Crossing

by Stacey Wallace Benefiel

  “It’s okay,” I say, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  Liam takes my glass of wine from me and sets it on the table. Grabbing my hand, he puts it on his crotch. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dani. Let’s just make each other feel good…you want that, don’t you?”

  As much as my hand and my girl bits are like, ‘fuck you,’ I press him for the truth. “Yes, I want to make you feel good, but I don’t appreciate you putting me off. I let you in, Liam, completely, and you’re still keeping yourself from me.”

  He sits way back away from me. “You let me in completely, Dani, because you let everyone in. You can’t stop from sharing anything and everything that pops into your head. I’m sorry if I can’t be like that.”

  Now my whole person is like, ‘fuck you’ and it’s not geared toward me. I stand up. “I’m sorry, too.”

  I go into the kitchen and take the lid off of the chicken and dumplings, sticking a wooden spoon in the pot and generally just messing around, trying to look busy because I’m furious and hurt and horny and don’t know why I can’t keep my mouth shut.

  Liam stands in the kitchen doorway, staring at me.

  I wait for him to come over and wrap his arms around my waist, tell me he’s sorry for being a dick, tell me what this big secret about him is. I’ll assure him it’s fine no matter what. I will. I don’t care. I’ve fallen in love with him and I’ll understand. I just know I will. Whatever it takes to keep him in my life.

  But he just stands there, with his hands in his pockets, looking like a pissed off GQ model. Finally, he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve got a ton of work to do in the costume shop, so I’ll talk to you later.” He glances at the table. “The color of the roses looks nice with the color of that pitcher.”

  I nod. I don’t know what to say. I follow him with my gaze as he picks his coat up off the chair and heads out the door.

  I blow out the candles and dump the rest of the bottle of wine down my throat. What, like I’m going to waste it? Moments like this were made for binge drinking. I pour the chicken and dumplings into a huge plastic container and set the lid on top of it and place it on the counter so that it can cool down before I put it in the fridge. I wash the wine glasses and put them away.

  I pee and reapply my lipstick.

  Grabbing my coat, I run out the door, going after Liam.

  X

  I stay behind half a block, watching in case he’s not going to the costume shop. But after five minutes of hiding behind trees and mailboxes, it’s obvious he’s going where he said he was going. Still, I’m not ready to rush up to him just yet. I’m still mad, but he’s hurting and I just want to make it better. I just want to know what’s up and apparently coming out and asking him isn’t the right way to do things.

  Liam walks into the theatre building, and I wait until he’s well inside to slip through the door. I pause on the stairs until I hear the door to the costume shop close. Tiptoeing down the hall, I position myself so I can see in through the narrow window into the shop.

  Liam shrugs off his coat and lays it over the back of a chair. He takes a pile of clothes from the To Be Ironed basket and fires up the iron. He chooses a plain white men’s button up from the basket and shakes it out before laying it on the ironing board.

  After testing that the iron is hot and the steam works, Liam irons. Shirt after shirt. Crisp seams in trousers, flattened collars, sharp pleats in six catholic schoolgirl skirts they’re using for the Main Stage show.

  I get it. Liam irons. I’m the same way with washing dishes. Mundane tasks, easily completed are the best for getting your head straight. I’m about to open the door and go say…something to him, when he turns and I see that he’s got tears running down his face.

  My breath hitches. Maybe his secret is awful. Like maybe he was molested as a kid by his soccer coach. Something really bad that fucks a person up forever. Fucking Ariana. If she spilled a secret like that, then she’s a certified bitch in my opinion. I’d been giving her the benefit of the doubt until now. Liam acts like she really is his past, but she’s still hurting him and messing with his life.

  Liam walks over to the rack where the costumes from our show are hanging and fingers the sleeve of the evening gown I wear in the finale. He lifts the fabric up to his face and brushes it across his lips, closing his eyes.

