by Suzie Carr
“I’m not thrilled to have to live with a stranger.”
“Well, I appreciate that you’re giving me a chance.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” He looked down on me and walked away.
Two nights later, he knocked on my door. “Come on downstairs. My kids are here and we’re all getting ready to eat spaghetti and meatballs.”
“I love spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Get it while it’s hot.” He walked away, but not without offering me a warm smile. His grizzly bear exterior vanished and in its place I caught a glimpse of the teddy bear.
After dinner, we all sat in the living room and played charades. Adam sat next to Lucy, holding her hand. Reina sat perched on the arm of the couch chomping on caramel popcorn. Hana’s hands flew up in front of her face every time she laughed. Ralph lunged in front of us like a wild monkey, grunting, squatting, and tickling his armpits. His daughter, Jasmine, an eleven-year-old girl with strawberry hair, giggled nonstop, yelling out, “You’re an Orangutan!”
“You’re not supposed to answer,” her brother, Johnny, said to her. “He’s on your team.” Johnny, eight, going on fifty, reminded us a dozen times that we needed to follow the rules or else this game would not be fair.
Ralph softened with each passing minute. By the time we played out the last card, he reached over and whispered to me, “Sorry I’ve been such a butthead to you this whole time.”
The night flowed like bubbly champagne until Lucy received a text. She sighed and shook her head.
“Everything alright?” Reina asked her.
“It’s my niece.” She handed the phone to Adam. “Another text telling me how much she hates school. Now someone’s telling her she wants to beat her up because she’s a dummy.”
“You should tell her parents,” Ralph said. “There’s not a lot you can do from an hour away. The girl’s always crying out to you. She needs her parents to pay attention for once.”
“She’s just having a hard time adjusting to her new school.” Lucy folded her knees under her. “No need to drag her parents through the rigors of regular teen stuff.”
“You’re just avoiding a blowout, Lucy,” he said, then walked off to the kitchen with his empty water bottle. “Not everyone gets to live in a no-conflict zone.”
Lucy pulled in her lips tight and fixated far across the room at a lonely plant hanging from a macramé cord from the ceiling. Adam sat up taller and yelled back at him. “Stay out of this, Ralph.” His words stretched out a warning, as though he’d jumped to Lucy’s defense more than a handful of times.
Lucy scooted up now, too, a stress line creased across her forehead. “Let’s not talk about this now. I’ll deal with it later.”
“Adam to the rescue as usual,” Ralph called out.
“Screw you.” Adam rose to his feet, fists clenched.
Lucy jumped up to meet him. “Come on, hon. It’s not worth it.” She covered Adam’s clenched fist with her gentle hand.
The moment stretched way past normal. Jasmine and Johnny stood, their faces frozen in panic, swooping their gaze from their dad to Adam. Jasmine cradled her brother to her side. I stood up with a fiery need to take control and ease the tension. “Who’s up for brownies?” I asked them.
Johnny broke out into a smile first. He practically mowed me down on route to the kitchen.
Adam surrendered his plight. “Brownies it is.”
Lucy mouthed a thank you to me as she followed me into the kitchen where we set out to erase the muck with some gooey chocolate and delighted spirits. Ralph even reached up for the brownie mix and dug out the mixing bowl.
One big happy family surviving a trivial quarrel.
~
I never shied away from controversy. In fact, some might’ve said I thrived on it. On our run the next morning, I asked Lucy, “What was that all about last night?”
“That was Ralph being a jerk, and if his kids weren’t there, I might’ve let Adam punch him.”
I stopped short, mid stride. “Wow. Where was this fighter last night?”
“He’s not worth it. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him to mind his own business?”
“Then the rest of the night would’ve turned into a blood bath with me defending my sister who didn’t deserve defending to a man who would argue with a nun if she went against his grain. There’s no point.”
“I would’ve let him have it.”
“I’m just not like that.”
“A man like Ralph needs to be put in his place otherwise he’ll walk all over you.”
“No one walks over me,” she said, snapping like a cute Yorkie.
“I didn’t mean—”
“—I’m going to run faster today. I just need to open my stride.” Then, she sped ahead leaving me in her dust. I trailed behind for fifteen minutes, huffing and coughing until finally I collapsed into a walk. She just continued prancing down the street until she blurred into the trees.
Later that afternoon, I was making tea and trying to decide how to approach her. She snuck into the kitchen with an apology written all over her pretty face. “I overreacted today. I’m sorry.”
I stirred honey into my peppermint tea. “And, I was out of line.”
She drifted to my side, her head bowed, eyes fixated on my tea. She smelled like spring rain, clean and fresh. “I ran the entire three miles back to the house.”
I stopped stirring, looked up and met her swollen eyes. Not wanting to expose anything further, I shifted mine away. “I almost passed out about mile one.”
She laughed and perked back to life. “Can we just forget about this morning and start fresh?”
I sipped my peppermint tea. Cool and breezy it dissolved the aftertaste of a day’s worth of worry. “Gladly.”
