by Jae
The ringing of the phone made her jump. She closed the laptop and then scolded herself. It wasn’t as if the caller could see what she was reading. She grabbed the phone from the coffee table and glanced at the caller ID.
Oh, God. Mom or Dad. Go figure.
They called her irregularly but had unerringly found the one moment when their call was most awkward.
“Hello, Dad.” Her father’s orchestra didn’t have recitals or practices on Mondays, so Annie took a guess that it might be him.
“Hello, darling.” Her father’s baritone vibrated through the phone. “We’ve been trying to reach you all weekend, but every time we called, your answering machine picked up. You weren’t working, were you?”
“No.” She rubbed her forehead, wishing he wouldn’t start every phone call with the same admonishment. The constant criticism of her life was getting old—and this time, it wasn’t even based on the truth. She flashed back on her weekend with Drew and the T-shirt Drew had given her. “I was busy practicing witchcraft.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Annie said.
Her father sighed. “I hope you’re not staring at numbers twenty-four seven. When was the last time you went to a concert or just relaxed?”
His lecturing tone made Annie tap her fingers against the phone. Why did she constantly have to justify herself? “I wasn’t working, Dad. I was ... I was with Drew.”
There was a momentary pause, as if her father was surprised that she had some kind of contact with another human being. “Oh, good, good,” he said but didn’t ask who Drew was. It was always like that with her parents. They gave unsolicited advice but rarely asked questions to find out more about her life.
Over the years, Annie had learned not to care too much, but it was still like a thorn stuck in her side, hurting whenever someone touched it.
“Your mother wants me to make sure you’re coming over on Thanksgiving. She’ll cook a big dinner.”
“Mom is cooking?” It wasn’t that her mother couldn’t cook; she just preferred to spend her time in her studio, not in the kitchen. During Annie’s childhood, they had rarely shared meals at the table. Annie had learned to fend for herself and make do with a sandwich.
Her father laughed. “I’m sure she’ll tear herself away from her easel for this special occasion.”
Annie’s heart leaped into her throat. This was her chance! “Do you mind if I bring someone home with me this year?” Her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with the right words to explain the situation and ask her parents to play along.
But before she could explain, her father said, “That’s fine. The more, the merrier.” Again, he didn’t ask any questions. “Jake said he’d be here too.”
“He called?” Had he said anything about her and Drew?
“No, he’s here right now. He drove up to have dinner with your mother and me.”
He’s short on cash and maxed out his credit cards, so he wants to borrow some money, Annie translated.
“Do you want to talk to your brother?”
“No, that’s fine,” Annie said. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. “Just tell him Drew and I will see him on Thanksgiving.” If Jake told her parents Drew was a woman, that would just serve her father right for not really listening and not asking about Drew. Maybe that would teach her parents to pay more attention to her life.
Who am I kidding? Annie sighed. More likely, her father would forget Drew’s name before they ended the call. “Will we have dinner at the lake house?” At least that way, she and Drew could retreat and make it back home quickly if things went wrong.
“No,” her father said. “I’m conducting a matinee at two o’clock, so it would work out better if you could come to Fresno. Your mother will call again to give you the exact time.”
He was already humming a melody, and she could tell that his attention was elsewhere. They made small talk for a few more minutes before ending the call.
Annie bumped the phone lightly against her forehead and stared at the laptop but couldn’t bring herself to open it and continue reading. The topic of lesbian relationships with its thirty-five million links seemed too daunting.
She put the laptop on the coffee table, slid down on the couch, and wrapped herself around Amadeus’s warm little body. “Why is life so complicated?” she whispered into his fur.
Amadeus didn’t answer.
* * *
Annie woke with a start. She lay staring at the backrest of the couch until Amadeus’s blaring meow from the kitchen catapulted her into action. The microwave’s clock read nine p.m. as she wandered into the kitchen and fed the cat.
I wonder what Drew is doing. She leaned against the counter and watched Amadeus gobble down his dinner. Was Drew already in bed, sweating through another fever? The thought of Drew suffering alone made her frown.
No, she sent me flowers. She’s doing better. She pictured Drew on the couch, watching a movie.
Instantly, a replay of waking up in Drew’s arms on that very couch started in her mind. Despite the shock coursing through her system at finding herself wrapped around Drew, the contact had felt strangely good. Too good. She remembered the heat flashing through her belly. Caught off guard by the direction of her thoughts, she poured herself a glass of wine from a bottle she had opened a few days earlier and took a big gulp.
The taste of the red wine reminded her of Drew. God! Why can’t I get her out of my head? She poured the rest of the wine into the sink, took a bottle of water from the fridge, and pressed the cold plastic against her overheated face. Get yourself together. You’re imagining things. If you were attracted to women, you would have noticed a long time ago. People don’t suddenly turn gay. Not at thirty.
But the article on the Web said that yes, some people did exactly that.
She shook her head. Not me. Relationships were never important to me and certainly not relationships with women. Drew is just a friend.
A friend who had sent her flowers to say thank you.
