The Woman at the Edge of Town

by Georgette Kaplan

  “I know it hurts,” Nina said. “I’ve seen that look enough times before. But be brave just a few moments longer. Let me take care of this. Then you can cry. Then you can be broken.”

  And Sarah forced herself to. Because Nina had said. Because more than anything, she knew that if she did as Nina said, everything would be all right.

  It didn’t take long to sew up. Just three sutures. Then Nina put a plaster over it. The fire had dried Sarah out, burned the chill out of her. She felt human again. The sadness still welled inside her, but less intractable and oppressive. Now it was something she could wash off.

  Nina gently checked the bandage, making sure it was correctly applied in much the same way Sarah imagined someone would cut a diamond. Then her swift, efficient touch became a soft stroke of Sarah’s cheek, a permissive caress, a fond one.

  “What’s wrong?” Nina asked, whispering even though they were alone.

  Sarah fell into Nina’s arms, and the warmth of her body made the fire seem cold. She told the whole lurid story, even as it ran together in her mind. She stayed in Nina’s arms, slowly getting comfortable, gently being rocked, pulling her arms and legs closer to Nina, her body into Nina’s lap. Telling Nina about how she’d met Tyrese, about their first date, about how she’d thought he’d be her husband.

  “He was your first, wasn’t he?” Nina asked, giving Sarah a little squeeze. Letting her know it would be all right either way.

  “Yes. I was so sure. Not the first time, or the second time, but I was so sure it would come if I just kept…if I loved him hard enough… And Beck. She’s supposed to be my best friend.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Nina unwound an arm from Sarah’s back, only to bring her hand to Sarah’s hair, gently running her fingers through it as she murmured, “You did nothing wrong. It’s very hard to find someone who understands you as completely as you deserve. Who you can share yourself with, who you can give all that you have to offer. You’re a precious gem, Sarah. As beautiful as you are rare. You will find someone who truly values you. It will just take patience.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like no one even sees me.”

  “I see you, Sarah.” Nina twisted a lock of Sarah’s hair around her finger, lightening the mood somehow. “Do you know what’s happening to your body right now?”

  “My heart’s breaking in two?”

  Nina lowered her voice sympathetically. “Besides that.” She rubbed her hand between Sarah’s shoulder blades. “Right now, your brain isn’t releasing enough serotonin. There’s too much stress on your body for it to keep up. Not without help.”

  “You mean…wine?”

  “No. I don’t mean wine. You see, just being held by me, being touched by me, is releasing beta-endorphins, reversing all that. And you’ll feel even better after a good night’s rest, when your brain has time to normalize. So I want you to lie here, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep.”

  “And you’ll keep touching me?” Sarah asked. She was so tired that it took her a moment to realize what she’d said.

  “If you like. Or should I stop?”

  Sarah was silent. She didn’t know what to say.

  Nina traced Sarah’s hair down to her back, which Sarah felt right through the robe. “Would you like to take that off? Get comfortable?”

  Sarah consented before thinking of what she was wearing—or rather, not wearing—underneath. She hesitated with one arm out of its sleeve. Nina just smiled. She gently took the robe’s soft fur and tugged until it was off. Now the darkness was all Sarah wore. After a moment, Nina reached to a nearby chair and pulled a quilt from its back. She draped it over both of them, and Sarah exhaled—relieved, disappointed, to be covered again. She felt safe now, but part of her didn’t want to feel safe.

  Under Nina’s gaze, Sarah lowered herself back to rest against Nina’s body. Nina’s hands pressed flat, possessive, along Sarah’s spine. Sarah grew used to the weight of them in only a second. Then they started moving up and down, rolling over Sarah’s back like the tide. It wasn’t like when Nina had held her before. Her touch was more daring now, more intense.

  “You’re a very trusting soul,” Nina whispered, her breath barely stirring Sarah’s hair. “Coming for comfort to a stranger’s home.”

  “You’re not a stranger.”

  “Aren’t I?”

  “No. You’re, like…my best friend.”

  “Please. I don’t even have a Twitter; I’m like the Crypt Keeper. You must have other friends your own age besides this Beck.”

