“Sure, why wouldn’t it be? It’s the twenty-first century, right? I have a gay cousin. Everyone’s cool with it.”
“Even your Aunt Marisol?” Somehow, Jamie doubted the sentiment was as unanimous as Claire made it sound.
“God, no!” Claire spluttered, then looked at Jamie sheepishly. “Sorry, that didn’t come out well. The cousin's on my mom’s side. They’re, like, a bunch of hippies who have goats and make their own granola.”
“Too bad you didn’t go live with them.”
“I know, right? But they live in Washington and everyone agreed it would be better for us not to have to change schools. Aunt Marisol lived down the street, so that’s who we got.”
After they’d finished eating and spent several minutes admiring the view, they rode the elevator back down to the lobby.
“So,” Claire said, “it’s almost two o’clock and I have about three hours until I have to leave for the airport. What else do you have in store for me? Not that there needs to be anything else,” she added quickly. “This has already been the most amazing day I could possibly imagine. I really don’t expect anything else.”
“Well,” Jamie replied, “as it happens, I did have one more thing in mind. Follow me.”
The salt was thick in the air as they approached the wharf, and Claire stopped to breathe it in. Jamie was relieved to note the blissful look on Claire’s face. She had mentioned sailing once in a chat but it hadn’t come up since, and Jamie wasn’t certain how serious Claire had been about it. Their next activity would go a lot more smoothly if Claire was really as passionate about boats as she had led “Jay” to believe. Claire gasped when she saw the vintage Soling sailboat bobbing in the water in front of her, prepped and ready for its voyage.
“Is this your boat?” she asked breathlessly.
“I wish,” Jamie replied with a chuckle, “but alas, it’s just a rental. A fun one, though. I have a membership here, so I can take it out whenever it’s available.”
Once aboard, they spent a few moments in preparation and it was immediately apparent that Claire was every bit as proficient as Jamie had hoped. Soon they were sailing into the harbor, the city skyline soaring beyond the sparkling water. They zipped around, enjoying the speed and agility of the small craft. Finally, Jamie chose a quiet spot for them to slow down and admire the view.
“This is amazing,” Claire breathed. “This morning, I thought I hated Boston and I wanted to go home. Now, I never want to leave.”
As if on cue, Claire’s phone began to vibrate. They had been in and out of cell phone coverage on the water and Claire had missed a call. She squinted at the number. “It's a local number. I think it might be the college,” she said nervously. “They left a voice mail. It's probably bad news, right? That's why they left a message?”
“Maybe you should listen to the message before you get too worried.” Jamie’s pulse raced. She hoped for good news, then prayed for bad. Both outcomes were equally desirable, and terrifying.
“I guess you're right. Hold on.” She struggled to hear the message over the whipping wind and had to listen a second time. Finally, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and looked at Jamie in a daze. “I got it,” she said. “I can’t believe it, but they want me back in two weeks for the start of the fall term!”
Claire let out a jubilant yelp and Jamie joined her, each flinging her arms around the other in celebration and jumping up and down, narrowly avoiding tipping the small craft as they did.
In a few short hours, Claire would be flying back to Portland not for good, but just to pack, and then she would return to Jamie and a new job and a new adventure. And if Claire seemed to forget in the excitement of the moment that she would finally get to meet Jay, Jamie was in no hurry to remind her.
10
Claire spun in a slow, deliberate circle, taking in the growing pile of boxes in her Portland apartment. She planned to pack as much as she could in her car and leave the rest at Theresa’s house until she had a better idea of her situation in Boston. Claire had yet to secure an apartment, and Jay was being of frustratingly little help. She had sent him a message as soon as she got home to share the wonderful news, but her excitement had fizzled at his response. He was still in Antarctica and had no plans to return anytime soon. He hardly seemed to care that she was coming to Boston.
