A few days later Merritt walked through the peaceful neighborhoods between Hellenic Hardware and the Mirage trying to quiet her heart as well . The door to the bar was propped open, and the late-summer light showed the rips in the upholstery. Ordinarily, Merritt didn’t like this kind of decor: Red vinyl masquerading as leather. Corona piñatas. Rainbow-flag Montucky Cold Snack posters. But the Mirage had that run-down imperfection that made it even lovelier than the Pearl District bars.
Iliana and Lei-Ling were already there.
“I get to bring my dumpling truck on King and Crown.” Lei-Ling practically bounced out of her seat. The Mirage’s fraying Naugahyde had never felt such enthusiasm. “Avery called me. We’re going to be on TV with Avery and Alistair.”
It was an odd thought. There would be a whole season of Merritt and Avery trapesing around, pretending to stumble on interesting food carts. TKO would play rerun marathons for years after Avery left her life a second time.
Lei-Ling rested her chin on her knuckles, a perfect little angel. “They’re so nice. They’re just like they are on TV.”
If only she knew.
“Maybe they’ll come to the restaurant too. That’d be so good for Mom and Dad.”
“I’m sure we can arrange it.” Merritt was sure. As they had left the restaurant the night before, Avery had whispered, Of course I’ll get your friend on the show. Anything for you. Then Avery talked to Greg and it was settled. If Lei-Ling wanted Avery and Alistair trying clams at the Gold Lucky Fortune, Avery would arrange that too…just because Merritt asked and because Avery was kind.
“I’ll miss them when they go,” Lei-Ling went on. “They’re only going to be in Portland for a few days. Then they’ll be gone forever.”
The bartender, Vita, ambled over, bracelets jangling on her wrists, her whole body encased in leopard print.
“Hello, my beauties.” Vita squatted down on her heels, resting her arms on the table, a pose that was probably meant to convey camaraderie but that looked vaguely predatory. “Merritt Lessing, you’re glowing.”
“She’s on King and Crown,” Lei-Ling said. “She’s going to be a star.”
“Hmm,” Vita said. “No. It’s not a job. I’d say it’s a woman.”
Merritt thought of the tension that hung between her and Avery. Every word they spoke seemed to be hinting at something else. It was all she could do to tear herself away at the end of each day.
“I’d say the inimitable Merritt Lessing is in love.” Vita waited a beat. “That will save me a lot of time.”
“I’m not,” Merritt said. “How will that save you time?”
“I won’t have to warn women off her,” Vita said to Iliana and Lei-Ling. “I won’t have to listen to them cry in their beers when she leaves.”
“I don’t leave,” Merritt protested. “Why doesn’t anyone notice that it’s me who gets dumped?”
“Well,” Vita said, as though this were a point she was qualified to debate. “They tell me about you. A heart of stone. Maybe this girl will get lucky. I doubt it.”
“Meri’s in love?!” Lei-Ling squealed.
“No,” Merritt said. “Not…no. Just no.”
“I’m a bartender. I know,” Vita said. “I can see a bar fight start before the first punch. I can see a hookup before they even walk through the door. Don’t think I don’t know you, Merritt Lessing. I know everyone.”
“Then why aren’t you in love?” Merritt said.
“True enough.” Vita rose and tapped the table. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” She strutted off.
“Can you imagine the woman who could date Vita?” Iliana asked when the bartender was back behind her bar.
“Meri, Meri, Meri, who is it?” Lei-Ling asked.
“Vita is crazy,” Merritt said. “Do you see me with a girl?”
Merritt looked around. This was the Mirage. Right now there was a twenty-five-year-old gender-queer grad student with a savior complex who wanted to rescue Merritt and who would eventually dump her over Twitter. Merritt knew that story. She could play her part. It was like filming scenes from King & Crown, the same event looping around and around.
The conversation shifted to the end-of-summer Nostalgia-rom, which Lei-Ling thought was the most super-fun idea ever! and which Iliana agreed was a liability nightmare.
“And you can bring your girl,” Lei-Ling exclaimed.
“There is no girl.”
A few minutes later, Lei-Ling left to chat with some friends on the other side of the bar.
Iliana leaned forward. “It’s Avery.” It wasn’t a question.
“She’s a good person.” Merritt sat back in the booth with a deep breath. “She didn’t have anything to do with the Elysium.”
“I told you that.”
“I made the right choice.” Merritt leaned her head against the fake leather behind her. “You’d be proud of me. I’ve been emotionally intelligent.”
“About time,” Iliana said.
Merritt had told Iliana about Avery’s bike crash and her meeting with Venner. She hadn’t told her about easing Avery into the bathtub and stroking her hair. She hadn’t told her how her own body had cried out in protest as she’d pulled away from Avery’s kiss.
“She came onto me,” she said.
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
“I said no. I’m not going to have a fling with her. I’m not going to sleep with her. I decided. I made one of those life-affirming emotional choices you’re always going on about.”
“No!” Iliana exclaimed, her blond braid swinging as though it, too, was appalled. “That’s not the life-affirming emotional choice. The life-affirming emotional choice is to open yourself to possibilities. It’s to believe in the bounty of the universe, to look around at happiness in others and know that there’s enough for you. You can light a thousand candles off the flame of happiness and happiness is not diminished.”
“She wants to sleep with me for five weeks. More like four now. And then she’ll leave me. What part of that is emotionally intelligent?”
“You have to try. When I met Lei-Ling—”
Merritt cut her off. “Lei-Ling is out. Lei-Ling’s family adores you. You both live in Portland, and her dream is to run a food truck. Avery is closeted. She works in a different city every few months. She doesn’t even own a house.”
Merritt glanced around the bar. It would be lovely to be there with Avery in the dark comfort of a good old-fashioned lesbian bar. Of course, it was Portland; a lesbian couple could kiss on a street corner. But there was something about the wear and tear on the Mirage. It had been here before every man in Portland had a man bun. It would be there no matter what happened in politics and in the world. And Avery couldn’t come here. She had signature hair.
“I like her,” Merritt said, defeated. “Do I have to spell it out? If I let her in, she’s going to break my heart.”