It was hard for Sydney to fit the key into her lock. Not because she couldn’t see it, but because she knew what would happen next.
They would enter Sydney’s apartment.
And they would sit on the floor and eat by candlelight.
And Sydney would watch Caroline.
And every inch of her would ache.
Still, she opened her door.
Chapter 10
Max was happy to see them return. After ruffling the fur behind his ears, Sydney led Caroline into her apartment. “Mind Max,” she warned her, smiling. “He likes to trip you up.”
Caroline reached out, found Max’s head, and pet him. “He’s taller than I remember.” She chuckled.
There was some rummaging around in the dark until Caroline produced her phone from her purse and held it aloft as they found the candles and the lighter in the bag.
The gas station had only had one pack of tealights for sale, and they were dusty, having been tucked back behind the car fluids on the shelf. Sydney didn’t know how Caroline had spotted them before, but when she flicked the lighter, when the apartment was bathed in the soft, warm glow of that first tealight, Sydney had to hold back a gasp.
She looked at the woman smiling down at the little flame and wondered, just for a heartbeat, if Caroline was made of magic.
It was a silly thought. There was, after all, no such thing as magic. But there was something about Caroline, something so profoundly enchanting, that Sydney decided, if there were such a thing as magic, and only a few rare, lovely people had the talent to bring the miraculous into the mundane, Caroline would be one of them.
Caroline lit another tealight and handed it to Sydney. “Here, let’s put these around your apartment. We’ll be able to see better.”
Sydney complied, and soon the entire pack of tealights had been lit, and Sydney’s apartment was transformed.
She never thought the space could look so lovely.
Candlelight hides a host of sins, and a place you might not look at twice in the daylight appears inviting at night by a candle's glow. That’s how it was with Sydney’s apartment. Sydney didn’t have much furniture; what she did have had been garbage-picked, pieces that other people were throwing away, that were usable but not especially aesthetically pleasing.
With the candles flickering on the little tables and the windowsills, though, what was a drab and gray space had become a warm sanctuary. True, the apartment was Sydney's refuge from the outside world, but it had never been beautiful before.
Sydney felt her heart rising, and when she looked back at Caroline…
Oh...
The woman was sitting on the floor, Max sprawled by her side. The great bulk of his back was flush with her hip, and her long fingers were curled into the fur of his stomach. Her skirt was spread over her legs and knees, and she was smiling at the big dog, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sydney joined Caroline on the floor. The candlelight made her feel as if she were in a new, sacred space.
She gazed at Caroline, and she longed for her.
Sydney had felt a lot in her young years. Much of what she’d felt had been painful, all-consuming fear that she wouldn’t wish on anyone, even the people who had hurt her. Good feelings, happiness, hope, peace—they were concepts that were hard for her to understand within herself, or recognize.
But as she watched Caroline pet her dog, Sydney felt happy.
And that was good.
“I’m famished!” said Caroline, glancing up. “Do you want to do the honors?” She gestured toward the plastic bags with a chuckle.
Sydney unpacked the food containers and spread them all out. They had, perhaps, overbought. There were chips, fruit, peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, candy, hummus and celery, bottled soft drinks and iced tea.
They chuckled as they took in the vastness of their feast.
“I can’t remember the last time the power went out in the Hamilton!” said Caroline, sighing as she scooped hummus onto a stick of celery. “I don’t think it ever did before.” She offered Max a potato chip, then, and he ate it, crunching contentedly.
Sydney found her mouth curling up at the corners. She tried the hummus, too, loading it onto a chip. “You’ve been living at the Hamilton for a long time?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes, about ten years. I lived in a different apartment, though, for a while. I only moved into the one you saw about a year ago.” A shadow passed over her face. “After the breakup.”
Sydney sat still and waited.
Her mouth drawn into a thin line, Caroline glanced at Sydney and tilted her head. “My ex and I were together for almost fifteen years. It was...very hard to say goodbye to her.”
Her.
That perfect, delicious word.
Sydney tried to look sad, sympathetic, but it was hard. Her heart felt like a newly inflated balloon, and excitement raced beneath her skin.
She remained silent.
Caroline bit her lower lip before picking up a strawberry. “Ah, this is a good one,” she said, tasting it, but her chuckle sounded flat. “Anyway, I’m better off without her. It’s just…hard sometimes. It’s been a year, and I'm still getting used to it. But listen to me...” She trailed off, flicking her gaze to Sydney. “You’ve probably never had your heart broken—”
“I have,” Sydney told her softly.
Caroline watched her and waited, did not say a word.
Sydney cleared her throat.
“I had a big crush on my best friend growing up. And we…sort of…dated…” She didn’t know how to explain that kiss without revealing too many details from her past. “And then she said that it…didn’t mean anything to her. Though it had meant everything to me.”
The two women were quiet as they watched one another.
They knew now.
They both knew.
And they considered one another carefully.
“So…” Caroline began, her voice light. “You’re…”
“A lesbian.” Sydney said the word quickly, and with finality. It felt heavy in her mouth. She’d been told so often and by so many people that this was not what she was, that it should not define her.