  “Please,” Sarah mimicked. “If I asked them to get into bed with me and rub me down, they’d call me a dyke.”

  “And what’s so bad about being a dyke?” Nina asked, her voice sweetly sinuous.

  Sarah’s chest tightened around her heart until she could feel its beat pounding against her skin like a caged animal. Was one of Nina’s loved ones a d—homosexual?

  She didn’t even like that word; it was the others who used it.

  “I don’t know,” she stammered. “I’ve never tried it.”

  Nina gave Sarah a little pat and pulled the quilt higher up around their bodies, tucking it under their weight. It helped. Sarah felt less exposed, cuddled up like this. Snug as a bug in a rug.

  Under the quilt, Nina’s hands were as subtle as shadows; Sarah couldn’t hear or see them. She just felt them, on the back of her neck now, leisurely stroking from her throat to her shoulders like Nina had all the time in the world…to explore. When they met in the middle, at the nape of Sarah’s neck, it felt like her head was being tilted toward a kiss that never came.

  Nina’s hand came to Sarah’s cheek. It was shockingly intimate, the touch. Nina had never gotten so close…to her lips.

  Sarah lay still while Nina’s fingers, sly and insinuating, ran over her cheekbones. Touched her lips. Breezed over them like a breath of air. Stopped in the middle, as if seeking admittance, but Sarah was too stunned to even breathe. And then the fingers descended, off her chin, down her neck. Turning her sideways now, Nina’s hand moved in circles on Sarah’s sternum, just shy of Sarah’s breasts, then returned almost to her lips.

  Sarah shivered. She fought to keep her voice steady. “I don’t think you’re sleeping with Marshall, but I think maybe you wanted me to think that.”

  Nina laughed warmly. Her hand dropped down. To Sarah’s belly, brushing it with her knuckles, almost tickling. “Oh?”

  “I think what you really like is…people like me. Girly people.”

  “Girls, even, one might say.”

  Sarah froze. “I can’t believe you told me that. This isn’t…college! People would care.”

  “I trust you,” Nina said, raising her hand again. She ran the side of her finger down Sarah’s spine, her fingernail making a faint noise on Sarah’s skin. “We have something in common.”

  Sarah didn’t dare ask what it was, not thinking, only feeling as Nina’s finger followed her tired bones like a cat with a string.

  “You have such beautiful skin. Such a beautiful body. I wish I had your body,” Nina said, her voice low. Just for Sarah. “It’s getting late. Get in the bed. I’ll call your mother. Try to explain—most of this.”

  Everything was warm and blurry, like a pleasant dream. Like none of this was real. It was all just a bedtime story. She’d never seen Beck and Ty’s betrayal. She’d never even dated Tyrese. She’d always been with Nina, here, now, touching her and being touched by her.

  “Thank you,” Sarah breathed. It didn’t sound like her voice, but that was okay. She liked this new, strange voice. “But I think my feet fell asleep.”

  “Oh, I’ll take care of that. Put your arms around me, dear. Let’s see if the personal trainer has earned his keep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sarah giggled as she put her arms around Nina’s neck. She was liking this new voice more and more. It was like another person was speaking for her. Someone fun and adventurous and exciting. Someone who never got cheated on
or grounded and who always knew what to say.

  Nina pulled away for a moment, reorienting herself into a kneel beside the quilt, the fire through her gauzy nightgown brilliantly playing at her body. Suddenly, Sarah could see all of Nina again, and the sight was enough to take her breath away. Nina was a vision, a goddess—

  Then she was lifting Sarah up, blanket and all, carrying her like a blushing bride to the bed. She’d left the sheets pulled back on her side of the gargantuan mattress, and after she’d set Sarah down, it was a simple matter to pull them back up over her. Sarah moaned—as the cool silk touched her body, she suddenly felt overheated.

  Nina came down over her, checking the bandage one last time. She lowered her lips almost to Sarah’s but not quite, and Sarah didn’t have the energy to lift herself even that one little centimeter to Nina’s wet, open lips.

