Now she stood in front of the door to Fiona’s apartment, and as the minutes ticked away with no answer to her knocks, Meg had to wonder if Fiona was running from her as much as she was running from her family and Mike. She rested her forehead against the hard metal surface and hoped the door would swing open and everything would be right again, but it didn’t happen. Meg pulled out her phone, and called again, not caring that the last fifty calls she’d made were sent directly to voice mail. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought she heard the faint sound of a cell phone ringing deep within the apartment. She envisioned Fiona standing on the other side of the door and it made her crazy.
“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” she chanted while she also knocked. The ringing stopped, and the recorded sound of Fiona’s familiar voice asked her to leave a message. Meg hesitated a moment before speaking. The first thing she could think to say was that she loved her. The words tumbled over themselves in her mind. But she didn’t want the first time Fiona heard them to be in a phone message, so she cleared her throat and told Fiona she was back in town and to please call her. She turned and slowly began walking to her own apartment.
As she jaywalked across the street, Meg imagined Fiona watching her. She turned to look, but the curtains hung, unmoved. The door stayed shut. A car blasted its horn and she dared it to hit her without even looking at it. The driver screamed an epithet out the window as he swerved past, but again, she didn’t even look. She was going home, but her home felt like it was behind her, and every step she took was a step in the wrong direction.
79
Fiona stood next to the window and watched as Meg crossed the street. Her heart flew into her throat. She knew she should move away, but she couldn’t. If Meg looked a little to the right she would see her, and then Fiona would have no choice but to go to her. Fiona dared Meg to see her. Willed her to turn her head, just a fraction. But Meg’s eyes stayed trained on the window of Fiona’s empty apartment. They never even glanced toward Mrs. Rickles’ window.
She flinched when she heard a horn and the screech of tires. Her heart raced in her chest.
“Get out of the fucking street!” She clutched her shirt in her fist, watching Meg stand there. Her heart ached at the despair written on Meg’s face. When Meg finally turned and disappeared from view, she dropped the curtain and turned back to face Mrs. Rickles’ knowing eyes. Her heart tried to resume its normal beat, but she was sure it was damaged for good. Fiona sat quietly back down at the table and mindlessly stirred her tea. A cookie sat untouched on the table next to her cup.
The flight back to New York had arrived very late. The city had been drowsy and dim as the cab rolled through the lonely streets. Infinite variations of the color gray greeted her bloodshot eyes and complemented her broken-hearted mood. The cabbie must have sensed her emotions because he didn’t try to talk to her. She tossed some cash over the seat as she got out of the cab, and thought she couldn’t feel much worse, but a wave of overpowering sadness nearly sent her to the ground when she opened her front door.
She left her bags where she dropped them and fell onto the couch, where she curled up into a little ball and cried until she could barely breathe. She longed for her bed, but the solace she needed wasn’t in there. What was there was the unmade bed she and Meg had made love in, right before they’d rushed to make their plane to Seattle on time.
She hadn’t thought it possible, but somewhere in her grief, she found a dark space that could block everything out, and the next she knew, a knock at her door pulled her from her sleep. The light in the room said it was mid-morning and the vague scent of fresh baked cookies told her the knock was Mrs. Rickles. Fiona would have left the door unanswered to anyone else, but she needed the comfort, so she unfolded herself from the couch, stretched her stiff limbs and back, and walked slowly to the door.
If Mrs. Rickles could tell Fiona had been crying, she didn’t let on, and she didn’t comment when Fiona guided them both over to the older woman’s apartment rather than stay in the apartment which held too many memories. She simply shuffled back alongside Fiona and made a pot of vanilla lavender tea—Fiona’s favorite.
