Anchored: A Lesbian Romance

by Jen Clarke

  “Well, this young officer stopped in, what’s his name,” my mother frowned. “He was doing something, I think he was dropping off payroll and he mentioned the two of you went on a date once?”

  “Tom Cooper?” I blurt out in a horrified voice.

  “Yes, that was his name. He seemed very friendly when talking about you.”

  What the hell? It wasn’t enough he had to visit me at work, now he’s talking to my mother? “Mom, you’ve got your signals crossed,” I explain. “He just happens to patrol past the restaurant and he’s stopped in and said hi a couple of times because we knew each other back in school.”

  “Well, I must have gotten mixed up then,” she says. “He seems nice though. Hold on, your father’s calling me.”

  “Who is this guy anyway?” whispers Bri.

  “We knew each other in high school and he’s lonely,” I say. “He’s also a cop, which is how my mother knows him.”

  Bri nods and turns to me. “I don’t remember you mentioning him.”

  “There’s nothing to mention.”

  Why is Bri looking at me like that? I suddenly feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and a little defensive. I’m not keeping any secrets from her... well, at least nothing except having a crush on her. And that doesn’t count, because saying anything would be bad for our friendship.

  “It wouldn’t matter if you were interested in guys,” she says. “You wouldn’t need to keep it a secret. Sexual orientation exists on a spectrum.”

  I glance around, to see if anyone is listening. “Bri,” I hastily explain. “I think what’s going on is my mother thinks if I meet someone, I’ll stay on Cape.”

  “Doesn’t she want you to finish school?” Bri asks.

  “Yes and no. I think she’d be happier if I finished at 4C’s.”

  “Well, it would be less expensive,” Bri notes.

  “Yeah, but that’s not her big concern. I mean look around. The youngest people she works with are in their fifties and most of them are older. Even when they hire someone younger, they don’t stay. They get a better job off-Cape, or they meet someone.”

  “Oh,” Bri says, nodding her head. “Would you move off Cape for someone?”

  Well yes, but that’s not going to happen. Bri is still examining me and I flush. “Why do you care?” I say. It comes out harsher than I intend.

  “Nothing,” Bri says abruptly.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “Nothing,” Bri insists. “Can’t I ask a question?”

  “Okay.” Two could play at the passive-aggressive game. “I’m going to get a beer. Do you want one?” I elbow my way through the group of people, mostly talking about the Red Sox. Some of them recognize me and wave. I wave back and smile, my stomach churning. I scan the living room, looking for Bri, hating everyone who blocks my vision. I finally see her waving in the corner and stride through with the beers.

  Bri has scored a spot on the loveseat. She pats the other side, motioning for me to sit.

  I join her, keeping my body away from hers. I’m still irritated.

  “I’m sorry,” Bri says. “I guess I feel really uncomfortable.”

  “Why?”

  “Well,” she says. “You clearly didn’t want me to come to this party.”

  I take a deep breath. “I was afraid you’d be bored or my mother’s friends would be too much. They’re kind of overwhelming and not very PC.”

  “You mean like they tell racist jokes or something?”

  “Not really racist,” I explain hastily. “But you heard Linda doing the Italian accent earlier. They do stuff like that all the time.”

  “You were embarrassed?” Bri asks.

  “Very,” I admit.

  “But family’s always embarrassing,” she says.

  “There’s embarrassing and there’s embarrassing.”

  “Well, if you really want to come with me to meet my family, you can,” Bri says. “That way we’ll be tied. I’ll even tell you how the visit will go, so you’ll be prepared.” She grins. “First, my mother will show us into the living room and ask if we want some wine before dinner…”

  “Aren’t you pretty busy when you’re with them?” I blurt out. “I get the impression you were catching up with people you went to school with, like Emily.” I hadn’t intended to bring up Emily, but I can’t stop myself.

  “Oh I am. And it’s good.”

  Ugh. That wasn’t something I wanted to hear and suddenly I wish I hadn’t said anything.

