by Abby Crofton
Before she could rebut what I had just said—because there was no way Marie could let something go if she thought she was right—the front door opened and Bob walked out.
He gave me a hug, which I returned, because how could I not? Little kids gave the best hugs because they used all their strength, hugging with conviction. When they got older, they’d start with one-armed hugs, and little semihugs where they lightly placed their hands on the other person’s shoulders, nominally leaning in. But Bob was giving me a full-body hug, and I wasn’t going to waste it.
When he pulled back, he looked me right in the eye and asked, “You having girl trouble?” I gave a quick look to Marie, who just shrugged back. He was still looking at me when I turned back to him.
“Uh, I…I’m doing okay, Bob,” I stuttered out. “Thanks for asking.” I hadn’t even known Bob knew I was gay. It was a reminder that little kids, in addition to giving out top-rated hugs, also understood a lot more than people gave them credit for.
Bob gave me a serene smile in return. “Don’t worry, I know some people don’t like girls liking other girls, or boys liking boys, but it’s none of their business. You got to be happy, and love always makes people happy. And my friend Danver P. has two mommies who always bring in cupcakes and juice for the whole class, and they’re really nice. Danver L. has a mommy and a daddy, and they never bring in anything.” He then went back into the house, leaving us pondering his seven-year-old words of wisdom.
“He has two kids in his class named Danver?” I asked Marie. “I don’t think I’ve ever met even one person with that name.”
“Danver P.'s sister goes to our school. I think she's in the same grade as Eddy. They have one of those last names that are joined together when a couple gets married. Phila-something, I think. I don't know, the kid never comes over here to play with Bob, and I have enough trouble keeping track of my own school, let alone his too,” she pointed out.
But she had said enough for me to know exactly who she was talking about. “That's Eddy’s nemesis at the moment. Madison Philanuzzi. Eddy's been trying to figure out a way to crush the poor girl, who has unwittingly thrown my sister's life plan off course. Their moms are pretty popular at the high school, too,” I added. Maybe I should try to meet these two ladies. They seemed like great role models for me. Plus, there was the added benefit of pissing off my sister. Though I did risk getting thought of as a traitor, and I wasn't sure what she would do to traitors.
“I still think you should try for the European kiss,” Marie said, bringing us back to the conversation. “It's both classy and seductive, if you use it right.” She paused for a couple seconds, squinting her eyes in thought before she spoke again. “Actually, let's trash that idea. I can't really picture you correctly pulling off anything seductive. You would probably end up breaking her nose by accident. Though that would bring up a nurse/patient scenario, which could work for you. If you play it right, you might end up giving her a sponge bath,” she said lecherously with a smirk.
“You are the worst,” I declared. She pulled an exaggerated hurt face and then draped herself over my shoulders.
“I am not. You know there are probably millions of people worse than me. I'm trying to help you, and you just throw insults straight in my face. Remember, you called me. I don't have to take this,” she threatened as she made to get off my back. I grabbed her arms to keep her where she was.
“You know I love you in a totally platonic way, and that all I say comes from a place of longtime friendship,” I said, trying to placate her.
Marie gave me a squeeze and then sat back down in her seat. “Are Kate and Jenny the you and me of lesbians? Friends through thick and thin, supporting each other in our romantic tribulations?”
“Interesting theory,” I responded. “Except I'm a lesbian and Kate is more likely bisexual, so it's not a perfect analogy. And neither one of us is evil, so, once again, not perfect.” I sent her my most innocent face, which she quickly saw through.
“Oh, come on, Jenny isn't that bad,” she argued. “Evil is such a heavy word. She's always been perfectly pleasant to me, and Kate seems to like her just fine. Don’t be mad she finds you repulsive.”
“When you put it that way, how can I take offense?” I replied sarcastically. However, I wasn’t interested in talking about Jenny Jeffries.
“But what should I do tomorrow?” I asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. “And no more suggestions about sneaking in kisses,” I added in before she could respond with another useless idea. “I need help for real.”
She looked at me seriously for a few seconds. As she gave me a rueful smile, she said honestly, “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m an expert on dating or relationships. At this point, we’re in the same boat with our love lives: nonexistent. Actually, at least you have the possibility of something with Kate. I’m looking at a continuation of my long dry spell,” she lamented.
Marie was right. She was so much more outgoing and confident than me that I forgot we had the same lack of experience when it came to dating. She’d shared with me her crushes and the ups and downs of the couple of dates she’d been on, but there hadn’t been a boyfriend for us to gush or grumble over together. I suddenly realized I was being a bad friend by focusing on my issues without showing even a token interest about what she had going on in her life.
“Hey, let’s forget about all the lesbian drama,” I announced in a chipper voice. “What’s been happening with you? How’s your mom doing?” I asked, eager to find out if Ms. Gills’s life had finally settled down from the days of being a single mother of two children in a brand new town. Most people wouldn’t have been particularly interested in the life of their best friend’s parent, but Ms. Gills had always had my respect. For years, I had been a third-party observer of her struggles to make family, a job, and life work together so that nothing got shortchanged. Now that Marie was graduating high school and Bob was old enough and low-maintenance enough to be with friends and babysitters without causing too much worry, I hoped she could finally breathe a little easier.
