The Longing

by Bridget Essex

  She stood up and opened the top drawer of her dresser, kicking the bottom one closed. “Then I go for broke.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I need to tell her how I feel about her. I kissed her, but that kiss could have meant anything.”

  “Right.” He snorted. “I doubt she thinks it meant, ‘You’re a great voice teacher, five stars,’ on Yelp.”

  “Come on. I’m being serious. It could have just meant I was infatuated with her in a teacher/student way. I don’t know. But if I tell her how I feel about her, then there’s no way she can misinterpret that. She’ll know for sure. And she can choose what to do with that knowledge.”

  Even as Sydney was speaking, her heart rate spiked, and anxiety crept over her skin on tiny, stinging feet.

  Somehow, Thom sensed her uneasiness. “Syd, you’re kind of a quiet person. You’re not the type to make mad, passionate declarations of love.”

  “Maybe I am when I need to be.”

  “But why is it so important? Why now?”

  “Because…” Sydney touched her hand to the top of her dresser and gritted her teeth. She was shaking. She was terrified.

  “Because,” she said again, softly, “it hurts too much not to tell her. When I look at her, my whole heart squeezes. I feel...everything. All at once.” She placed a hand over her heart. “If I don’t tell her, I’m liable to explode.”

  Thom sighed dramatically. “Okay. Lemme play devil’s advocate, just for a minute. What if you say all of that, and it’s nice, lovely, romantic and everything, but then she pats you on the head and tells you you're a good girl but she’s not attracted to you? What if she tells you that you’re just a cute kid, and that’s it? Because that’s a real possibility here, Syd.”

  “I know,” Sydney whispered. “I know.”

  “What’s going to happen then?”

  She leaned against the dresser and cradled her head. “I’ll have to deal with it, get over her, if that’s what happens. But I’ve still got to try, Thom.”

  “You’re scared to death.”

  “Absolutely terrified. Petrified. Like…it’s bad,” said Sydney, digging through her top drawer.

  “Well, if you’re going to make a declaration of love, I guess it's normal to feel kind of nervous.”

  “Kind of?”

  Thom chuckled, his voice regaining its usual warmth. “Hey, I’m rooting for you, okay? I’ve never done anything like that before. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. And I guess, if you’ve got to cancel on me, this is a pretty good reason for it,” he conceded. “But you owe me some pizza. Like, a lot of pizza.”

  “So much pizza,” Sydney promised.

  Thom sniffed. “I guess that’s fine, then. But you’d better tell me all the juicy details about tonight, even if she breaks your heart. Deal?’

  “I promise,” said Sydney.

  Her mouth was dry, and she felt a little sick. Because Caroline could break her heart. Sydney was setting herself up to get hurt. Badly.

  But she was still going to go through with it.

  From the first moment she’d heard Caroline singing, even though she hadn’t seen her, didn’t know anything about her, Sydney had felt that she was important. Sydney had felt, as she’d listened, that this woman meant something to her.

  And she was right.

  Before, she’d been afraid—so afraid—that if she told Caroline she was attracted to her, she would lose her completely. But that way of thinking had been wrong. Cowardly. Self-sabotaging.

  She would never forgive herself if she didn't try.

  No matter the consequences.

  “I’ve got to go, Thom. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Good luck, Syd.”

  “Thanks.” She needed all the luck she could get.

  Chapter 14

  Sydney straightened the sleeves of her shirt before she rang the doorbell.

  Her heart was jack-hammering, her palms were clammy, and she was convinced that her knees would buckle at any moment.

  A few seconds passed before the door was answered. Sydney could have turned around, walked down the stairs, and closed herself up safely in her apartment. In every moment leading up to this one, Sydney could have made different decisions. In every moment leading up to this one, she could have changed her mind, decided not to come, after all.

  Every decision that had brought her to Caroline’s door tonight had been a difficult one to make.

  But now here she was, her heart beating so hard that her chest ached from the inside out. Her mouth was as dry as a desert. But she stood there, her hands curled into fists, her chin lifted.

