Come Back to Me

by Chris Paynter

  Angie grabbed the bottle and took it to the kitchen. Meryl followed.

  Angie set the wine on the refrigerator shelf. She took another long look at Meryl, then braced her hands against the countertop.

  Yes, it was worth the prep time, Meryl thought as she watched Angie’s actions. “I was hoping we’d have a glass of that now, if that’s all right with you.”

  Angie jumped at the sound of Meryl’s voice.

  Meryl crossed her arms and propped her shoulder against the arched entryway that led into the kitchen. She smiled. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Angie pulled down two wineglasses from the cabinet above the sink. She retrieved the wine and dug around in a drawer for a corkscrew. She fumbled with the wrapping on the bottle. “Shit.”

  Meryl moved behind her.

  “Here. Why don’t you let me do that?” Meryl pressed against Angie and placed her hand on top of hers to take the corkscrew. Meryl trembled. The feel of Angie’s body against hers was intoxicating. “You kind of have to let go for me to do this.”

  Angie released her hold on the corkscrew and stepped away. “I’ll start the rigatoni.”

  Meryl smiled as she twisted the foil off the bottle. “You remembered.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Angie turned the burner on for the water while Meryl loosened the cork on the wine and poured two glasses.

  Angie lifted the meatballs and bread out of the oven and set them on top of two empty burners. She stirred the sauce once more before turning off the stove.

  “Why don’t we take our wine into the living room while the water boils?” Meryl said.

  She offered a glass to Angie, and they sat on the couch.

  Angie took a sip. “Nice. I’m usually not a wine drinker, but this is nice.”

  “It’s a California zinfandel I discovered on a trip to Modesto. I was pleased that Pete’s Liquor and Bait Store down the road carried it.” Meryl tried to keep a straight face.

  Angie chuckled. “Old Pete would surprise you. He’s quite the wine connoisseur.”

  Meryl swirled the wine in her glass. “I did an Internet search for Hal Morris and didn’t have any luck. Unless you want to count one Hal Morris, a former first baseman for the Cincinnati Reds.” Meryl stared at the ceiling and tapped her forehead with her finger, racking her brain for his stats. “He was a member of their 1990 World Series Championship team and retired with a .304 batting average. I could tell you anything you’d want to know about him.”

  Angie took a big gulp of wine.

  “Gosh, you really do like it.” Meryl swirled hers again and took another drink. “I think I’ll nose about town tomorrow. Do you have anything going on, or can you take me around?”

  “I can do that.”

  Angie carried her wineglass to the dining room table. “I’ll check on the water and get the rigatoni going. Why don’t you come on into the dining room? It won’t be long.”

  Meryl set her glass onto the table and then stood in the entryway to the kitchen. She watched Angie drop the rigatoni in the water, sprinkle parmesan on the meatballs, and pour some of the sauce into a bowl. “A master at work.”

  Angie smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far. Want to help bring things to the table while the pasta boils?”

  Meryl picked up the bowl of meatballs and took it to the table.

  “This smells wonderful. It brings back memories, too.”

  Angie set the sauce next to the meatballs. “The third night you stayed over at the house.”

  Meryl blushed. “I remember that night.”

  “If I recall, we were starved after making love for hours,” Angie said as she took her seat across from Meryl. “You didn’t believe I could cook.”

  “And to prove it, you threw on your robe, marched into the kitchen, and whipped up your rigatoni and meatballs.”

  “I also remember you asking me, ‘Where’s the jar of Ragu?’ I about died.”

  Meryl giggled. “I believe your exact words were, ‘Never ask an Italian for Ragu sauce.’”

  “We consider it an insult. Let me check on the rigatoni again. I hate overdone pasta.”

  While Angie went into the kitchen, Meryl stepped over to the French doors facing out at the small backyard. Solar lights illuminated the patio area.

  “Like my huge backyard?” Angie asked when she returned to the table with the pasta.

  Meryl joined her. “I love the hammock touch. I said it before—you’ve adapted well to the Key West lifestyle.”

  “It’s easy to do, believe me.” Angie pointed to the pasta. “Eat.”

  Meryl loaded her plate up with food. She took her first bite.

  “Oh… my… God, Angie. This is out of this world.” She waved her fork in the air. “You most certainly haven’t lost your touch.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Angie took a bite. “Maybe I could have let the pasta go a little longer, though.”

  “You’re crazy.” Meryl continued to shovel food into her mouth. “I most certainly won’t be ladylike eating this, either.”

  The only words spoken for the next several minutes were, “Can you pass the rigatoni?” or “May I have more bread, please?”

  They finished, and Angie started to clear the table. Meryl hopped up before she had a chance. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “I won’t argue.” Angie poured another glass of wine and walked over to the stereo. “How about some music?”

  “I’d love it,” Meryl said as she rinsed off their plates.

  “Anyone in particular?” Angie’s raised voice drifted into the kitchen.

  “I think you remember what kind of music I like.” Meryl placed the dishes in the dishwasher. “Soap?”

  “Under the sink.”

  Meryl poured the soap in the compartment on the door of the dishwasher. She heard the smooth sound of Diana Krall emerging from the speakers. She went to the dining room table, poured more wine into her glass, and joined Angie.