  “You must sleep now.” The feel of Nina’s breath against her lips was torture. “You need your rest.”

  “I need you,” Sarah begged, the words barely more than mouthed.

  “I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Sarah couldn’t fight anymore. She lost herself in the endless, loving balm of the bed…still warm from Nina’s body.

  “Sweet dreams.”

  Sleep took her at last.

  >~~~<

  When Sarah woke up, she felt so well-rested that Beck’s betrayal and Ty’s cheating could’ve been a hundred years ago. There wasn’t much to see by the soft yellow dawn that filled the room like water, but it was obvious Nina was gone. Sarah was alone. At some point in the night, Nina had hung up a nightgown on the chair near the fire, presumably for Sarah to wear while her clothes were washed. Sarah smiled to herself at the woman’s thoughtfulness.

  She got up for the nightgown, and that was when the door opened. Sarah hurled herself back under the covers as Nina came in, bearing a tray of breakfast. She wasn’t able to get the blanket over herself, just the sheet, which felt as thin as a tissue.

  Nina wore a gauzy white robe, translucent except for tattoos of butterflies along it. It was tied with a silk ribbon, but underneath Sarah could see Nina’s bra and panties. They were modest, more than what she’d worn while tanning—the black panties came up to her waist and the bra barely let her jiggle. It wasn’t the sight of Nina that struck Sarah so much as the energy she radiated. Sarah knew the feel of her, and not just that, but the receptiveness, how accepting she could be. It made Sarah feel as if she was standing on a high-dive board, far above the swimming pool, and all it would take was one bounce and then she would dive.

  “I thought you might feel better if you ate something,” Nina said. The tray had little legs that let her set it over Sarah’s lap, trapping her under a prison of fried eggs, short-stack pancakes, grapefruit, orange juice, buttered toast, and a bowl of cornflakes. “Eat. I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

  Sarah picked up a piece of toast and nibbled on it. Nina was looking at her. Sarah pushed the cereal bowl toward her; obliging, Nina sat down beside her on the bed and began to eat.

  “I feel so embarrassed,” Sarah said.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. People feel things. It’s what they do. And there are far worse ways to handle it than having a good cry.”

  “Like breaking and entering?” Sarah asked.

  “You had a key. We’re friends, after all.”

  “Is that all you are?”

  Nina busied herself eating cereal. After a moment, she said, “Mr. Shannon rescued the boat. You can go home when you wish. Your clothes are in the dryer—”

  Sarah chewed her toast, wondering if Nina wanted her to leave, or if she was just afraid of Sarah asking to go. Maybe they could just keep eating, and neither one of them would have to say anything. Was that why Nina had made so much food?

  She reached for the glass of orange juice but didn’t drink. Her lips twitched. She remembered feeling the bone of Nina’s sharp jawline as she’d kissed her cheek. Had Nina turned away? No. As she’d pulled back, Nina had shifted toward her, almost a twitch, and if Sarah had just kissed her cheek again, once or twice, she would’ve found Nina’s lips under hers.

  “Nina,” she asked, dry-mouthed, “do you want me?”

  Nina looked away. “That’s not what you want to know.”

  “Do you?”

  Nina picked up the breakfast tray and set it down on the floor. Suddenly Sarah realized just how closely the sheet clung to her naked body, outlining the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts. And Nina—it felt as if she could see right through it.

  Sarah didn’t feel embarrassed, though. She felt a guilty flush between her thighs, and her toes curled, hidden under the covers where Nina could see them and not see them.

  “You want to know if you’re a lesbian,” Nina said, “and in my experience, people who ask that question don’t tend to be straight.”

  “And do you? Ask that question?”

  Nina shook her head. “I don’t anymore. You know what I am, Sarah. But you’ve never asked, and I’ve never kept it secret. Either you are or you aren’t. Either way, that’s not what is important.”

  Sarah was getting tired of double-talk. Maybe Nina thought she was giving her a taste of her own medicine, playing hard to get, but Sarah had never… She hadn’t known.

  “What is important?” she insisted.

  “What you want, of course,” Nina said. She set her hands on her knees, and all Sarah could think was that if they’d been touching her, they would’ve been irresistible.

