Chapter Ten

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you didn’t tell me!” Ellie lifted her hand from Salma’s round belly and grinned at the delight on her face.

Ahmad shifted closer to be heard over the din of the restaurant, his broad shoulders straining his crisp gray shirt. “I’m sorry. We hadn’t cleared three months yet when you left for TTC, and when I realized I’d forgotten to text you the news—”

“We thought it’d be a fun surprise!” Salma laughed and squeezed her husband’s forearm.

“I’m so happy for you both. I know how long you’ve been hoping for this.” Ellie rubbed the corner of Salma’s pale-blue hijab, stitched with delicate silver flowers. “Is the color a hint?”

“Oh, no! It just matched the outfit. We’re going to wait to find out.”

Ahmad flinched at a loud cackle from a nearby group and scratched under the edge of his knitted kufi. “Is it me, or is it loud in here?”

The restaurant oozed rote hipster cool—industrial light fixtures, faux tin ceiling, dark wood tables overloaded with small plates. The waitstaff slouched in low-slung jeans and canvas aprons while an emo soundtrack dueled with the boisterous chatter. It was a terrible place for conversation, but a wonderful place to be seen.

“Rachel has a nose for hot, trendy restaurants.” Ellie tapped Ahmad’s phone on the table to check the time. “And absolutely no concept of punctuality. How’s the old place?”

“The hammer finally dropped. No more OT or PT services as of January. Social work and family services only. I hated to see you go, but it was the right choice.”

With the rumored transition confirmed, the last of her guilt faded, and she released a sigh.

“Don’t tell her that, Ahmad! I’ll never hear the end of it.” A four-inch black stiletto stabbed the floor by her chair.

“You gave me a lot of shit for leaving, Rach.” Ellie grinned and stood to greet her old coworker. “A little payback is fair.”

Rachel flung her arms around her. “Fine, fine. You were right. And I was too much of a bitch about it. What else is new?”

“It’s good to see you.” She sank into the enthusiastic hug. “Those heels, honestly.”

Rachel released her and ripped a precarious twirl, her long hair a burgundy shimmer against her tight green dress. The sensual blur of color didn’t go unnoticed by other patrons. “You should thank me! I save the stripper heels for a night out with friends. Aren’t they worth it?”

“The question is, does Mara think they’re worth it?” She reached past Rachel to give Mara a quick hug.

“As long as I’m the one she strips for, she can wear anything she wants.” Mara’s black faux-hawk arced over pale blue eyes, and the familiar tattoo of tree branches climbed up her neck from beneath a buttoned-up black collar.

They made quite a pair, the uber-femme showstopper and the petite punk butch. Several sets of eyes swept the table, trying to jibe the edgy lesbian couple with the Muslim headwear of Ahmad and Salma. Ellie, Rachel, and Ahmad had bonded early at her last job, united by their existence on the ragged edges of diversity. Mara, she had met later, on a panel for queer healthcare workers.

Mara slid a chair back for Rachel, then sat beside her and draped a hand across her taut thigh. Their dating was a more recent development. It unsettled Ellie. Rachel could be fun at work, but her high-maintenance personality often strained her dating relationships.

“So much for keeping in touch when you quit.” Rachel shot her a prickly pout.

“I’m sorry. You wouldn’t believe how fast my schedule filled up.”

“How is it out there?” Ahmad tipped back on his chair legs.

“Very suburban.” The group shared wincing nods. “But the equipment is great, and the staff are supportive.”

Salma smiled as she tapped her husband’s knee, and he returned the chair to four legs. “Ahmad said so many families use the bus to get to therapy. Where will they go now?”

“My place has taken a couple of referrals, but our focus on the queer community means we’re not appropriate for everyone,” Mara said. “They’ll scatter around the city, but if public trans doesn’t go where they need…”

She didn’t have to elaborate. They had all lost patients to the vagaries of low-income healthcare. It kept Ellie awake some nights, fretting about the kids who had dropped out, their parents in a losing battle with insurance companies, or working three jobs, or the simple economy of no car.

Rachel stroked a finger up Mara’s wiry forearm. “Can you work your voodoo, so we can order our drinks?”

Salma’s deep dimples sank into her cheeks. “Voodoo?”

“It’s the eyes. Servers, bartenders, hostesses, doesn’t matter. They all come running at Mara’s bidding.”

Mara rolled those blue eyes and caught the server’s attention, then murmured the order into the woman’s ear.

