Do You Feel What I Feel. a Holiday Anthology

by Fletcher DeLancey

  “Listen, I’d like to ask you something—” Beep, beep, beep. An annoying alarm interrupted Laura. She didn’t speak for a moment as she probably concentrated on whatever her beeper said. “Carol, I’m sorry; I’m on call and I need to go. I just wanted to let you know that I’m at a conference in San Francisco after Christmas. Would you like to meet? You don’t have to decide now. I can call you back in a few days.”

  “Why don’t you stay at my place?” Carol regretted the invitation as soon as she said it. What was she thinking? They hadn’t even talked about the most important things yet.

  “Okay, yeah, I’d love to. Thanks, I’ll call you with the details. Sorry, I need to go. Bye.” Laura talked really fast, as if she wanted to accept before Carol could take it back.

  Before Carol could reply, the call was over. And she had twenty-four days left to think about how she wanted to face Laura again.

  Paris. Amsterdam. Berlin. Vienna. Day after day new postcards arrived and brought with them the memories of their first trip. Carol and Laura had visited most western European capitals, but got only small glimpses of the countries surrounding them. They dutifully went to museums and the major sights as recommended by their guidebook during the day and partied at night.

  Amalfi, Italy. After three weeks of traveling nonstop, they were finally exhausted and decided to find a small room in an Italian seaside town. The postcard showed only a close-up of a large lemon, but Carol was instantly transported back. She could almost smell the warm air, laced with traces of herbs, salt, and citrus, enveloping them while they were lying on old beach chairs. The sunlight flickered through the leaves of the lemon trees as the warm wind played lazily over their bodies. Every couple of hours they’d climb down the nearly two hundred steps to the Mediterranean Sea, the old granite smooth under their bare feet. They did nothing but swim, sleep, and make love for a week, interrupted only by irregular trips to the small village for olives, bread, and wine. Carol sighed. Everything had felt so easy then—even believing they were in love.

  Carol took the stack of postcards and placed it on the mantelpiece. Today was Sunday and she hadn’t expected a card, but a messenger had surprised her early that morning. She smiled and touched the picture of the lemon with a finger. Laura was crazy to spend so much money and time on an advent calendar. What was she thinking? Carol snatched her hand back and turned away from the cards. Was it an apology? Was there even a reason she should apologize? Or was it just an innocent expression of their friendship? She started pacing the living room and wondered if she should just call and ask Laura exactly that.

  As if on autopilot she went to the large window overlooking her small garden. Usually the view of the unruly green and old trees calmed and centered her, but traces of her anger and disappointment with Laura rose like the thick gray fog that covered most of the garden.

  The ringing of her phone was a welcome distraction until she saw Laura’s picture on her display. The bright smile and the laughing eyes seemed to mock her own somber mood.

  “Laura. Hi.” Carol’s voice was harsher than intended.

  “Hey, is this a good time? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. You just caught me…” Staring into the garden? Feeling alone and unwarrantedly betrayed? “…thinking too much. Why are you calling?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you. Have you gotten your postcard today?”

  “An hour ago.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Did you like the lemon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, fine.” Laura hesitated. “Is anything wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “If you say so.” Carol knew she was too curt, but she couldn’t help herself.

  For a minute that lasted an eternity, only their breathing could be heard over the phone, then they both started talking at once.

  “I’ll call you back,” Laura said.

  “I’m sorry.” Carol took a deep breath. “Don’t hang up. I’m just in a funk. The fog is covering the garden.”

  “It’s okay. I know how your emotions are run by the weather. I’ve never understood why you moved to San Francisco in the first place.” Laura’s voice was soft, almost wistful.

  Carol should have left it at that. “You know the reasons. My university was, and I guess still is, the best one for me. I’ve got tenure now. And the weather is usually great. Besides, I think I grew up in the past few years, and part of that is coping with what life throws at me. Even if it’s fog.”