He hadn’t even bothered to respond to her questions about how he had found his apartment in Beacon Hill, let alone offer her the use of it until his return, as she had secretly hoped he would. It would have been so much more convenient. Claire wouldn’t dream of moving in with Jay so soon, but if he was going to be on the other side of the globe, she didn’t see the harm in staying in his empty apartment while he was gone.
She had so little time to prepare for the move, and she’d honestly had no idea when she accepted the new position that apartments cost so much in Boston and were so difficult to find. Claire worried that she wouldn’t find one in time, or if she did, that she wouldn’t be able to afford to live there on a lecturer's salary.
Theresa’s footsteps rang out from the kitchen with the exaggerated echo that was peculiar to nearly empty rooms. She’d dropped by after work to take a load of boxes to her house, as well as to take yet another opportunity to lecture Claire on how reckless she was being. If this move was just about living closer to a man she had yet to meet, the way Theresa seemed to think it was, Claire might agree. But it wasn’t. Not anymore. The moment Claire heard that message, with the salty wind in her face, the Boston skyline behind her, and the thrill of adventure coursing through her veins, she knew it was a sign. The universe wanted her in Boston, and Claire was not going to argue with the universe.
“Claire,” Theresa called out, “what’s happening with the stuff in these last two drawers by the stove?”
Unable to recall what was yet to be packed, Claire ventured into the kitchen to take a look. “Honestly?” Claire replied, surveying the collection of spatulas with melted handles and aged potholders of indeterminate color, “I’m thinking trash. If I ever manage to find an apartment, I'll celebrate by buying some utensils that don’t look like they’ve marched through Hell and back.”
“Yeah, well, sis, that’s some way to celebrate. I’ve always said you really know how to party,” Theresa teased. “And what about the stuff on the fridge, is that trash, too?”
Claire looked lovingly at the photos and memos that covered the refrigerator, held up by one of the largest private collections of cutesy gift shop magnets in the Pacific Northwest. “Bite your tongue! Those magnets are one of a kind.”
“Uh huh. Only because the world might explode if there were actually two plastic parrots wearing Carmen Miranda fruit hats in existence at the same time.”
Claire just rolled her eyes in response. Her sister could say whatever she liked, the magnets were awesome.
“So, this is Jay?” Theresa asked, pointing toward the photo the parrot was holding. Claire nodded. It was the one Jay had sent from Antarctica. “That’s the best picture of him you’ve got?”
“I have others. I've just, um, packed them already.” Actually, Claire had tried putting them up right after Jay sent them, but something about it hadn’t felt right. It was like Jay’s ridiculously handsome face was constantly staring at her from the photo, demanding an explanation when she failed to swoon.
It was weird, but in those pictures, it seemed like he could almost be just some guy out of a catalog. When Claire stuck them to the scratched enamel of the fridge, they didn’t even seem real. Suddenly it’d been like she was back in middle school that time when she framed a picture of a boy that she’d cut out of a magazine and tried to convince her friends it was her boyfriend from summer camp who lived in Idaho.
God, that was so stupid. Why did I do that? She couldn’t remember. But anyway, that photo of Jay had come down as quickly as it’d gone up. She liked the one from the expedition, liked that it gave her the overall feel of Jay without too many details to make
her feel uneasy.
Beneath that one was the selfie of Jamie and her on the harbor that she'd taken right before she left for the airport. Looking at it now, she was reminded of something Jamie had said earlier that day that had been troubling her ever since. “Theresa, do you think we had a lot of pressure on us growing up to act a certain way? You know, to make mom and dad proud?”
“While they were alive? Not at all. But if you mean did Aunt Marisol guilt-trip us every chance she got after they were dead, then absolutely, yes. I mean, I love her, but she could lay a guilt trip on a person like nobody’s business. Unfortunately, you got the brunt of it once I left for college.”
“But, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with trying to make Mom and Dad proud, right? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Sure, if what you're doing makes you happy. But not if you choose everything you do based on what you think they would want.” Theresa paused, looking into Claire's eyes. “That’s not the way to live. Why are you asking this now?”