  Then it came: the familiar cadence of high heels clipping against old wood floors.

  Sydney's stomach fluttered.

  The door opened.

  And if Sydney had thought she was nervous before, she hadn't known the definition of “nervous” until now. Her knees turned to jelly as she gazed at the woman before her.

  Caroline had never been more radiant.

  She stood in her shiny black high heels, her head angled to one side. Her full red lips were curving upward, but when she saw that it was Sydney who had knocked, she smiled fully, and the smile was incandescent.

  Caroline wore a black cocktail dress made of shimmering fabric, perhaps satin. Her arms were bare, and Sydney was charmed by the freckles dusting her shoulders and upper arms, like stardust. Her blonde hair was curled into an elegant twist on top of her head, with tendrils framing her beautiful face.

  In a word, she looked exquisite.

  She stole Sydney’s breath away.

  “Sydney, I’m so glad you could come,” Caroline murmured warmly, her voice low, pitched so that only Sydney could hear.

  Caroline reached forward then and threaded her arm through Sydney’s, just as she had in the darkened hallway, before the kiss—and Sydney expected that her heart would now cease to function. She dared a sidelong glance at Caroline, who had fallen into step beside her, drawing her into the apartment before shutting the door behind them.

  Sydney was wearing a dress shirt, black slacks, and her jean jacket, because it was the one piece of clothing she felt truly confident in. She wore the jacket a little like women, long ago, wore armor. It strengthened her as she felt the warmth of Caroline’s arm against her side.

  “I have something for you,” she told Caroline, causing the other woman to glance at her curiously.

  Sydney slid a hand into her jacket pocket and produced a small package. It was wrapped in brown paper, salvaged from a paper bag she’d had beneath her kitchen sink. Tied in place with white ribbon, it actually looked nice—like the proverbial brown paper package tied up in string. She hoped that Caroline would catch the reference as she handed it to her.

  Caroline chuckled, gazing at the gift. “Rodgers and Hammerstein never thought their song would go so far, huh?” She smiled, lifting her blue eyes, narrowed slightly, to regard Sydney. “But what is this? You didn’t have to give me anything.”

  “I wanted to.” Sydney searched Caroline’s face, and the older woman dropped her eyes, though she was still smiling.

  “Well, that was very sweet of you.”

  Sydney's eyes drifted from Caroline to briefly survey the apartment. She was a little surprised to realize that, aside from herself and Caroline and the little black cat, stretched comfortably along the back of the couch, no one else was there.

  They were alone.

  “Am I early?” she wondered aloud, as Caroline turned the small present this way and that in her hands.

  “A little.” She looked to Sydney, and her eyes were soft, the tops of her cheeks petal pink. “What do you think? Should I open it, or wait for—”

  “Open it now,” whispered Sydney.

  And Sydney licked her lips, staring at the package in Caroline’s hands with trepidation, as if might, in fact, be dangerous.

  Perhaps it was.

  Sydney had never done anything like this
before.

  Well, she had never done anything romantic, period.

  She had kissed a girl once, years ago, and that was it.

  She felt woefully unprepared. She wanted to show Caroline, through small acts of thoughtfulness, how she felt about her. At some point this evening, she hoped to tell Caroline how she felt about her.

  It couldn’t be now, though. Sydney was too anxious now.

  She had to work up her courage.

  And she hoped that the gift would be a good place to start.

  Sydney survived paycheck to paycheck. Every aspect of her small life was neatly budgeted, from the bones she bought Max each week to the necessary toiletries for a respectable life. There was no wiggle room in the budget; she didn’t have a dime put away for a rainy day.

  But Sydney couldn't bear the thought of going to Caroline’s birthday party without a gift.

  So she’d done what she thought was right: she wrapped up the one thing in her apartment that was of any value. And that single possession now sat in Caroline’s hand.

  Caroline slid the ribbon off with her elegant fingers. It fell to the floor, and, immediately, Sassy’s ears perked up. The cat oozed off of the back of the couch like ink and prowled over to bat at the ribbon with a velvet-soft paw.

