Lana seemed a little surprised to see me climb out of a limousine but didn’t say anything about it. It’d been over a year since we last saw each other in Paris, and I was happy that she looked so much better than she had at the end of her degree. Her color was back, and she looked healthy and happy. A tall redhead, she had always been something of a fashion plate, and a year in New York hadn’t changed that. We hugged for a long time, Lana exclaiming over my weight loss and long hair.
“Mostly it’s long out of laziness,” I said, following her inside past her doorman. “I kept meaning to get it cut, but you know how it is at the end of the PhD. Between the defense, graduation, and interning, I had no time at all.”
“Well, it looks fantastic. I mean, you can pull off short hair, which is lucky for you, but I think this longer style looks amazing on you.” Lana pushed the button for the elevator, and we stood there gazing at each other fondly as we waited.
“So how is MOMA?” I asked.
She sighed happily. “It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I mean, the money is shit. I think all museum money is shit, really, unless you’re the director or something. It certainly wouldn’t pay for my apartment if I didn’t live with Jess. But the work is incredible. The art is incredible. Even the artists I’ve met have been incredible, for the most part. I keep saying the word, but basically everything is incredible. I couldn’t be happier. If you have time this week, I’d happily take you on a private tour after hours.”
Her apartment was far larger than any I’d ever seen in New York, with floor-to-ceiling windows all along the far edge of the room. The view of Columbus Circle and Central Park was impressive, and I stood there for a moment watching the traffic as Lana prepared coffee. Unlike my other friends in New York, who were lucky to have room for a pullout couch, Lana had a guest bedroom. The luxury of all of this was striking after our hovel-like, hole-in-the-wall apartments in Paris. The difference now was that Jess, Lana’s partner, was a doctor, and between the two of them, they could afford a nice place. While I’d met Jess a few times while we were in graduate school, she had been interning and doing residency here in New York while Lana was in school in Paris, so the two had been forced to live separately the entire time Lana was studying there. Jess flew over as often as she could and vice versa, and the two of them generally hid from the world when she was visiting Paris. The stress of the degree and of being apart had taken a toll on Lana’s health. By the time of her dissertation defense last year, she’d looked skeletal, she was drinking far more than was healthy for anyone, and she had a dry, rasping cough that wouldn’t go away. Seeing her here in this beautiful place looking as good and healthy as she did now made me more hopeful about my own future.
Lana appeared a moment later with a French press and two mugs, setting them down on her coffee table. “Do you take cream or sugar? I feel like I used to know.”
“Neither, thanks.” I sat down across from her.
We sipped at the coffee quietly for a few moments before Lana said, “So tell me about this job. It’s some kind of art business? Must be a pretty impressive one if you’re jetting off to New York and riding around in limousines.”
Since she was working in exactly the field we’d been trained in, I could sense her dismissal of the work, even, perhaps, her disapproval, and this didn’t surprise me at all. I too had been somewhat dismissive of my job until I was actually doing it. I spent the next ten minutes explaining the work to her, doing my best to make it sound as impressive as it actually was. A born New Yorker, Lana, who was only vaguely familiar with the Winters Corporation, didn’t understand what the name meant and implied in New Orleans, and despite my enthusiasm and excitement, I was doing nothing to change her mind.
“But you’re basically in sales,” she said finally, “and an errand girl.”
“I mean, I guess technically, but it’s more than that, too.” I sounded unsure, even to myself.
She was still looking at me critically, but instead of getting angry, I found her disdain amusing. Seeing my expression she smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come off like such an ass. It’s just…” She shrugged.
“I know, I know. It’s not what I’ve trained for. I’m well aware of that. My Aunt Kate and everyone I know has basically made it clear that I’m wasting my talents.”
“When you first told me about it in your e-mail last month, it sounded like you meant for this job to be a stop-gap until you could get on at a university down there. I hear you talking now, and it sounds more and more like you want to do this as a career.”
I was surprised into silence and took a long time to reply. “I don’t think I’d say that, but I do love it. I’m surprised at how much I love it, in fact. My boss…”
“Tell me about her,” Lana said, watching me strangely. “You’ve mentioned her a few times. I take it she’s big shit down there?”
I paused again, blushing as I thought about Amelia. While I desperately tried to think up a way to cover my embarrassment, I noticed Lana watching me, eyebrows raised. “Wait a minute,” she said. She set her coffee down on the table and looked at me closely. “What’s this? Do I detect something here? Is something going on between you two?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I was looking anywhere but at her.