“Oh, just something Jamie said to me.”
“You mean this Jamie?” Theresa pointed to the photo. “So, you mean this Jamie person was able to figure that out and get you to actually listen to her in one day? Wow, smart and beautiful, huh?” she teased.
“Oh, is she?” Claire shrugged. “I hadn’t really noticed.”
She had noticed. Of course she had. How could anyone not notice Jamie's long legs and the way her tank top shimmied so suggestively along her curves? Well, honestly, everyone in the restaurant had noticed. It’s not like it was just her. Hadn’t her sister just noticed? And that was only from a photo. It could hardly do justice to the way Jamie’s hair had glowed like a halo in the afternoon sun, or the way her slightly crooked front tooth made her smile seem even more perfect.
Theresa snorted. “Sure you hadn’t noticed. So, are you likely to see Jamie or Paul or any of those other people you met a lot once you’ve moved out there?”
“I don’t know. I assume so. Jamie gave me her number and told to me be in touch. So yeah. I mean, between Jay working at the Marine Institute and me teaching on the North Shore, I’ll probably be up that way all the time.”
“But you’re still set on finding a place in Beacon Hill?”
“Well, yeah. You should see it. It’s like something out of Dickens, seriously.”
“Uh huh. And from what you told me about the rents, you’re going to end up like one of his raggedy orphans, selling matches on a street corner to live there. Unless you’ve heard back from any of the places you contacted yesterday— what about the townhouse?”
Claire groaned. “Oh, Theresa. I can’t believe I was so stupid. That listing for the $375,000 townhouse—which I probably couldn't have afforded even with the last of the insurance money from Mom and Dad, plus the loan that you and Larry offered—wasn’t actually to buy that cute little townhouse at all. It was to buy the parking space on the street in front of the townhouse.”
“People pay that much for a parking space?” Theresa shook her head in disbelief.
“I guess they do in Boston.”
“Then, apart from the fact that Jay lives there, and considering he doesn’t know when he’s coming back and hasn't offered to have you stay in his place while he’s gone, why are you clinging to the idea that you have to live in Beacon Hill, or in Boston at all?” Theresa asked. “What about the North Shore? Or, what was the other place—Cape Ann?”
Claire shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe.”
“You’re leaving the day after tomorrow, Claire, and you have no place to go. You said Jamie gave you her number, right? Why don’t you text her and ask for some help?”
Claire squirmed under her sister’s relentless gaze. “You mean text her right now, while you watch me like I’m one of your kids to make sure I actually do it? Fine.” She grabbed her phone and dashed off a quick text. “There, I sent it. I hope you’re happy.”
Theresa smiled. “It's a good plan. You'll thank me someday.”
Claire glared at her. “Stop staring at me like I’m a naughty toddler who’s refusing to eat my vegetables. Jamie’s a busy woman. She’s not going to drop everything the minute she hears from me and—”
Claire stopped short as her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, announcing the arrival of a new message. After reading it through twice she looked at her sister and said, “That was from Jamie. She says most of the good places for September 1st were snapped up months ago, even on Cape Ann. But I can rent one of the extra rooms at her and Paul’s place until I find something.”
Theresa grinned. “There you go! Talk about the universe sending a sign. ‘Ask and ye shall receive’, as they say.”
“I don’t know…” Claire replied.
It was the perfect solution. The house was beautiful. In fact, it was exactly the type of house she had always wanted to live in, and it would be an easy commute to the college. The rent Jamie had quoted was so low that all of her budget problems would evaporate in an instant if she accepted. So why did she feel so nervous? “You can stop staring at me because I’m not going to text her back right now. I need to think about it. Haven’t you been telling me all week that I’m being too reckless?”
“Yes, but that was different,” her sister argued. “That was about a relationship. This is about a roof over your head.”
