look at this suggestion. “I don't want her to be my friend.”
Jamie rested her head in her hands, defeated. Paul was right, of course. Some things in life you could change and some you just couldn’t. And who you were attracted to was planted firmly on the side of things that couldn’t be changed. Hadn’t Jamie spent most of high school explaining this concept to her mother? If she couldn’t choose to be straight to make her own mother happy, then a straight woman wasn’t going to choose not to be straight just because they'd shared a couple of nice online chats.
Jamie stared at the tiny image of Claire on her profile page. My dream woman. She was three thousand miles away and wouldn’t want to talk to Jamie ever again as soon as she knew the truth. Or worse, she'd want to be friends. That prospect wrung every ounce of joy from Jamie’s heart.
Tomorrow, Jamie thought, I’ll deal with it tomorrow. She needed to hold onto the dream a little while longer, even if it could only last for one more night.
2
“Hey, li'l sis,” a woman's voice echoed from the hall. “You're in early today, hermanita!”
“Hola, Theresa!” Claire answered, brushing a stray curl behind her ear before looking up to see her sister standing just beyond her office door. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Her gaze fell longingly on the steaming cup of coffee in her sister’s hands. Her sleep deprived brain whimpered for caffeine. “I don’t suppose you brought one of those for me?”
“Sorry, I didn’t expect you’d be in so early.” Theresa approached Claire's desk and offered her the cup anyway. “Are you teaching morning classes now or something?”
Claire took a grateful swig of the bitter liquid before handing it back. “No, I just had a little insomnia and figured I might as well grade some papers.”
The truth was, Claire had barely slept a wink after reading the urgent message from Tech Cupid's IT department last night. Massachusetts? She still couldn't wrap her head around how one of the most popular new dating sites in the country could make such a colossal mistake. Claire had never expected to feel such a strong connection with any guy, let alone one she met on the Internet. The revelation that Jay lived clear on the opposite coast instead of just down the road had left her tossing and turning into the wee hours of morning.
The sight of her sister, though, gave Claire a flash of inspiration. “Hey, sis? Do you know people at any of the colleges around Boston?”
“Boston?” Theresa shrugged. “Probably. Why?” Claire's sister worked in the admissions office of Lovejoy College and had connections at most of the liberal arts schools across the country.
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Claire replied with an attempt at nonchalance that was completely at odds with the desperation gnawing at her insides. “It’s just, my current contract is up after the summer term and I thought maybe I should look into some other opportunities for next semester. That’s all.”
“Hold on a second. I thought you were basically guaranteed to get the tenure track position that's opening up when Dr. Grafton retires next spring.”
“It's not a sure thing, believe me. I should be looking into all my options.”
“Come on, everyone here loves you. You'll get the position. So why’re you thinking about Boston? You've never even mentioned wanting to visit Boston before! Now you want to move there?” Theresa's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Next semester is winter. Winter, Claire? You despise winter.”
“I told you, it’s nothing.” Claire found another curl that had escaped her ponytail and twirled it around her finger. “And it would be fall, not winter. Fall in New England is supposed to be beautiful.”
“So take a vacation there.” Theresa studied her sister and shook her head. “The end of the term is only a few weeks away. There's no time to plan. And you’re a planner. So what's this really about?”
“It's, well,” Claire put her hand self-consciously in front of her mouth and mumbled, “I finally activated that Tech Cupid membership you bought me for my birthday last month, and…”
“And…?”
She burrowed her mouth deeper into her hand. “And, I think I might have met someone.”
“Claire! Oh my goodness, really?” Theresa nearly leaped into the extra chair beside Claire's desk, propping her chin on her hands and staring intently at her with a wide grin. “I swear, I thought it would never happen. Tell me all about it! What is he, or she, like?”
“Well, his name is Jay, and—wait. What do you mean by or she?”
“What?” Theresa responded vaguely, suddenly much more interested in lining up a pile of paper clips along the edge of Claire’s desk than in making eye contact.
“You said 'tell me what he, or she, is like.’ What exactly are you trying to say? Theresa, you know I'm not gay!” The squeak of her voice made the strong denial sound like it came from a chipmunk.
“Sure, okay. Only, I mean, you know I love you no matter what, right? All I meant to say was that whatever makes you happy makes me happy.” She gave her sister an awkward shrug.
“Theresa, just because I don't date a lot of guys or talk about my sex life all the time like some people do doesn't mean I'm hiding in the closet.”
“No, of course not! It's just…”
“Just what?”
“Honestly, hermanita? In the past decade, I don't ever remember you going on a date, other than those two blind dates I set you up with that you claimed were disasters. And as far as a sex life goes—are you sure you even have one?”
“Oh my God, Theresa, yes, I've had sex. I study the nineteenth century, I don't live in it. You think I've never had sex?” She could feel her cheeks burning.
“I didn’t say never, but recently? When, Claire? When was the last time you had sex?”
Claire thought for a minute. “London! When I went to that Jane Austen symposium in London,” she announced in triumph.