  “But,” she takes another sip of her beer. “But I’m not sure I’d make such an effort if my parents I were getting along better. I’d probably just sit around the house, maybe do something with my brother.”

  We sit and drink our beers for a moment. Being honest had turned out to be easier than I thought. First with Denise, now with Bri. Of course, I wasn’t really being honest with Bri.

  “I do have a couple of days coming up. We could do something. Go to Ptown?” I suggest.

  Bri sat for a moment, sipping her beer before replying. “I’d like that.”

  “It’s done.” Maybe we’d even get some other trips in. I was going to stop being twitchy. Whatever was going on with her and Emily wasn’t important and more to the point, it was none of my business. Instead, I was going to enjoy my time with her. I look over at her and she smiles back, slouched in my parents’ old loveseat, her long limbs draped gracefully. I was glad the weirdness between us was gone. Mostly gone.

  “Ellen?” I hear my dad’s voice. “I think there’s someone here that knows you.”

  “Hi Ellen!” says Tom Cooper. “Is there room for me to sit down?”

  “Not really,” I say, making a motion of looking around. I can feel my father’s eyes on me, can practically hear him, Jesus, Ellen, that was rude. “I’m sorry,” I add quickly. “What I mean is, there’s not really room for another person. You could pull up a seat though.” The last thing I want is for Tom to pull up a seat, but I don’t see any way around it.

  “Take my seat. No, I’m okay, I’d like to stand for a while,” Bri says very unhelpfully.

  Without even acknowledging Bri, Tom sits down and begins chatting away. I can’t really think of a way to exit, at least not until I finish my beer, so I down it as quickly as I can. This leads to the inevitable and for once, welcome result.

  “Oh, excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be back in a moment, I need to use the bathroom.” I feel like a little kid asking permission.

  “Of course,” he says with a gallant look on his face. I walk away, slowly, stroll past the bathroom on the first floor, and up the stairs to my parents’ bathroom. After taking care of things, I sit on the toilet lid and send a text to Bri. Bri, want to leave? Meet me outside by the sliding glass door, where my dad is probably sitting.

  I don’t wait for a response. I head down and out the door, hoping that Tom won’t see me. My dad is sitting there, so I quickly acknowledge him. “Hey Dad, I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  He waves to me. I can tell from his body language that he’s completely engrossed in the conversation about the Red Sox. This is good. I stand in the garden for a few moments, wondering when Bri will join me, and that gives me an idea.

  I type a message quickly. Hi Mom, Bri’s not feeling well, so I’m going to take her home. I had a really good time and it was great seeing people. Talk to you soon and love you. I pause with my finger poised to send until I see Bri come out the door and then tap my finger against the screen.

  “Did you talk to anyone?” I ask hastily.

  “No, I came right out,” Bri says, sounding a little confused. “What’s up?” She looks up at the lighted windows.

  “I don’t really want to hang out here all night, so I’m using you as an excuse. I sent a text to my mother saying you weren’t feeling well.”

  Bri laughs. “Okay, sure.”

  I notice the door starting to open. “Oh God, someone’s coming out. Let’s go. I don’t want to talk to anyone else.�
��

  Bri crouches down. “Pssst. Let’s sneak.” Her voice goes all conspiratorial and I join her. We could easily walk normally to where my car is, but instead we creep behind the lilac bush. I know my expensive jeans that I keep nice will be muddy, but I feel silly, lighthearted, and happy in a way that had nothing to do with the beer.

  “So, what do we do now?” I ask.

  She raises a hand and motions. “Quick, under that tree!”

  The two of us scurry through the leaves. I try not to giggle as we come to rest under the pines at the back of my parents’ yard, bordering where their property ends and the neighbor’s yard begins.

  I peer through the branches. “They’re coming out for a smoke.”

  “Well, they may be in disguise,” Bri says. “We need to be on alert.”

  “Okay, on alert,” I agree. At this point, one of them looks up toward the tree we’re behind.

  “Shh…” Bri says, pulling me behind. “Don’t let them spot us.”