  “Yeah. But sometimes I think that’s only partly true. I don’t want to just settle with whatever comes my way. You have to reach out and search for what you need. Not just for the necessities, but for your dreams as well.” Laura talked louder and faster; this was obviously something she was passionate about.

  A year ago, Carol had thought the same. Ironic, that Laura now moved the discussion from the weather to the heart of the problem. Carol asked, “How is your girlfriend?”

  “What? Who?” Laura exhaled loudly. “You mean Jenny?”

  “I can’t remember her name.” That was a lie. “The perfect match you found just before we wanted to leave last summer. Did she enjoy Bolivia?” Carol wouldn’t forget the name of the woman who had thrown herself in the path of Carol’s dream.

  “We didn’t go. We went to a resort in the Bahamas instead. And I’ve no idea how she is.” Laura hesitated. “We…I…we split up just as we came home. The holiday was a catastrophe. The soul mate stage didn’t even last a month.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and Carol had to clear her throat before she could speak again. “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry we missed our chance to be together. I’m sorry that you couldn’t talk to me sooner. I’m sorry that I’m glad you’ve left her.

  “Thanks. I was too embarrassed to mention it. I can’t believe I was so stupidly in lust that I confused it with love. It probably didn’t help that I compared her to you all the time.” Laura laughed. “I’m afraid she hates you now even though you’ve never met.”

  “That’s okay. I can live with a little hate from afar.” Especially since Jenny obviously paled in comparison. Carol grinned. She changed the topic to lighten the conversation. “So, tell me about the conference you’re going to.”

  While Laura was talking about new and—at least for her—exciting discoveries in the field of interventional cardiology, Carol moved from side table to mantelpiece to windowsill and lit her large collection of candles. When the weather was uncooperative, she had to help herself. With the warm glow reflected on the glass, the fog suddenly didn’t seem so depressing anymore.

  The next week’s postcards finished their tour of Europe (Barcelona, Lisbon and London) and started on the trips where they concentrated more on one country or region, exploring the countryside between the major cities. That had sometimes been a challenge, as they not only needed to navigate the unknown waters of foreign transportation and communication, but of their own growing friendship and expectations as well. While Carol preferred to plan ahead, Laura loved spontaneous side trips. Laura was the more conservative eater and happily settled with a major chain cheeseburger, whereas Carol couldn’t eat exotic enough. But both preferred a room with a double bed as opposed to two twins.

  The postcard from Scotland showed an ancient stone circle on Lewis Island. They had arrived in the evening during a downpour, and the bus driver made a detour to deliver them to the only guesthouse that was still open. The owner seemed nice enough and first showed them a large double room but, after watching them settle in for a few minutes, switched them to two singles. He claimed he had forgotten another booking, but when Laura sneaked out of Carol’s room in the early morning, the open door showed that the larger room was still empty. It had been the first time they had been discriminated against as lesbians traveling together.

  On Sunday Laura called again, and they kept to light topics, focusing on their work
and comparing highlights of their travels. Carol didn’t notice the hours passing and was surprised that they still found new things to talk about.

  Pamela seemed fascinated by the memories that poured out of Carol. Their usual lunch break turned into retellings of most of their holidays. After the relatively easy and secure trips through Europe, they moved on to Asia via Australia and New Zealand. Sometimes the postcards reminded Carol of funny incidents, sometimes unexpected highlights. And again and again, they focused on her relationship with Laura.

  The rainy beach of Sri Lanka brought back the memory of an afternoon and night spent locked in their little room by the sea, making love until the rain finally gave way to a brilliant sunrise.

  “Who’s the cutie?” Pamela pointed to a close-up of a very young Chinese girl with two bouncy braids, peeking around a half-open door.

  “She was in the train compartment next to ours. We were in the same train for seventy-two hours, crossing half of China to reach the Yangtze River.” Carol smiled. “We were probably the first white people she’d seen in person, and she was so adorably curious. I was down with flu, and Laura tried to feed me disgusting instant chicken broth. When I mimed to her just how awful it was, the girl offered me her sweets.”