  “Nice choice. I love her music.” Meryl sat down next to Angie on the couch.

  They faced straight ahead and sipped their wine.

  Angie broke the silence.

  “You may not be ready yet, Meryl, and you said we could put it off. But I can’t help it—”

  “You want to talk about the past.” Meryl stared into her wine. “To talk about me, I have to talk about you. I lost track of you after my…” She cleared her throat. “After my divorce.”

  She ventured a glance over at Angie and saw the hurt there. Meryl stood up, taking her wine with her to the mantle.

  “You ever use the fireplace? I guess you would in the winter.” Meryl gathered her courage before turning around. “I’m sure it seems I’m avoiding this part of my past. But you deserve the truth. It was all arranged by my father. I didn’t know what else to do, Ange. I was young, and I was scared. The summer following our junior year, when I told him about you… about us, he lost it. I’d never seen him so angry. Two weeks after you came there, he threatened again to have your scholarship revoked if I saw you. My father was powerful enough to do it, too.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “There was more to it. I also had to date Stan Alberson. I was afraid for you. You were there on scholarship and you…” Meryl’s voice trailed off.

  “Didn’t have money like you.” Angie finished Meryl’s sentence.

  “I went along with what he wanted for me like always. I dated Stan, and I married him.” Meryl almost choked on the words. “I saw you the day of the wedding. I wanted to go to you like the day in front of the house when my father pushed me into the car. That day when you came to the house? I watched you from the backseat.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Ange. I wanted to run to you. To get out of the car and run to you. But he stopped me from opening the door.”

  Angie kept her head down, turning the glass of wine repeatedly in her hands.

  “At the church the day of my wedding…” Meryl stopped and thought back. “A
part of me died when I saw you standing by your car.” She relived the moment from eleven years ago in Mount Lebanon. “I didn’t love him, Angie,” she whispered. “He was a good man, well, is a good man. He remarried about a year after our divorce to a tall blonde from a well-connected family.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I guess I was his type. But two years into the marriage, I was tired of living a lie. My father, of course, was horrified. This time, I didn’t give in, and my mother supported me. My father still had a difficult time going against my mother once she had her mind made up about something.” Meryl smiled. “She asked if you were the reason I couldn’t stay married to Stan.”

  Angie looked up.

  “I told her I was a lesbian, that being married to Stan for two years only reinforced those feelings and made them that much stronger.”

  Meryl returned to the couch and sat down. She brushed her fingertips against Angie’s hand as she continued. “I told her I was in love with you and that would never change.”

  “Oh, Meryl.”

  “The cop-out is to say it was hell living with Stan, but he was always good to me. The truth is, it was more like living in prison. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t think about you. I served time those two years, punishment for making the biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t stand up to my father when it counted the most.” She chose her next words with care. “When I began my search for you, my mother even helped, believe it or not. She said she only wanted me to be happy. We didn’t tell my father, although he might have suspected. He never wanted to believe his daughter was a lesbian, and he certainly didn’t want to believe I was still in love with you.”

  Meryl stared at Angie to convey her conviction. “I searched for you for months, but then accepted I’d lost you. That’s when I went back to school, tried freelance for a while, and taught at Columbia. Like I told you before, the only glimpse I had of you all those years was when I discovered you’d written those three novels. I read them, if only to feel connected to you through your writing.”

  Angie blushed. “I still can’t believe you liked them.”

  “I loved every word. What about you? And your family? Do they—”

  “No,” Angie said sharply. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “I understand.”

  “It still hurts, even after almost fifteen years. Jan and I are close. Other than that, I’ve only shared a couple of phone calls with my father. He chose to go along with my mother’s wishes.”

  “I’m sorry, Ange.” Meryl held Angie’s hand a little tighter.

  “I try not to think about it. I worked as an editor after graduation. I started writing my first novel during that time and signed a contract with a lesbian publishing company. They published my first book and the next two.”

  “Have you published anything else? Please tell me you haven’t given up on writing.”

  “Uh… uh… no.”

  “Something secretive you’re working on?”

  The color drained from Angie’s face.

  “I’m sorry. Did I upset you? If you don’t want to—”

  “No no. It’s not that. I published the three books. By then, I’d moved here.”

  Meryl ran her fingers through Angie’s bangs. “And adopted the Hemingway starving author look?”

  Angie barely smiled.

  “You sure I haven’t upset you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you working on anything now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t want to talk about it. I remember how you were at school when you worked on your short stories for your courses. Am I right?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about the rest of your time. Your bar seems to do well. That boat, as you call it, isn’t cheap. And I imagine this house isn’t either.”

  “You’re right. The Cozy Conch does a very nice business and brings in a lot of money.”

  Meryl feared the answer to her next question. “Anyone in your life now? The woman at the bar seemed to be still interested.”

  “Pam and I lasted a little over two years, but we’re not together. There’s no one. What about you?”

  “No. I didn’t see anyone for the longest time after I divorced. The one relationship I did have lasted only a year. Remember, I tried to find you. You said how painful it was for you, but I wish you’d tried to contact me.”