She laughed. “Sure you don’t.”
The blush on my face grew hotter and darker, and I had no immediate response to what she’d just said. The truth was, I’d been thinking about talking to Lana about Amelia since I’d had the idea of staying with her. Now as I thought of it, I realized what I’d been hiding even from myself: discussing Amelia was one of the main reasons I’d wanted to see Lana. I’d felt strange the last few weeks with no one to talk to about all of the feelings I was having. While Meghan was trying to be understanding, I still felt awkward bringing Amelia into conversation with her in part because of her clear antagonism toward Amelia. Lana didn’t know Amelia, and she was the only lesbian I had even been close with. I knew she could help me figure things out. Still, that didn’t make bringing up Amelia with her any easier. Now, put on the spot, I realized Amelia was the last thing I wanted to discuss.
As I tried to make myself broach the topic, I saw Lana’s face split into a wide, knowing grin as she watched my struggle. She’d always read me better than almost anyone I knew, with or without words.
I started to sputter some excuse, too embarrassed now to say anything. However, before I could speak a single word, the door to the apartment opened and Lana’s partner Jess came in, still dressed in her scrubs. An attending at Columbia Medical, she was in every way impressive and intimidating. Tall and muscular with a no-nonsense short haircut and a square, masculine face, she filled any room she entered with a strong sense of confidence and authority. Lana sprang to her feet and raced over to her, the two of them embracing and then kissing, deep and long. My face heated up again, and I looked away, trying to give them a moment of privacy as they briefly caught up.
“So nice to see you again, Chloé,” Jess told me as she shook my hand. “You’re looking well.”
“We were just talking about her new boss,” Lana said, grinning at me. I threw her a warning glare and she winked.
“That’s right,” Jess said. “Lana told me you were here on business. Some kind of art sales or something?”
“Something like that.” I didn’t want to explain myself again.
Jess looked sympathetic. “Well, I’m sorry you have to do that kind of work. I know it’s hard to get a place in a museum or university in your field. I hope you’re making a lot of money, at least.”
Lana pushed at her playfully. “Don’t put her on the spot, Jess.” Turning to me, she asked, “Do you want to freshen up before we go out to eat? I know Jess needs a few minutes.”
Glancing down at my ratty clothes, I excused myself and heard them murmur happily together as I closed the door to my bedroom behind me. Third wheel again, I thought to myself, a jolt of true envy spiking through my stomach.
*
“I hope you don’t mind,” Lana said once we were seated at the restaurant.
I looked over at her and frowned, not following her drift. “What do you mean?”
She looked amused.
“She’s being a vague little pest, like usual.” Jess grabbed Lana’s hand and squeezed it playfully. “She means because this is a lesbian restaurant.”
I glanced around us, trying to appear casual. There were absolutely no men in the room, including the servers and hosts. To hide my nervous excitement at being surrounded by lesbians, I turned sarcastic. “Amazing that there could be enough of ‘you people’ in New York City to warrant your own restaurant.” I put my fingers up in scare quotes as I said “you people” to indicate that I was, if feebly, joking.
Jess laughed and Lana stuck out her tongue.
“Of course I don’t mind,” I told Jess. “Why would I?”
“I took Chloé to places like this all over Paris,” Lana explained.
“Without me?” Jess said, pretending to be jealous.
“Oh, you know me, baby,” Lana said, her voice low and conspiratorial. “I still like to look even when I know I can’t touch.”
Jess blushed and looked down at her menu to cover up her embarrassment. This was apparently the way the two of them flirted in public.
“There’s dancing upstairs,” Lana added, turning back to me. “I thought maybe we could pop up there after we eat.”
“That’s not really fair to Chloé, is it?” Jess asked. “What will she do while we’re dancing?”
“Oh, don’t worry about her. I dragged her dancing with the ladies plenty of times in Paris. She claims to hate it, but I know she loves moving that tight little ass around as much as the next girl. And she’s always getting hit on, no matter where we go. Men, women—Chloé reels them in like fishes.”
“It’s fine, really,” I told Jess. “I want you guys to have a good time too.”
