by Jen Clarke
“Are you okay?” Bri asks, her voice concerned-sounding enough to make me wonder how bad I look.
“Well,” I say, feeling the ground swim under my feet. “I don’t think beer on top of fried dough was the best decision I ever made.” To my embarrassment and delight, Bri takes my arm. “Let’s just sit for a bit then,” Bri says. “How about in front of town hall?”
“No,” I manage to say. “I have a better idea. Let’s go this way.”
I almost take Bri’s hand to lead her through the little streets, but that would be weird, and I catch myself in time. Then we are at the last line of buildings, where they meet the ocean.
“This is great,” Bri says, looking around.
I laugh. “We haven’t even seen anything.”
“But it’s cool,” she says again, peering around. “The way the ocean comes right up? Why don’t these places blow away in the wintertime?”
“Sometimes they do,” I say. “Here. We can sit here for a while.”
We walk down to a stretch of beach. The sky is blue, so blue, after the winter. Sitting down, I close my eyes, willing the sun’s warmth to soak into me. It’s good to be outdoors and I deeply inhale the ocean air, wondering what Bri is thinking. I open my eyes and she’s staring off over the water. I can’t read her face behind her sunglasses. I’d forgotten mine.
“This is nice,” Bri says. She sounded dreamy. “Just the sun and the sand and the ocean, right at the end of the world.”
“It is nice,” I agree. “I don’t get here nearly as often as I like.” I yawn. “I end up working when it’s nice out or I’m tired.”
“Those girls were funny,” Bri says. “The middle of the day and welp, let’s have a beer break.”
“They liked you,” I reply, hearing a note of jealousy come into my voice and wondering if Bri notices.
“Yeah, well I appreciate it,” Bri says. “And thank you,” she adds.
“For what?” I ask.
“Oh, I know you didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of people all paying attention to me, and I think people could have done more to make you feel part of the group, but if someone likes my show, I don’t want to be an asshole and not hang out with them for a bit.”
I feel touched that Bri had noticed my discomfort.
“So, I just wanted to say it again. Thank you.” She turns her whole body. Our faces are inches from each other. When did that happen? I stare as she takes off her sunglasses, her eyes are on me, searching for intent. She opens her mouth and I lean forward, just a little more, eager to hear what she said. A whiff of frying food catches my nostrils. Dizziness hits me. I grab at the sand, trying to steady myself. My mouth waters in the way it does in warning, when your stomach is preparing to upend its contents. I groan.
“Are you going to be sick?” Bri asks, alarmed.
“I hope not,” I say and lie down on the beach, closing my eyes. Willing myself not to throw up. If I hadn’t sulked at the impromptu get-together and drunk more beer than was good for me, Bri and I could be having a great time in Provincetown. I feel disgusted with myself and increasingly nauseous.
“Let me help you.” I can hear her getting up, but it’s too much trouble to wonder where she’s going. All my energy was devoting toward willing my stomach to settle down. Too many late nights with Denise. Too many hasty meals. I need to start taking care of myself. Or at least not abuse my body. Suddenly, I feel a cool hand on my forehead and shudder.
“Drink this,” Bri says, not quite making it an order.
Drinking has little appeal, but I manage to make myself sit up. Bri has acquired an overpriced bottle of water from a vending machine. She’s already opened it, which is good. I didn’t feel like fighting with the bottle. A couple of sips dispels some, but not all of the swimmy feeling.
“I feel much better,” I lie.
“You look terrible,” Bri says, her voice worried. “I think we should go home.”
“I’ll be okay once I get going,” I plead.
I’m not really okay, but we start walking back to town. Maybe I should look for another vending machine, something that sells sodas. A little ginger ale would be good. Just then, another whiff of fried food hits my nostrils. The public restrooms are right there, so I run, leaving Bri behind. I dash past the restroom attendant, dart into the nearest stall, and upend the contents of my stomach.
“Ellen? Ellen!” calls Bri.