  “Especially since I will never be able to explain what I’m doing hiding in my parents’ yard.” I can feel Bri trying not to laugh as we crowd together.

  “You just say, um, you thought you saw a cat.”

  “So, am I hiding from the pussy or trying to get some?” I try not to giggle. Bri is holding her mouth.

  Eventually, my mother’s coworkers finish their smoke and go back inside. “Should we go?” I ask.

  “Sure, but we have to sneak to the car,” Bri insists.

  “Okay, we can do that.” I agree. I’m getting a little tired of kneeling, but it seems fun enough.

  Just then the slider opens and Tom Cooper emerges. “Hide,” I hissed to Bri. “For real.” We flatten ourselves past the bushes.

  He looks first one direction and then the other. Then he steps out and I watch him pick his way down the driveway.

  “What’s he doing?” asks Bri.

  “Shh,” I hush her, watching him through the trees. I can see him walking slowly along the road, looking around every few steps, and finally pausing at my car. To my annoyance, I realize what he’s doing. “I think he was checking to see if we were still here,” I whisper to Bri.

  “Okay, he’s heading back to the house, let’s go.”

  Bri follows me as I scoot down the hill through the leaves and wild blueberry bushes, the scrub pines occasionally catching us with their rough bark. I wonder if Tom is still watching from the house, even though I know he can’t see anything through the woods. I unlock the Corolla and Bri gives me the thumbs up as we pull away.

  “Oh boy,” Bri says, half-laughing. “Are you hungry at all?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am, but I don’t think there’s much open. Do you want to get some pizza? Or Chinese food?”

  “What about Chinese food?” she suggests.

  “Sure,” I agree. “Eat out or take out?”

  “Eat out. I’ll treat,” she adds.

  “Okay, thanks,” I say. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Where do you like to go?” she asks.

  “Well…” I think for a moment. “The place in Harwich is okay, but it’s just a takeout place. Do you want Chinese or do you want Asian? There’s also a pho place in Yarmouth that’s wicked good and there’s a lot of Thai places.”

  “Another night, I’d want pho or Thai, but tonight, I want a place where you can get a pu pu platter.”

  “A pu pu platter?” I laugh. “You’re going old school.”

  “I know. Don’t tell my viewers or my reputation will be forever destroyed. But it’s what I’m in the mood for.” She pauses a moment and then adds, “We don’t have to if you don’t want.”

  “No, it sounds great. I know just the place.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s a bit of a drive. I take Route 6 and get off at the exit on the Brewster/Orleans line. As I drive through the center of Orleans, I can see the lights from businesses, some year-round, some just opening up for the season. Bri is quiet beside me and I keep glancing at her as the lights play across her nose and glasses. I wonder what made her think of pu pu platter, but this is certainly the place to get it.

  “Here we are,” I say pulling the car into the driveway. “This place had the worst reputation when my mom was young for serving you if you were underage.”

  “Do they still do that?” Bri asks.

  “Nope. Or at least I never had any luck and I definitely tried.”

  “Maybe its people’s discomfort with foreign influences,” Bri says, looking up at the neon sign. “Foreigners must be less reputable and less trustworthy than Americans, and therefore more likely to serve underage patrons.”

  I hadn’t thought of it that way before and said so. In retrospect, when I was growing up, our speculations about the restaurant did seem well, not exactly racist, but we did assume there had to be shady goings-on before the doors. Of course, the same was true of many restaurants, but we never assumed places with Irish staff were up to anything. I cringe, thinking of how dumb I’d been. The trouble with thinking better of things you used to take for granted is you wonder how much more there is to learn.

  As we walk in the door, Bri looks around with delight. “This is great! It’s like an old-time Polynesian lounge.”

  “I guess it is.” It never occurred to me to appreciate the place. It was mainly a convenient stop on the way to Provincetown and open later than anywhere else. That and the prospect of the mythical serving of underage patrons is what kept my friends and me coming during high school. Not to mention, it has seen better days, but Bri is genuinely charmed.