Jess looked a little skeptical but let it drop. We spent the next few minutes catching up, Jess and I trying to get to know one another a little better. She and Lana met during their undergrad years at Yale, and Jess had grown up near there in Eastern Connecticut. She was, to my Southern eyes, the prototypical New England Yankee: stern, quiet, and reserved. If it weren’t for her masculine haircut and her trim physique, she would have made the perfect WASP.
When Jess excused herself to the restroom, several women in the restaurant watched her move across the room, their eyes seeming to eat up every inch of her. I could, in theory, see Jess’s appeal. Tall and commanding, she had a certain kind of presence and obvious physical strength that was attractive, but I was starting to recognize that my own taste in women was something softer. The idea that I had a type of woman was, in its own way, as much of an admission of my true feelings for Amelia as anything else, and I tried as hard as I could to ignore that idea for the time being.
“So tell me about this Amelia,” Lana said, as if reading my mind. “It’s obvious she’s got you thinking things.”
My initial defiance quickly died out when I met Lana’s gaze. “I want to talk about it, Lana, but I just don’t know how I feel.”
“But you’re attracted to her.”
“Something like that.” I paused to think. “The thing is, I don’t think I could go further than that. I mean, I don’t know if I’m, you know, attracted to her so much as I find her attractive. Does that make sense?”
Lana shook her head and I laughed.
“I know it sounds vague, but that’s where I’m at right now. Being attracted to someone means something more than finding them interesting and appealing, or even good-looking. I like being around her. I think she’s gorgeous. But doing more than that?” I shook my head. “I just don’t know if I could.”
Lana shrugged. “Why don’t you try it and find out? You never know.”
“You never know what?” Jess asked, sitting down.
I threw Lana a look, and she winked at me. “Nothing,” Lana said. “Girl stuff.”
Not wanting to talk about myself anymore, and while I’d heard the story a few times before, as we ate I goaded them into telling me the story of how they met and fell in love, feeling a sense of longing suffuse me like never before as they played off one another during the telling. Something of my feelings must have shown in my eyes as, once they’d finished the story, Jess laughed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to shrug off the sinking feeling in my stomach. “It just gives us singletons hope to hear that it can happen like that. Almost like magic. Pieces falling into place to bring two people together and all that.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and looked at each other happily. Lana turned to me. “We were going to tell you this later, but we have some big news.”
“Oh?” I’d already expected something like this from the way they’d been mooning over each other all night.
“We haven’t told anyone, so you’re the first to know that we’re engaged,” Jess explained, her voice brimming with satisfaction.
We all stood up and embraced, and Lana shrieked happily as she showed off a ring I somehow hadn’t noticed earlier. Other patrons clapped for them once it was clear what we were talking about, and the manager sent over a bottle of champagne. I toasted to their success and watched the two of them greet a few friends and acquaintances, sharing the news with them at the same time.
While I was happy for them, I couldn’t seem to shake my almost overwhelming envy, something I recognized in myself with a deep sense of shame. Most of the time when I found out a couple was moving on to the next step, I was simply happy for them. This, however, felt different somehow, more poignantly personal. I had, after all, known Lana for years, I told myself. It seemed like she would be going away for good now. In an effort to cover up my mounting dismay, I emptied my glass of champagne and took another one, drinking both as quickly as I could. If anything, though, the alcohol made my sense of defeat seem deeper, bleaker.
Lana and Jess invited three of their friends to join us at our table, and I found myself sitting next to Gia, a pretty Italian woman who was apparently unattached to the other two women who joined us. We all introduced ourselves, and Lana and Jess explained how the five of them knew each other. Throughout the story, I sensed Gia watching me. I looked over at her a couple of times only to find her still staring at me. The wine was beginning to help me loosen up, and I finally met her gaze dead-on, boldly challenging her to look away first. When she didn’t, I saw one corner of her mouth lift up in a slight smirk, as if she were daring me to make the first move.
I decided to take the bait, but I wanted to appear casual at the same time. I moved closer to her so it would be harder for the others to hear us. “Is something wrong with my face? Do I have cranberry on me or something?”
“On the contrary. Your face is perfect. Perhaps one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” Her trilling, purring accent lifted her words beautifully, musically.
Despite being emboldened by wine, I found the flattery a bit much for me and felt myself color to the roots of my hair. Gia laughed, moving back a little. “I’m sorry. I’ve been told I come on too strong. It’s the Italian in me. But I do, as they say, tell it like it is.”
