Carla ran the towel through her hair one last time before she finger-combed it in front of the bathroom mirror. The shower had felt wonderful after the long, hot day, most of which she’d spent in the sun with Erica and her boys. It was late, and though she’d arrived at Janice’s exhausted, she now felt refreshed and for some reason seemed to have the elusive energy that had been evading her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to settle down to sleep anytime soon.
She finished with her hair and rolled her two favorite colognes on her wrists and neck. Their scents were both unisex and meant to be worn alone. But she’d found, by accidentally applying one over the other one crazy morning getting ready for work, that she liked them best combined.
Why am I putting them on now when I’ll be going to bed soon?
She studied her reflection, curious at both the newly present energy and her choice to put on the cologne. Any answers, however, were quickly ignored as she focused on her gray cotton shorts and matching soft gray bra. They were a sleep set she’d bought at a popular lingerie store, and she wore them every night. But given her circumstances at Maurine’s, where anyone could walk in at any moment, she’d thought it best to wear a T-shirt over the bra. Now, with Janice, she did the same, but she wasn’t happy with the way it looked. She picked at it, then fingered her hair again and then caught herself and sighed.
Why am I so worried about how I look?
And, for that matter, how good I smell when I’ve just stepped out of the shower?
The reason, she was reluctant to admit, was probably still sitting in the living room where she’d left her and probably still looking girl-next-door gorgeous in a worn, paint-stained pair of blue jeans and a body-hugging T-shirt.
Yes, she’d noticed. She’d always thought Janice beautiful, so that wasn’t anything new. But that had been before, when she’d seen Janice through a filter, like a thick screen on a window. A screen that long-time family friendship had erected, a screen she’d never been aware was even there. That screen had kept her from seeing the details, the layers, and the depth of this woman.
Now that filter was dissipating, and with every blink of her eyes, she was seeing more and more. And what she was seeing was leaving her mesmerized.
Her jaded attitude toward love and relationships didn’t seem to be stopping her. Nor did the very real possibility that Janice was straight, like she’d always known her to be, thereby dampening any notions that she was somehow suddenly feeling otherwise for Carla.
All she could think about was the way Janice had looked at her in the church. Under the tree. And tonight, on the porch. There was something there. Something different. Something more.
Maybe Janice was seeing her differently now too.
Oh God, what a thought.
She killed the light, needing to move, to walk, to go. She padded into the living room intending to tell Janice good night so she could go to bed and feign an attempt to read until her eyes could no longer remain open. But that idea went right out the window when she entered from the hallway.
Janice was curled up on the end of the couch in the dim lamplight, holding a glass of red wine. Another full glass sat on the coffee table next to a plate of cheese and crackers.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she said. Her thick auburn hair was down around her shoulders, rather than in the ponytail she’d sported earlier, and her eyes, which were a crisp blue-green, reflected in the light. Despite their cool, crisp color, however, they seemed to be giving off waves of heat, like the waves of heat she often saw as a distant blur on a long stretch of road in the Arizona summer.
“It’s probably been ages since you’ve last eaten.” She gave her a soft smile, and though Carla recognized her gentle, genuine concern, she was too caught up in looking at her through the new filterless window to pay attention to anything else.
Her features were fine and delicate-looking, making Carla want to lightly touch her face, to run her fingertips along her beautiful brow and high cheekbones, and then down to her lovely rose-colored lips. How would she react to her touch? Would she close her eyes? Would she sigh, completely overcome? Would she open her eyes and part her lips, longing for her kiss?
“Or maybe just some wine?” She stood and held up the other glass from the coffee table.
Carla nearly backstepped, so slammed with sudden desire she couldn’t respond to her.
Janice, too, had also changed into sleepwear, most notably a tight-fitting, virtually see-through tank top. And somewhere below that, were a patterned pair of sleep pants.
She forced herself to stare at her forehead, for nowhere else was safe. Not her fiery eyes or her beautiful face. She just focused on her forehead and tried not to think about the visible weight and fullness of her breasts or the hint of pink from their circular centers.
It has been way too long since I’ve seen a nude woman.
She let that excuse bounce around her mind for a few moments, hoping it would suffice and explain why she’d just about been knocked off her feet. It really had been a long while since she’d been with a woman. But was that really the only reason why she was reacting so strongly? Or was there something more? Like maybe Janice herself?
“Carla?”
