Gemini

by Geonn Cannon

  Last night had felt like April. Everything had been the same, only...slightly different. Molly was more hesitant, a bit more eager to please. It felt so much like her first time with April that she had, more than once, felt like she’d been transported back in time to the night she and April finally took that next step.

  The night was chilly, so April took off her blazer and draped it across Robin’s shoulders as they left the restaurant. It left April with just her dark purple tank top, but she swore that she wasn’t too cold. She parked in the street and walked up the driveway with Robin. They passed the front door and went instead to the door off the garage. It was blocked from the street by a tall hedge and afforded them a bit of privacy.

  “Ugh, it smells rotten back here,” Robin said.

  “Probably your neighbor’s trash.” April tried to peek through the hedge, but it was too thick.

  “I’ve asked them to move that a million times,” Robin sighed. “But if they put it on the other side of the house, they could smell it from their hot tub. God forbid.”

  She stepped up onto the small concrete landing and leaned her back against the wall. April stood in front of her, closer than colleagues, and took her hands. “Well, I had a great time tonight.”

  “I’m glad.” She brushed her thumbs across April’s knuckles.

  “Good-night.”

  “Good-night,” Robin said. She leaned in and kissed April’s mouth.

  They held the pose for a few seconds before April’s hands slid up Robin’s arms. She moved a bit closer, their blouses whispering against each other as April tilted her head to one side and deepened the kiss. Their tongues touched, and Robin mewled quietly in her throat. She brought her hand up and cupped the back of April’s neck, under the wave of leonine hair, and squeezed gently.

  April sighed and pulled back from the kiss. “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t,” Robin said. She opened her eyes and said, “I’m...I mean, you don’t have to. You could stay.”

  “Stay?”

  “With me,” Robin said. Her heart was pounding, her throat tight. “I meant you could stay here, tonight, with me, in my bed.”

  “Under your covers and on top of your mattress?” April chuckled.

  Robin bowed her head and said, “Hey, shut up. This isn’t easy for me.”

  April ran her fingers through Robin’s short hair and kissed her temple. “You sure?”

  Robin kissed the curve of April’s neck, just above the shoulder of her blouse. “Really, really sure. I want you so bad I can barely think.” She felt April shudder against her and looked up into her eyes.

  April touched Robin’s cheek and whispered, “Let’s go inside.”

  They had gone inside, gone to the bedroom and kissed in front of the bed. After a bit of exploration -- clothes were lost, curves fully explored -- they finally pulled back the blankets and got into the bed they would later share as a married couple. Robin brushed at her face when she realized most of the water was from her eyes and not the showerhead. She finally turned off the faucet and pushed the curtain aside.

  She stood in front of the mirror and wiped the fog away until she could see herself. She picked up the necklace from where she’d left it next to the sink, looping it over her head and letting the ring fall between her collar bones. She stared at the reflection of it in the mirror and touched it with her fingertips. Her fingers slowly traveled left, to the smog-colored bruise that lay on her skin like a scarlet letter. She ran her fingers over the dark, ugly flesh and winced when she discovered it was still sensitive.

  “I’m sorry, April,” she said. “I am so, so sorry.”

  ##

  “So sorry,” Molly said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s all right, Molly. I didn't really expect you to come in today. The main reason I called so many times this morning was to make sure you were okay,” Clifton said. He moved a chair to sweep underneath it as he spoke. Night had fallen and the last customers of the day had finally gone out to the boardwalk to watch the sailboats. Molly had offered to stay behind and help Clifton clean up to make up for her tardiness at the beginning of the day. “You lost your sister. You don’t have to pretend everything is business as usual. Not this week.”

  Molly shrugged and leaned against the bar. “I know. I understand and I appreciate that, Clifton. But I’ve come to terms with it. I’d rather be here, in the kitchen, cooking.”

  He sighed. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have forgotten it was Saturday. You have some things to work through. You need to accept that rather than let things fester.”

