Anchored: A Lesbian Romance

by Jen Clarke

  I laugh. “Sure!” I feel reckless, lighthearted. Maybe Julie will turn out to be a massive homophobe and she’ll fire me on the spot, but right now that sounds like fun. “Where’s my hoodie?”

  “Okay, if you wear a hoodie, I’m wearing a sweater. It’s too early for us to start dressing like each other,” Bri responds cheerfully.

  Us. I look at her after she pulls her sweater on. Another V-neck with a button-up shirt, her fingers just extending from the cuffs. I can’t resist putting my hand over hers and before I know it, we are kissing again. I don’t want to let her go and judging by the way she’s grabbing me, she feels the same way. Us. I can’t believe how much things have changed in one day. In just a few minutes.

  “Let’s get delivery,” she says.

  “No delivery this early,” I say, laughing. “This is Cape Cod. We’ll go out, but we’ll eat quick,” I add.

  We have to stop holding hands to get into the car. Then, before buckling in, Bri leans over and kisses me again. I kiss her back.

  “Food?” she asks.

  “Food,” I agree. I lead-foot down the back roads. As I pull into the Whale’s Tail parking lot, I recognize Denise’s battered Jeep, with the bumper sticker for her kids’ school. She’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the door propped open so she can smoke.

  “Hi Ellen.” Denise glances quickly at my side. “Is this Bri? I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “It’s good to finally meet you,” Bri says and the two shake hands. Denise keeps glancing back and forth between us.

  “You having a good visit?” she asks.

  “Oh yes,” gushes Bri.

  “Ellen’s smiling. I hardly know her,” Denise says, winking at me. “You working tonight?” she asks.

  “Nope, just here to pick up a paycheck and then I’ll escape.”

  “Lucky you,” she says.

  As we walk inside, Julie is sitting at the bar. She gives a little wave. “Hi Denise, hi Ellen, I’ve got the checks here.” She is going to have a sore jaw if she keeps chewing her gum like that. “Eldredge, Evans, ah, Ellis, here you are. I re-upped the Chamber of Commerce membership.”

  “Really?” I’m floored, but I try not to sound surprised. They’d just sent us a third renewal notice. Julie had dug in her heels about not wanting to spend money.

  “It’s excellent publicity and you have the whole Chamber of Commerce at your back,” she says.

  “Mmm.” I nod. Julie must have been reading their latest renewal notice, which surprises me.

  “After I wrote a check I called the window replacement company.”

  “Oh?”

  “I told them my business had been part of the Chamber of Commerce for fifty years, and asked what they wanted me to say about them when I went to the next meeting.”

  “What’d they say?” I ask, taking in the new Julie.

  “The girl I talked to said she’d take a message.” Julie sighs.

  “Well, hopefully,” I say, trying to sound supportive.

  “Yeah” says Julie. “Who’s your friend? She going to work here?” she asks, suddenly focusing in on Bri.

  “This is Bri, she’s visiting,” I say. Should I introduce Bri as my girlfriend? Yes. “She’s my girlfriend,” I say and wait.

  “Good to meet you Bri,” Julie says. I’m not sure for a moment she’s heard me. Finally, she says, “So, we’re probably going to be seeing a lot of her this summer?”

  “Maybe,” I squeak.

  The gum got a workout for a minute as Julie picks through the checks. “This guy didn’t pick up his last one. Do we have stamps?”

  “Yes, we do,” I say. “I picked them up at Stop & Shop.” For a few moments, we talk and confirm what she already knew, I’d be in tomorrow afternoon. Maybe if the window was fixed, I’d bring up the gluten-free mozzarella sticks. Maybe not. If things went well, I’d be gone by fall. The thought made my head spin.

  “Are you okay?” Bri asks as we step out of the door.

  “Yeah, just a little light-headed,” I admit. “Come on, let’s get some food.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Mom, it’s a great apartment,” I say, looking around the room. “Lots of light.” I stand up to look out the window. There’s an oak just in front, filtering the sun and making a pattern of shadows on the floor. I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of looking at it. Trees that big don’t grow on Cape.

  “Ellen,” my phone squawks. “I just don’t know about this.”

  “I’ll take some pictures with my phone. Mom, did you hear me?”

  “You’ll never guess who came into Town Hall the other day.”

  “Julie?” I ask.

  “No, it was that nice young police officer, Tom.”

  “What’s he up to?” I say. Why was she telling me about him? I keep looking at the tree. I wonder what it will look like when the snow sets in. I’ll need to get a rug. I’ve already made up the futon mattress and hung up some of my clothes.