Marie suddenly began fidgeting, which for as long as I’d known her had been a sign that she was working out a way in her head to avoid the truth without lying. I kicked myself for not realizing something was bothering her earlier.
“Hey, don’t pull your evasive nonanswer answers with me. What’s going on?” I asked, worried that any number of things could have gone wrong in my best friend’s life while I’d been obsessing over a girl.
She sighed. “Nothing is wrong. Mom is freaking out a little about college and financial stuff for next year. It’s just her usual overreaction to any type of change in our lives. She’ll get over it,” she tried to reassure me.
Her body language contradicted her words. When I held on to her fidgeting fingers to stop their movements, she suddenly clutched at my hands. I didn’t say anything, instead letting her take her time to process what she wanted to say.
“My dad wants to pay for college,” she blurted out. I was surprised at this news. Her dad paid child support for her and Bob, but I’d figured that the payments meant for her would stop once she turned eighteen. The man had been so absent from their lives, I’d assumed he’d jump at the chance to be rid of any obligations he had toward his kids. Needless to say that I did not have a very high opinion of her father.
“That’s good,” I slowly started, unsure if it really was a good thing or not. Marie was pretty tight-lipped about her father, and even as her best friend, I never got a good idea of how she really felt about him.
“I don’t want his money!” she exclaimed, dropping my hands. I leaned back at her outburst. But she wasn’t paying much attention to me. “My mom has money saved up for college for Bob and me, so technically I don’t need his money. I don’t mind taking out some loans to cover what's left. So when he called and said he wanted to pay for college, I didn’t know how to respond,” she explained. “My first thought was to tell him to go to hell and
take his money with him. But then I thought of all the things my mom could do with the money she saved for me if I already had college covered. So I just told him I’d think about it and hung up.” She ended by slumping down, as if all the talking had deflated her.
I tried to process what she had just said. I had no idea what to say since this was so far outside of my experiences with parents. I tried my best to come up with something useful.
“You have to think about the pros and cons,” I started, not sure where I was going with my thoughts. “You wouldn’t have to take out loans, and your mom would have extra money—both great things. But on the other side, if you don’t feel comfortable taking the money being offered, then it might taint your entire college experience. And that would be bad, since college is like a life-changing time for some people. But it might not be for you. And ‘taint’ might not be the right word. Maybe ‘negatively affect’ would be better?” I rambled, lost in my own word salad.
“I know all that,” she said as she threw her hands up. “I’ve been over all this in my head so many times now, but I still can’t make a decision. My mom isn’t much help either. She keeps telling me the money is for me and that she wants me to have it, but I’m not stupid. I know that she could use that money for Bob, or herself, or just as an emergency fund. Like, what if Bob needs braces in a few years, or she wants to go on a vacation with her friends for once? It just seems selfish of me to take her money when it could go to better uses,” she reasoned with me. Or maybe herself.
“And what about the other side?” I asked. “Could you take the money your father is offering?”
Immediately, I could tell that I had asked the big question. She ran her hand through her hair and exhaled weakly. “I don’t know,” she whispered with real uncertainty in her voice.
I scooted over and squeezed myself next to her in her rocking chair. I put my arm around her, and she let her head fall heavily on my shoulder.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head and stood up. “This is stupid. We haven’t even come close to figuring out what you’re going to do tomorrow. I mean, this could be a total life changer for you,” she said as she turned to me. This was her way of saying she didn’t want to talk about her issues anymore, and I followed her lead. If she wanted to focus on my dating misadventures, I’d let her. At least I now knew that something was going on and I could be there for her, whatever she chose to do.
I stood up too. “I think you’re exaggerating just a tiny bit,” I told her. “Most likely scenario is that Kate realizes I’m boring, which I am, and never talks to me again. And Jenny Jeffries cackles with glee at getting my hopes up only to be dashed and stomped on and ground into dust,” I said matter-of-factly. Sometimes the truth hurt.
She pointed a finger at me. “That is enough. We’re just going around in circles. She likes you, she doesn’t like you, blah, blah, blah. We’re done with all the useless talking. Now it’s time for action. First, what are you going to wear?”
I told her my plans for the outfit I was going to wear the next day, but I couldn’t get away from the one thing that had been bothering me the most.
“I’m still not sure she likes me,” I revealed to Marie. “I mean, my talk with Jenny points in that direction, but that’s still not a guarantee that she likes me, or even girls in general. Like, what if she wants to get together because she wants to talk about a boy she likes and needs another opinion?”
I wondered if all lesbians felt this way at some point. The uncertainty of my affections not being reciprocated was almost paralyzing me from moving forward with Kate. If she wanted to kiss me or go on a date, it would have been easier if she had been like Sarah and just asked me outright. Although, I didn’t know if Sarah had always been so bold, or if experience had cultivated it within her. Too bad I didn’t have her number or email so I could ask for some advice. What I really needed was a lesbian mentor. Would the Philanuzzi moms be willing to take me under their lesbian wings?
