Wherever the Dandelion Falls

by Lily R. Mason

  That night was the worst one since we'd said goodbye on Monday morning. I had tried to make plans with friends, but nothing had worked out. I'd even asked Justine if I could hang out with her and Avery, but they were in Santa Cruz for the weekend, and I couldn't go because I had to be in town to oversee Open Mic Night at the café on Friday.

  Now, alone in my clean and quiet apartment on a Saturday, I felt lost.

  I decided to go out and see a movie. I was an independent woman who didn't care about sitting alone in the dark. So I went and saw a movie, relieved to escape a little of the anxiety of knowing Faye was perpetuating her lie to her parents. Tomorrow would be the last day of our hiatus, and I had planned to borrow Justine's bike and ride through Golden Gate Park. Hopefully the weather would cooperate and I could sail to the finish line of our break without anything unexpected happening. I slid into sheets that no longer smelled like the laundromat under Faye's apartment and desperately sought sleep.

  When my phone rang at two in the morning, I startled awake. My hand darted out from under the covers, answering without even looking at the caller. I knew who it was.

  "Hey," I hummed into the phone.

  I heard her sniffle for a few seconds on the other line, trying to catch her breath. Then, painfully forced, she squeaked out, "Can you come over?"

  My heart broke and sped up at the same time.

  "Of course," I said, bolting upright and flinging my feet into shoes. "I'll be there in five minutes."

  "There's a key... in the far end of the flower bed by the door," she said, still squeaking.

  "Okay," I said, trying to make my voice pillowy-soft and reassuring.

  I darted into the living room, pulled on a sweatshirt, and grabbed my keys. I ran all the way to Faye's apartment. It was times like these, times when she was scared enough that I was drenched in worry too, that I wished she didn't live alone. I liked having Justine living with me for safety and to remind me I was alive and breathing. Something about being around another flawed being makes us all feel okay. Faye was alone in her messy studio with no reminders that it was okay to be scared and to make mistakes and to hurt.

  I dug in the flower bed with my fingers until I found the key. I wondered if it had always been there or if Faye had put it there recently as a way to give me a key without giving me a key. I hoped tonight be one of those times when she never wanted me to leave, touching every part of my body just to feel its realness and the way it reacted to her skin, remembering that she wasn't alone.

  When I got the metal gate and front door open, I stomped up the stairs, hoping it would echo in her room and she'd know I was coming, know that relief from whatever was tormenting her was seconds away.

  I didn't bother knocking, instead slipping the key into the door as though I'd done it a hundred times, and pushed into the room I knew so well, with its moving piles of laundry and stacks of dishes that had reappeared since we'd cleaned the week before. I was struck by the smell of fabric softener and Faye's lotion, and I felt my body release.

  The only thing out of the ordinary in her apartment was her, crumpled on her bed as though she were a rag doll tossed without care. She almost looked inanimate, and if she hadn't shuddered with fear or tears or relief - I couldn't tell which - I might not have noticed her amidst her scrambled sheets.

  "Faye," I whispered, kneeling by the bed and bending to see her face. It was washed free of any makeup or color, and her nose was red and her eyes bloodshot from crying. I wanted to call her baby, but settled for calling her Faye again. "Faye, what happened?"

  She took in a deep, shuddering breath, her whole torso inflating up from the bed before sinking back down as the breath escaped as though through a puncture hole.

  One of my hands reached forward to smooth her hair, the only glossy part of her that wasn't wracked with fear and uncertainty, while my other hand went for her hand, wanting to help her stop shaking, to have her feel whatever steadiness hadn't been jolted out of me the minute she called.

  She didn't say anything, just screwed up her face with more tears as her fingers curled over mine, squeezing harder than she ever had. I understood it as a plea for being held and slid up from the floor and out of my shoes, shoving the covers aside to make room for myself. Never letting go of my hand, she curled forward into me, crying silently, save for a few gasps and whimpers.