  I open the door and he turns to look at me, surprised. He drops the sleeve.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t let up and ruined our one night off ever.”

  He holds his hand out to me and I go to him. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me close, pressing his mouth to mine. “I don’t want to wreck things with you the way I did with Ari.” He takes a stuttering breath. “I’m afraid.”

  I smooth my fingertips over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. “You don’t need to be. Tell me when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Liam moves his hands from my waist down the back of my skirt, walking his fingertips toward the hem and scrunching it up in his hands, pulling it up above my knees. Dropping the fabric, he grabs my ass and picks me up, setting me on the worktable covered with all of his freshly ironed clothes.

  He pushes my coat from my shoulders and leans into me, kissing my neck, moving his mouth lower to my breasts. He nudges my legs open with his hips, continuing his kisses, across the tops of my breasts, up the other side of my neck, across my jawline, closing in on my lips. He pulls my top lip in between his and then pushes his tongue into my mouth, needy.

  I skim my fingers underneath his sweater and tug it off over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He yanks my sweater off and we’re mouth to mouth, skin to skin, grasping at each other with eager hands. I unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, sliding my hand down between his taut stomach and the waistband of his boxer briefs. My fingertips graze him and he moans against my mouth, sliding his hand from my hip to between my legs.

  “I need you,” he breathes, pushing me back onto the clothes.

  “Take me.”

  My stockings and garters are popped off in a flash, none of the slow teasing from our first night. I lift up as he pulls my underwear off. He steps back and lets his pants drop, yanking down his underwear, then he’s back at me, the bare skin of his hips brushing against my inner thighs.

  He hovers over my body, kissing my stomach, running one of his hands underneath the edge of my bra. He grips my hip with his other and pushes inside of me, both of us gasping simultaneously.

  After a moment, his hurried thrusting slows and he rests his head on my chest, right over my heart, moving in and out of me with purpose. I brush my fingers through his hair, knowing this is what he really needs, what I need too. To be close.

  He twists his head up. “Look at me.”

  I rise up onto my elbows, meeting him face to face.

  “You make me feel safe and dangerous, Dani. You make me break my rules, and it’s scary. Just give me time.”

  I grab the back of his head and pull his face to mine, press his forehead to mine, locking my eyes on his. “I’ll give you everything.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Liam smacks me on the ass and whispers in my ear, “Get going, your public awaits.”

  I run back out on stage and take my second solo bow. Sure, the show didn’t sell out a single evening, and there are only about thirty people in the Little Theatre – most of which are other theatre students – but I’ll take it. The audience stands and everyone circles their arms above their heads, chanting “Ohhhhhh.” Yes, U of O has its own way of doing things.

  I move stage left and gesture to the rest of the cast, who come out and take another group bow. They cram over stage left with me and we all turn to face the crew off stage, giving them a round of applause. They quickly run out on stage, bow and run back off. The house lights come up and just like that, my first college show is over.

  Liam waits for me outside the dressing room. I help him
collect all of the costumes and take them to the shop to be laundered.

  “Just think of how much ironing you’re going to get to do,” I purr at him, grabbing his ass.

  He laughs. “I’ve recently discovered a more exciting way to spend time in the costume shop, but will admit ironing is definitely a close second.”

  Since that night and the quick trip Liam took home over Thanksgiving to smooth stuff over with his sister, things between us have greatly improved. We’ve fallen into a comfortable, dare I say, relationship.

  “Hurry up, bitches!” Ursula yells from the hall. “There is binge drinking to be done!”

  “We’ll be right there!” I call after her.

  In celebration of the show ending, the cast and a bunch of our friends are meeting up at RUMORS. Eugene’s most infamous queen, Ima Luver, has even agreed to do an early show just for us.

  I gingerly lay my evening gown on top of the table, running my hand over the sparkly details. “I still can’t believe you found this dress for me. It was so perfect. Are you sure you don’t want to ditch Spanish and come to the theatrical dark side with me? You have a real eye for this, babe.”