Mrs. Rickles was pouring the tea when Fiona heard the first faint knock. Her heart moved to her throat when the cell phone she had left on the floor next to her couch started to ring a few minutes later. Barely audible, she recognized Meg’s ringtone. She had no recollection of moving, but suddenly she was at Mrs. Rickles’ window. The main stairway to the building stood between the two apartment doors, but she willed her vision to bend corners. When the familiar form finally came into view, she wanted to go to her, but instead, she only watched as Meg crossed the street, heedless of traffic.
Once Meg had disappeared from view, and Fiona somehow found her way back to her chair, any life in her heart had left. She was grateful Mrs. Rickles wasn’t a nosy woman.
“To use the lingo of you youngsters, it must suck to want something so much and be too afraid to go after it,” the old woman said simply, and then took a sip of her tea.
Fiona just nodded and sampled the tea she couldn’t taste. She ached to go to Meg but she was afraid of who she would see looking out from Meg’s eyes.
“For a long time, I thought I’d never eat another chocolate chip cookie,” Mrs. Rickles said.
Fiona shook her head to get out of her own thoughts. “Huh?”
“This diabetes is a real pain in the patootie,” the older woman said. “When you moved in and we started our lovely Sunday tea ritual, I thought I could at least bake them, enjoy the smell of them as they cooked, and think about the happiness you would have when you ate them. Then I found a recipe for diabetic-friendly carob chip cookies. It’s not the same, but now I can eat cookies with you. And they aren’t half bad.”
Fiona studied her cookie. “I had no idea these weren’t real chocolate chip cookies. They’re delicious.”
“Oh, the ones I bring you are the real thing. I only make a small batch for myself and bring one over for me when I come to call. I can tell the difference. But, if you want to continue enjoying your cookies, sometimes you have to work with the limitations life throws at you, sweetie.”
Fiona studied the cookie she held and thought about limitations.
80
Meg pressed the speed dial she’d restricted herself to calling only once a day. For the first few days after Fiona left Seattle, she’d called repeatedly hoping to wear Fiona down. But when she started to get the recording saying the voice mailbox was full, she realized how fruitless the calls were, and how much each of them took out of her. This call was no different and, once again, went to voice mail.
“It’s been a week, Fiona. Please call me. I miss you.”
Meg lowered the phone and was about to toss it onto the bed beside her when it rang in her hand. It was Fiona. Her hand shook as she pressed the button.
“Hello?” No answer. Her stomach was a knot. “Fiona? Are you there?” She waited for a moment. Hell, she’d wait until the call disconnected, no matter how long it took.
“Meg?”
Her name was said so quietly. Meg’s throat tightened at the sound of Fiona’s voice, small but real on the other end of the connection.
“Fiona, are you okay?” Meg’s voice wavered. Was Fiona sobbing? The sound tore at Meg’s heart. “Fiona. Please. I need to see you. Can I come over?” She stood and walked to her bedroom door, wanting to see her so badly. The pain she felt across the line sliced her open. “If I can’t come over, will you come here? Or maybe we can meet someplace?”
There was silence on the line and Meg had to look to make sure the call hadn’t failed… or been disconnected.
“Helga’s,” Fiona whispered.
Meg’s heart was beating so loudly and she was having a hard time breathing. “Oh God, Fiona. Thank you. When? Now?”
Fiona cleared her throat. “Yes. I’ll see you soon.”
&n
bsp; Meg stood where she was and stared numbly at the phone. She was about to see her. Fiona. The one thing for which she’d longed for over a week. It didn’t seem real. She had to make her legs move. All she could think about was seeing her. She didn’t remember leaving Vi’s apartment, or crossing the busy street. Suddenly, she was in the coffee shop looking at all the tables, scanning faces for the one she needed to see. Fiona wasn’t there. Not yet.
Taylor and Karma were at the table in the far corner looking at a laptop together. They both looked up and waved her over. She scanned the room once again, returning Noel’s wave, as she made sure Fiona wasn’t already there. Thankfully, Noel was waiting on a customer, so she didn’t need to make small talk with him. She approached Taylor and Karma, both of whom stood and gave her their enormous hugs.