And you should thank her too. At least call her to let her know you got the flowers. It’s the polite thing to do. And if Annie was honest with herself, she wanted to call Drew and find out how she was doing.
She returned to the living room and reached for the phone. She frowned when she realized she already knew Drew’s number by heart, despite having called her only once or twice.
“Hi, Annie,” Drew said after two rings. Her voice was still raspy, sending shivers through Annie.
“Hello, Drew.” There had been so much she had wanted to say, but now Annie found herself tongue-tied. The sweet fragrance of the flowers on the coffee table reminded her of one thing she needed to say. “Thank you for the roses.”
Drew cleared her throat. “You don’t own a vase. I hope that’s not because you don’t like flowers.”
Annie wasn’t sure. On the one hand, she tended to think that buying flowers was a waste of money. The flowers would wither and die after a few days, so the money might be better spent on something more lasting. On the other hand, she liked the feeling of being appreciated that came with getting flowers from Drew. “I do,” she finally said.
“Good,” Drew said. “I made sure to order yellow ones since Jake probably won’t see them this time.”
Yellow roses. Friendship. Drew clearly respected the boundaries of their relationship. How ironic. Drew has no problem being just friends while my body seems to be going through a second bout of puberty. Not that her body had reacted strongly to anyone during puberty. She decided to change the subject. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Drew said. She sounded as if she was smiling.
“No more fever?”
“Nope. Some trouble focusing on paperwork, but otherwise, I’m back to normal.”
Trouble focusing. Oh, yeah, I know that feeling. And I can’t even blame a cold. Annie squared her tense shoulders. “Listen, I talked to my father tonight. My parents confirmed our plans for Thanksgiving and s
aid bringing you is fine.”
“How did they react to our plan to trick Jake?” Drew sounded worried.
“Well ...” Annie scratched at the label of her water bottle with one fingernail. “To be honest, I haven’t told them about it.”
Drew was silent for a moment. “You haven’t told them? But, Annie, why not?”
“Jake was with them, and I didn’t want them to give us away,” Annie said. “I’ll tell them later.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your parents,” Drew said.
“There won’t be any trouble. My parents couldn’t care less about who I’m dating or not dating.” Annie pressed her lips together. “My father didn’t even ask who you were when I mentioned you.”
“Oh, Annie.” The way Drew said her name was like a tender caress. “I’m so sorry they don’t show more interest in you. You deserve better than that. Want me to kick their asses on Thanksgiving?”
The thought made Annie laugh, chasing away her bitterness. “My father is six foot four.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fairly athletic. I can kick that high,” Drew said.
The memory of Drew’s athletic body pressed against hers flashed through Annie again. Stop that adolescent nonsense. “We’ll see.” The huskiness of her voice surprised Annie. She took a mouthful of water. Then another. “Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Do you want to get together over the weekend and discuss the details of our plan?”
“Sure,” Drew said without hesitation.
Pleasure at Drew’s instant agreement swirled through Annie, but she didn’t want to examine the source of that emotion too closely. It took some effort to rein in her smile, though. “How about Saturday? Maybe we could have dinner.”
“Uh, I’m sorry. Saturday isn’t good for me. Lynn is dragging me out to go dancing with her and some friends.”
Oh. Somehow, Drew’s answer put Annie off her stride. She struggled to regain her composure. What did you expect? Of course she has plans on Saturday. She’s an attractive woman. Women are probably lining up to dance with her. And Lynn will be the first in line.
When the silence between them dragged on, Drew said, “Maybe we could meet on Sunday.”
Annie gave herself a mental kick. “Sure. Would four o’clock work for you?”
“Why don’t we make it three? We’ll have more time then. I’ll come pick you up, and we’ll have an early dinner.”
“Okay,” Annie said.
A few more seconds of silence ticked by. “Until Sunday, then.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “Until Sunday.” She ended the call, sank onto the couch, and stared at the roses on the coffee table. They’re yellow, she told herself. So what do you care who she goes dancing with? “I don’t,” she said into the silence of her living room. “Why would I care?” She wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The ritual of boiling water was one she had done a thousand times before, and she used the familiar sequence of movements to calm her rattled nerves.
The phone rang just as she poured hot water into a mug.
She chased away the thought that it might be Drew again, hurried into the living room, and picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“Hello, Annie. This is Jonathan. Jonathan Poynter. I hope you don’t mind that I got your home number from the office.”
Annie didn’t like it, but now that he already had her number, it was too late to protest. “It’s okay,” she said. “What can I do for you? Do you need some more help with the software?”
“Oh, no. No. I’m not calling because of work.” He cleared his throat. “I know I asked you out before and you said no, but I got tickets for a jazz band that is playing in San Luis Obispo this Saturday and I thought maybe you’d like to go.”
Annie stared at the blank TV screen. Say yes. She liked jazz, and going out on a Saturday night was the normal thing to do.
“We could just go as friends,” Jonathan added when she hesitated.
“All right,” Annie heard herself say.
“Yeah?” Jonathan’s voice squeaked like that of an adolescent boy. “That’s great. We could go to dinner afterward.”