  He pushes my hair back over my shoulders “I’m almost done with all the requirements for a Spanish degree and the prereqs for teaching. And I’m good at it.”

  I lean my forehead against his chest. “I just don’t want to think about you graduating. You’re only two years older than me, but I feel like I’ve just begun this whole college thing and you’re on your way out.”

  “Hey, let’s not think about that now.” Liam rubs slow circles on my back. “Besides, I’ve been toying with the idea of tacking on a theatre minor. That’ll keep me around for another three terms. And then there’s grad school…I don’t see why the program here wouldn’t be just as good as any other I might get into. You’re stuck with me, Dani.”

  I kiss him. “Lucky me.” I take his hand and pull him out the door. “You ready to get drunk and dance with eight-foot tall chicks with dicks?”

  He takes out his keys and locks up. “I wouldn’t let Ima Luver hear you call her that or she’ll cut you.”

  “Too right. She can probably run faster in heels too. Nothing about that scenario ends well.”

  X

  We breeze through the door of RUMORS and Carl the bouncer nods at me. “Hey, Dani.”

  “Hey Carl, like the new haircut.”

  Ursula whistles and waves us over to the long table everyone’s crowded around, as if we’d be unable to spot fifteen loud, scantily clad drama students over-talking each other. Pints are poured from a pitcher of Total Domination I.P.A. and handed up to us immediately.

  Everyone raises their glasses to toast us. “We’re not on your level!” they shout.

  Needless to say, Ursula was quick to spread the tale of what a bitch India had been to me, and for the most part, the rest of the cast had been really cool about it. Except for this awesome battle cry they’d adopted. Hey, if it’s the only teasing I have to put up with, I’ll live.

  Liam takes a hearty sip of his beer and puts his arm around my waist. “I guess India couldn’t make it tonight.”

  I look down the table. Bitch or not, everyone in the play should get to enjoy the cast party. “Okay, you guys. That’s enough. I’m starting to feel bad for the girl.”

  “Good, because I’m making you a one-time peace offering.” India comes up behind me and she’s got a tray loaded with red and green Jell-O shots.

  “Festive,” I say.

  “Just take one or twenty and call off your dogs. Sorry I was such a cunt.”

  I set my beer down on the table and pop the plastic top on a red Jell-O shot and offer it to her. Then I get another prepared for myself. I hold it up and we clink plastic cups. “Apology accepted.”

  Everyone at the table cheers and descends on the tray, poppin’ tops and running their tongues around the inside edges of the little containers.

  “This is obscene!” says a haughty voice from across the room. “I love it!”

  Right on cue, music starts up and a parade of drag queens takes the stage. Our table goes wild. The evening disintegrates into a drunken dream of glitter and cabaret. Elizabeth and the ballerina contingent join us, showing off on the dance floor. Toward the end of the night, Liam is literally dragged up on the stage by Ima Luver and Nota Fighter. His shirt comes off and everyone woots, me the loudest of course, as a stretchy turquoise sequin tank dress is pulled down over his head.

  I’m only a little bit surprised when he’s game. Liam makes a big show of kicking his shoes off into the crowd and then yanking off each sock before shimmying his pants off his hips.

  “Shit,” Ursula shouts in my ear. “Your boyfriend is loaded.”

  I smile back at her. “Apparently Jell-O shots, not tequila, are his real Kryptonite.”

  Now the audience begins chanting Liam! Liam! as a platinum blonde wig with magenta streaks is settled onto his head.

  He blows a lock of fake hair from in front of his eyes, finding me watching him. I woot and scream, “You’re a sex bomb, honey!” at him. He blushes like mad and a ridiculously huge grin settles on his mouth. A pair of black pumps are brought out and slipped onto his feet to complete the look. He does a turn for the audience and he gets an even more enthusiastic standing O than I did earlier. I don’t care. It’s strange, but for the first time, I think Liam’s guard is down.