“Hey, Meg! We haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. How are you?” Karma pushed her white hair behind her ear.
It was true. Meg hadn’t had the heart to visit the coffee shop since she’d returned. She didn’t know what to tell anyone if they asked about Fiona. “I’ve been out of town,” she said, forcing a smile and stretching the truth a little. She didn’t want to have to explain why she’d locked herself in her room since she’d come back from Seattle.
“Oh yeah. Seattle, right?” Taylor said. “Did you have a good time? Did your dad enjoy the statue?”
“It was a hit. I’m not sure he’d use the word ‘enjoy’, but he appreciated the craftmanship.” She tried not to be obvious about watching the door, which was hard since it was behind her.
“There she is,” Taylor said, nodding toward the door. She wore a knowing smile, but Meg didn’t have the heart to explain she didn’t know what she thought she knew.
She backed up toward the door. “It was great seeing you two.” She didn’t wait to hear their goodbyes.
Meg saw the longing and pain in Fiona’s eyes and she wondered what Fiona saw in hers. The same? Maybe with a little hurt and frustration.
“Excuse me?” a voice said through two inches of cracked open door.
Meg shook herself from her trance. They were blocking the doorway. She hurriedly moved aside and Fiona followed. When she looked back at Fiona, she was looking away. Meg wondered if she would ever see her beautiful eyes untouched by the memory of the last week again. Fiona didn’t try to hug her hello and Meg was unsure if she should try.
Fuck it. She reached for Fiona and held her. Fiona held her, too, tighter than usual. That was a good sign. But it was over too soon and Fiona stepped back.
“Hey,” Meg said.
Fiona’s hazel eyes studied her and the guarded look in them made Meg feel cold inside. She looked tired. Maybe it wasn’t distance in those pretty eyes. Maybe it was lack of sleep. God knew she hadn’t been sleeping very well herself.
“Hi.” Fiona looked around. “Should we get a table?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. How about on the patio? I know it’s hot, but there’s shade.” She wanted to say it was less crowded and less people would see her cry if she wasn’t able to keep all of her bound up emotions in check for much longer.
Noel approached and handed them each a cup of iced coffee. “Good to see you two are back in town. No time to talk. Gertie called in sick, so it’s me and Leo right now, and you know how that goes. I do all the work, he sits on his ass doing ‘inventory’.” Noel did air quotes as he backed up and then spun around to get back to the register. “At least Betty will be here in a few.”
He was gone before Meg could thank him for the coffee. She turned back to Fiona.
Fiona shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind. I ordered online while I walked up here.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
They walked past the line of customers waiting to be helped, and out onto the patio. Fiona walked over to the table the furthest from the door. They sat down. Meg sipped her drink, while Fiona fiddled with the straw in hers.
Meg cleared her throat, though she couldn’t think of anything to say. She had a universe full of unstructured questions and feelings whirling around inside of her, but she couldn’t seem to form a sentence.
“You and your brother have the same eyes,” Fiona said, her eyes riveted to the straw in her drink.
“Yes,” Meg traced the pattern on the top of the metal table top.
“I’m sorry I left,” Fiona said.
Meg sat forward in her chair. “I don’t blame you. I would have probably done the same thing. Did you listen to my messages? My family doesn’t think you’re trash. They aren’t judging you at all. Mike and I explained what happened. They get it. They really like you. They like Mike. Hell, they even like CJ again.” She hadn’t expected everything would be back to normal after she explained, but the lack of response was hard to take. The guarded look in Fiona’s eyes was killing her. She laid her hand on the table between them and almost said she loved her. But she stopped herself. Now was not the time. “Tell me what you need, Fiona. I… I’ll do whatever it takes to make us work again.”
“Meg…” Fiona put her hand over Meg’s hand.
Meg stared at their hands. Tears pooled in her eyes. She watched Fiona’s eyes fill, too, and a warm trickle ran down her cheek. Fiona slowly pulled her hand away and Meg had to fight from grabbing it.