  “Nothing is festering,” Molly assured him. “I’m fine.”

  “I wish I could believe that. But your actions are telling me otherwise.”

  Molly frowned. “Did anyone complain?”

  “No, no one has complained. You’re still the same Molly Page when it comes to pan-searing the crap out of a fish. But you’re coming in late, you’re yelling at Shane and chasing Tatum out of the kitchen with a knife.”

  She had almost forgotten about the debacle she’d caused the day before. “Did Tatum come by for his severance today?”

  “Yeah.” Clifton leaned against the broom, hanging his hands across the top of it. “He wanted to sue you for aggravated assault.”

  “What!”

  Clifton held up a hand and said, “Don’t worry. I talked him out of it. But you might want to be careful. The next...person...may not be quite so forgiving.”

  Molly sighed. She could tell from the look on his face that he’d almost said, victim. She shook her head. “I’m not going to attack anyone else, not that I attacked Tatum. He’s a screw-up, and it cost you that free meal. How many more would he have gotten wrong this morning? You know he doesn’t work well under pressure. I fired him because he deserved it.”

  “I’m not debating that. But if the last straw had snapped a week ago, would you have gone quite so far off the deep end?” Clifton asked. “You would’ve waited until the end of the day and quietly told him not to come in tomorrow. Your sister’s death is affecting you whether you want to admit it or not.”

  “Right there, right there...oh, God, Robin, yes...”

  She blushed as the memory of the night before came rushing back to her. She rubbed the back of her neck and said, “Are you telling me not to come in tomorrow?”

  He groaned and looked at the front door as if he could see the customers that would be waiting there in about nine hours. “Wish I could. Sunday is way too busy and, if you’re willing, I need you here. But if you wanted to blow off Monday, no one would hold it against you. Shane is an extremely capable chef. She could take over for you in a pinch, as scary as that might be for you to admit.”

  “Yeah, you might have a point.”

  “Since we’re talking about Tatum...what did you think of the people you interviewed?”

  “They were good. I narrowed it down to Lucia and David. I want to see them cook before I make any decisions.”

  Clifton nodded. “Well, yeah, naturally. Lucia’s good. She’s supposed to be the Rachael Ray of the Pacific Northwest. Only she actually has had training. And she can bake. Come to think of it, she’s not like Rachael Ray at all.”

  Molly smirked, and Clifton walked over to her. He put the broom behind the counter of the bar and squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Molly. You just need to take the time to grieve appropriately.”

  She looked at where his hand had gripped her shoulder and thought about what Robin had called her. Asexual. Something for men to thrust against. When, that is, she bothered to go out and find someone to go to bed with. Most of the time, it was her left hand and one of those mail-order DVDs she had under the bed. She blushed at the realization that her love life depended on shipping and handling and pushed off the stool.

  “Hey, Clifton?” she said as she went around the end of the bar.

  He looked up, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as she grabbed hold of his stup
id fish tie and pulled him to her. She kissed him hard, sliding her arms around his waist to pull him even closer. Clifton’s hands went wild, moving to her hips and then up to her shoulders. Finally, he managed to push her away, breaking the kiss with the gasp of a drowning man finally breaking the surface. He touched the back of his wrist to his mouth and said, “Uh...uh...”

  Molly said, “I’m not looking for anything permanent. You know? We could just fool around a bit.” Anything to get this taste out of my mouth, this memory of making love to a woman and how it felt and, oh, God, remind me that sex doesn’t have to curl my toes and make my hair stand on end. Remind me it can just be sex. Out loud, she merely said, “Come on. It might be fun.”

  “Uh, Molly...I­–I’m in a relationship.”

  “Oh,” she said. She glanced toward the kitchen and remembered the early-morning meetings with the upstairs tenant. “Neil?”

  Clifton blinked. He chuckled at the thought and shook his head, trying to back away from Molly. Unfortunately, he’d gone as far as he could without jumping onto the bar. “No, not Neil. I’m straight. I’m dating Sandy. You know, Sandy’s Dee-Lights, the ice cream stand out on the boardwalk?”