“I’m alive,” I croak. Actually, I feel much better than I did a moment ago, but incredibly weak. I may have gotten rid of everything making me sick, but I think I got rid of pretty much everything I’ve eaten today.
“You don’t look alive,” says Bri when I come out of the stall. “If I believed in zombies, I’d be afraid. Let’s get you back to the car.”
“I’m okay,” I say again as I teeter out of the restroom door and sit down on a bench. Maybe I can stay here for a while.
“You are not okay,” Bri insists. “Come on.” She puts an arm around my shoulders and begins walking me down the street. I am in no condition to argue, so I give up and let myself be guided. I’ve ruined our day out and if I was feeling better, I’d probably cry. Instead, I hand over the keys and lie back in my seat as Bri drives us home. The trip home seems to take forever, but we finally pull up to the driveway. Bri’s soothing voice gets me up and moving and somehow I make it to my bed. I almost apologize before I fall asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
When I wake several hours later, I listen for Bri. I don’t know what I’ll say to her. I hold my breath, aware of every squeak my bed makes. My cottage is too quiet. I finally poke my head out of the bedroom window so I can see the driveway. Her car is gone. I panic that she’s packed up her things and gone, but when I open up my bedroom door, her things are still all over the living room. She can’t be that mad at me. I keep telling myself this while I shower and brush my teeth and spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about everything I’d done wrong during the past week.
I hear the door open and grabbing a towel, I scurry back to my room. I can’t face her, not now. I pull out my phone and begin typing.
Hey Denise, you there? Please respond, please respond, please respond.
I’m a little busy, but what’s up? I saw you were going to Provincetown. Did you have a good time?
No, I type. I fucked up. I got drunk in the middle of the day and threw up and Bri had to take me home.
That’s not good. A moment later she adds, Did you throw up on her?
I’m not sure whether to laugh or yell at my phone. Denise! No, I didn’t.
Oh well, maybe next time.
That gets me to laugh. I tell her so and add, So now I feel really shitty because I ruined her day.
Did she tell you that?
No, she seemed worried.
Ellen. Stop hiding in your bedroom and apologize.
Denise, you know me too well, I think. Then, I type, I think she’s talking to her parents. She probably thinks I’m still asleep. What if she wants to leave while I’m asleep?
If she took you home and put you to bed, she’s not going to leave while you’re sleeping. Just go out there and talk to her.
I tiptoe across my bedroom floor and put my hand on the knob, afraid to open the door. Something about the rhythm of Bri’s speech nags at me. It didn’t quite sound like she was talking on the phone. What was she doing? I put my ear to the door.
“So after that,” I hear Bri say. “It was nothing but good times all the way. Cut that. So after that, it was nothing but adventure all the way…”
I realized she’s doing her vlog. Can you eavesdrop on something that’s going to be posted for the entire world to see? I hear my phone beep and I scramble to pick it up. I’m pretty sure Bri couldn’t hear me. She had to be completely absorbed in her work, but I didn’t want her to know I was listening.
So have you talked to her or are you chicken shit?
Quickly, I type, I can’t interrupt her. She’s doing her vl
og.
Denise sent me a message back, She has a vlog? Of what?
I’m not sure. It’s like a diary.
You don’t watch it? I can picture Denise’s raised eyebrows as she responds. If I had a crush on someone I would watch the shit out of something they did.
I’m going to listen and see when she’s done. I kneel down at the door and put my ear against it.
Bri is going over everything about her visit. Making breakfast for me. Visiting her parents. She briefly mentions the trip to my mother’s party. I feel my face grow hot. But she skims over it quickly, then decides to cut all mention of it. She talks about visiting the Chinese restaurant and the experience of going there, especially how much fun it was to go with me. I feel my face grow hot again. She briefly mentions the trip to Provincetown. I can’t see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice when she says, “You were all so sweet! It was so good to meet you.”
