Just This Once

by K. G. MacGregor

  “I take it that means you two aren’t going to pursue anything serious.” Val traded the 10-pound dumbbell for one twice that heavy, this time to stretch the long muscles along her shoulder and neck.

  Her friend’s question prompted a surprising rush of feelings — none of them very comforting. “I don’t know. I guess realistically, the answer is no. But if there was a way we could work it out, I’d be willing to give it a try.”

  “How do you think she feels?”

  “I’m not sure.” Paula was pretty certain that Wynne had feelings for her, but the scope of those feelings was unclear. There was definitely something there, but outside of the utterances that poured forth during the heat of their passion, neither woman had said much of anything beyond letting the other know she was special.

  “So maybe next week you should raise a stakes a little,” Val suggested mischievously.

  “You know, soft music, candlelight…a little massage oil.”

  Paula blushed, now feeling guilty at holding out on her friend. She was dying to talk to somebody, and Val was really the only one she could safely say anything to. “We uh, already sort of did that.”

  “What!” The bar manager looked at her with both shock and thrill. “You mean you two already…?” Val made a little finger through the circle motion with her hands.

  “You’re so crude,” she said, feigning disgust. “But yes, we…,” Paula mimicked the gesture, adding, “…among other things.”

  On that note, Val now sported a small blush of her own. “Careful there, not too much information.”

  “You’re the one that asked.”

  “So the two of you had sex and you still don’t know how she feels?”

  Paula found herself a little embarrassed at her friend’s frank implication, but there was really no dodging it. “I don’t know how to explain it. It feels like there’s something there, but it’s like we both know that a real relationship probably isn’t feasible, so we just sort of…took a shortcut. I know she likes me. But the sex thing just happened. It really wasn’t about expressing any feelings.” At least it probably wasn’t about feelings as far as Wynne was concerned. Paula noted the look of doubt on her friend’s face. “Don’t you just sometimes get…carried away with somebody who’s really hot?”

  “Maybe once…or twice,” she conceded. “So how was it?”

  Paula returned the dumbbells to the rack, contemplating her response. “I think I’m ruined for anyone else.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh is right.”

  Chapter 11

  The marketing manager was glad to be back at her desk on Monday morning. She had planned on talking with her mother on Saturday afternoon and with Heather on Sunday, but after Janelle’s response, she lost her nerve. Things were so tense at home yesterday that she and Heather had barely spoken.

  Cheryl Williams had obviously been working over the weekend, Wynne noted, as her email box was filled with a series of messages on the new job and the upcoming presentation.

  CWilliams Presentation — final copy Wynne downloaded this one to study later.

  CWilliams New York This was an unexpected but very welcome invitation to come to New York with Ken, Cheryl, and Wendell for the presentation to the stock analysts in three weeks.

  CWilliams Contract This time, Wynne went straight to the downloaded document. It was a detailed job description, packed with the kinds of tasks in which the marketer reveled. The new job would require travel, estimated at once or twice a month at first, perhaps more later as Eldon-Markoff expanded or acquired new companies.

  In addition to the contract was a draft of the official offer, which almost took her breath away: Her new base salary would be $126,000. She was eligible for an annual bonus worth up to half her salary if corporate and department goals were met, and she would also receive stock options each year.

  Eldon-Markoff would pay all of her moving expenses, including real estate commissions and closing costs. She was expected to start full time in Orlando six weeks from today.

  That last part lit a fire under her. She needed to contact a real estate agent to put her townhouse on the market, so she’d have to talk to Heather soon. Tonight…she would talk to Heather tonight.

  PMcKenzie Your next visit A knot formed in Wynne’s stomach as she hovered the mouse over the subject line. There hadn’t been a waking hour in the week since she’d been home that she hadn’t thought at least once about Paula McKenzie and the exciting things they’d done, or the wonderful things she’d felt. Each time, the guilt grabbed her and pulled her back down to earth.

  Hi Wynne, Well, this is my usual mid-week note — you know, the one where I say that I had a great time seeing you on your last visit and that I hope we can get together again next time to do something fun. The words are certainly true again, but somehow they just don’t seem to say enough this time.

  I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just blurt it out. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again, but I don’t want to be presumptuous.

  I’m open for anything you’d like to do.

  Paula Wynne felt the tears well up, deeply sad that she’d just played it all wrong. In six weeks, she’d be moving to Orlando…single. Paula was someone she might have had a future with had she not gotten carried away last week. If she’d kept her distance and told the truth, things may have worked out; but hiding the truth about Heather at this point was out of the question. As it was, she didn’t deserve to have something that nice after all.

  Her best bet was to come clean and try to salvage a friendship; maybe in time, they could start over. But she couldn’t deal with it before talking to Heather. She had to start putting things in order.

  ———

  Paula clipped her nametag above the pocket of her navy suit and stepped into her shoes.

  Careful not to collect the orange cat’s pervasive fur, she stretched her fingers out to scratch behind his ears.

  “You be a good boy, and don’t answer the door or the phone.” As if on cue, the phone rang at that moment. “I’ll get that.”