  X

  I wake with a pounding headache and Liam’s hand creeping up my inner thigh. “Ouch.”

  His fingers stop moving. I laugh painfully. “Not you, my head.”

  He presses soft kisses to my temple as his hand continues its upward journey. “Let me make it all better.”

  I turn my head away from him so he can hit that spot on my neck that drives me crazy and then open my eyes. There are two ripped-open condom wrappers on my bedside table, along with a Diet Coke can, a half empty Corona, and a platinum blond and magenta wig. “Last night was fun,” I drawl.

  Liam reaches across me and grabs the wig. He sits up and puts it on. He’s still wearing the sequined dress, mostly. One of the straps is ripped. “It was extremely fun.” He smiles and shakes the long hair back off of his shoulders before scooching down underneath the covers and positioning his face between my legs. I notice his mascara is smeared.

  He tucks his arms underneath my legs and lowers his mouth to me. I put my hand on the wig, guiding him. After a minute or so of his tender nipping, I’m usually out of my mind already, but this morning I’m just not feeling it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m hung over or what, but the combination of his scratchy beard and the fake hair of the wig rubbing against my inner thighs bugs me.

  I start to pull the wig off of him, but he puts his hand on top of mine to stop me. “Leave it on.”

  “I can’t see what you’re doing and it’s annoying me.”

  He takes his arms out from underneath my legs and gets up, sitting back on his heels. “You liked it last night.”

  I sit up too, tucking my knees to my chest and pulling my t-shirt down over them. Suddenly, I really want that fucking wig off. And the dress. “Yeah well, that was last night when we were hammered. All this shit doesn’t make me so hot in the light of day.”

  He’s out of my bed in a flash, ripping the dress off over his head. He throws it at me and then grabs a make-up remover wipe from my dresser, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. He throws that at me too. “There, do I look more like a man now?” he screams, his voice cracking.

  I don’t know what to say. He stands there seething, on the verge of crying, just staring at me like I’ve betrayed him.

  “You’re a cross dresser,” I say, letting it out on a breath.

  He makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a groan and begins frantically looking around. He drags a pair of clean gray sweats from my laundry basket and tugs them on. They’re short on him, but fit well everywhere else. Same with the long sleeve t-shirt he puts on next. And then, oh
God, he’s cramming his feet into my Chucks.

  “You,” I start. “You fit in my clothes. Is that why you…did that make it easier for you to…”

  “Yeah Dani, I’m with you for your wardrobe. Fuck.” Liam turns and runs out of my bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  I let him go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I step out of the shower and don’t even bother to wipe the steam from the mirror above the sink while I brush my teeth. I don’t want to look at myself. I rinse my mouth, down a couple ibuprofen, and comb my hair straight back. I take my leopard print robe off of the hook on the wall and slip into it, my skin still damp. My body needs all of the moisture it can get at the moment.

  I open the door, the cold air from the hall sending a shiver through my body, and trudge to the kitchen.

  Elizabeth is standing in front of the coffee maker in her underwear and my Hello Kitty t-shirt, leaning forward against the counter top and staring at the machine as though she’s willing it to go faster.

  “How can something as benign as Jell-O and vodka do so much damage?” she moans. “I feel like my brain is trying to get out through my eye sockets.”

  “Sugar,” I say, reaching around her and taking two mugs from the hooks under the cabinets. Wine glasses, we have two. Coffee mugs, twelve.

  “Yeah, sugar, two glugs of cream. Since when do you not remember how I like my coffee or have something bitchy to say about it?” She lays her head down on her forearms, giving up using her wishful telekinesis.

  I take the cream out of the fridge and get the stash of stolen sugar packets from the tea tin on top. “No, sugar is why the Jell-O and vodka combo is killing us. And I will never miss an opportunity to give you shit about how you take your coffee.” I dump a sugar packet into the blue mug and pour two glugs of cream in. The coffee maker finally stops pissing into the pot.