Wherever the Dandelion Falls

by Lily R. Mason

  As I sat in her passenger seat, awkwardly shifting my legs and looking around, I started to feel angry. Why was it always her that got to determine what we did and didn't do? Why was sex always on her terms? The anger started to simmer under my skin.

  When we got to her apartment, my instinct was to run back to my apartment. But I needed her to know I was angry. I had a tendency to let my anger fester until I exploded, and I wanted to take a different approach with her.

  So I followed her into her apartment. She seemed surprised, but she didn't object.

  I closed the door behind me, my purse barely making a thud as I tossed it on a pile of laundry by the door.

  "What's going on?" I asked. "We hang out every day, we have a great time, we have mind-blowing sex, but sometimes you won't give me the time of day. I don't get it."

  Faye crossed her arms, bristling. "I can't give you attention every minute of every day."

  "I know," I said, trying to stay gentle so she wouldn't retreat any further. "But when I tried to take your hand just now you practically slapped me."

  Faye frowned. "I didn't slap you," she whined. Her shoulders hunched as she raised her arms higher over her breasts. "I just didn't want to hold your hand."

  "That's fine, but you didn't have to be so mean about it."

  "Not everyone can be all sweet and nice like you all the time." Her words were in stark contrast to her venom-laced voice.

  "I'm just saying that sometimes you do things that hurt my feelings."

  “Well, sorry," Faye snarled, giving an exaggerated, indifferent shrug.

  I was stunned. This was the meanest I'd ever seen her.

  "Why are you being like this?" I asked, holding my hands open at my sides to show that I wasn't holding any weapons. "I just want to talk, and you're acting like I'm asking you to commit murder or someth—"

  "I'm not out!" Faye snapped.

  I was shocked, like a rubber band had snapped back and hit me in the face.

  "What?" I whispered.

  "I'm not out," she echoed, glaring at me. Her voice was cold and bitter as she continued. "I know you're happy in your little love-who-you-love hippie utopia, but some of us don't have that luxury."

  I was frozen for a moment as I processed what she had said.

  I thought everyone knew Faye liked girls. It was one of the most obvious things about her. At least to me.

  "To your parents?" I asked.

  "To anyone except the girls I've been with," she muttered. Then her voice dropped to almost a whisper, and she said, "No one knows I'm gay."

  How was it possible that Faye was completely closeted beyond her bedroom? She was too confident, too practiced in her flannel Casanova ways to be closeted.

  And yet she was.

  "Oh," I murmured, feeling my body go soft with sorrow. "I didn't realize."

  Faye looked away and raised to her eyebrows, as if to tell me it should have been obvious.

  Suddenly everything about her made sense. Why she was so anxious all the time, why she'd slapped my hand away, why she was most authentic in bed.

  Looking at her now, knowing the sorrow and loneliness that lived within her, I had the sudden, overwhelming desire to remind her she wasn't alone. I stepped toward her but grew cautious when she seemed to bristle.

  "It's okay," I whispered, lifting my arms to her. I held them there until I saw her arms drop to her sides, laying down her armor. Then I enveloped her, drawing her to my chest and holding her gently. "It's okay if you're not out," I hushed.

  She remained rigid for a moment, as though I might try to crush her or shove her away. But gradually she softened, and I hoped she felt relief at finally telling me the truth.

  I thought back to what it had been like for me to come out. In high school, one afternoon when we were snuggling in his bed, I'd spontaneously told Damon that I thought girls were sexy. He adjusted his arm under my neck, smoothing hair away from my cheek as he smiled and said, "Girls are very sexy." After he said that I realized I'd been nervous to tell him. Even though I knew he'd be okay with it — his older brother was gay and he loved his brother — it still was a big deal to say it out loud for the first time.

  But it had been different then. I was committed to him and imagined the rest of our lives together. My attraction to girls was theoretical, and for all I knew, would be forever. When Damon and I broke up, I didn't think of being with anyone for a long time. Maggie appeared right when I needed her. She was already out, so by simply holding her hand on the quad, I outed myself to the campus without having to announce anything. I don't know how I would have told my friends otherwise. They just figured it out.