I tried to come up with a response, but my head was a little too foggy from the wine. Gia moved even closer than before, her lips almost on my ear. “Would you like to get out of here?” she whispered.
Taken aback, I almost jumped back, staring at her in shock.
Gia laughed aloud. “I mean, do you want to go upstairs? For dancing?” She made a little gesture with her fingers to represent legs moving.
Nodding dumbly, I got to my feet, picking up my purse and jacket.
“Where are you two headed?” Lana asked, her expression knowing and roguish.
Gia grabbed my hand. “I’m taking the good doctor here for a spin.”
The way she used my title reminded me suddenly of Amelia, and a stab of guilt pierced my muffled, slightly intoxicated brain. I was, however, drunk enough to try to ignore it and let myself be pulled away. Gia grinned in happy triumph as I moved closer to her, clasping her hand.
Jess looked completely floored to see us leave together, but Lana laughed, throwing her head back. “We’ll be up there in a little while. Have fun, you two.”
It was all I could do to keep up with the smaller woman as she pulled me behind her and up the two flights of stairs to the dance floor. We checked my bag and coat and walked into a dark room throbbing with pulsing bass. Gia pulled me into the center of the floor that, at this early hour, was still relatively uncrowded. Putting her hands on my lower back, she pulled me in close, rocking my hips into hers. I let her lead me and started to relax into her body a little as time passed. Somewhat shorter than I, she looked up at me, the room far too loud for talking, which was probably good as I would likely have been slurring my words. When I’d stood up I’d realized how drunk I’d allowed myself to get. The liquor helped in other ways, however, and the longer we danced, the more I enjoyed the sensation of her body against mine.
I closed my eyes for a while, letting her rock me slowly around the room, her hands growing a little bolder now and again, tracing up and down my back and finally groping my ass. I sighed into her hair, a slow heat building between my legs. Opening my eyes to look at her, I saw that Lana, Jess, and their friends had joined us on the dance floor, and Lana and Jess were watching us, clearly amused. I rolled my eyes at them and then looked back at Gia, a little dazed.
She stopped rocking us. Then, standing on her toes to get close to my ear, she said, just loud enough for me to hear, “I meant what I asked earlier. Do you want to get out of here with me? My apartment isn’t far.”
Too stunned to reply, I stood there, gaping at her long enough that she laughed. “I think you want to, Chloé, but perhaps we should take another spin around the room first while you decide?”
Before I could reply, I caught a quick movement out of the corner of my eye and, turning my head toward it, thought I caught the tail end of someone I recognized leaving the room. Puzzled, I stepped out of Gia’s arms, trying to piece my drunken thoughts together in a semblance of order. Who could it be? I wondered, my brain fuzzy. A few seconds passed between the memory of the person I’d just glimpsed and recognition. My stomach dropped and a cascading sense of terror suffused my every vein.
It was Amelia.
Not bothering to explain myself, I dashed from the room, actually running to catch up with her. At the top of the stairs, I could see her disappearing around the bend and started running again, nearly tripping down the second flight.
I caught up with her just outside the doors to the restaurant. She was hailing a taxi, but I managed to catch her attention before she succeeded in getting one. She turned toward me, clearly waiting for me to say something. I was panting from the run, and now that I’d caught her, I had nothing concrete to say. What had I planned to do? The answer was somehow missing from my brain. Instead, I just stared at her, the terror from my earlier recognition of her upstairs still palpably present and crushing.
“Doctor,” she finally said, nodding curtly.
“Listen, Amelia—”
“I see you and your friend had some catching up to do.” Her voice had a puzzlingly cold quality to it I couldn’t pinpoint. She refused to meet my eyes.
“No, you see, we met up with some people here. And Gia, that is, the woman I was with upstairs, I mean, we’re not…” I cursed myself for not being able to make myself clear.
Amelia turned her back to me and waved again at the passing cabs, this time with success. “It doesn’t matter who she was, Doctor. Not to me. You’re free, of course, to do what you please on your own time.”
I finally recognized her tone as pained and disappointed. I could also tell that she meant anything but what she was saying, and before she climbed into the cab, I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears.
“Wait,” I said desperately, grabbing the door before she closed it, “let me explain.”