“That Austen thing was seven years ago. Got something more recent?”
Claire's face fell. Had it really been that long? “Well, I've been busy. I was trying to finish a dissertation, in case you'd forgotten. That doesn't make me a lesbian.” Her voice dropped to an uncomfortable whisper as she said the final word.
“No, you're right. That does not make you a lesbian. No one thinks you're a lesbian because you were writing your dissertation.”
“Exactly. Wait—why did you say it that way? Like there's some other reason that you do. Or that other people do.” A look of panic crossed Claire's face. “Do other people think I’m a lesbian, Theresa?” She drummed her fingers nervously on the top of the desk. “Who thinks that, Aunt Marisol? That woman’s a fanatic. She thinks the statues in church talk to her. Has she been saying things about me?” Claire's voice squeaked again as she asked. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Relax, Claire. Calm down. Aunt Marisol hasn’t said anything.” Theresa drew a deep breath. “No one’s said anything. It’s just my own observations. Like how you’re always telling me about some new girl you met at the coffee shop, or how you can go on forever about a hundred of your favorite actresses but can’t name a single actor you think is hot.” Theresa shrugged. “You just get a hunch about that sort of thing after a while.”
“That doesn’t mean anything! I like to meet new people, and I happen to like movies with strong female characters. You’re reading too much into totally normal behavior, Theresa.”
Claire's sister waved her hands in surrender. “Fine. You’re probably right. It’s just that ever since you were a kid, since right after Mom and Dad died, it's like you've been hiding something and it makes you sad. So I took a guess that maybe that's what it was. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”
“Oh, Theresa.” Claire’s face softened as tears glistened on her lashes. Any mention of their parents always made her eyes we
ll up. “Of course I’ve been sad. But not because— well, not because of that. I just miss Mom and Dad.”
“That's all?”
“Of course! As for hiding stuff, you remember what it was like living with Aunt Marisol. I hid stuff from her all the time, and I know you did, too.”
Theresa chuckled. “Yeah, well, the woman's like a bloodhound.”
The expression on Claire's face turned serious. “You know that I want a family more than anything, right? Like we had with Mom and Dad. I’ve been waiting so long for a sign to know when I’ve met the right one. It’s just never happened until now with Jay.”
Theresa shook her head. “Signs again, Claire? I thought you'd grow out of that eventually.” She threw her hands into the air. “Jay’s in Boston. There’s a sign for you. It looks exactly like an interstate sign that reads Boston: 3,000 miles. We're talking about the other side of the country, Claire!”
“You’re telling me!” Claire replied. “It wasn’t intentional, trust me. You wouldn’t believe the disaster this is.” Claire went on to explain the technical mix up in detail. “But, maybe it’s fate,” she concluded. “I really think Jay’s the one, and if it hadn’t been for this screw up, we never would have met.”
“But you haven’t met,” Theresa pointed out, “and you’re already thinking of moving to Massachusetts, sight unseen. It’s not like you at all. What does Jay think of this plan?”
Claire sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he’s aware of the problem yet. I only got the message last night. Then the server went down, and I haven’t seen him online yet this morning to discuss it.”
“Well, you might hold off mentioning the moving idea, okay? Guys freak out over stuff like that. Look, I’ll check with some of my contacts and see what job openings there are, but don’t get your hopes up. Even if you get an offer, it may not be half as secure as what you already have.”
“Relax, sis,” Claire said. “I value my career. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just have faith that the universe wouldn't send me the sign I’ve been waiting for without delivering a way for it to work out.”
“Ay dios mio. You’re so stubborn. Has it occurred to you that the fact that everything got screwed up is a sign to keep looking?”
Claire laughed. “How about we make a bargain? You put in a good word for me wherever you can, and if the perfect offer comes along, then you’ll agree that it’s a sign from the universe that I’m right about this and you won’t argue with me not to go.”
“Fine. Deal.” Theresa stood, crushing her sister in a heartfelt embrace before heading to the door. “I doubt it’s going to happen, but if the universe really does send that sign of yours, I’ll even help you pack,” she added.
Claire watched her sister depart, the heel of her right foot tapping rapidly against her battered metal desk. Despite her attempt at bravado and her talk of signs and faith, she wasn’t delusional. She knew the odds were against her. With the ink barely dry on her PhD and only a handful of published articles to her credit, it would be hard to compete for a tenure track position against a city full of highly connected Ivy Leaguers. And Theresa was right. She would be a fool to give up the security she enjoyed at Lovejoy College for anything less.
Even with a fantastic offer, could she really just pick up and move across the country to a city she’d never seen before? Leave behind her friends, her sister, and the little bit of family she had left?
Deep down, though, Claire felt compelled. Ever since her parents had died in a car accident when she was nine, she’d had a clear vision of what her perfect future life would be. A husband, two kids, a nice little house, a dog—the ideal life, just like what her parents had. Actually, the dog was optional. She was more of a cat person. But the husband was essential. You didn’t get the kids and the house without the husband. It was a package deal.