  Kimi and my parents were another story. I had to tell them with words. I don't remember what I said exactly, only that I told my mom when we were peeling potatoes for Thanksgiving. I can still feel the grit from the potato skins on my hands when I think about that conversation. I told her I was dating someone named Maggie and she said she was glad to hear I was dating again. We didn't talk about what it meant or how I identified. When I told Kimi later, she was more taken aback. She wanted to know how long I'd been a lesbian and if Damon knew. I told her I wasn't a lesbian, I was bisexual, and that of course Damon had known. She calmed down and asked if I'd told mom. When I told her our mom hadn't even blinked, Kimi realized she had overreacted. She gave me a hug and echoed my mom's sentiment that she was glad I was dating again. We went on to have a normal Thanksgiving dinner and my sexuality didn't come up again other than the few times my mom asked how Maggie was.

  I didn't tell my dad directly. At that point my parents were friends again and I figured my mom would tell him. This proved true when, right before Christmas, he asked if I'd be bringing my girlfriend home with me. I loved his gentle way of showing his acceptance, especially since he and I didn't talk about much besides my studies. I told him Maggie and I had broken up, and his reaction was, "That's a shame. I would have liked to meet her."

  As I thought about my coming out experience, I realized how easy I'd had it. I'd known every time I told someone that they would be accepting or at least polite. But not everyone had that. From the way Faye was acting, I was certain she knew she'd get a less favorable reaction if she came out. I knew nothing about her family or friends, but part of me wanted to apologize for them. Whatever they'd done to make her so afraid and ashamed of who she was was unfair.

  I put my hand on the back of her head, easing her closer, hoping she would rest on my shoulder. To my relief, she laid her head down and I felt her torso expand and contract as she took slow, shaky breaths.

  After I felt all the tension leave her body, I pulled back and brushed her hair away from her face.

  "You were so confident when you were trying to pick me up that I assumed you were out."

  She gave a faint, forced laugh and kept her eyes down.

  "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," I said.

  And I meant it. I never wanted to make Faye uncomfortable. All I wanted was to cushion her in whatever way I could.

  "From now on, no more PDA," I said, tucking some hair behind her ear. "If you're uncomfortable, just tell me. Scratch your nose or blink fast or something."

  Faye studied me, seeming surprised.

  "It doesn't bother you?" she asked.

  I tilted my head, confused. "Why would it bother me?"

  Faye gave a timid shrug. "You just seem like you want someone to be handsy with all the time."

  Surprised that Faye would interpret my desire to be close as a desire to be publicly affectionate, I gave her a playful frown. "As long as we can be handsy in private, I'm fine."

  Faye looked up at me with a terrified, helpless expression.

  I drew her to my chest again, finally understanding why she hadn't been able to formalize our relationship.

  "You don't have to shout anything from the rooftops," I said. "You're special to me even if all you do is whisper."

  At that, Faye let out a relieved exhale. When she spoke
, her voice was almost too quiet to hear. "You're special to me too."

  Feeling like all Faye's mystery was finally stripped away, I squeezed her to my chest again, silently promising not to do anything that would frighten her.

  Since I had started dating Faye, my job had gotten even more boring. The days seemed to double in length, the hum of the air conditioner vents over my desk droning louder and more incessant with each passing minute. I took to playing the radio quietly from my computer just to feel like there was some life in the office, but even that didn't make the day go faster.

  The trouble was that now I had something to look forward to after work. Faye and I were too excited about dating to see each other only on weekends; she took me out of dinner or a movie or a comedy show at least once during the week, and on the days we didn't see each other, we texted back and forth as much as we could. We'd even started talking on the phone most nights.

  Monday afternoon I was sitting at my desk struggling to keep the data in front of me from swimming when Dr. Turner leaned into my office, rapping his knuckles on the door frame. "You have a delivery," he said with a smirk.