But Marie wasn’t having any of my doubts. “Now you’re being an idiot,” she said. “Stop worrying about if she likes you or not. You’ll know soon enough. Either she shows that she’s interested or she doesn’t. Have you thought that maybe she’s wondering the same thing about you? Sure she knows you’re a lesbian, but maybe she thinks she’s not your type. The only way things move forward is if one of you takes a chance. Are you ready to do that?” she asked.
That was the question. Was I ready? Hopefully when I saw Kate tomorrow she would make it very clear whether or not she was interested in me. If she didn’t and it fell on me to initiate something, then we could be at a stalemate for a very long time.
My silence must have given Marie the answer, because she came and gave me a big hug. I didn’t realize how much I needed one until I was tucked safely in her arms.
“You’ll be all right,” she whispered in my ear. She pulled back and gave me a smile. “I know that you’re braver than you think. You wouldn't have gotten this far if you weren’t willing to try with Kate. There are no guarantees, but you won’t know if you don’t give it a go. And one of us has to lose our virginity soon,” she said, smiling.
I gave her a raised eyebrow in return at her cheekiness.
“Don't get me wrong, I was looking forward to sharing a house full of cats with you in the future, but I’d be happier if you got together with a totally hot cheerleader instead. Just promise you’ll have me and at least two of my cats over for dinner sometimes.” The totally serious expression on her face was only ruined by the mischievous look in her eyes.
I did not bother responding to her. It would only encourage her in the long run.
Chapter 10
I was up by four the next morning. Mr. Jessup was set to go into surgery by six, and Mrs. Jessup wanted to get to the hospital before then to make sure everything was ready for him. I guess there was hospital paperwork and other stuff to take care of.
Our houses were on a side street that was usually quiet, but walking down the street just as the sun was coming up and before anyone else was awake was a bit unnerving. I was glad when I saw some lights on as I neared the Jessups’ house.
Mrs. Jessup must have been waiting for me, because the door opened before I had a chance to knock. “Haley, thank you so much for coming over on such short notice,” she said distractedly. She was already grabbing some bags that had been set down inside the front door.
Mrs. Jessup was one of those ladies who seemed to have it all—husband, kids, the big house in the suburbs, and a career. As a financial analyst at a small firm outside the city, she always wore coordinating outfits and perfect makeup. But today Mrs. Jessup looked different than I had ever seen her. She had on an obviously well-worn sweatshirt and jeans that led down to a pair of scruffy-looking sneakers. None of her ensemble was color coordinated, and only matched in the shared dinginess of all the clothing. She was not wearing makeup and had her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. The pair of glasses surprised me the most, since I’d never known she needed them. I had been babysitting this woman’s children for years, and I didn’t really know anything about her other than what she chose to show me.
“No problem, Mrs. Jessup. I’m just glad I could help,” I responded. I wanted to ask about Mr. Jessup, but she was already halfway out the door and on her way to the car, all while giving me some last-minute instructions.
“The kids are still asleep, but they know you’ll be here when they wake up. Pancake mix is on the counter for breakfast, and there’s plenty of food for sandwiches and snacks. Peter’s mother will be here around seven tonight, and hopefully her flight will be on time. The kids know Grandma is coming, so it shouldn’t surprise them,” she said as I obediently followed after her, looking for any opportunity where I could ask a question that had been eating at me.
When she paused to open her car door, I saw my chance. “Would it be okay if a friend stopped by later?” I asked, thinking that it might be better if I kept it as vague as I could g
et away with. I wasn’t sure what I would say anyway. That I had a girl coming over who I was looking to make a move on? That didn't seem like an appropriate way to phrase my request. Luckily, she trusted me and was distracted enough not to want to get any more details. And truthfully, chances were high that everything that happened with Kate today would be totally innocent. Whatever moves I had to make wouldn't be impressive.
“Of course, that’s fine. Let me know if an emergency comes up, but I’ll be at the hospital where the coverage is spotty. I’ll step out and check my phone regularly, though.” Before she got in her car, I was able to ask her to give Mr. Jessup my best. When she looked at me, her face crumbled for a second before she pulled herself together with a deep breath.
“I will tell him, Haley. Thank you again for coming over on such short notice.” Then she got in her car and drove off. I watched the car until it turned the corner at the end of the block and was out of my sight.
I had the next few hours to myself until the kids were scheduled to wake up. I thought about taking a nap, but figured that by the time I fell asleep on the couch, I would probably have to get back up. So instead I checked the kitchen and planned breakfast. I was sure the kids were worried about their dad, so I thought chocolate chip pancakes would be a nice treat for them.
The rest of the time was filled with checking social media and thoughts of Kate, both good and bad: little daydreams of us dating and doing couple-type things together (mostly G-rated); her rejecting me in a way that a kick in the gut would hurt less; us trapped in a space station, battling invading aliens, with love being our greatest weapon against them. (That last one may have been a product of waking up before dawn and then having a couple cups of coffee to stay awake when I didn’t usually touch the stuff.)
I was glad when Max, still in his pajamas, stumbled down the stairs at a little past eight and flopped down next to me on the couch. I was silently thankful, because he’d stopped me from obsessing so much about later that day that I’d almost convinced myself to text Kate and cancel.