  "It's okay," I said, rubbing her back as she pressed her head into my chest.

  At that, she shook her head. "It's not okay. I just - I want - I can't... keep..." She trailed off, too fragmented to finish her thoughts.

  I let her cry. For the first time, she wanted me there with her while she did. And even though my whole body ached with her sadness, I was glad that she wanted me there.

  After five or ten minutes, she settled down. She took several long, steady breaths against my chest, which was damp with her breath and tears, and then unfurled enough to let cool air toward her face. "I'm sorry I'm not ready to give you everything you need.” Her voice was surprisingly steady, and I could feel the bravery she was searching for rumbling up from her roots. I knew it was in her.

  And even though I knew what she meant, and I knew that she was crying because it hurt me to not have certain things with her, her bravery felt like more than adequate consolation. So I squeezed her tight to me and said, "I have everything I need right here."

  I knew I shouldn't have been denying that I wanted real dates and real words and hand holding and labels. I knew that I needed to call her my girlfriend, to know she would never freak out at me for telling her how beautiful and she was and how much I loved her, no matter how scared she felt. I needed to be allowed to be scared too, and to cry when I needed to, and to tell my sister and parents how incredible it was to be in love. But I didn't have those things, because every little step she took gave me so much hope, my patience extended.

  Someone as afraid and fragile as Faye should never be called selfish. Protecting herself was her biggest job. She trusted me to protect her, I hoped. And I knew no matter how much I wanted to hold her hand in public and to call her mine for others to see, above all, I was part of the small armor that she clung to. I was part of her safety, and I couldn't be too selfish and demand she bare herself to the world. That would be the opposite of love. And I loved her a lot.

  So I did what I could to get what I needed. I cherished our whispers, inhaled her sighs, studied her gazes as they bored into me like confessions. I saw the things that lived just beneath the surface, and tried not to mourn the fact that they were caged. I tried to be patient and embody everything that love is.

  Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

  When I awoke in the morning, Faye was still curled into me, clinging with fear even in sleep. She was so small and scared, I drew her closer to me, melding my armor with hers. I took deep breaths, as though they would flow from my lungs into hers, calming her. But of course they didn't. She quivered a bit in sleep, and I wondered what she was dreaming about. I could see her eyes darting about beneath her eyelids, and wondered what kind of god or spirit would let the same demons that plagued her in the day haunt her in sleep. I drew her closer to me and rubbed her back, trying to frighten the demons away with my strength. She shuddered again before she jerked, awakening suddenly, eyes flying open.

  She pushed a few inches away from me, as though stunned to find herself in my arms. Her eyes were wide and I braced myself, retracting my armor from her to shield myself from her daggers of fear. But they didn't come. She settled, then exhaled, curling back into me. "Hi," she mumbled, nestling her head against my chest.

  I was so stunned by her closeness, I didn't know what to do. I rubbed her back again and echoed, "Hi."

  She took a few deep breaths and then said, "Thanks
for coming over last night."

  "Of course," I said.

  There was a moment of silence that seemed strange in the morning light. She'd never been this peaceful in my arms in the daytime. "You smell good," she whispered.

  "I probably smell like you," I said, noting that I was in her apartment wearing her clothes, wrapped in her fabric-softener scented sheets.

  "No, you smell like my Riley," she said.

  My heart raced to the point I was certain she could hear it. Her Riley.

  She'd called me hers.

  "My best friend," she said, trying to sound casual, as though that was all she'd meant by her Riley.

  And I felt heavy, again reminded that she was clinging to the pretense of friendship when we had so much more.

  I just lay there, trying to savor the time I got to hold her without her jerking away.

  I guess only time would tell our fate. And I hoped, like love, that our future would be patient and kind.

  When I got inside my apartment, I felt tears stinging. How had my night with Faye gone so wrong? I had thought we'd end up spending the night in her bed, but instead she'd called me a phony and brought up every bad feeling I'd had about dating Vance. I was angry at her, and beyond that, I was angry at myself for still being upset about him. He meant so much less to me than Faye did, but he was still ruining everything. I sealed myself in my room and changed into my pajamas, not wanting to shed any tears, but feeling them squeeze out anyway.