That she could “overcome” it.
Which was, of course, bullshit.
This was what she was. This was what she’d fought for, over and over again. They'd tried to scour it away from her, tried to unstitch it from her heart.
But it was as intrinsic to Sydney as her DNA. It was within her coding. It was what made Sydney…Sydney.
And no one could take it from her. Even though they had tried.
She owned it now. It had been such a long time since she’d said it out loud, and though there was still shame and fear associated with that word, a dark grime on its surface that she hoped, with time, she’d be able to wipe away…she had told Caroline who she was.
And Caroline smiled.
“Me, too,” she said simply. And then again, after a long moment: “Me, too.”
So…what now?
They’d said the magic words to one another, the words that reconfigured everything. Perhaps to someone who existed under conditions society deemed “default,” this would not seem so incredible. But by speaking their truths aloud, Sydney and Caroline had transformed.
They became women who lived in the same world, who walked the same path, who knew the same magic.
Unveiled, Caroline and Sydney watched one another.
In the wavering candlelight, they smiled.
“You’re young.” Caroline seemed to take Sydney in with new eyes. “Did you always know? What you were?”
Sydney nodded slowly. “Always. One of my earliest memories is looking at my friend—the one I told you about, that I had a crush on—and knowing she was beautiful in a way that…meant something to me. Something special.”
Caroline took up another piece of celery. “You’re lucky, in a way.”
“How so?”
&nb
sp; Caroline shrugged, waving the celery stick in the air. “I…I guess I always knew I was different, but I tried to hide from it for a very long time. I even married someone—a man.” She chuckled a little, but it was a rueful sound. “Poor guy. We divorced soon afterward. I couldn’t live that lie. But I dragged him through it with me, and I still feel sorry about it. I think I always will.”
“What was it like, marrying a guy when you—when you knew?”
Caroline stared at Sydney, and she drew in a deep breath. “Horrible,” she whispered. “He…was such a nice guy. It had nothing to do with him. But I felt like I was dying inside. I was asking something of myself that I couldn’t do or be. I was asking myself to deny something essential…” Caroline placed her hand over her heart, lowered her gaze. “You’re lucky because you’ve never had to do that. You just knew. And I’m sure it was still hard, but you didn't deny yourself. That’s...beautiful.”
Sydney blinked.
Stared.
Remembered.
The “reconditioning” process had been tantamount to brainwashing.
Say you’re straight.
Say you’re not gay.
Say it!
But Sydney had never said it. Not even when they starved her. Not even when they beat her. Sydney didn’t lie. She told the truth. She knew what she was, and she wasn’t going to pretend to be something else.
She couldn’t pretend.
Sydney wet her lips with her tongue. Her mouth felt so dry. The past was like a ghost, always there…always waiting.
A haunting.
She closed her eyes.
“Yeah,” she finally said, voice weak.
“I’m sorry,” Caroline amended quickly. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I didn't mean to imply that my journey was harder. I’m just…happy for you. That's all.”
Sydney opened her eyes, regarded the woman before her. “I know. I…” She swallowed, numb, and forced out, “My life...hasn’t been easy.”
Caroline reached across the space between them, and she took Sydney’s hand in her own. It was a spontaneous gesture, and if it had been done by anyone else, Sydney might have pulled her hand away.
Caroline wove her fingers through Sydney’s and squeezed.
“Whatever you’ve been through, Sydney, I want you to know…I think you’re brave.”
Sydney swallowed again.
“I just… I sensed that about you. I know it’s silly. ‘Sensing’ things.” Caroline chuckled at herself, but her blue eyes were serious, glinting. “I sensed that you were a very brave girl, and I admire that—so much—about you. I don’t think I’m brave. But I know you are.”
Sydney took a deep, quavering breath and let it out. “I’m not brave,” she said quietly, but Caroline shook her head, let go of Sydney’s hand and sat back a little, brow raised.
“Do you know why I really came down here tonight?”
Sydney’s heart stuttered in her chest. She shook her head.
“Mrs. Williams had a little…chat with me.”
Sydney knew better than to assume that Caroline and Mrs. Williams had had a mere “chat.” She stared at her companion in alarm, but Caroline raised a hand.
“Don’t worry. I set her straight. She came up to my apartment this evening and told me that I had—and I quote—corrupted you.” Caroline growled out the word. “She said that you had been perfectly nice to her until we met, and then I planted the ‘seed of Satan’ in your vulnerable psyche.” Caroline chuckled bitterly.
“But…” Sydney was at a loss for words, could only breathe, “Oh, my God. She’s such an asshole.”
The women stared at one another, and then they were laughing—and laughing hard. Sydney covered her mouth with her hands, but she couldn’t stop. It was as if the tension of the last few months, of the last few years, was slowly seeping out of her, fading away.
“Ever since I moved in, she’s been trying to save me. And I don’t want to be saved,” said Sydney, shaking her head. “I’ve tried to tell her that, but she just talks right over me, and I’m too polite to tell her to leave me alone. She...” Sydney paused, meeting Caroline's gaze. “She told me that you were gay, and that’s why she didn’t talk to you at the grocery store, and then tonight, I just… I guess I sort of blew up at her.”
