When I Was Your Girlfriend

by Nikki Harmon

  Viv is watching me, grinning. I’ve already waxed poetic about take-off to her. She finds me amusing. I know it. It doesn’t bother me. I find her a little over the top. She knows it and I think she exaggerates it just for me. We maintain the friendship we started in high school and it suits us just fine.

  “So,” she begins, “what is this all about, really?” Just like her to cut through the bullshit.

  “I think I’m ready to settle down. I want to have somebody, I want to be in love.” I have nothing to hide with her.

  “And you think you want to settle down with Candace?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug.

  “You know you haven’t seen her in 15 years. She might have changed. You’ve changed some, not a lot, but you’ve grown up. Don’t you think she has too?” she asks.

  “I’m sure she has. But Viv, I have had at least 10 girlfriends since then, women I was serious about, who I liked a lot, who I loved, but I have never felt like any of them were ‘right’ for me. I never wanted to stay with them or marry them. There was always something missing.”

  “What about Nia? I thought you two were made for each other. You were together for a year. I thought that was pretty serious,” she says.

  “It was, and even though we got along great, I never burned for her, you know? I never was just insanely head over heels in love with her. I loved her but it was not the same….”

  “Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for you and Nia. You know, Dee, when you were with Candace, we were in high school and we were all hormonal and dramatic teenagers, right? Your first love is your first love. I don’t think anything ever compares to that, but I don’t think it’s possible to really get it back, Dee,” she says gently.

  “Maybe,” I say. “But I just have to know. I have to know. My feelings for her, my love for her never really went away. I just, I just want to at least see her again,” I say, feeling the emotion rising in my chest. Viv looks at me like I’m a lost cause.