  Five minutes later, I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water when there was a timid knock at the door. Assuming it was Faye, I buttoned myself up and went to the door, prepared to hold my ground. I had done nothing wrong, and I wasn't going to back down.

  But when I opened the door, I realized I wouldn't have to hold firm. Faye had her hands nervously clasped in front of her, worrying her jewelry as she waited for me to open the door.

  I didn't say anything, just waited for her to speak.

  "I am so sorry," she mumbled, ashamed. "I was a complete jerk tonight."

  I bit my lip and nodded. I was glad she had realized she was in the wrong.

  "You didn't deserve any of that." There was an awkward pause as she peered into the apartment, no doubt looking for Justine. "Can we talk?"

  Feeling myself soften at the sight of her so remorseful and anxious, I decided to listen to what she had to say.

  I gave a little nod and stepped out into the hallway, turning the doorknob to make sure it wasn't locked before closing the door behind me. I didn't want to invite her into my apartment. Inviting her in meant that I might have a hard time getting her to leave if I got angry or overwhelmed.

  Faye looked surprised but determined when I denied her entrance to my apartment, but took a breath as she followed me to the stairs. Finding a comfortable seat on the second step down, I looked up at her, wordlessly inviting her to join me. She did, just as nervous as before, but defenseless and sad.

  She sat, adjusting her skirt over her knees, and then shifted so her body was angled toward me.

  "I'm so sorry," she repeated, voice low so it wouldn't echo in the stairwell. "I was an asshole to you tonight." It was quiet for a minute before she looked at me hopefully. "Will you accept my apology?"

  Biting my lip as I contemplated, I gave a tentative nod. "I was hoping you could tell me what that was about, though. It came out of nowhere."

  "I know," Faye said, leaning forward and propping her head up on her fingers like she had a headache. "That was — that was about Erin. She was the first girl I really cared about after Andrea, and I was so young and newly out of the closet, her dating a guy right after we broke up felt like the biggest betrayal in the world."

  I nodded, trying to imagine how hurt Faye had felt. "Was it about him being a guy or the fact that he wasn't you?"

  Faye gave a defeated shrug. "I probably would have been just as upset if she'd dated a girl." She reached down and tugged on a stray tuft of worn industrial carpet. "I was sad to not be with her anymore, and she seemed like she'd found something I couldn't give her."

  I nodded in sympathy. "Do you know for sure that that thing was a penis?" I asked, trying to walk the line between a sincere question and a joke.

  Faye winced in appreciation of my gentle humor. "I doubt it. It's just easier to be mad at a dick than someone you care about."

  I bit my lip and scooted an inch closer to Faye. “If it's easier to be mad at a dick than someone you care about, be mad at Vance, 'cuz he's a total dick."

  Faye nodded and slumped toward me as she sighed. "I just got jealous and insecure when you said that you slept with him when we haven't slept together yet." She lifted her hand and put in on my arm as she gazed blankly down the stairs. "I can't believe I spewed all that biphobic bullshit at you. What is my problem?"

  Reaching to run my hand over her limp arm, I said, "Caring about people is complicated."

  "It shouldn't be." Faye let out another defeated sigh. "I'm sorry I ruined our night. I wanted it to be special.”

  I looked at her sitting there and realized that she was far more insecure about our relationship than I thought she was. Not having sex was making her doubt that I cared about her. And while I didn't want to have sex out of obligation or guilt, I did want her to know that she was special to me.

  "I want to take our relationship to the next level too, you know," I said.

  Faye perked up, but was hesitant.

  "I would introduce you to my family, but they're in Michigan and New York. So how about I throw a little dinner party so you can meet my friends?"

  Smiling at my understanding that she needed a sign from me that I liked her, she said, "I'd love that."