  “I don’t know what I want,” Sarah admitted, which was at least half a lie. She knew a lot of what she wanted. She wanted Nina to kiss her. She wanted to stop looking at Nina and thinking about kissing her. She wanted this electricity going through her to stop. She wanted it to never end.

  No, she didn’t know what she wanted. Sarah knew what she needed, and it was a million different things, and she couldn’t tell if any of them were good for her.

  Nina was looking at her. Sarah wanted to meet her eyes. She wanted to stop feeling Nina’s eyes on her.

  “That’s why you’re here,” Nina said. “Because you don’t know what you want. That’s what draws you to me—finding someone who does know, who knows you, knows what you want, how to give it to you.”

  The way some of those words felt in her ears, Sarah couldn’t admit in a thousand years. “And what do you want?” she retorted, suddenly angry.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Nina said sagely.

  “Yes, it does!” Sarah insisted. “Because what I really want is for you to stop pretending this is all on me! You want it too. You can be as respectful about it as you like, but you want to fuck me.”

  The crude words hung between them like smoke after a bomb had gone off, like debris sailing through the air and coming slowly crashing down, like shrapnel was embedded inside them.

  Nina’s voice faltered. “That’s not what I want.”

  “Yes, it is!” Her own voice cracked too, because of course Nina looked at Sarah the same way Sarah looked at her. Of course Nina wanted from Sarah what Sarah wanted from her.

  That wasn’t a need or a want, that was bone, and it underlaid everything Sarah felt or thought she should feel.

  “Sarah,” Nina stood, as firm, as unshakable as a rock. “I want so much more than that.”

  Then she smiled, but it wasn’t a reassuring smile. More like they were going on a roller coaster together and Nina was trying to share how her own nervousness and excitement were all mixed up. She set her hand down on the sheets between them. Her fingers were long and slender, and two black rings set off the red lacquer on her nails. Sarah imagined those nails on her skin, the rings’ cool metal pebbling her flesh as Nina’s palm ran up her leg. The hand steepled, arching the thin sheet as if about to rip through it, then bunching the fabric inside Nina’s long fingers.

  With the slack taken up, the top of the bedsheet traveled an inch down Sarah’s body. Its movement was so much like a caress that Sar
ah could’ve gasped. She stared, disbelieving, as Nina pulled at the sheet, slowly, softly, every inch a whisper directly into Sarah’s body. She felt cool air prickle the skin over her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. Then a flushing heat filled her as the blanket came off her cleavage, leaving it bare, and began to trickle over her abdomen, which clenched and contorted with subtle muscles coming to the surface. Sarah could feel Nina’s gaze, heavier than the sheet had been, savoring every inch of skin she uncovered. But she didn’t rush it; it was still so slow. Down her sternum, along her ribs, she could feel every little wrinkle in the sheet as it kissed her body, lower, lower, over her belly, her navel, the wisps of hair that led the way to her sex, and she felt so bare, so exposed, so vulnerable just having the sheet so close to not being there that she let out a low moan.

  “Are you all right?” Nina asked, pausing, the length of bedsheet in her hand like a weapon.

  Sarah was acutely aware of her naked breasts jogging up and down with each breath, catching Nina’s eye, and she couldn’t stop them moving, couldn’t still their heaving or make her hardened nipples stop aching for Nina’s touch. She couldn’t say anything.

  The sheet slipped a little from Nina’s hand as her grip loosened. “Do you want to keep going? Sarah, I’m not going to keep going unless you say it’s what you want.”

  It was like pulling teeth just forming the words in her mind, but finally, shivering, Sarah said, “I want you to stop.”

  Nina pulled the sheet over Sarah, hiding her again, and Sarah clasped it against herself, even as it felt so cold and she’d been so warm…

  But she wasn’t gay. She couldn’t just be gay, no matter what Nina said. If she was, she was, but she wanted the chance to ask herself, instead of being so malleable that she contorted herself to the first person who showed her warmth.

  “I want you to go,” she forced out.

  Nina left the room as if she had never been there.