She snapped back to reality and tried to recover with a quick smile as she took the offered glass. She sat on the love seat perpendicular to the couch and took a few swallows.
“Mm, thank you,” she said. She helped herself to a cracker with cheese. Janice sat on the end of the couch closest to her and watched her eat.
Carla avoided eye contact, wondering why Janice would wear something so provocative. Surely, she wouldn’t have worn something like that to tantalize her, would she? She’d told Janice she wasn’t dating, so she knew she was probably lonely, and more than likely sex-starved, right? But even if Janice was attracted to her, her wearing something as revealing as that seemed a little forward and risqué for her. She knew Janice to be quiet, more reserved, more of a romantic. Maurine was always the wild one.
“So, you like my sets?” Janice asked.
Oh, hell yes.
Wait.
What?
Carla coughed, having swallowed her wine wrong as she realized Janice was asking about something other than her breasts.
“Sorry?”
“The chess sets.”
“Oh, yes. Very much.” She gulped her wine like she was dying of thirst. She nearly finished the glass.
“I’ll go get us some more.” Janice headed into the kitchen.
Calm down. You aren’t exactly sure what’s happening or why she’s wearing what she’s wearing. It’s not a good time to assume anything.
Janice smiled when she returned and poured Carla another glassful. She left the bottle open to breathe and sat and crossed her legs. She sipped her wine and Carla took several more swallows from her own glass and took in the quaint and cozy living room. The colors were deep red and gold, and they were shown off nicely with throw pillows, artwork, and various other items throughout the room. It was tasteful and both warm and welcoming.
A lot like Janice herself was.
Warm. Janice is warm. I’m warm. Yes, I’m feeling warm.
She didn’t drink often, and she’d forgotten what a lightweight she was. Nevertheless, the warmth was leading to relaxation and that felt good. Especially after the week she’d had.
“I like this house better,” Carla said, recalling the one Janice had shared with her ex-husband, Chuck. It had been larger and more modern, but this one had Janice’s influence. Janice’s touch. “It’s more you.”
“Thanks, I like it, too.”
“I can tell,” Carla said. “It’s nice, seeing you so content.”
“Thank you,” she said, obviously touched. “I am quite happy now.”
Why is that, I wonder.
She drank more wine. “You know, a lot of women would probably be depressed after what you went through with the divorce and then being on your own and everything. But you don’t seem to have gone that route.”
“No, I didn’t. And you don’t seem as though you have either.”
Carla felt the sting at the reference to her relationship and Janice must’ve seen it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just…I was never depressed because I was too hurt and too angry. And once those feelings passed, I think I was just so relieved that they were gone and so relieved that she was gone and that the whole thing was over that I just moved right on. I just focused on my life and on my future.”
“She…cheated?”
Carla looked at her. “I thought you knew.”
“Maurine said your relationship had ended. She didn’t say more, and I didn’t press.”
“She probably didn’t know yet herself. I didn’t tell her the entire story until everything was over and Megan was gone for good. That, unfortunately, took some time. We were tied together in some financial aspects and with our home. And, she, for a time, tried to convince me to give her another chance. But I wasn’t interested, even if she really did regret her affair and was willing to change. I decided then that I’m done with love.”
“Done with love?” She shifted as if uncomfortable. “That sounds a little extreme.”
“It’s where I am. To think about falling that deeply again for someone scares me.”
“It could happen though,” Janice said. “You’ve considered that, right? That your feelings may change. If you met someone…who…someone special.”
Carla stared into her wine as her mind tried to explore the reasons Janice might have in asking her these questions. But her need to shield herself overshadowed her curiosity into Janice’s possible motives.
“I’m not saying it can’t happen, I just—I’m not sure how I would handle it if it did. Love and relationships… Let’s just say I’m not holding out any hope where those two things are concerned.” She sighed.
“I understand. You’ve been through a lot. It must’ve been really hard.”
Carla laughed a little, feeling the wine full on now. “Not any harder than it was for you, I’m sure. We both got the shit end of that stick it seems.”
“I wasn’t hurt, though. Not like you.”
“But he…had an affair, didn’t he?”
She turned her glass on the armrest and seemed to be lost in the way the wine moved inside it.
“Yes, but I wasn’t in love with him like I should’ve been. I didn’t…yearn for him in that way.”
It took Carla a second to understand what she was trying to say. “You two always seemed so happy. So good together. You were so easy around each other.”