  Carol closed her eyes and recalled how good it had felt to be pampered. Laura had fed her, tried to cool the fever with cold, wet towels, and finally just held her. When the fever broke, Laura caressed her sweaty hair, and Carol thought she might fall out of the narrow bunk from shivering so much.

  “Where did you just go?” Pamela interrupted her reverie.

  “Sorry. Just remembering something.” Carol opened her eyes und shrugged. “Nothing important.”

  “No, no. You can’t get all dreamy with that sweet private smile without telling me the sexy details. You know I’m living vicariously through your lunch stories.” Pamela attempted to pout, but ended up giggling like a teenager instead.

  Carol rolled her eyes. “Please. I don’t know much about your love life, but I can’t believe you and Mary need any help. Last week at dinner, I nearly melted from all the heat of your not-so-secret gazes.”

  “No, no, this is not about me and my wife. Tell me, what were you thinking about?” Pamela regarded her unwaveringly, and Carol had to look away first.

  “Nothing sexy happened. We shared the compartment with two business travelers, and I had a terrible cold. But Laura took care of me. It was the first time I really saw her tender side; she had this whole ‘I’m a butch doctor and I’m decisive and I can’t show feelings’ thing going on. In the beginning, while she was in med school and her residency, it was even worse. She’s mellowed quite a bit since then and is now a fully evolved human being. My fever was really high, and she later admitted that she was really afraid for my life because of all the terrible viral epidemics originated in China, like the bird flu and SARS.” Carol played with the postcard and chuckled as she read the inscription.

  I’ve finally perfected my recipe. The next chicken broth won’t be instant.

  The note seemed to promise more than soup, but what? Care during future travels? Or a future with domesticity? How would Laura be able to cook for her when they lived thousands of miles apart?

  “What do you think Laura wants to achieve with this advent calendar? She doesn’t seem like a woman who just crafts for the fun of it.” Pamela voiced Carol’s thoughts.

  “I’ve wondered that myself. I don’t know. And I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Why are you afraid? Obviously she invested a lot of time and thought into this. Not to mention the money for all the timed deliveries. That can’t be bad.” Pamela regarded her calmly.

  Carol turned the card back around and looked at the little girl. “Maybe…I think this might be an elaborate apology. Last summer she cancelled our plans at the last minute because she had a new girlfriend, her soul mate, or so she thought. Turned out to be another fling. This is probably her way of saying that she still values my friendship and wants to travel again next summer.” She put the card on top of a stack of exams she planned to take home later.

  “And what do you want?”

  “The same. I want to travel with her as friends.” Even as she said it, Carol knew it wasn’t true. She admitted to herself last year that she wanted more than just a traveling companion and occasional lover and had been devastated when Laura replaced her so easily. Now she was afraid of getting hurt again. She stood up and took the remains of her lunch with her. “I think I need to finish my break early. I’ve tons to do still before the end of the term.”

  Pamela exaggeratedly raised her eyebrows. “Don’t think you can escape that easily. There’s more at stake here than you’re telling me. As your best friend, it’s my duty to keep digging.” She walked around the large desk and hugged Carol. “See you Monday.”

  Sunday morning brought a postcard of Botswana. Exotic trees lined an endless and lazy river, the Okavango Delta, where they’d rowed a tiny boat to a remote island and camped in the wilderness. Carol couldn’t decide if the growing unease in her stomach reminded her of the brilliant butterflies that Laura had chased for hours with her camera or the herd of elephants that had nearly followed their group back to the camp. The caller ID on her phone made her heart beat as fast and irregular as the native drums that their guides had played at night as part of the tourist entertainment.

  “We’re already in Africa?” she asked by way of a greeting.

  “Yep. Only five countries left in our trip around the world. We need to make some more memories soon.” Laura yawned. “I’m sorry. Just got done with the night shift from hell.”

  Carol was disappointed. She had looked forward to Laura’s weekly phone call. “Okay. Don’t apologize, that happens. You want to go to bed?”