  Smiling at her cat's antics, Caroline peeled away the brown paper and let the object pool into her hand.

  It was dark outside, and the apartment was dim: Caroline had only a few lamps turned on, probably to lend a warm, intimate atmosphere to the space. So the object winked weakly in the soft light as Caroline held it up, letting it spin in midair as it dangled from her fingers.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice tight.

  When Sydney turned sixteen, her parents gave her a necklace with a little golden heart. It had a diamond chip in its center, and it was the most beautiful thing that Sydney owned, had ever owned. She hadn’t worn it in years, and she’d considered pawning it, almost had once, when she was homeless and hungry. But the pawn broker had said he’d only give her thirty dollars, and she knew it was worth more, so she'd walked out with the necklace in her pocket.

  She could never bring herself to wear it, so it just sat in a little box in her dresser drawer.

  Until now.

  “It’s stunning, truly, Sydney,” said Caroline.

  Sydney knew better: it wasn’t stunning. The gold was bright, almost garish, and out of fashion. But the necklace had been all she had to give.

  And she’d given it freely.

  “It’s just so pretty, and I haven't put on a necklace yet, so I'll wear this one!” Caroline turned, lifting the blonde tendrils that had artfully escaped her twist of hair. “Will you put it on me?”

  Caroline handed the necklace to Sydney, and—with shaking hands—Sydney settled the pendant at the hollow of Caroline’s throat, training the thin chain around the woman’s neck. The neckline of the retro-style dress Caroline wore this evening dipped low, revealing the lovely curve of her breasts, which Sydney tried hard not to stare at. Her fingers brushed against Caroline’s warm skin, and she gave an involuntary shudder of delight as she opened the small clasp and settled it into the ring.

  For a moment, perhaps a too-long moment, Sydney’s fingers remained, resting against Caroline’s skin. Caroline bowed her head a little, and Sydney could see her chest rising and falling, could see her shoulders moving as her breathing came quicker. But then Caroline stepped forward, breaking the physical contact, her face soft, her eyes bright.

  “Thank you, Sydney,” she murmured, reaching up and clasping the little golden heart in her fingers.

  Sydney shrugged uncomfortably, still dazed from the warmth of Caroline's skin. “It looks lovely on you,” she said quietly. “Because it’s on you,” she wanted to add, but the tightening in her chest stopped her tongue.

  It was going to take a supernatural show of strength to tell Caroline how she felt about her. She hoped the woman already knew, already understood that she was special to Sydney… But what she’d told Thom was true. Caroline had probably assumed the kiss was the result of schoolgirl infatuation.

  Granted, Sydney was infatuated with Caroline.

  But her feelings ran so much deeper than that.

  Sydney was already anxious about being here, among people she didn’t know, trying to make small talk—something she was fairly terrible at.

  But regardless of her nervousness, she knew her confession had to happen today.

  It had to happen tonight.

  She wasn't going to give herself a chance to think her way out of it.

  Caroline gazed at Sydney now, her blue eyes dark. For a long moment, the two women stood nearly motionless, tension crackling between them. It seemed—or, at least it seemed to Sydney—that there were so many unspoken words hanging in the air.

  When Caroline took a step forward, her heels clicked against the floor, a sudden, sharp sound.

  Her head was tilted to one side.

  And she pressed a kiss to Sydney’s cheek.

  Sydney simply breathed as Caroline’s lips touched her skin.

  She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it.

  Caroline’s mouth had been so close to her own.

  It was surprising, startling.

  And so very, very wonderful.

  Sydney felt her stomach clench, along with her hands. She wanted to reach out, wanted to curl her fingers around Caroline’s elbows, wanted to turn her face as Caroline kissed her so that their mouths would meet. But she didn’t do those things, because Caroline was already stepping away from her.

  The absence was raw, like a wound.

  Sydney didn’t know what to do.

  Finally, she lowered her gaze, then crouched down to take up the piece of ribbon and dangle it in front of Sassy. The lazy cat was sprawled on her back, tapping at the ribbon with a long-clawed paw.