She warmed, and her golden smile lit up the room again. “I was thinking,” she said, feathering her finger against the granite counter, “of a way that I could paint a brighter picture of myself than the silly one you must have of me sprinting like a crazy woman down the road. If you’re up to it.”
I eased my teacup down, focused on her pink glossed lips and the words that would soon flow. “I’m listening.”
“Follow me.”
I followed her into the great room, captured by her swift appeal.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the couch.
I sat on command.
She smirked. “Now wait here.”
I sat suspended in her breezy wake, thumping my fingers against the couch’s arm, pondering all sorts of fantasies about a life where she could return with wine, romantic music, and an appetite for long, sultry kisses. Unrealistic, yes, but it was the product of a girl with unrealized desires, free to explore, but still hiding behind the mask of safety and the shackles of hardened guilt.
She returned with a pedicure bath of soapy bubbles and a tote overflowing with creams. “You just sit back and relax.”
“A pedicure?”
She scanned my naked toenails. “You’re in serious need of color. Are you really going to argue this fact with me?”
“Do with me what you see fit.” I lounged back against the couch, enjoying the sight of her organizing her file, her brush, her creams and thanking God that I had shaved my legs that morning.
Within minutes, I sat back like a wet noodle, relaxed in a glorious state of mind as she awakened a new set of senses in me, the kind that curled my toes and tickled my core. I soaked and then giggled under ticklish filing and brushing. Then, she rubbed exfoliating cream over my calf, massaging it into a frothy batter. Deeper and deeper her touch penetrated, soothing my tired legs and capsizing me into a sea of perpetual euphoria.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the sofa. “You’ve got way too many talents. World class trainer, commander of college classrooms, and now this.”
She sprinkled handfuls of water onto my leg and began washing away the salt crystals. Splash. Trickle. Caress. He
r warm hands brushed against my bare leg. I sank into disillusioned bliss, stymied only by the security gate of Adam in the bedroom upstairs.
She swirled her fingers in the bath. “You think I missed my real calling?”
“Absolutely. You’ve got me so relaxed right now you might just have to scoop me up and carry me up the stairs.”
“I’m surprised that I’ve still got the touch. I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Adam doesn’t beg for one every night?”
“Adam can’t stand to have me give him a pedicure.”
I flicked open my eyes. “Adam’s a fool, then.”
Her lips curled up into a spirited smile. She cradled my calf in her hands and massaged it deeper, working me like clay. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s just being a guy who wants to protect his masculinity, or if he truly doesn’t like the feeling of my hands on his feet.”
“Well, I can’t imagine that second one.”
She shrugged and continued to swaddle my calf in her hands with a breezier touch now. “You’d be surprised.”
I waited for more. When her pause lasted beyond comfortable, I probed. “Are you guys having problems?”
She cupped her hands in the footbath and poured more water down my legs. Dribble. Trickle. “No.” She rolled out the word as if searching for answers under it.
The evil side of me awoke. I wanted them to be having issues. “That’s not very convincing.”
She stopped massaging and looked up at the ceiling fan as if pondering the great questions in life like why are we here, are there other life forms out there? Then, she circled back to me, surveying me. Her eyes sparkled under the cast of natural light from the skylight. “Did you ever feel lonely when you were married to Ryan?”
The padlock of my boarded up heart clicked open in one fell swoop. “I think he was the lonely one in our relationship.” Taking full advantage of the open air that flowed between us now, I opened up to a truth that even surprised me a little. “I was the one who left him.”
She nodded and slid her hands down my calf for one last swipe.
“Are you lonely?” I asked.
“Maybe a little.” She reached for a towel and handed it to me. “It’s just because we’re both so busy pursuing our dreams.”
She stood up, sighed as if this had just dawned on her, and walked away leaving me alone to herd the many scattered questions that I wanted to ask her; questions that I didn’t have the right to be asking; questions better left unasked by someone like me, someone who within five seconds could’ve flat out unlearned the hard lessons she’d spent the better part of the past month learning.
Much better Lucy scooped up her vulnerability and walked away from me. At the end of the day, I was still just a horny girl who could’ve easily ignored all boundaries and stolen as much euphoria the world was willing to offer me.
LUCY
For the entire night following my unplanned apology up Hope’s calves, a steady flow of flutters took up flight. These flutters swam inside every cell, every nook and cranny of my being, places where only metabolic activity had ever taken place. Now, instead of focusing on regrowth, nourishment and basic survival, my body had converted to a playground, a Ferris wheel, a roller coaster that spiraled flip after flip out of control.
I reclined in bed that night and replayed the pedicure. I thought about her smooth, silky skin, the musk and vanilla bean scent, the curtains dancing a tango with the cool breeze blowing in the window, and the way Hope’s eyes grew wide when I massaged her.
This needed to go on the record as being the sexiest hour of my entire life.
~
I craved to be with Hope every chance available. As the days passed since her pedicure, I started neglecting my lesson plans and my studying for longer runs, for laughs over coffee, for time away from Adam and his dimly lit desk and sci-fi gibberish.