  Laura hummed. “Is this an invitation?” Her voice was suddenly husky.

  “You wish. Phone sex? Really? You think you’re up for it? I can’t have you falling asleep in the middle.” Carol knew it was stupid. Laura was only joking, but the flirtation brought back the butterflies and chased off the elephants.

  “Okay. I’ll behave.” Laura’s tone suggested she would quit behaving if she was encouraged.

  Please don’t. But Carol was afraid to go there. “So, what happened last week?” As they talked about all the little mundane details of everyday life, Carol marveled that their new routine had rekindled their friendship. Sharing more than the most important events every few month in an awkward e-mail was important to her. In the beginning they had talked as much, but different time zones and busy schedules quickly became too much for two graduate students. And, as the demands of their work had taken precedence, they’d fallen out of the habit of writing longer e-mails.

  After an hour, the frequency of Laura’s yawns increased, and Carol offered to hang up again.

  “Before I let you go, I’ve got a question.” Laura sounded more awake now. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you meeting someone? Or your family?”

  Carol wondered where this was going. Was this Laura’s way of asking her if she had a girlfriend? And why wasn’t she more direct? “I’ve nothing planned. I’ll probably take my time to cook a healthy dinner and lounge all day in front of the TV to watch old movies. Why, you want to join me?”

  “Is this an invitation?” Laura echoed her earlier question, only this time the flirtation seemed to mask a serious intent.

  Carol remembered her initial unease when she invited Laura to stay at her place during the conference. But after three weeks of regular phone calls and daily recollection of happy memories, all her trepidation was gone. “Yes, why not? Would you like to come here early? Don’t you have to work?”

  “No, this year I won the shift lottery.” Laura hesitated. “Really? That would be fantastic! A few days just for us until the conference starts. I wanted to ask if you have time to talk on the phone, but this is so much be
tter.”

  Carol heard rapid clicking of a keyboard and then muffled curses. She chuckled and said, “Are you already researching flights?”

  “Can you believe how much a direct flight on Christmas costs?”

  Carol had to laugh. “Don’t whine. You’re a filthy rich cardiologist. Or you could spend some of your miles.”

  Laura snorted indignantly. “I’m not that rich. Or I wouldn’t have to work anymore and could travel for the rest of my life. Okay. I’ll hang up now and concentrate on my search. I’ll let you know when I’m scheduled to arrive.”

  After they had hung up, Carol stayed in her window seat and stared out into the sunlit garden for a long time. She cradled her phone to her breast and wondered if she should prepare the guest room or not. Was it presumptuous to expect them to continue as they had left their friends-with-benefits relationship sixteen month ago? And would she even want to? Her body screamed yes, and her heart whispered the same, but her mind was still undecided.

  The last days before Christmas passed in a blur. Carol worked late on campus to finish grading exams, fielded panicked questions from her students, and suffered through the annual faculty Christmas party. The only highlights were the postcards. The messages were cute, funny, and safe to share with Pamela, as if Laura was giving her some space to absorb the prospect of sharing her house for over a week.

  The red dunes of the Namib Desert, the soft hills of South African vineyards, and the Peruvian llama with a silly hat sparked more memories, and Pamela was a patient listener.

  When she woke up on the twenty-fourth, Carol started to make a list of everything she needed to do—shopping, cleaning, preparing a fancy meal, deciding what to wear… Was there time for a haircut? She laughed at herself as she got ready for the day, dressing in an old sweatshirt and faded jeans for cleaning. The hoodie was one of Laura’s; she loaned it to Carol at the drafty airport in London, and Carol had forgotten to return it the next year. Maybe not so much forgotten as purposefully avoided packing it. She snuggled into it and sighed. This constant thinking about Laura was unprecedented, and she was afraid to call it anything more than a crush. It was getting ridiculous. Over the course of their twelve-year relationship, she’d never spent so much time analyzing their talks and past interactions. Until last year. Before the fiasco this past summer. Determined to sweat it out of her system, she gathered her bucket full of cleaning supplies and started to work.