I listen with awe. I can hardly recognize some of the events after they are described by her. Everything is accurate, but funnier, tighter, more exciting. Now she’s talking about visiting her parents again. I squirm. She’s talking about her last entry, the one with Emily.
“Now I know some of you were disappointed with what happened last time. Emily and I talked about how we crushed on each other in high school.”
My heart thumps.
“Some of you left comments wanting to know why didn’t I kiss Emily at the end? Well, I agree, I think Emily wanted me to kiss her.”
I didn’t want to hear any more. But I couldn’t make my body move.
“Now, I haven’t mentioned this before. Big reveal here,” Bri laughs. “There’s a reason I didn’t kiss Emily.” Bri sighs. “Cut.” She starts again. “What I haven’t told you, is there’s a big reason I didn’t kiss Emily.”
Why didn’t she kiss Emily? I look down at my hands, my nails digging into my palms.
But Bri only goes on to say, “But that’s all for today. Maybe there will be more to tell you next time. See you then.”
I take a deep breath and open the door. I realize Bri has done some tidying up. She must be planning to go. I try not to tear up.
“Hi Bri,” I say, sheepishly.
She kind of jumps when I speak, but recovers quickly. “Hi Ellen. I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I heard you doing your vlog,” I say. “I tried to be quiet.”
“Did you hear much?” Bri asks. She’s sitting very straight and her cheeks are pink.
“Not really,” I admit. “Just bits and pieces. I could tell you were talking about the trip here.”
“Yeah, I spent some time updating,” Bri says. She doesn’t sound happy about it. She must be mad at me.
There’s a long pause and I add, “I’m sorry there isn’t more to talk about. So, I guess you’ll be going soon? I notice you packed.”
Bri shifts as she sits on the couch. She’s straightened out the slipcover, but I notice it is wrinkled again, all the wrinkles with her at the center. I walk over and sit beside her. Now there are wrinkles under me too.
“I’m really sorry about Provincetown,” I apologize. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
“It’s okay,” Bri says. “Are you okay?” She looks steadily at me.
“Yes, I’m okay. Just disappointed in myself.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then Bri asks, “Did you hear anything about my trip home to my parents? The last part?”
“Um, yeah.” I swallow hard. Why was she making me say this? “You got together with your friend Emily, who you had a crush on in high school. And, uh, you talked and got kind of flirty.”
“But I didn’t kiss her.” She looks at me with those big eyes.
“It’s none of my business if you do or don’t.” Those eyes are killing me.
“Hold on,” says Bri. She puts down the microphone she’s been packing up and turns on the camera. She stares straight into it. “No, I didn’t kiss Emily.” She smiles at the camera. Her tone is light, completely unlike her serious tone of a moment ago. I hadn’t realized she was so good at acting. Her tone shifts, her mouth serious as she adds, “I didn’t kiss Emily because there’s someone else I’d like to kiss. And I don’t know if I’m going to get a chance to.”
I feel like I can’t breathe as I watch her switch everything off, put the microphone on the coffee table, and put her phone down. “So who’s the lucky girl?” I manage to ask.
“You.”
I can see tears in her eyes. I manage to gulp, “Really?”
“But I’m being an idiot.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes,” Bri says. “Didn’t you wonder why I wanted to visit?”
“But, but…” I look at her. “For how long?”
Bri looks at me. “Probably since Pride?”
The past couple of years reach up and smack me in the head. All the times Bri had left a message on my social media, commented on my pictures or asked how I was doing, I’d assumed she was just bored or it was part of being friendly. I really am dense.
“Wait, why didn’t you ever say anything?” I ask.
“Well, I thought I did at Pride,” she says.
“I thought you were just having fun.”
“Well, I was,” she says. “Or I was trying to. Have fun.”
“No, but I mean—” I start to explain, but hear my phone beep in the other room. “Guess who that is.”
“Who?” Bri asks. Our faces are very close, almost touching.