She teased me. I fantasized about sitting close to her, our legs brushing, our hands flirting. When I escaped into these fantasies, my breaths quickened on the suspense of what her lips would taste like on mine. She lured me from the other side of the road, a road that called out with her flickering promise of bigger and better. I couldn’t seem to focus in on anything more than running across the road and diving into the mystery of what could be.
That weekend, Adam had promised me that we’d go to see the movie “Contagion” with Matt Damon, and when he told me he really needed more time on his climactic scene, I actually didn’t care. I didn’t want to go anymore. I wanted to be home. I told him, “No problem. Maybe I’ll see what Hope’s up to.”
He looked up from his laptop with an amused arch to his eye, “You sure have been spending a lot of time with her.”
“We get along well. We enjoy a lot of the same things.”
“So, I’ve noticed.” A playful smile rested on his puppy dog face. “Sure I don’t have anything to worry about there?”
“What?” I tossed a pillow at him. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Relax. I was just joking.” Caution rested on his freshly shaven face.
“Well, don’t. We’re just friends.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You’re acting awfully defensive.”
I laughed this off the way I laughed everything off with a flick of my hair, and a rolling of my eyes. My mind drifted away momentarily confused, vulnerable and with a strange new goal to defend my straightness. Imagine the upset if Adam could read my mind? The possibility teased me like the thrill of a tightrope where one side enticed me with its orgasmic rush and soulful beat, the other fired up all sorts of flickering flames that threatened to burn me alive and destroy reality as I knew it.
Adam’s eyes burned a hole through me as I neared our bedroom door. I stopped short of passing through it. I had to be so careful. Adam was an expert at reading people, of being able to accurately peg their true essences. He leaned backwards still, raking me over with a new twist to his mouth, a perplexed arch to his eye. “I think I should go to the movies with you.”
An innuendo, palpable and dangerous, sat between us like a brick wall. “Excellent.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be downstairs.”
“Five.”
He sat up. “Alright then.”
Ten minutes later, we vacated the house and all its newfangled illusions, and turned back into Lucy and Adam, two silly people who sang too loudly and five keys out of reach.
The vibe between me and Hope must’ve been apparent. I needed to be more careful, appear less giddy, and stop flushing whenever she smiled. I didn't want Adam analyzing any more into it. I needed to guard from this point forward. Next time I saw her, I’d test my strength and build my walls appropriately. I’d engineer one of the finest fortresses, complete with bullet-proof windows and steel supports that not even a Tsunami could breach.
That very night, just minutes after Adam retired to a headstand before taking up refuge at his desk, I strolled into the basement rec room to pick up my book that I’d left on the treadmill. Hope was stretching her legs on a mat, mimicking a yoga instructor on the television. Her hands grabbed her ankles, the same ankles that my hands had caressed, the same ankles attached to the same legs I fantasized about ever since.
I flushed like an idiot. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She remained stretched, head down, forehead resting on her knee. “I just started. You’re welcome to join me.”
I piled up a few rows of imaginary bricks to my ill-conceived fortress, which proved to shield nothing more than my toes. In a flash, warm flutters wet me. I mounted the tightrope through no choice of my own. I just landed on it, a victim to Hope’s sexy, magnetic powers. I couldn’t help myself. I steered to the space on the mat reserved for me and within a moment, plopped down beside her. Those initial protective bricks tumbled around our stretched bodies, useless in this new frequency where I, Lucy Hastings, was attracted to a lesbian.
>
We stretched, posed, moaned, groaned and mostly giggled our way through the hour long session.
I confessed, “I planned to study this past hour. Some great student I’ve turned out to be. Next thing you know, I’ll be forced to trading in my TA position to serve up fries and Cokes with hamburger meals.”
“At least you have a goal. I need one of those. I can’t hang out down here practicing yoga every day.”
“Oh come on.” I punched her arm, playfully. “You know, yoga is one of those fitness niches that’s only getting bigger and more profitable as time goes on.”
She reached out with a question on her lips, eyes pointed down in contemplation and a dove like soft touch whispering its way down her cheek. Her fingers stopped just short of her jaw, twisted under each other and served as a rest for her light-hearted wisdom. “Maybe I’ve overlooked something pretty obvious here.”
“Maybe so,” I teased.
Releasing her hand from the pressure of the fate of her lifetime, Hope fell back against the floor, spread out like a snow angel and laughed like a five-year-old high on sugar, seeming to want nothing more from me than to continue in our giggle fest over her lack of focus.
Chapter Six
HOPE
Lucy passed by my bedroom the morning after we practiced yoga together. I sat propped up on my bed, writing in my journal, sipping some green tea and nibbling on Melba toast crackers with hummus. She doubled back and poked her head in my doorway.
“Are you as sore I am?”
“It hurts to climb the stairs. Just a fair warning before you venture down them.”
“You can always jump into our Jacuzzi tub this morning,” she said. “Adam already left for an early morning site check meeting at the new UMBC fine arts building. I’m heading out to get some research done at the library in a little bit.”