“Okay.” For once, she would take Drew’s advice and enjoy the night out without negative assumptions about how it would go. We’ve got work in common, and we both like jazz, so maybe it’ll be a nice evening.
“Then I’ll pick you up at seven,” Jonathan said.
Annie agreed and ended the call. She walked back to the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and cradled her mug between cold hands. Deeply in thought, she bent her head and took the first sip. Ugh. What’s this? She stared into the mug and realized she had forgotten to put tea in it.
Chapter 13
When Drew finally found a parking space one block from The Fig Leaf, she got out of her car and hurried toward the nightclub. A quick glance at her watch showed that it was half past ten. She was thirty minutes late.
Her cell phone chirped. She took a look. Lynn again. Great. During the forty-minute drive to the nightclub, she had already gotten two text messages from Lynn and one from Erica, asking her where she was and informing her that they were waiting inside. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. On my way.” She waited in line for a few minutes, paid the cover charge, and took a deep breath before she entered The Fig Leaf.
Loud music and flashing lights engulfed her. Drew gritted her teeth against the noise and made her way through the crowd waiting their turn in front of the long bar. Someone bumped into her and spilled a sticky drink all over Drew’s hands.
Drew groaned as she tried to shake off the liquid. Having Annie spill wine on her had been much nicer. Stop thinking about Annie!
She continued to weave through the crowd. After a long day in the winery, she wasn’t in the mood to have her feet trampled on a tiny dance floor, but she hadn’t seen her friends since Halloween, so at least catching up with them would be nice.
“Hey, Drew!” someone shouted from the left.
When Drew turned, she discovered that her friends had commandeered one of the small, round tables along one wall.
“Finally!” Lynn said when Drew walked up to them. She hugged Drew, pressing a bit too close and holding on a few seconds too long.
Drew returned the hug for a moment, then pulled back and eyed the almost empty drink on the table in front of Lynn’s chair. Oh, great. Another evening of trying to let Lynn down gently. She turned to greet the rest of her friends. “Sorry for being late. The couple just couldn’t agree on which wines to serve at their wedding.”
“If they can’t even agree on that, the marriage is doomed,” Becky said. She leaned back in her chair and pulled Sam onto her lap.
Sam half-turned and gently hit her wife’s muscular shoulder. “Gosh, you’re such a romantic. Remind me why I married you?”
“Yeah, you should have married me instead of the big unromantic ox over there,” Drew said, her voice raised. The shouting was already getting on her nerves, and she wished they had gotten a table that wasn’t so close to the dance floor.
Sam grinned. “I offered, but you didn’t give me the time of day.”
Drew rolled her eyes. “I was five years old, and you were just after my lunch box when you proposed.”
“Now who’s the big unromantic ox?” Becky nudged her wife, pulled her around, and kissed her.
Even though Drew averted her gaze to respect her friends’ privacy, images of Annie kissing her flashed through her mind. She frowned and tried to distract herself by scanning the crowd for familiar faces. A few of the women on the dance floor were attractive, but tonight, none of them captured her interest.
Finally, Sam and Becky came up for air and Sam turned back around. “How are things going at the winery?”
“Great, thanks.”
“Do you want me to get you a drink?” Erica shouted from the other side of the table and made a drinking motion to make herself understood.
The crowd in front of the bar tempted Drew to say yes, bu
t she didn’t want to lead Erica on. Sam’s cousin had been interested in her for quite some time, and while she liked Erica, she wasn’t interested in her romantically. Her failed relationship with Lynn had taught her that dating a friend, hoping your feelings might grow into love wasn’t a good idea.
“She can have mine,” Lynn said before Drew could answer. She slid her almost empty glass in front of Drew.
Drew sighed. “No, thanks. I’ll get my own.” She turned and joined the crowd in front of the bar.
“Everything okay?” Lynn had followed her and pressed close even though the music was not as loud in this part of the club. She rubbed Drew’s arm and gave her a concerned gaze.
“I’m fine. Just a bit stressed.” Drew returned the gentle touch to Lynn’s shoulder. Lynn was a good friend, but Drew had to be careful not to let her think there could be more between them again.
A slender blond woman walked up to Drew. The black lights surrounding the bar made her shirt and her teeth glow as she smiled at Drew. “Hi. I’m Malinda. Would you dance with me?”
Drew hesitated. She was here to see her friends, not to dance with strangers.
The blonde looked from Drew to Lynn. “Oh. Are you two ...?”
“What? No. Just friends,” Drew said.
Lynn pressed her lips together and looked away.
Shit. Drew closed her eyes for a moment. She reached over and patted Lynn’s shoulder.
Her teeth glowed eerily as the blond woman grinned. “Good. Then let’s dance. I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.” Stray lights from the dance floor bounced off her hair, making it glitter like gold.
“Sorry, but—”
“Go,” Lynn said and gave her a shove. Shadows of hurt lurked in her eyes, but she put on a determined expression. “Just because you don’t want to be with me doesn’t mean you have to turn into a nun. God, you used to be so much fun. And now? Girl, you’re getting old.”