  “To be honest, I’m glad you arrived first,” said Caroline, absentmindedly fingering the pendant. She swallowed, her expression strange, unreadable. “I’m a little nervous about this party.”

  Sydney paused, holding the ribbon still. “Why?”

  “Oh…” Caroline leaned against the couch, and when she sighed, it was with her whole being. “I think I made a mistake.”

  Sydney raised a brow; Sassy tapped her hand. Sydney had stopped twisting the ribbon in the air, and the little feline seemed to be ordering her not to stop. So Sydney waved the ribbon again, even as her heart rose into her throat.

  Did Caroline regret inviting her?

  As if she had read Sydney's thoughts, Caroline shook her head and bit her lower lip. “I think I may have made a mistake in inviting my ex. Theresa. She’s coming tonight…” Her words trailed off, and she turned her gaze toward the window.

  Sydney stared.

  Theresa.

  Theresa was coming to Caroline’s party.

  For a long moment, Sydney couldn’t trust herself to speak with a level voice. When she felt composed enough, she drew in a deep breath, wondered quietly, “You invited her?”

  “God, it seems so stupid now. It’s stupid, isn’t it? Foolish.” Caroline folded into herself, crossing her ankles, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “It’s not stupid.” Sydney sat on the floor cross-legged, dangling the ribbon in front of Sassy’s upside-down face. The cat yawned, and then—with the laziness of a bear preparing to hibernate for the winter—stretched out a paw toward the ribbon.

  And promptly fell asleep on her back.

  “I invited her because I’m trying to make peace with her,” Caroline said hurriedly, as if she were justifying herself to Sydney. Her frown was deep, fretful. “We parted on…bad terms.

  “So we kept the details of our breakup private, and our friends, for whatever reason, felt the need to choose between us. They've divided themselves straight down the middle—some siding with me, others with Theresa. But this isn't a war, and, frankly, I want all of this nonsense to be over with. I...thought
a birthday party could serve as a neutral meeting ground.” Caroline bit at her pinkie nail, painted a stunning cobalt blue. She looked uncertain, an expression Sydney hadn't seen on her face before.

  Caroline sighed then, gazing down at Sydney. “I haven’t seen her since she moved out, and I’m so nervous about it.” She placed a hand on her stomach. “Honestly, I have a billion butterflies in here right now, flying around.” She laughed, a nervous laugh, as she straightened and smoothed out her skirt.

  Since Sassy was still asleep, Sydney wound the ribbon into her hand and pocketed it, rising to her feet. She considered her words carefully before she said, “I think it was very brave of you to invite her. And...very nice.” Her eyes trailed over Caroline’s face.

  In truth, Sydney was worried that Caroline might have invited Theresa to the party because—consciously or subconsciously—she wanted to reset their relationship. But Caroline had given a valid reason for the invitation, so Sydney tried to accept it, and the more she gazed at Caroline, the more her heart was soothed.

  Caroline looked scared, not anticipatory. When she spoke about Theresa, her words were clipped, her eyes hooded, dark. It seemed as if Theresa had hurt her, and badly. Sydney wondered why they’d ended their relationship but knew it wasn’t her place to ask.

  “Anyway, thank you for letting me vent. I really am so glad that you arrived first.” Caroline smiled at her—broadly, brightly.

  “Why?” Sydney returned Caroline's smile and slid her hands into her pockets, curving her shoulders forward with a shrug.

  Caroline watched her, then, her red lips parted. Eventually, she drew in a deep breath. “You make me feel…” She wasn't looking at Sydney anymore, and her smile was softer. She reached up to adjust her hair, twining a tendril around her pointer finger—almost nervously, it seemed. “You’re a nice distraction,” she finished simply, but both she and Sydney knew that that wasn't what she had intended to say.

  Mystified, Sydney stared at her, feeling her heart thump inside of her chest.

  “Sydney, do you like to cook?” Caroline asked suddenly. “Would you mind helping with the gravy?” Her voice sounded normal, friendly, no longer vulnerable and intimate. Caroline cleared her throat and moved around Sydney, full skirts swaying, to walk toward the kitchen.