“I don’t know what to do.” Fiona sat back in her chair.
“What are the options?” Meg’s stomach clenched, afraid of what Fiona might say.
Fiona stared into the middle distance. “All I know is I’ve been selfish, Meg.”
Meg scoffed. “You’re the least selfish person I know.”
Fiona tilted her head and watched her before she answered. “I was ready to steal your future and I barely even thought about it.” The look on Fiona’s face was almost one of disgust. Was it with her or herself? Meg didn’t like either option.
Meg was confused. “We haven’t even talked about our future. Besides, you can’t steal something I’m beyond happy to give freely.”
Fiona studied her fingernails. “I think there was a reason we never talked about our future, Meg.”
“I don’t think I follow you.”
“We never talked about the future because the possibilities don’t intersect.”
That was an interesting and incorrect assessment. “Are you trying to say we don’t have anything in common? It seems like we have a lot in common. In fact—”
Fiona stabbed her finger into the table top. “Meg, my future is pretty obvious. I’m having a baby. Once it’s here, my life will be chaos. I don’t know how it will affect my career or anything else. A baby takes over your life. Everything revolves around a baby. This is not what you signed on for. You have—”
Meg waved a hand in the air. She had to make Fiona see. “I’ve known almost from the start what I was getting into. I figure we can figure it out together.”
“How? You have a career starting up in Okanogan. I live here.”
Meg tried to understand what she was trying to say. “It sounds like you’ve made some decisions already. You and I haven’t even talked about the possibilities. Why are you so certain your life is here and mine is in Washington?”
Fiona looked at her like she didn’t believe what she just heard. “Because they are.”
“Things change, we can—”
Fiona shook her head. “I don’t want you changing your plans because my path forward has suddenly become narrower. I don’t want to be the reason why you disregard the future you’ve been dreaming of since you were a kid to try and fit into a future neither of us can even predict. It’s not fair to you.”
“Don’t I get a say in this? Don’t I get a chance to determine what’s fair for me?”
Fiona looked at her hands in her lap and it was a moment before she responded. When she looked up, her eyes looked cold and hard. “You’re right. You get to determine what you do in your life. I’m not
going to let you determine what I do with my life. Or my baby’s life. I need space to figure things out without having to worry about how it’s going to affect you, too. It’s too much for me to try and navigate your life in addition to mine and my baby’s.”
Meg felt like she’d been slapped. Anger rushed toward the surface and she had to remind herself Fiona was upset. This wasn’t like her. She sat forward. “Wait. Wait. That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not. But it’s what I meant.” Fiona blew out a breath and sat back. “I told you I was selfish.”
“Fiona. Please. We can figure something out.” Meg didn’t care if she was begging.
“I don’t see how we can,” Fiona whispered. She didn’t try to meet Meg’s eyes.
An ache began in Meg’s chest. Fiona needed some time. She could give it to her. “Fiona, let’s wait a little while before we make this decision. Okay?” She scooted her chair over and pulled one of Fiona’s hands into her lap. “I don’t want to lose you. Why don’t we give it some time? I can give you space in the meantime. You can let me know when you’re ready. But… let’s not end it, though. Okay? Because it sounds like you want to end it. Let’s just think things out a little more.”
She clutched Fiona’s hand and Fiona nodded her head. She sighed with relief. The tightness in her chest eased up a little. She could almost breathe again.
“Thank you. I won’t pressure you. I won’t call you. You decide the next step, okay?”
Fiona nodded again. Meg stood up. She didn’t want to leave, but there wasn’t anything else to say. She still held Fiona’s hand and Fiona stared at their entwined fingers. Fiona slowly leaned into Meg. The familiar smell of Fiona’s shampoo wafted up and she breathed it in. Meg stroked her hair and pushed her fingers through it. Fiona wrapped her arms around Meg’s waist.
Without a Net Page 35