  “OK! Well, hopefully we’ll find her. And if nothing else, road trip!!!” she exclaims excitedly. I smile at her and watch her pull out a celebrity gossip magazine and tear into her Cinnabon. I look out the window and think about Candace.

  ~~~

  After I started hanging around with Vivian, my relationship with Candace got even stronger. Now that I had a friend who I could be honest with, it became clearer to me how I could still be just good friends with a girl and that it was completely different from being in love with one. I was having a really good year. I turned 16 that November and started learning how to drive. I could not wait to be able to pick Candace up in my mom’s car and take her somewhere on a real date.

  Christmas came and I felt like I didn’t need a thing. I was truly happy with life. Christmas night, I went over to Candace’s house so we could exchange gifts. I had bought her a gold chain with a tiny amethyst pendant. She bought me a purple hat, a scarf and gloves set, and a journal and pen with purple ink. We sneaked a kiss in the kitchen then went out to eat cookies and watch a movie with her mom and sisters. We sat together on the couch, the Christmas tree lights reflected in the TV screen where I had my first taste of spiked eggnog courtesy of Denise, and fell happily asleep.

  The next day, I was sitting around with my mom, looking over our gifts and listening to Johnny Mathis sing when she gave me some great news.

  “Dee,” she said, “Your father and I are gonna go to Atlantic City for New Year’s Eve this year. And your sister has been invited over to her friend Stacey’s house. That leaves you. You are old enough to stay home by yourself, but why don’t you invite one of your friends over to hang out here? They could spend the night, and then I wouldn’t be worried about you being here by yourself.” I tried to appear calm and collected.

  “Hmmm, OK. Maybe I’ll invite Candace or Vivian over. I’m not sure what they are doing. Atlantic City, huh? Sounds like you and Dad are gonna have some fun!” I said. Inside I was jumping up and down, turning cartwheels and shouting ‘Hallelujah!!!’ Five long minutes later, I excused myself and called Candace from my bedroom with the door closed.

  “Hi! It’s me. I have the best news ever!! My parents are going away for New Years, my sister is going away for New Years and I’ll be here alone. My mom wants me to invite a friend over. Would you like to come over and spend New Years Eve with me?’ I asked dramatically.

  “Oh my God!!! Yes!! OK, I’ve got to ask my mom but I’m sure she’ll say yes. Oh, I can’t wait! Nobody will be there? Dee, do you know what this means?” she asked.

  “Yes, we can finally have some privacy, we can sleep in the same…Candace…we can….” I trailed off nervously, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Yup. Dee, do you think we’re ready? Are you ready?” she asked quietly.

  “Wow, OK. I think so. I love you Candace. You know that, right?” I said.

  “I know. I love you too. I’m ready,” she said.

  “OK, me too! OK, go ask your mom and call me right back!”

  New Year’s Eve came and I was a nervous wreck. I tried very hard to appear normal but I was a mess. Thankfully, nobody noticed. My mother was busy cooking her black-eyed peas, collard greens, and rice. My sister was getting ready for her sleepover and my father was out getting his car detailed. He likes a clean car for the new year. I, uncharacteristically, cleaned my room and the bathroom. I changed my sheets and towels and changed my clothes five times. I changed my underwear three times. No, four.

  Of course, I had already consulted with Viv; she was excited for me and insisted that I borrow her VCR copy of a lesbian film, Desert Hearts, and her Tracy Chapman tape. I had already made my own “love” mix tape and had my boombox set up by my bed. I felt weird with all this planning, but it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I didn’t want to waste it. Viv also wanted to give me some sex tips, but I didn’t want to talk about the actual “act” too much. It was too embarrassing. I wanted my first time to be between Candace and me. I really didn’t want Viv to be a part of it, no matter how good a friend she was. Of course, I listened to her pep talk and offers of practice (no thanks!) but I decided to wing it and hoped I knew enough about sex to get it right. That day, I must have talked to Candace six times, but each time we just updated each other on what we were doing and we giggled a lot.

  My mom finished cooking and we had a small family meal around 5 p.m. I ate a little but my stomach was in knots. Then my parents got dressed and left with my sister around 7 p.m. Candace was being dropped off by her family around 8 p.m. on their way to a church service. In the hour between, I paced the house, listened to the radio and re-arranged my room. I might have changed my underwear again. I was pre-occupied with “freshness.”

  When the bell rang, I jumped. I opened the door and let Candace in, and we waved to her family and watched them drive off. We went into the house and closed the door. I took her coat; she thanked me. We were awkward. I offered her something to eat, but she wasn’t hungry. I asked her what was in her bag, but she wasn’t ready to show me. We laughed at our “weirdness” but that didn’t put an end to it. I turned up the music; we danced, tentative at first. It was the first time we’d really danced together. We were bound to the house but I’d never felt so free. Michael Jackson came on and we danced ourselves out until they went to commercial.

  I showed her Viv’s movie, and she seemed excited to see it. So I turned off the radio, made popcorn and we settled on the couch to watch. It started off slow but we were finally able to cuddle while watching a movie. I held her while she leaned back onto me. For that alone, the night was a success. The movie made us gasp at times, at other times we got very quiet. Viv knew what she was doing.

  By the end of it we were making out and lost interest in whether the two women would ultimately be together. It was only 10:30 p.m. – too early to watch Dick Clark and too early to “go to bed.’’ I asked her if she wanted a drink. I did not drink but it was New Year’s Eve and I had Cokes and knew my dad wouldn’t m
iss a little rum. She agreed. I only mixed in a little rum, but it was enough to make us a feel a little grown up. She asked me if I wanted to see what was in her bag. I did. She had lingerie, a scented candle, and massage oil. I laughed and asked where she got it. She said she stole it from her Mom’s bed table. We decided to forget about Dick Clark and who cares what time we went to bed. We went upstairs to my room.

  She went into the bathroom with her bag. I lit the candle – my room didn’t even look like my room in that light. I popped in my mix tape and hoped it didn’t seem too cheesy. The rum and Coke had given me a little more courage. But mostly, I was just excited to be alone with her. To be able to kiss and touch without being worried that someone would catch us. I couldn’t decide what to do about my clothes. I knew she was changing but I didn’t have anything sexy. I took off my pants and just left my t-shirt and purple paisley panties on. I took my bra off. That was pretty sexy, right? I sat on my bed and waited. Prince sang “Adore.” She came out.

  I had seen women in lingerie before – Macy’s ads, Victoria’s Secret—heck, I had my own camisole with a fancy bra and panty set that I got for Christmas. But I had never seen another woman, in real life, in my room, with lingerie on. I really hadn’t even imagined or dreamed of it. My fantasies were much more tame and involved lots of romantic kissing and handholding, beach walking towards sunsets. But when she stepped out in a low cut rose satin slip with matching bikini panties, any doubt I had at all about whether I was a lesbian or if this was a phase, or if I was just in love with Candace and maybe it would not be the same with other girls—that doubt vanished. My mix tape was playing, the candle was lit, and she walked out and looked at me. I wanted her. Oh, I loved her and I was nervous, but I wanted her.

  I walked over to her and held her, softly exploring the texture of the slip and the feel of her bare shoulders. We kissed and it quickly became passionate tongue kissing. I had never felt so excited and so powerful. I could feel the goose bumps on her arms. I kissed her neck, her shoulders; I turned her around and kissed her back. I licked a line up her neck and heard her moan. I reached around and cupped her breasts. I could feel her nipples hard under the slip. We edged over to the bed and I took that slip off. She turned and pulled my t-shirt off over my head. We stood there in our panties, breasts touching. She reached around to grab my behind, I bit her gently on the neck and we giggled.

  This was new for both of us, but we loved each other and it felt so right. We forgot about the massage oil and lay down together, luxuriating in the time we had, in the comfort of a bed and in the feel of each other’s body. That night we tried everything we had heard about, everything we had read about and some stuff we just made up as we went along. It was a marvel, it was joyous, it was astonishing, and it was satisfying several times over. By about four in the morning, we were exhausted, but we had the presence of mind to change our clothes, open the window a crack and hide our contraband.

  As we lay down to sleep, she whispered to me, “Happy New Year’s, Dee. I love you so much. I’m so glad you were my first.” She kissed me.

  “Happy New Years, Candace, I love you more, now and forever,” I replied and we fell into a deep, happy sleep.