  Molly frowned. She had no idea Clifton was seeing someone, but that was beside the point. She was focused on what he’d said when she guessed Neil was his significant other. “No, I’m straight.”

  She finally backed away from Clifton, giving him a bit of breathing room as she thought back to all the women who had come on to her: Shane, a couple of girls in high school, college friends of April. Molly’s denial had always been an adamant “I’m not gay.” She had always said it firmly, a declaration, a firm line drawn in the sand. For years, she had denied it. She had denied being like April by saying she wasn’t gay.

  But had she ever claimed that she was straight?

  She looked at Clifton, the stunned and slightly amused look on his face, and managed to say, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. He sagged against the counter and rolled his shoulders. “Believe me, I’m flattered. Hell, High-School Me is rolling over in his grave right now. I have a girlfriend, and the incredibly attractive chef of the restaurant I own just came on to me.” He smiled in an attempt to hide how all-over uncomfortable he was and pushed a hand through his lank brown hair. “Look, uh, there’s not much left to do here. I can finish up if you want to go.”

  Translation: Go away now.

  “Yeah, okay.” She nodded and grabbed her bag from the back of the chair. She hooked the bag over her shoulder and left the store like it was on fire, in a hurry to try and make sense of everything she’d been thinking.

  Chapter Eleven

  On the drive home, Molly pushed aside all thoughts of her assault on Clifton. She told herself that when she got home, she’d light a cigarette, sit in the dark, and try to make sense of everything that had happened. As soon as she walked through the front door, however, the past few nights of getting nearly no sleep finally caught up with her. She dumped her bag onto the couch as she passed it, barely managing to keep her eyes open as she headed down the hallway.

  In the bedroom, she didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. She undid her hair and sprawled on the bed, finding the presence of mind to take off her shoes before she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She pressed her face against the blankets and told herself she would just rest her eyes before she got up and started brewing coffee. She had a lot of things she had to think about...

  ##

  Their father was a big country music fan, so Molly was humming "Mr. Bojangles" as she refreshed her make-up in the bathroom mirror. She was going to be late for lunch, but she wanted to make sure she looked okay for Joseph Free. He was supposed to sit with them at Taco Bell, but she would be damned if he saw her without fresh eyeliner. That whore Sarah Thompson was supposed to...

  The door swung open and Maria, Kathleen, and Ann walked in. Molly rolled her eyes: the Pink Ladies. April had coined the nickname for the trio of girls from her favorite movie, Grease, and the rest of the school had picked up on it quickly. Punk girls who thought they ruled the school. Really, all they ruled was each other. They were mostly a joke. Molly replaced her eyeliner pencil in her purse and tried to slip past them.

  “Oh, good, the dyke’s leaving,” Maria said in a stage whisper. “I was getting worried.”

  “What did you say?” Molly asked, spinning to face her.

  Maria shrugged innocently. “Well, no offense, sweetheart, but it’s not exactly comfortable being in the bathroom at the same time you are. You may get all excited, and then you won’t be able to control yourself.”

  “My sister is gay,” Molly said. “I’m not.”

  Maria pursed her lips and looked Molly up and down. “Really. Well. I’d rather not take my chances. You guys are twins. And don’t twins usually have similar...interests?”

  She didn’t think before she punched Maria in the stomach. If she’d taken the time to plan it, she would have aimed for her Little Miss Perfect nose. Maria wailed and bent over double, holding her hands to her stomach. “Bitch!” Molly yelled. “Shut up about my sister!”

  Kathleen and Ann grabbed Molly from behind, and she tried to shake them off. Maria straightened, her almost-black eyes filled with tears. She grabbed Molly’s hair with one hand and brought her fist back. “Dyke!” Maria howled as she punched Molly in the face. “You and your dyke sister can just go munch each other’s carpet, okay? Stupid lesbo.”