“Oh, do tell,” said Caroline, opening another one of the chip bags, the crinkly sound making Max’s ears flop over.
“I just told her the truth—about what I am—and that she's a hypocrite and Jesus wouldn’t like what she's been doing. Stuff that I guess I’ve been wanting to say for a while.” Sydney let out the breath in her lungs in a long, satisfying sigh. “It felt good to say it.” She smiled softly at Caroline.
“I bet.” Caroline licked the salt from her fingers and offered the chip bag to Sydney. “These are really good. Want a bite?”
Sydney couldn’t help it: she started laughing again, helplessly.
“What?” asked Caroline, smiling.
“This is probably exactly what Mrs. Williams thought happened, you know? I mean, look at you. Eve, offering me the apple. Except you’re offering me chips, and who could say ‘no’ to chips?” Sydney giggled and took the bag from Caroline, eating a few chips. “You’re right. These are good.”
But then she glanced at Caroline and sobered up a little. The woman was staring down at floor, her mouth a small, flat line.
“I’m sorry.” Sydney sat up a little straighter. “Did I say something wrong?”
Caroline shook her head, though it was obvious that she was uncomfortable. “It bothers me that Mrs. Williams assumes that, because I’m a lesbian, I want to seduce every woman in the world. She thinks I want her, for Christ’s sake.”
Sydney let the enormity of Caroline’s words wash over her.
Sydney had started to think…
Well, there was a familiarity between them. Their guards had been let down. They were talking as if they’d known one another for a long time. They knew something intrinsically important about one another, something they shared, and that meant that they were intimately acquainted… In Sydney's mind, at least.
And Sydney had wanted—or, rather, she had hoped that this meant that maybe…
That maybe Caroline might be attracted to her.
She understood what a wild hope that had been. And she knew better than to hope it. She knew better, damn it.
But Caroline brought it out in her.
Hope.
She licked her salty lips. “It bothered you—” she began, but Caroline cut her off.
“She implied that I was sleeping with you,” Caroline said bluntly.
Sydney's heart was beating quickly, too quickly, blood rushing through her veins. She stared at Caroline, who was staring back at her with lips parted, worry creasing her forehead.
“But…you’re not sleeping with me.”
Caroline looked perplexed. “Obviously. But what if she starts a rumor? What if the parents of my students find out? What if…” She trailed off, then groaned in frustration. “Mrs. Williams has made it her mission to make my life a living hell, and she’s got this ammunition now. It’s not true, but she thinks it’s true. She thinks I’ve corrupted you—”
“I was born 'corrupted,'” said Sydney quietly, a rueful smile on her face. “Don't worry.” She swallowed. “I’ll…I’ll go and talk to Mrs. Williams.”
Caroline was shocked. “Absolutely not. I would never dream of asking—”
“I can fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix.”
“But you just said—”
“Sydney, these are my problems, not yours. I just wanted to make certain you were all right. I didn’t want you to be upset by whatever Mrs. Williams was telling you. Or asking you, if she was asking you…” Caroline was flustered, curling and uncurling her hands in her lap. “If she was asking you if I’d done anything to you—”
“I’m nineteen,” said Sydney, her voice just above a whisper. “I can giv
e consent.”
Caroline stared. “I wasn’t…saying you couldn’t, but—”
“Would sleeping with me really be such a terrible thing?”
Silence fell like rain.
There was no going back now.
For a brief moment, Sydney couldn’t believe what she’d done. She’d just… She’d just said it. She’d been so careful until now, so cautious. She had believed, wholly, that if Caroline knew how Sydney felt about her, Caroline would never want to see Sydney again.
And Sydney cared for Caroline, cared deeply, she realized. She idolized the woman, and she had feelings for her that were so vast and painful and urgent that Sydney had finally realized that if she didn’t say something, if she didn’t do something, she would implode from the inside out.
So she’d said something.
And now, between them, there was a silence so complete that it seemed as if it might never be broken.
Caroline was the first to speak. She took a deep breath, spoke gently into the stillness: “Sydney...” she whispered, and now that she’d spoken, Sydney would not be silent, either.
Could not be.
“Would it?” she asked again, despite the thrum of tension in her muscles. “Would it be so bad?” And the last few words broke in her mouth. She could feel them breaking, could feel her voice—and her courage—fail.
“Oh, no, honey,” said Caroline, and she moved the food away, drew a little closer. She took Sydney’s hands, and she squeezed them, and Sydney hated it, hated it so much, how soothing Caroline’s words were, how maternal she’d suddenly become.
“You’re… You’re beautiful, Sydney,” said Caroline softly, carefully. “That’s got nothing to do with…” She trailed off, sighed. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Caroline’s gaze latched onto Sydney.
And something passed over Caroline’s face. Her expression changed. Her eyes darkened, her nostrils flared, and there was a harder set to her jaw.
Sydney watched her, her heart, for just a moment, rising.
The Longing Page 11