  ~~~

  The plane “dinged.” Time to put on our seat belts and land, my least favorite part of flying. Viv and I rent a car and drive to the Westin Peachtree Plaza in downtown Atlanta. It was a lovely little suite, but more than I thought we needed.

  “Why the suite?” I ask.

  “Well, if you don’t get lucky with Candace, I thought we could go to whatever the girls’ club is down here and you know, hang out."

  “Aren’t you in a relationship? A monogamous relationship, Vivian Mellifluous Dupree?”

  “Yes, but isn’t this a ROADTRIP!!!” she laughs. “Seriously, I probably won’t do anything, but can’t a girl fantasize? I’ve been with Morgan over three years, which for me, you know, in dog years is like 21 years!!! Plus, I’ve been in a little apartment in Brooklyn, a fourth floor walk-up; I wanted to spread out a little. Let’s go get some dinner. Then we can make it to the bar by 9 or 9:30.”

  “We’re going tonight? I thought we would rest and maybe we would go tomorrow.”

  “Why wait? We flew down here to find the girl. Let’s find the girl. Let’s eat first but then let’s find the girl! OK, I need to change into something decent.” She looks me up and down and smirks. “You should change, too.”

  Over an excellent seafood dinner at a local restaurant, Viv catches me up on her new career in marketing for a local TV station. It was an unusual step for her, as she always wanted to be in the spotlight, not working for the spotlight. I have the distinct feeling that we are both somewhat dissatisfied about our lives. She calls Morgan from the restaurant and while she keeps it light and breezy, I can tell it was forced. I look at her when she hangs up.

  “OK, we’re having some problems,” she says.

  “What’s the problem?” I ask while hailing the waiter for another Pinot Grigio.

  “It’s so typical, it’s laughable. She wants kids, I don’t. She wants to buy a house, I don’t. I want to move to California, she doesn’t. We love each other, really love each other, we live well together, have fun together, have great sex, you know, the whole nine. Now we’ve just reached a point in our lives where we both want to make a change, but it’s not the same change. She wants to set down roots, and start a family life. I want to live in Cali, where it’s warm, where there are more opportunities, and more fun.” Viv looks resigned.