“There’s no need,” she said coldly. I heard her voice catch on a sob and then she continued. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Out of energy, I let the door close and stood there stiffly, despondent as she rode away. After a long time, I turned to find Gia, Lana, and Jess standing in the doorway to the restaurant. They’d obviously witnessed what had just transpired. Gia was livid and, after excusing herself to Lana and Jess, stormed off down the street. We watched her go, and I took the moment to try to calm myself. Unable to delay the inevitable any more, I finally walked closer to the Jess and Lana. Jess squeezed my shoulder, once, and then walked back inside, understanding that I needed time alone with my friend.
Once she was gone, I found Lana was looking at me sympathetically. “Your first lesbian drama.” She patted my arm. “And it was classic. You had one woman in tears and another storming off. You’re already a pro.”
Laughing despite myself, I pushed at her arm. “Fuck you.” Tears sprang to my eyes and, seeing them, she pulled me in close for a hug.
“So that’s the famous Amelia Winters,” she finally said.
“Yes.” I wiped my eyes. “And I think I just blew it.”
“You didn’t blow it, Chloé. You were dancing with another woman. No big deal. If she’s a grownup, she’ll get over it. If anything, you just made something clear. She’s obviously crazy about you.” She paused and, looking me in the eyes, said, “And you made it obvious how you feel about her, at least to me. It’s obvious that you care about her a lot.”
I nodded, and my acceptance, the recognition of my true feelings, crashed over me in a panicky wave. Suddenly I was sobbing, and Lana led me over to a bus stop bench and held my shoulders as I cried.
After I’d settled down a little, Lana and I sat on the bench and she continued to rub my back. I was holding a soggy, snot-soaked tissue in my hands, twisting it nervously. I desperately wanted to talk with Lana about my feelings for Amelia, but I didn’t know how to begin. I also felt like saying it out loud would make it real, like there would be no coming back from any announcement I made.
As if sensing my dilemma, Lana said, “Did I ever tell you about Tracy Parker?”
I shook my head, still staring at my disgusting tissue.
“Tracy Parker was my first major crush. I mean, I had crushes like all kids on my teachers and TV stars, but Tracy was the real deal. I couldn’t think about anything else. Just seeing her would make my heart race, and I’d get these cold flop sweats, you know?”
I squeezed her hands in mine, still unable to speak.
“I couldn’t sleep, I could barely eat. I was a mess.” She paused for a moment, and, glancing at her, I saw the ghost of a sad smile on her face.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I started leaving her little gifts taped to her locker. You know—kid’s stuff. A velvet rose. A chocolate bar. A really bad poem.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixth grade.” She paused again, and I saw something like pain pass across her face. “Anyway, to no one’s surprise but my own, I eventually creeped her out. I got sent to the principal’s office and my mom was called in to talk with me and the school therapist.”
“What did your mom say?”
“She was quiet the whole time. We both were. The therapist did all the talking. He told her that it was just a phase, that a lot of girls go through a little lesbian thing when they hit puberty, and not to worry about it. I’d be fine and grow up normal. He also told us that I needed to understand that it wasn’t right to try and force myself on anyone else, and he suggested that I started seeing a therapist outside of school to help straighten me out.”
“Asshole.”
She agreed, and I could tell from her expression that the experience still hurt her.
“Did your mom talk to you afterward?”
She turned toward me, and I saw that her eyes were glimmering with tears. “You’re damn right she did. The moment we were outside of the school, I could tell that she was livid with rage. I’d never seen her so upset. At first I thought she was mad at me, but when we finally got on the subway to go home, she gave me this big hug and told me not to listen to him. She said that my feelings were natural and real and not a phase, and that she’d support me no matter who I decided I wanted to fall in love with.”
My own eyes were stinging now, and I waited for her to go on.
“It’s important, you see, to have someone that has your back when you’re coming out. I mean, I’ve known a lot of people, men and women, who had to do it on their own, and it was the pits. But you’re not alone, okay? You can tell me anything, ask me anything. Or not—it’s up to you. But I’m here for you, okay?”
We embraced, and I started sobbing again, so grateful and relieved that one person, at least, knew my secret. We stayed there for a long time, long after the bars released their patrons, and long after the traffic had nearly died out. Jess joined us after a while, carrying my purse and jacket. She sat down without a word, quietly listening to me and Lana talk and talk about Amelia.
Finally worn out, I went with Lana and Jess back to their place, where I fell into a restless, anxious sleep plagued with nightmares that kept me up for hours.