  “I couldn’t. I lost so much of myself when I saw you on those steps at the church.” Angie’s voice shook.

  Meryl touched Angie’s cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  The CD player clicked to the soundtrack to Somewhere in Time.

  Meryl smiled. “I remember this well.”

  Angie brought Meryl to her feet.

  They maintained eye contact as they swayed to the music. Meryl was lost, transported to another place and time. As one selection on the CD segued to the next, Meryl had to ask the question.

  “How do you feel about us now?”

  Angie pulled Meryl closer. “The reason it never worked out with Pam was because I was waiting for someone else to come back to me, even though it seemed impossible.”

  “Waiting for someone?” Meryl held her breath, hoping and praying for the words she wanted to hear.

  “Yes.” Angie trailed her fingertips along Meryl’s cheek. “But she’s here now.”

  Angie pressed her mouth against Meryl’s. It was a tentative kiss at first, one that spoke of their years apart. But then Meryl parted Angie’s lips with her tongue. She drew even closer and put her fingers to the back of Angie’s neck.

  The kiss forged a bridge to the present from the years they’d lost between them. It was everything Meryl experienced in the nights when Angie haunted her dreams. The taste, Angie’s body against hers, her fingers entwined in Angie’s thick, dark hair—everything was the same, yet not the same. Because Angie was here in the flesh.

  Angie pulled her mouth away and trailed her tongue along Meryl’s neck to the hollow of her

  throat. Meryl trembled, and her knees weakened.

  “Ange, I’ve missed you… I’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.”

  Angie took Meryl by the hand. She extinguished two of the candles, lifted the remaining lit candle from the mantle, and led Meryl down the hallway to the bedroom. She put the candle on her bedside table and turned around to Meryl.

  “I want to make love to you,” Angie whispered as she drew nearer. She brought her fingers to the top button of Meryl’s blouse. “May I?”

  Meryl could only nod.

  Angie slowly undid each button and pulled the blouse below Meryl’s shoulders. Meryl tugged the sleeves down to free herself from the garment.

  Angie ran her fingertips across Meryl’s shoulders, dipped them to her stomach and then brushed Meryl’s lace-covered breasts with the back of her hands.

  Meryl arched into her touch and her breath caught in her throat. Without turning away from Angie’s gaze, Meryl undressed.

  Angie watched until she was done and then removed her clothing. She gently pushed Meryl toward the bed.

  Meryl moaned when Angie pressed her body against hers. She accepted Angie’s kisses that started at her neck and descended to her breasts. Relishing Angie’s touch, she willingly opened herself up to love again. She pushed her hips against Angie’s hand, soaring with each gentle caress of Angie’s fingers. Meryl cried out when Angie’s touch took her to that place she’d thought was lost to her.

  Angie collapsed on top of Meryl. Meryl draped one arm over Angie’s back and the other across her own face. Angie slid beside her.

  Meryl’s shoulders shook with sobs.

  “Meryl? Did I do something wrong?” Angie pulled Meryl’s arm away from her face. “Oh, baby. Let me hold you.” Angie took Meryl into her arms. “Baby, please don’t cry.”

  Meryl pushed into her shoulder. Angie stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

  “It’s never been like this with anyone else,” Meryl said.
“Never. Only with you.”

  “I feel the same. I’ve been lost without you these past years.”

  “Do you remember the first time we made love?”

  “How could I forget? I wanted to touch you so many times since I’d met you, and when I did that night, it was everything I dreamed it would be.”

  “You have my heart, Ange. You always have.” Meryl looked up at Angie to find her wiping her eyes.

  “I saved my heart for you,” Angie whispered.

  Meryl shifted closer. Angie caressed her back until Meryl felt herself slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  * * *

  Angie was in the midst of a wonderful dream. Soft lips touched her shoulders and continued their feather-light journey to her breasts. Her nipple came to life as the lips encircled it. It was Meryl again. Angie tried not to awaken, because when she did at each appearance of her past love’s apparition, she awoke lost and alone. The lips left light kisses on Angie’s stomach, and she tightened her legs together as her center throbbed with desire.

  Fingertips trailed inch by inch to her calves and moved up again to her thighs. A whisper of “wake up, my love” drifted into Angie’s unconsciousness.

  Angie hated to leave the dream, but she stirred from her sleep when lips kissed their way up from her ankles to the inside of her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head. Meryl knelt on the foot of the bed, smiling shyly.

  “Let me love you,” Meryl said, moving her lips higher.

  Angie gripped the sheets beside her as the pleasure mounted. Meryl entwined her fingers with Angie’s; Angie grabbed hold as if they were a lifeline.

  Angie flew upward to a higher place, a place she’d only reached with the woman who was making love to her now. She was on the edge and held there as long as she could, savoring the anticipation of falling over. She let go and flew headlong into her orgasm, crying out Meryl’s name as every muscle in her body tensed.

  Angie slowly came down from her last throbbing moments. She released the tight grasp she had on Meryl’s hands. “Lie next to me.”

  They faced each other.

  Meryl caressed Angie’s cheek and then touched her lips to Angie’s for a tender kiss. Angie tasted the remnants of their lovemaking.