It’s not like it hadn’t occurred to Claire that she wasn’t as boy crazy as the rest of her friends. When you spent prom night at home reading a book and were the only one in your dorm studying on the weekend instead of out on a date, you started to suspect that you might be a little different. But different as in serious and academic, not different. Sure, she found a lot of women attractive, objectively speaking. Didn’t everyone? She'd read an article once explaining that all women were bisexual by nature. It was just normal. It didn’t mean she had to act on it or anything.
She'd made a plan for her future, and she refused to be distracted from it. She had faith in that plan to make her happy, and she had faith in the universe to send her a sign when the time came.
She’d thought she'd received a sign once before. It was on that trip to London her senior year of college. There were six other women in her group and every single one of them had nurtured a lifelong obsession with Mr. Darcy. Apparently it was a requirement that all female Jane Austen scholars had to be in love with Darcy. Claire had never seen the appeal, not of the character nor, to be honest, of Colin Firth, the actor who was synonymous with Darcy for pretty much every woman in the western world. After all, Elizabeth Bennet was much more engaging as a character, and she could’ve done so much better than Darcy. It was the look on her colleagues’ faces when she voiced that opinion after a few drinks the first night of the conference that made Claire realize that, even among serious academics like herself, she might not quite fit in. She’d laughed it off, of course, and gone along with them the rest of the week as they waxed rhapsodic over everything vaguely Darcy-related.
And then along came that guy at the hotel bar the last night of the trip who started flirting with her. When one of the other women commented on how he looked just like Colin Firth, well, Claire was positive it was a sign. She was certain that if she took him up on the suggestion to join him in his hotel room that night, she’d finally figure out what all the fuss was—about sex and about Darcy, since she didn't really get either one.
It turned out to be a spectacular failure as plans went. Fifteen minutes of awkward groping under sheets that reeked of stale ale had done absolutely nothing to demystify the allure of sex. Or Darcy. She flew back to Portland with her faith momentarily shaken, until she realized she had just been wrong about the meaning of the sign. It hadn’t been meant to teach her about guys or sex at all. It was simply a sign that Jane Austen wasn’t really her true calling. If she didn’t get something as fundamental as Darcy, she wasn’t meant to be an Austen scholar. So she put the whole thing behind her, chose a new topic for her dissertation, and trusted that the sign she had really been waiting for would appear when it was time.
Then there was Jay.
Sure, it had taken a few years longer than anticipated, but better late than never. Jay was the first guy she’d felt genuine attraction for in her entire life. She loved the way he wrote, his jokes, how they enjoyed so many of the same things. As for physical attraction, well, his profile picture was a little hard to see but she thought he might be her type. If she had a type. She wasn’t convinced she did. She had flipped through so many promising profiles only to move on because the pictures left her feeling a little hollow. But something about Jay’s picture had caught her eye. Maybe it was the kind of dorky, adorable cowboy hat. Anyway, the emotional connection was what mattered, and once they met in person all of that physical stuff would fall into place, too, right?
Maybe I should ask for another picture, just to be certain.
A blinking box in the corner of the monitor caught Claire’s eye. A new chat window popped open. Jay. A sign. This connection they shared was so intense that just by thinking about him, he appeared. Surely it meant that things were finally going to turn out the way they were supposed to be.
3
Claire: So, you’ve seen the news about the screw up? That I'm on the west coast and you're on the east?
Jay: Yeah, I saw it. But what should we do about it?
Jamie stared at the screen, nerves jangling, dreading Claire’s response. What if she said they should break it off now, t
hat the distance would be too hard to overcome? It would be the safest answer, even ideal in a way. It would put an end to it without Jamie having to deliver the even more difficult news about her gender. It might break Jamie’s heart for her to say it, but at least it would be a clean break. What if Claire said the distance didn't matter to her? Then Jamie was going to have to tell her the truth, and it would almost certainly be over anyway after that. Almost certainly. It was that damned optimism, telling her maybe it wouldn't be over after all, that kept Jamie tied up in knots awaiting Claire’s reply.
Claire: I really like you. I want to keep getting to know you. I don't care how far away you are.
Jamie beamed. Claire wanted to get to know her. She liked her. She didn’t care about the distance.
This is wonderful! Jamie thought. No, this is terrible. Now Jamie was going to have to confess the rest of it. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe Claire was into women, too, and just hadn’t mentioned it. Yeah, right.
Contrary to popular wisdom, as well as a surprising number of articles in gentleman’s magazines, most women were not secretly bisexual. It turned out that it wasn't actually a rite of passage for all freshmen girls to engage in experimental hanky-panky with their college roommates, nor were the vast majority of women inclined to be overwhelmed by sexual curiosity when placed in the vicinity of a few shots of tequila, some bikini-clad friends, and a hot tub. Jamie had enough experience in the real world to know this for an absolute fact. It was a nice dream, but the chances of Claire being the one woman to buck this well-established trend was remote. Might as well just get it over with.
Jay: Claire, there’s something else I should probably tell you. Something important.
Telling Lies Online Page 2