  Surprised, I got up and followed him out into the main office, and then into his. When I entered, I saw a colorful arrangement of flowers sitting on his desk. It was even more beautiful than the first bouquet. I knew this one was from Faye. I couldn't hold back a dopey smile.

  "Seems you're quite the popular lady lately," he said, his voice syrupy and coy. "You must be doing something right."

  I tried to brush his comment off, picking up my flowers to take them back to my desk. As I turned around, Dr. Turner said, "It's good to know why things didn't work out with Vance."

  I was caught off guard by the reminder of Dr. Turner's stupid nephew.

  "What?" I asked.

  Dr. Turner just chuckled and turned back to his computer. "Nothing," he said.

  If he had been anyone but my boss, I would have pressed to get more information about what he meant. But he had come down off the pedestal and I honestly didn't care.

  Confused, I took the flowers back to my desk. I turned them about, admiring the way they'd been arranged. As I turned the vase, I saw a small white envelope tucked between two blossoms. I pulled it out, seeing my name written in Faye's handwriting on the front. I turned it over and saw the flap was already opened, a piece of the envelope stuck to the adhesive flap where it had been torn.

  Dr. Turner had opened it.

  I pulled out the card and winced as I read,

  Tulips are pretty but your lips are my favorite lips. I can't wait to kiss your pretty face again,

  XOXO Faye

  At once I was both flattered, embarrassed, and angry.

  I adored Faye for being so sweet and generous with her affection, but I didn't like how Dr. Turner knew I was dating a girl now. I especially didn't like his commentary on the matter. Good to know why things didn't work out with Vance, huh?

  How dare Dr. Turner invade my privacy and read something meant for my eyes only? How dare he take away any ounce of the magic Faye was trying to create? And how dare he perv on my relationship?

  I flushed with a new sense of dread. I knew I had to call Faye and ask her not to send me flowers anymore, and that was a delicate conversation to have. We were in such a great place, I didn't want to mess it up.

  When I got home, I slunk into my bedroom and called her. Part of me hoped that it would go to voicemail and the conversation would be delayed a few hours, but the other part of me wanted to get it over with so we could move on toward more fun things, like how we were probably going to have sex soon.

  The call rang twice before I heard some scuffling and then Faye's smiling voice. "Hey baby," she said. "How was your day?"

  "It was okay," I said, trying not to sound too nervous. "How was yours?”

  "Just work. But I was thinking about you all day, so it went quick."

  I grimaced, feeling pained that she was in such a great mood when I had to deliver the blow of asking her to tread lighter around my work.

  "I'm on my way to the clinic now," she said with a coy tone. "But I was hoping we could grab a drink afterwards."

  I felt myself rush with nerves. She was on her way to get tested, which meant that she could be cleared within twenty-four hours, which meant that tomorrow night I could be naked with her. While that had sounded perfect the day before, today it sounded scary. Her enthusiasm, and unrelenting adoration were suddenly smothering.

  "Oh," I said. "Um… sure."

  "Don't act too excited," Faye teased.

  "No, that sounds great," I said, pushing myself to sound enthusiastic. "Let me change first."

  "Take your time," Faye said. "I'll call you when I'm headed over."

  And for some reason when I hung up, I was seized with anxiety. I reasoned with myself that it was normal to not always be excited to see someone. Dating Faye was the best thing about my life right now, but I was allowed to have days where I was tired or wanted to be alone.

  Still, I dragged myself out to get a drink with her. When I arrived, she already had two glasses of wine waiting for us. She gave me a smothering hug and a kiss on the cheek before tapping the cotton ball taped to the pit of her elbow. "Hopefully all goes well, and we'll be all set."

  "Hopefully," I said, swallowing.

  My panic must have wavered through my voice, because Faye grew concerned as she settled onto a bar stool.

  "Is everything okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "Are you sure?"

  Knowing that I wasn't a good liar, I caved. "Everything's fine. There was something I wanted to talk to you about though."

  "Oh?"