  The other girls let go of Molly, and she fell to the floor. Her nose was bloody, and her bottom lip felt swollen. Maria walked around Molly and said, “Let’s use the bathroom in the Science Hall.” Kathleen and Ann followed Maria out of the bathroom, leaving Molly on the ground holding her nose and weeping.

  Her face hurt, that was only part of why she was crying. The fact that Joey Free would see her with a broken face hurt, too. But what really hurt was that she didn’t know if she’d fought because Maria called April a dyke, or because she had implied Molly was, too.

  ##

  Molly woke to birds chirping outside her window and rubbed her face. It was only a quarter after six, but she knew if she didn’t wake up she’d be late again. She wouldn’t do that to Clifton, not after what she’d done to him the night before. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The sun still wasn’t up, and her body released an involuntary yawn as she pushed herself off the bed.

  “Stop it,” she admonished herself. She undressed on the way to the shower, then stood half-conscious under the spray for a few minutes going through the motions of bathing without bothering to think about it. She got out, dressed, and backed out of her driveway just as the sun started to crest the island’s hump.

  She was unsure if she’d be able to find the right place again, but she managed to remember the green apple-shaped sign at the head of the driveway. She parked at the back of the house and, already planning her apology to whoever she woke, knocked on the back door.

  The porch light was still on despite the lateness of the hour and, when the curtain pulled back, Molly couldn’t see who peered out at her. The locks turned, and the door opened to reveal the sweet old woman who had offered Molly breakfast the previous morning. “Hello, dear. Come to see your friend?”

  “If it’s all right,” Molly said. “Sorry to come by so early, but–”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” the woman said. She stepped aside and ushered Molly into the kitchen. “I think I heard her rummaging around up there when I came down. Have a seat at the table there while I go see. Help yourself to the toast.”

  Molly sat down while the woman waddled up the stairs. She took one of the slices of toast from the basket in the middle of the table. She checked her watch as she reached for the jelly jar. Half past seven in the morning, and there was hot toast on the table and bacon and eggs on the stove. Add to that a plump old woman with a ruffled apron and it was like being in a Norman Rockwell painting.

  She munched on the toast
and eyed the walls. She hadn’t noticed before, but the entire house seemed dedicated to apples. Apple wallpaper, apples on the plates, and on the ends of the silverware. She remembered the apple blankets from two nights ago, remembered seeing Robin’s hands grip them as she...She closed her eyes and put the toast down.

  The voice of the old woman -- obviously the bed-and-breakfast’s host -- came from the stairway. “Over easy’s all right, then?”

  “Fine,” Robin said. “Thank you.” They came into the kitchen, and the woman went directly to the stove. Robin was wearing sweatpants and a white dress shirt. Her hair was mussed, and she looked like if she’d been awake when Molly came over, she hadn’t been out of bed for long. Robin looked at the table and blinked. “Oh. Mrs. Appleton said my friend had dropped by for a visit. I...didn’t know who to expect, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Molly managed a smile and stood up. She glanced at Mrs. Appleton’s back and gestured to the back door. “Can we talk outside?”

  Robin nodded, and Molly led the way outside. Robin assured Mrs. Appleton she’d be back in time for eggs and followed Molly onto the driveway. Molly turned and said, “Her name is really Appleton?”

  Robin was so caught off-guard by the question that she actually laughed. For a moment, Molly saw the happy, loving woman that April had lived with. “Yeah. The name obviously came first. I’m thinking the obsession grew out of that. It’s quaint. I like it.” She hugged herself and leaned against the wall next to the door. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? Because so far, I’m completely comfortable with the conversation.”

  Molly blushed and leaned against her car. “Do we have to talk about...that?”

  “We probably should. But it doesn’t have to be right now.”

  “Okay. I came by to tell you I’m sorry. For -- insert any slights I may have made here -- and tell you I want you to stay. If you can. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about myself and about April, and I think I still have a long way to go. If I scare you away now, there’s a chance I’ll never get to know what my sister was really like.”