  “Well,” my mother sighs. “He doesn’t think Cape is for him after all. Too hard to meet people.”

  “This is true,” I say. Was that a car I heard? Bri must be here.

  “So he’s moving to Maine. He has family up there.” Only my mother could make a move to Maine sound like a terminal diagnosis.

  “Well, good for him,” I say.

  My mother sighs. Then she says, “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you.”

  “Mom,” I try not to sound as exasperated as I feel. “Have you read the P-Flag literature I sent?”

  “I think your father looked at it.”

  “They have a group that meets at the UU’s in Brewster.”

  For a moment there’s silence and then my mother says, “So what is this place where you’re working again?”

  “It’s called Hailey’s and it’s in Northampton. I’m doing some bar backing and kitchen running. It’s a lot like working at the Whale’s Tail.” Only not as stressful. “If you see Julie, let her know I really appreciate the recommendation she wrote.”

  “Well I don’t see her much, but if I do, I’ll be sure to tell her.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I should probably get going, Bri’s here.” We say our goodbyes, my mother pretending I haven’t mentioned Bri. I stroll into the kitchen, where Bri is unpacking grocery bags.

  “How was your mother?” she asks. I detect the tiny bit of amused tone in her voice, but I can’t blame her.

  “Like always,” I say and stretch up on my tiptoes to kiss her. I want to tell Bri all about my mother’s phone call, but not right now. “How was shopping?”

  “I think I got everything,” she says. “Mushrooms, tomato sauce, onion, ground beef.” She holds up a can of tomato paste, her brow working as she asks, “Is this kind okay?”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “You’re not nervous are you?”

  “Excited,” says Bri. “I’ve never done this before.” She peers over all the ingredients on the kitchen table.

  “It’s easy,” I tell her. “Let me get out the olive oil.”

  “Hold up the olive oil bottle and I’ll take a picture,” Bri says.

  While Bri records, I brown meat, sweat vegetables, and then began adding the rest of the components. We’d come to a compromise. I appear in Bri’s vlog as a pair of hands. Just a pair of hands. In lesbian terms, I think this counts as objectification.

  “That’s done,” I say with satisfaction. “Now we have some time. Where’d the wine go?” I grab Bri’s hand and pull her to me.

  “I don’t have the wine,” she says.

  “I know.” She leans down and her lips meet mine. I shiver with excitement. She’d visited while I worked my ass off during the summer. We even got back out to Provincetown a few times. But nothing compares to having her in my arms and knowing she’s just a few streets away.

  “Where’s your housemates?” she whispers in my ear.

  “Jess and April went to Quebec for the weekend. Dani’s visiting
her girlfriend.”

  “Awesome. Are you settling in okay?”

  I consider it for a minute. “Everyone’s nice. It’s a little weird because Jess and April are a couple and Dani’s never here.”

  “Do you think Dani might move out?” asks Bri.

  My hand curls over hers. “Let’s see what happens.” We’d agreed we couldn’t live together, not yet, not until we’d had a chance to see each other regularly and not just a weekend here and there. But maybe, after Dani moved out. “Come see my room,” I suggest.

  Sitting on my bed, we are almost the same height. I can feel her hand sliding over my legs, and I grab her back as she begins sliding her hand where the seam of my jeans meets.

  I begin pulling at the buttons on her shirt. She’s wearing nothing but a tank top underneath. It’s easy to run my tongue along the seam, to push it slowly down while she unbuttons my jeans. She reaches inside and I move my body with her hand, rocking against her until I push my face against her small breasts.

  Then I nuzzle her waist, kissing the imprint left by the waistband of her shorts. I hear her gasp as I breathe softly against the soft hair between her legs, darker than her natural hair. Then I use my tongue as she grabs my shoulders, her hands guiding me until she’s gasping.

  We pull the covers back and settle in on the sheets. It’s too warm to pull the covers up—one of those hot days you get in mid-September.

  “That was so good,” Bri says.

  “Yes,” I agree. It was warm, but not too warm that I didn’t enjoy her long arm draped over me. “We never got to the wine,” I say, dreamily.

  “We’ll take it slow, real slow,” Bri says. She kneels down and gently guides my legs open. I close my eyes and lazily enjoy the feel of her.

  What would she like? The way she’s moving her hand around the waistband of my jeans is distracting. I push against her hand. It’s the right answer.

  “Inside?” she asks.

  I’m not sure which inside she means, but I just agree, “Yeah.”

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