  I patted her arm to reassure her that she hadn't blown her chance. "And don't worry, sex will happen too. Just... try not to freak out over the fact that I've had sex with men."

  Faye nodded. "I've had sex with men too, you know," she offered.

  Realizing I didn't know much about Faye's sexual history, I said, "Oh yeah?"

  "Yeah. I was kind of a slut in high school," she said, her words turning up in the corners as she smiled.

  I giggled at her smug self-deprecation. "You? Slutty?" I teased.

  "So slutty," she said, smiling to let me know she didn't mean it. "I had sex with three guys before I could drive."

  "Are you sure you're not pregnant?" I said in mock alarm.

  Faye chuckled. "Pretty sure. I can take a test if that would make you more comfortable. You don't want to have to fight any of my potential baby daddies."

  "I could take them," I said, trying to sound tough to help relax Faye. "You and I did a pretty good job beating the proverbial shit out of Vance."

  The playful energy between us died down and I immediately regretted making that reference. Faye wasn't smiling anymore. She was just staring down the stairs, looking dismayed.

  "Sorry," I mumbled. "I won't talk about him."

  It was quiet for a moment before she said, "It's okay. I'm curious though… what did you mean when you said he made you feel bad about yourself?"

  I debated whether or not I wanted to tell her what had happened. Thinking about waking up alone in that hotel room made me feel so much shame. But Faye was my girlfriend, and someone I intended to have sex with eventually, so I supposed she should know.

  I took a deep breath.

  "We went on a few dates, and I thought he liked me. I slept with him, and when I woke up the next morning, he had bailed. He didn't call or text or anything."

  Faye leaned into me as she cooed. "Aw, baby… I'm sorry." She leaned in and gave me a gentle, consoling kiss on the cheek. "He's an idiot." She wrapped a hand around my side and pulled me into her, and I felt myself melt. She nuzzled my cheek and I felt some of my shame and guilt float away like a balloon.

  I realized I should have told Faye earlier about what had happened with Vance. She probably wouldn't have approached him or reacted the way she did earlier if she'd known.

  And
I wondered if maybe there were important things from her past that I didn't know about yet.

  "Maybe we should talk about our past relationships," I said. "It would probably help us understand each other."

  Faye bit her lip and nodded. "Does it have to be tonight?" she asked. I could hear in her voice she was hoping it wouldn't be.

  "No."

  Relieved, Faye nodded.

  I wondered why Faye sounded so relieved. Did she have a Vance in her past? A Dr. Turner? A Damon?

  "How many girls have you been with?" I asked, suddenly curious.

  "Slept with or dated?"

  Not sure which I'd originally meant, I went for the more concrete of the two. "Slept with."

  Faye paused. "You really want to know?" she asked.

  Suddenly tense, I nodded.

  She took a breath and said, "Thirty-two."

  Surprised, but realizing I shouldn't be, I bit my lips and nodded, hoping to conceal my reaction. Faye was stunning. Of course she could get as many girls as she wanted.

  "I don't want to freak you out," Faye said, smoothing her skirt over her legs. "I know it's a lot."

  Wanting to make up for my obvious surprise, I said, "If you were a guy, you'd get high fives for that number."

  Unsure, Faye nodded.

  Feeling obligated to assure her, I held up my hand. She gave a nervous giggle and lifted her hand to mine in a half-hearted high-five.

  "What about you?" she asked. "How many ladies?"

  Feeling suddenly inadequate and young, I curled into myself. "Just one," I said. "That girl in college."

  Faye nodded and I felt self-conscious about my lack of experience.

  Turning slightly away from me and putting her hand on her purse, she paused. "I got you something," she said sheepishly. "I was going to give it to you at my apartment after dessert, but then I started acting like a tool. Now I almost don't want to give it to you because it looks like a lame apology…"

  "You already apologized," I said. "It won't look lame."

  Pausing as she glanced to the side, Faye pulled out a small velvet box.