“We were. I think that was only because we were such good friends,” she said. “Best friends. And I miss him. I miss his friendship and the comfort of knowing he’s there. He’s a wonderful man, as you know. Very kind and good-natured and all, but there just wasn’t that…”
“Desire.”
“Yes.”
“Was there ever?”
Janice met her gaze. “No. But I didn’t know that then, didn’t understand that what I felt for him wasn’t enough. I loved him and he loved me. I thought it was that simple. I thought that’s how it was.”
“But you knew what desire was. What lust was. Didn’t you?”
“I knew about those things, sure. I just didn’t feel them. So, I thought that stuff must be for the romantics and the poets.” She seemed reflective as she turned her glass. “Maybe that’s why I love literature so much. For the romance of it all. That’s what I really want, but for some reason haven’t ever had.”
“Why do you think that is?” Carla asked softly.
She half shrugged.
“I was different.”
Janice drank, taking two large sips. Was she nervous about the conversation?
Carla could sense her anxiousness, but she couldn’t let it go. She now wanted, more than anything, to know everything. Who was this woman who’d been hiding right underneath her all these years?
“How are you different, Janice?”
“I was different because I didn’t feel those things.”
“Have you ever?”
She visibly swallowed. “Not then, no.”
“But you do now?” The question came out on a whisper and she was so desperate for her response, she thought she might fall off the edge of her seat from the anticipation.
“I—am aware of those feelings now. I know they are possible.”
“How do you know?” Carla finished her wine.
“Because something happened. Something that caused me to take a look at myself.”
Carla could feel her blood pounding in her ears. “What was it?”
She looked into Carla with a heat that pressed into her skin, teasing and caressing it, like the hot hand of a lover.
“What does it matter?”
“It matters,” Carla said. “You matter.”
“More wine?” she asked, suddenly rising from the couch. Her glass was nearly empty, and she was offering to take Carla’s.
Carla hesitated, completely startled but wanting to do anything to keep her talking. She handed her her glass.
“Please.”
Janice started to walk away toward the kitchen.
“Janice?”
“Yes?”
“The wine is…here, remember?” She motioned toward the bottle on the table.
“Oh.” She laughed and returned to her seat. “Maybe I’ve had more than I thought.”
Or maybe it was our topic of discussion.
Janice refilled their glasses and they both sat back and drank.
Carla drank a little more and tried to come up with a way to get her to answer her question, but she was growing more and more tired. The wine was working wonders on her mind and her muscles and she worried she might melt into the couch. She also worried that Janice would be able to tell what she was thinking because she was unabashedly taking her in now, studying every part of her body, openly admiring the lingering athleticism of her physique. For a woman who’d given up gymnastics decades ago, she still looked firm and toned, especially in her arms and shoulders. Carla had always told her how much she admired her throughout the years, even encouraging her to build her body and compete in fitness. But Janice hadn’t been interested, and most of the time she’d tried to downplay her looks. As Carla thought back, she recalled how she’d even blushed at her compliments. Had it been because she really was incredibly modest, or had it been because it had been her who was saying it?
Looking at her in that tank top, it was very obvious that she was embracing her looks now. She looked even more defined than she had been the last time she’d seen her. Maybe she was putting some time in on the weights after all. Whatever the case may be, she looked good. Better than good. She looked ravishing. Carla couldn’t tear her eyes away from her and, thanks to the wine, which had drowned almost all of her inhibitions, she realized she’d never wanted to be a tank top so badly in her life.
Janice was about to take another sip of her wine when she caught Carla looking at her.
“I’m staring,” Carla said suddenly. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but she was so hypnotized by her mouth and those tempting lips, she couldn’t help but want to witness the wine staining them red as she drank. “Forgive me,” she said, knowing she sounded crazy. “I need to sleep.” Fatigue flooded her, and all she could think about were the dangerous flash floods that wreaked havoc in Arizona during monsoon season. She felt helpless, like a person who’d been caught in one by surprise. She was being overtaken, soon to be swept away.
Her eyes rolled as she fought to stay awake. “I’m so tired.”
Janice was speaking to her, but she sounded so far away. She tried to reach for her, but her arm felt too heavy to move. Still, she could see her. Each time she was able to focus, she could see her and could even when she eventually closed her eyes for good.
“I see you, Janice,” she said. “I see you.”