  “Oh, well, now that would be a problem. How do you think you’ll resolve it?” I ask.

  “My guess is that we won’t. We’ll hem and haw for another six months or so, but in the end I’ll have to leave and I’ll be on my own again,” she says.

  “So, you’ll just abandon the love you have? Don’t you think that’s a little callous? We aren’t promised to find someone who’ll love us, but now that you have, can you really walk away like that?” I ask, feeling somewhat irritated.

  “Unfortunately, yes. If I buy a house and have kids and don’t really want them, eventually I’ll be resentful and feel trapped. If she moves with me and leaves everything she loves including the idea of a baby, she’ll get resentful and hate me for it. It’s a deal-breaker and this deal is broken,” she says.

  “That’s so sad,” I say.

  “Yup, which is why getting away this weekend is good for me. It’s hard living with this big ass elephant in the room,” she laughs. “Hey, let’s get going. At least one of us should find happiness, right?”

  We pay up, tip well and head off to the Diamond Bar in Piedmont Park.

  The outside of the bar looked pretty seedy. It was sandwiched between a laundromat and a check-cashing place, the paint old and peeling, and the neon sign was missing the “i” and the “B”. We walked in though, and were pleasantly surprised. The bar was hip, clean, and busy. Most tables were occupied with couples having a late meal, the pool table in the corner was hosting a friendly game between twin brothers, and there was a jukebox playing R&B hits.

  The bar itself was a huge circle in the middle of the room, and it was packed with young and old alike enjoying the charismatic bartenders – a sexy older woman with prodigious cleavage and a tall, muscular young man with a loud, booming laugh, also with a low-cut shirt. We sit on the woman’s side.

  “Two Jack and Cokes, please,” I order.

  “Ahhh, two serious women, I like that,” she replies and winks at me. I catch a flash of her gold tooth in the back. Between that, her cleavage, and the Chaka Khan playing, I was starting to like this bar. She came back with nice, strong drinks in highball glasses and pushed a bowl of bar nuts our way. Viv puts a twenty-dollar bill on the table and leans forward.

  “I’m Vivian and this is my friend, Dee. We were wondering if the owner, Kevin Wright is here tonight,” she says. The bartender looks at us searchingly, and then smiles.

  “Naw, something tells me you two are not h
ere for child support payments. Kevin should be in ‘round 11:00, he likes to be here to close the bar,” she replies. She winks at me again and moves on down the bar where another customer is looking anxiously her way. I admit it; I checked out her ass. I couldn’t help it! Viv catches me and laughs.

  “Maybe you’re just horny. Did we fly all the way down here to Atlanta because you’re horny?” Viv smirks.

  “Nooooo,” I say. “Actually, after I broke up with Pepper, I did something I’ve never done before.”

  “Do tell, Miss Dee, I could use a good story to go with this drink,” she says, taking a sip.

  “Well, after an uptight little soiree I was invited by my ‘perfect couple’ patient to The 12th Street Bar….” I told Viv the whole story with all the lurid details, and I didn’t even have to embellish much to impress her.

  “Well! Now, that has made my day! I see you are a completely liberated woman. Still no U-Hauls for you, Miss Thing!” she exclaims clinking my glass. I motion for the bartender to hit us again, but Viv’s comment strikes a little nerve.

  “You know, I can be serious with one woman, if it’s the right woman,” I say.

  “Sure, sure, I know, that’s why we’re here. To find the right woman and see if the shoe still fits,” she laughs. “OK, we should figure out how to come off to this Kevin guy. We don’t want to seem too much like stalkers.”

  “Right,” I say. “We could say that we also went to Spelman and are looking for her.”

  “No,” says Viv, “we don’t know enough details to pull that off. Maybe we could say we just happened to be down here from Philly and decided to look her up.”

  “Yeah, but how do we explain that we know to look here? We are stalking her, aren’t we?” I ask.