  Slayer turned around in circles several times before settling in his favorite chair, which also happened to be Paula’s favorite chair.

  “Hello…oh, hi Dad!” It was rare for Ray McKenzie to call his daughter, since he was at work when she was at home and vice versa. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” Paula brushed a lint roller along her skirt as she talked. “Oh, right! Would it be alright if I brought a friend? I know, you need a full name and social security number.” The shuttle Discovery was launching on Saturday morning and her father was offering a pass to the press site. “Can I let you know tomorrow? I’ll call you…thanks Dad. Bye.”

  This was good. Now she had an excuse to call the woman from Baltimore, and that would ease any awkwardness either might feel about their intimate encounter. But the business card Wynne had given her was in her desk drawer at the WR, so she’d have to call from there.

  ———

  “You look awful, Jolene.” Paula took in the sight of her red-eyed desk clerk. The African-American woman shone with sweat, clearly the product of a fever. “You should go on home.”

  “I hate to leave you to do this by yourself.” Matthew had called in sick tonight as well, so Paula and Rusty would have to man the front desk. It wouldn’t be so bad if they took turns, since they weren’t expecting a lot of new arrivals tonight.

  “I’ll be alright. It’ll be like the old days, when I was young and carefree,” Paula joked.

  “Go on. Go home and take something and fall into bed. And if you still have a fever in the morning, call in and ask them to schedule someone else.”

  “Thanks, Paula.”

  “Take care of yourself.” The manager immediately took over the front desk duties, which consisted mostly of answering the phone and checking in the occasional guest.

  It was 7:30 before she remembered her father’s invitation. Pulling up the database, she quickly foun
d Wynne’s record, which listed an Orlando number for work, and a Baltimore number for home. She could call Rusty down and run up to her desk to retrieve the other work number, but at this hour it wasn’t likely she was there anyway.

  Paula warred within herself about what to do. On the one hand, it was technically an abuse of her access to information to look up a home phone number for personal reasons.

  On the other hand, she and Wynne had slept together and you couldn’t get much more personal than that! And if there was a chance that Wynne could make it down for a launch at the press site, she’d probably really be sorry she missed it just because Paula thought it improper to call her at home.

  Using her cell phone, she placed the call. After four rings, she was mentally preparing to leave a callback message, when an unfamiliar female voice picked up.

  “Hello.”

  Momentarily startled, Paula debated for a split second about hanging up. “Uh, hi. May I please speak to Wynne Connelly?”

  “I’m sorry, she isn’t home yet. I’d be happy to take a message.”

  A message…should she leave a message? “Sure…would you tell her that Paula called?”

  “Of course. And can she reach you at…?” Heather read back the number on the caller ID.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll give her the message as soon as she gets home.”

  “Thank you.”

  Paula was surprised to find herself shaking. Who was the woman who had answered the phone? Wynne had told her about a sister, but she hadn’t said that they lived together.

  She had never mentioned a roommate. A sick feeling crept into her gut.

  ———

  The marketing manager fumbled for her front door key, dreading the night ahead. She had dragged out her workday, even buying a dinner of snack crackers and soda from the vending machine to postpone the imminent conversation with Heather. It was nearly eight o’clock when she entered her home.

  “Boy, you really must have a mountain of work to stay there so late,” Heather said in greeting.

  “Yeah, but I’m making progress.” Wynne tried to smile. This was going to be a difficult night, and it wouldn’t do to let it escalate to a confrontation. Still, she knew she couldn’t simply will away her lover’s emotional response.

  “Somebody from Orlando called about a half hour ago. I guess they all work late down there too.”

  “Was it Cheryl?” She had called her boss about an hour earlier to suggest one last change in the presentation.

  “No, she said her name was Paula. She left a number.”

  The tall woman felt her chest constrict as the anxiety rose inside her. So Paula had called her at home and now knew about Heather.

  “I’ll…call her tomorrow. It’s late.”

  “Well, it was only a half hour ago. I started to tell her just to call you at work. What are you guys working on?” Heather wasn’t really interested in the nuts and bolts of Wynne’s job, but she wanted her partner to succeed and she was willing to support that however she could.

  “Sort of a reorganization. Why don’t I put this away and we can talk about it.” That was the segue she needed.

  “Or we can talk about something else if you’d rather not think about work any more. You want something to eat?”

  “No, I had a bite at my desk. I’m not really hungry. And I really do need to talk to you about things at work.” She noted just the barest hint of a shake in her voice, and hoped she could keep it from getting worse. If Heather picked up on anything that suggested weakness or a lack of resolve, she’d be all over it.

  Wynne hung her coat in the closet and stowed her briefcase. Heather had taken a seat on the couch in the living room, muting the TV. Wynne walked in front of the set and turned it off, taking a chair on the other side of the small room.

  “What is it, honey?”

  Wynne leaned forward and folded her hands, willing herself to look the other woman in the eye. Slowly, she began. “This is going to be a tough conversation, Heather.”

  The hazel-eyed woman shifted uncomfortably on the couch, not yet understanding what the reorganization at Eldon-Markoff had to do with her. She’d always been accommodating when it came to Wynne’s work.