I manage to gasp it out. “Denise asking if I’ve gotten up the nerve to tell you how I feel about you. That I have the biggest crush on you.”
Bri gives a little gasp. Like we’d rehearsed it, I lean forward and she does too. Our heads tilt like mirror images and then we are kissing. Crazy kissing, nothing tentative, the kind of kissing I’ve always dreamed about doing with her. Our arms are around each other and I run my hand up and down her back, the fabric of her shirt moving with my hand.
Bri pulls her head away for a second. “You know, this couch folds out.”
“Uh-huh,” I agree and pull her toward me as our lips lock again. I don’t want to stop, not even to pull out the couch. I move up so I’m straddling one of her legs, feeling her hands gripping my ass and pulling me, the feel of her thigh moving between my legs. Oh my God, it feels good. I whisper, “Let’s get that couch open.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Bri says, half giggling. We kiss again.
“I guess I need to stand up,” I say and pull myself away from her. Bri springs up to join me and together we give the bottom of the futon a yank to pull it out.
“That’s better,” Bri says, stretching out.
“We’re the same height lying down,” I manage to say. God, that sounds dumb. Judging by the way her tongue is running down my neck, Bri doesn’t care. I insert my fingers just under the buttons of her shirt and whisper, “Can I?”
“Uh-huh,” she gasps with enthusiasm.
Her breasts are not big, but wide. They sit perfectly on her torso. I’m nervous about what to do next, but putting my mouth on her nipple seems like the right thing. To my delight, she moans, moving under me. My head is whirring, trying to decide what to do next.
“Ticklish?” Bri asks as she pokes me in the ribs.
I shriek, “Nooo!” and grab her hand. For a moment, our arms go back and forth as part of our tussle, then she grabs my hand and kisses it. We touch our lips together and kiss again.
“Let me get out of my hoodie,” I say. Bri is already pulling her sweater off with one hand. Our legs are tangled together and I can feel her other hand running over my body, exploring.
“Inside?” she asks.
I’m not sure what she means, but I just agree, “Yeah.”
Her hand adeptly unbuttons my jeans. I want to high-five her, because that’s something I’ve never been able to do to someone else.
“Your leg is in the right place,” I manage to gasp. Judging b
y the way Bri is rocking, my leg is in the right place too. We grind against each other, just enjoying ourselves. Eventually it’s enough and we are sweating, gasping.
Is this sex? Neither one of us has exposed any of the parts that people usually think of when it comes to sex. But I was more than satisfied by the outcome of our bodies crashing together, and judging by Bri’s flushed face and bright but dazed eyes, she is feeling the same. For a moment, we just lay there together, her fingertips trailing on my side, leaving little shivers in their wake.
“Ellen,” says Bri softly. “What do you want to do?”
“This,” I say and lean over to kiss her. Her hand is on my back and she whispers, “No, really, what do you want?”
That was a good question. “I’m sick of working a shitty job and drinking too much and pretending it’s going to work out.”
“So come back to western Mass.”
“I…” This is embarrassing. “I’ve never held a job that my mother didn’t help me get.”
“You can do it,” Bri says. “And I’ll help you.”
“We can’t live together,” I blurt out. “We hardly know each other.”
“What kind of lesbian are you?” She hesitates a moment and then smiles. “We don’t have to live together.”
“I should work the summer at the restaurant, save some money,” I say, thoughtfully.
“I could visit,” Bri says. “A lot. It would give me material for the vlog.”
I’m not sure if she’s joking or not. “I’m not really the front-of-the-camera type.”
“We’ll see,” she says, her voice sounding like she already has plans.
“No really,” I say. “I’m serious about this. I don’t want to be…material.”
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” she says. “But it is a big part of who I am and what I do.”
Just then, my stomach growls. I realize I’m starving. “We should get something to eat.”
“Eating’s an idea,” she says salaciously.
“Food,” I insist. “I can pick up my paycheck on the way and we can deposit it.”
“Can I meet the infamous Julie?”