  I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "I got your flowers today. Thank you."

  Faye grinned, poking me in the side playfully. "They're actually from me this time."

  I gave a shaky laugh to not seem too uptight. "The thing is… I kind of need to ask you not to do that anymore."

  "Not send you flowers?"

  "Yeah."

  There was a moment of silence as Faye set down her drink. "Can I ask why?"

  I didn't want to tell her the truth, but I had to. "My boss read the card before he told me I had a delivery."

  "He read the card?" Faye asked, frowning.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "And?"

  Feeling guilty and ashamed, I said, "He made a comment… I just don't want him perving on me or us..." I trailed off, not wanting to give Faye more ammunition to fuel her anti-Turner agenda. “I'm happy to be with you, but I don't want my boss-"

  "No, I get it," Faye said, sounding dejected and angry. "You work for a world-class asshole."

  "I know…" I mumbled. "And I appreciate the gesture so much, but…"

  I trailed off and Faye let out a heavy sigh.

  "Anything else?"

  Feeling heavy with guilt, I said quietly, "Have dinner with me this weekend?"

  Faye's anger faded and she said, "Of course." There was a gentle pause as she put her hand on my knee.

  Feeling the edge of my anxiety crumble a bit, I leaned toward Faye, giving her a playful wrinkle of my nose as I said, "Good."

  Relieved to have completed my task for the evening, I asked if Faye was writing anything interesting this week. She told me about a profile she was writing on Community Supported Agriculture, and we eased back into our usual dynamic.

  Still, I couldn't completely shake my nerves. Something felt too much or too intense or too precarious.

  When I talked to Justine about it later, she had her own opinion on why.

  "You need to get laid, Riley," she smirked, adjusting her head on the armrest of the couch. "You've been so uptight this past year."

  "It's work," I argued. "It has nothing to do with sex."

  Justine gave a shrug that meant she didn't want to argue about it. "Didn't you sleep with Vance after just a few dates? And here you've got your dream girl wrapped around your finger, and you've got your
panties hitched up to your belly button."

  "First of all, that sounds painful," I said, trying not to take offense at her implication that I was being prude. I wasn't being prude; I was being cautious. "Second of all, Vance ditched me after I slept with him."

  Justine gave me a sympathetic pout. "I know, babe. But Faye won't do that to you."

  I sighed, knowing she was right. "I know," I mumbled. "I'm just… cautious."

  "Cautious is fine," she said. "Do whatever makes you feel okay. I just want you to be happy."

  "I'm happy," I said. "And I'm cautious. Faye is an intense person, you know?"

  Justine nodded. "You love her intensity most of the time."

  "Most of the time. Sometimes it's scary."

  "Scary and exciting are sometimes that same thing."

  Her reminder that nerves were sometimes a good thing relaxed me.

  But when Faye called me the following day on her lunch break, my nerves spiked again.

  "Hey, sexy," she said. "I have good news."

  "Oh?" I said, trying to flirt back with her.

  "All my results came back negative," she said with an excited sing-song voice.

  "Good to hear," I said, forcing myself to smile. I was glad she hadn't gotten any surprising news, but now I felt like I'd gotten on a drop ride that I couldn't get off.

  "I have a work thing tonight, but do you want to have dinner tomorrow?" she asked. Her intention was clear.

  I felt like a terrible girlfriend. How could I buy time to figure out why I was so freaked out without hurting her feelings?

  "Sure," I said.

  "Where you do you want to go?" Faye asked.

  "Um… I don't know," I said. "Anywhere is fine."

  "Want me to surprise you?" Faye said.

  "Sure." The fewer decisions I had to make, the better.

  "You got it," Faye said. "I'm excited."

  Somehow, the eagerness in her voice made me even more nervous. I chatted politely for a few minutes before I excused myself to eat and get back to work.

  My guilt and anxiety were snowballing and I had no idea what to do about it. I just knew that I couldn't wait to get home and curl up on my couch where I was beholden to no one but myself and my best friend.