“Be proud, hermanita. I am actually taking your advice for once. This is me not being reckless. Now,” she added, grabbing a box, “let's put these boxes in your car so you can get home to Larry and the boys. I’ll be over tomorrow night for dinner and to say good-bye, and I’ll let you know then what I’ve decided. After a sensible night’s sleep.”
Back in her empty apartment, Claire stared at the pictures on the fridge and tried to make sense of the swarm of butterflies that had migrated to her stomach at the sight of Jamie’s text. She studied the picture of her and Jamie. It was, as Theresa had said, a nice picture. It's not what she said, it's what she was implying when she said it. And that was without her knowing that Jamie dated women.
Claire was glad Theresa didn't know how shamelessly she had been flirting with Jamie that day. Claire’s cheeks burned scarlet at the memory of how she had teased Jamie on the rooftop garden. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, but that comment about Aunt Marisol controlling her had rankled. She’d been looking for a way to strike back, not at Jamie, but at her own repressed upbringing. The thought of being manipulated made her blood boil, though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why it had made her flirt with Jamie that way.
Missy. A name from the distant past echoed in her mind. Claire’s breath caught as the memory came flooding back. Of course. The incident with Missy was the reason she had cut out that stupid picture and put it in her locker in middle school. Missy had been a new student at their school that year, her father in the military or some such thing that made them move around a lot. She and Claire were inseparable for a few weeks, until one night when Aunt Marisol had pulled Claire aside.
Her aunt had been so upset. People were talking, she had told her accusingly, saying things about Missy. About Missy and Claire. Terrible things. And what would people think? What would they think about Claire’s poor deceased mother and father? How could Claire let anyone think this was how they raised her? And Claire had been in tears—she remembered it vividly. Of course she didn’t want people to think bad things about her parents. And of course she would stop being friends with Missy, if that’s what she had to do.
She’d done exactly that. Claire was shocked to remember it. She hadn’t even tried to explain, just stopped hanging out with her, just like that. Poor Missy. She must have been so confused and hurt. Claire didn’t even know for certain. Missy had moved again the next semester and that was the last time she’d even thought about it until now. But deep down, Claire must have realized that flirting with Jamie would be like twisting a knife into her Aunt Marisol.
So, that explained her behavior. It was a relief to know why s
he'd done it, but it didn’t make it right. Especially since she knew that Jamie might take her seriously. Not that Claire was one of those people who assumed all lesbians had to automatically be in love with her just because she was a girl, or something. But she liked Jamie, and she didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. She didn’t want to hurt Jamie the way she must have hurt Missy. If she decide to move in with Jamie and Paul, it could only be with strict guidelines in place. No more fancy dinners. No more sailing, or picnics in secret rooftop gardens.
No more flirting.
But what if I’m fooling myself? What if I just really enjoyed flirting with her? Claire brushed the thought aside. It didn’t really matter whether she enjoyed it or not. She had a goal to concentrate on. Jay was that goal, and he would be back before too long. In the meantime, she would just have to choose to live by a few rules where Jamie was concerned. She could manage that.
I’ll do it, Claire thought. She picked up her phone and sent Jamie a text to accept her offer. Claire felt giddy. In less than a week, she would be moving into her dream house in a charming little village on Cape Ann, with two new friends and a whole new life. How hard could it possibly be to follow a few common sense rules, anyway?
11
It was the start of a sunny Labor Day weekend when Claire parked in front of the massive Victorian on Ocean Boulevard. The sound of the engine stopping and the slam of a car door sent Jamie and Paul running to the porch to greet their new roommate. Claire was already unloading boxes, and Paul hollered across the lawn that they would be down in a minute to help.
“Hey, Jay?” he asked in an exaggerated whisper, “What does a lesbian bring to a second da—ouch! Why’d you do that?”
Jamie rubbed her elbow. Paul’s ribs were harder than she’d thought. “’Cause you deserved it. It’s a dumb joke, Paul. And every single time you tell it, it gets dumber. Besides, you can’t call me Jay any more, remember?”
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