  “Heather, I…don’t think it’s much of a secret that you and I haven’t been connecting very well lately. In fact, it’s been like this for a long time, at least for me.”

  “Well, you’ve been working long hours lately, and you’ve been gone a lot. I’m sure things will smooth out when things calm down at work,” she offered nervously.

  “I’m not as sure about that as you. I’ve been thinking — for quite a while, actually — that maybe we should…move on. I look back over the last couple of years, and I can honestly say that I have never felt more loved by anyone, and that I owe you more than I can ever repay for all the things you did for me after my accident.” It was taking everything Wynne had to keep her voice and gaze steady as she said her piece, taking in the stunned look on the younger woman’s face.

  “Don’t do this, Wynne.”

  The brunette shook her head in resignation. “But I can’t be what you need…what you deserve. I’ve tried, Heather, for over a year, and I just can’t do it.”

  “In other words, you don’t love me like I love you,” Heather said sharply.

  Wynne sighed deeply and leaned back in the chair. Her lover’s summation was cold, but accurate. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears started to pool in the woman’s hazel eyes, and her voice grew small. “You know, Wynne, maybe we could get away together and take some time to enjoy each other. I don’t…want to just throw away two years without feeling like we tried to fix it.”

  “Heather, it’s not — how do I explain this? — it’s not like anything is broken. It’s that it never really fit to begin with. We had a wonderful friendship, but it was a mistake on my part to try to make more of it than that, because my love for you was never the deep, passionate love that both of us deserve to feel. I’ve really tried to love you that way, but I just can’t.”

  “So the whole last year has been a lie for you. Is that what you’re saying?” The tone of Heather’s voice had taken on an edge.

  “I haven’t intentionally misled you, Heather. But I can’t manufacture the feelings you need.”

  “Why do you keep talking about what I need and what I deserve?” she wailed accusatorily. “I have what I need. I’m happy with you.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “So now that you’re all better, you’re just going to toss me out like yesterday’s trash? I gave up my home, Wynne. And I got rid of nearly all of my stuff because there wasn’t room for it here. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “I’ll…help you with whatever you need. You can take some of the stuff from here…some furniture, some linens, some dishes, whatever you need,” she repeated. The older woman recalled that most of Heather’s furniture was second-hand, and she had said that many of her dishes and linens were mismatched sets, hand-me-downs from her family and friends.

  “Early attic,” she had jokingly called the décor. Wynne was willing to part with almost anything in her house — not her grandmother’s china or the antique brass bed — but as far as she was concerned, Heather could have the rest of it if she wanted it.

  “Can we please give this some time, Wynne?”

  “Heather, I’m taking a new job in Orlando. It starts in six weeks, so I need to put the house on the market this week.”

  “So you’re moving to Orlando. That’s what this is about.”

  “No. It’s about us, and the fact that this isn’t working for me. I wasn’t about to uproot you from your job and your friends when I knew in my heart that we weren’t going to make it.”

  The two women sat quietly for long minutes before Heather finally stood. “I can’t talk about this any more. I’m going for a drive.”

  “Heather, please. You shouldn’t drive if you’re upset,” Wynne pleaded. “I’ll…go ove
r to Mom’s if you need to be by yourself.”

  “In other words, you’re not too upset to drive, right?” The cork that had held the young woman’s emotions in check up to now had come undone. “And the reason you’re not upset, Wynne, is because you’ve gotten everything you’ve needed from me. And now that you don’t need anything else, you’re moving on. It doesn’t matter to you that I still need you.”

  “Knowing that I’m hurting you does upset me, and I’m so sorry. But it would be wrong of me to let you give up even more for me feeling the way I do about our future.”

  “What, did you get a promotion?”

  “Yes,” Wynne answered simply.

  “So now you have a fancy job at corporate, and I’m not the right accessory. Is that it? Don’t tell me, let me guess: They don’t even know you’re gay, I bet.”

  Actually, Ken Markoff probably did, Wynne realized, but she certainly wasn’t about to volunteer that and have to explain how he came to know. “It’s not about that at all, Heather. I don’t know what they know, but I don’t intend to live my life in the closet. And I would never consider a partner as an accessory to my work. Both of us deserve better than that.”

  “Don’t keep patronizing me with your opinion about what I deserve,” Heather hissed, angry tears streaming down her face as she grabbed her purse and stormed toward the door. “I’ll get out of here as soon as I can. Believe me, now that I know how you really feel about me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.”

  Wynne winced as the door slammed and rattled the pictures on the walls. It was about as ugly a scene as she had imagined it would be, but all she felt right now was relief that it was over. She knew that it was only Round One, as Heather would be back, and would probably make a calmer plea for her to rethink her decision. Wynne had given no ground thus far, but her lover — check that, ex-lover — would no doubt increase the pressure for her to relent.

  Saddened that things would be ending on such a hurtful note, Wynne resolved to try to make the transition as friendly and peaceful as possible. She had a healthy savings account and would gladly help Heather get set up in a new place. It would probably be difficult for them for a while, but surely their friendship was solid enough to weather this.