  “Look at these booths,” she whispers to me excitedly over the table. “Bamboo trim. And I love the way the host wears a suit, but all the waiters wear Hawaiian shirts.”

  I look around with renewed appreciation, seeing it through her eyes. “If you want the full experience, we should order one of the drinks.”

  “Oh we should!” says Bri. “What should we get?”

  I don’t need to think about this. “Scorpion Bowl. It’s for two people and it has a volcano in the middle.”

  “Oh, with the, what do you call it…”

  “Sterno,” I finish.

  “Insane. Let’s get that,” Bri peers at the drink menu with interest. “Or do you want to get this really inappropriate one?” she says, pointing at a picture of a drink glass.

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s culturally sensitive,” I joke. I read through the ingredients. There’s a lot of rum and I’m reminded of my recent overindulgence in Dark and Stormies. I tell myself that I’ll be okay if I pace myself. “Let’s get the inappropriate one first and then the Scorpion Bowl.”

  “Mmm, that looks good,” Bri says to our waiter, as he arrives with our pu pu platter and fried rice. “Can I get a picture of you holding it?” she asks and he complies with a smile. “Thank you, thank you. What do you like best?” she says to me, pointing to the platter.

  “I like the beef teriyaki.”

  “I like the barbecued ribs better.”

  “Go ahead, you can have my ribs,” I offer and for some time, we eat ravenously.

  “Here, hold the inappropriate drink glass out,” Bri says. “I’m taking a picture with my phone.” She begins to busily tap away, no doubt updating her social media.

  We finish our inappropriate drinks and move on to the Scorpion Bowl. I drink more than I intend and the rest of the night gets hazy. Bri is more thoughtful and slows down, sipping it delicately through the little straw. We’re nearly alone in the restaurant. Dinner hour on Cape is fairly early and it was too early for the drunks to arrive seeking their chicken fingers.

  The restaurant backs on an inland bay and I can see the water through the window behind our table. I point down at the wooden steps that go down to a dock. “You can sit here in the summer and watch the boats come in.” Bri snaps a picture and I watch the moon rise while she giggles over something on her phone. I feel sad. I want more from the night.

  “We should take
a walk,” Bri suggests.

  “What?”

  “Out there,” she says as if the answer is obvious. “Take a walk in the moonlight. Look at the water.”

  “It’s bright,” I agreed.

  “Let’s pay and go,” Bri leans forward to catch our waiter’s eye.

  Instead of heading into the parking lot white with crushed shells, we walk along the wooden sidewalk, almost like a deck, that runs in front of the restaurant and wraps around the side. “Ow, there’s a rose or something, careful,” Bri says.

  She holds the brambles back as I follow her to the top of the wooden steps. The rum is hitting me hard and I hold onto the railing and carefully watch my steps. When we reach the dock, I feel the cold air rising from the water and the soft sigh of the wind as we walk to the end.

  I kneel down and touch the dock with my fingers. “It’s dry,” I note and sit down, my legs dangling off the edge, which is thankfully high enough that they don’t hit the water, and Bri joins me.

  For a few moments we sit and listen to the wind and watch the lights over the water. “This is why people live here,” she says. “So they can walk out and see that.”

  “Yes,” I agree. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I hear the soft lapping of water against the dock. I feel a vibration under me and realize Bri must have moved. “I think the tide’s coming in,” I say, opening my eyes to find her lying down.

  “You can really see the moon this way.”

  I ease down next to her. The dock is just as cold and hard as you’d imagine, but I’m not thinking of that. I’m thinking of Bri next to me, lying down. She looks perfectly relaxed as she lay there, her arm behind her head, chin pointed as she gazes up. I copy her pose and whisper, “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes it is,” she says quietly. “Look, there’s a plane up there.”

  “Where?”

  She leans over. I can feel her head just above my shoulder, almost resting on it. “Follow where I’m pointing,” she says and I follow the direction of her hand and see the tiny light moving in the sky. Together we watch the plane. She still hasn’t moved away from me and her leg casually brushes against mine and I almost jump.