Rachel scooted to the edge of her seat, closer to Ellie. “I need to tell you something.”

“You better not be pregnant. Salma already pulled that one.”

Ahmad chuckled, but Rachel didn’t flinch. “I ran into Angie at my gym.”

“Weird. She’s pretty dedicated to the one by her place.”

“She was doing her super-intense marathon thing—”

“Triathlon.”

“Whatever.”

“Wait, your ex is a triathlete? How did I miss that?” Salma asked.

Ellie nodded but didn’t take her eyes from Rachel. “What’s the issue?”

“Turns out she was at my gym because she lives nearby now, with her girlfriend.”

“Whoever convinced her to shack up is a better woman than me.” Ellie went for the easy joke, hoping to move Rachel off the topic.

“They’re engaged.”

An awkward silence draped over the table. Everyone knew they’d broken up because she wanted to get serious, and Angie’s response had been to dump her.

“I’m sorry.” Rachel’s sharp features mellowed with a sympathy usually reserved for her teenage clients. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I worried if I waited, you’d be blindsided randomly.”

“You deserve better anyway,” Ahmad said.

“Definitely.” Salma patted her leg. “The perfect person is out there.”

It should’ve stung, Angie shifting her stance on commitment, but they hadn’t been a good fit. Her time with Olivia highlighted that fact. She winked at Salma. “I think you’re right.”

“Of course she is,” Rachel said. “We’ll have a girls’ night, find new faces for you. There’s a professional women’s event downtown soon. Let me check my calendar.” She dug around in her purse.

A tiny grin crept across Mara’s lips. “You’ve already met someone.”

Ellie cursed the smile that grew despite her efforts to smother it.

“Wait, what?” Rachel glanced from Mara to her, then tossed her phone onto the table and groaned. “No wonder we haven’t seen you. Are you back in workout mode?” Her eyes drew a skeptical line down Ellie’s body. “Please tell me not another gym rat.”

She ignored the dig. “She’s actually into rock climbing, but—”

“Rock climbing? You’re terrified of heights.”

“She does the climbing. I just enjoy the view.” Ellie smirked remembering yesterday’s date. They’d met at the indoor gym before lunch, and she’d caught the end of Olivia’s final climb. The sport suited her—quiet, methodical, and cerebral. She hadn’t appreciated Olivia’s grace until she watched her ascent, a confident, balletic laddering of handholds and footholds.

The server brought Mara and Rachel’s drinks, and she slid a fresh Coke to Ahmad, who accepted it with a toothy grin. “So how did you meet this woman?”

“At TTC.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Another therapist?”

“No.”

“Good. Work relationships suck. If my girlfriend had to work with me and fuck me, I would have lost her ages ago.”

Mara clicked her tongue at Rachel, who gave her a soft kiss.

“It’s one of the moms.”

“You’re dating a parent?” Salma leaned forward to escape another rattle of laughter.

“Olivia’s a widow. Her wife died more than three years ago in a car accident.”

Rachel drummed her nails on the table, their glossy sheen flashing her disapproval.

“We met last August. Her son’s autistic, and I was supposed to assist with his social group, but they shifted me to the tween girls. I didn’t ask her out until last month.” She sipped her whiskey to soothe her nerves. Part of her wanted to shout her joy, but another part hated exposing Olivia to the glare of Rachel’s scrutiny.

Mara rubbed her chin, face thoughtful. “The relationship isn’t a conflict of interest?”

“No. I cleared it with my supervisor. I guess it’s happened before. But I won’t be working with Ben, obviously.”

“How old is he?” Ahmad asked.

“Eleven. He has solid language skills, but the nonverbal is tricky. His emotional volatility puts a big strain on Olivia.”

“How old is this woman?” Rachel butted in. “I mean, if he’s eleven?”

Ellie pulled the last pin and waited for the explosion. “She’s forty-five.”

Rachel ticked off a list, her voice rising with each flick of a manicured nail. “Middle-aged woman. Dead wife. Autistic kid! Seriously?”

“Easy, Rachel.” Ahmad, always the peacekeeper, patted the table.

“What’s she like?” Salma’s question painted a thin veneer over the sudden tension.

“She’s fascinating. She’s taller than me, which is rare, and very striking. Intelligent. Sincere. She has this way of looking at you… I can’t describe it, but I’d tell her anything when she does it.”

“It’s a lot of baggage for a new relationship.” Mara’s attention darted from Rachel to her.

“It doesn’t matter. From the moment we met, I wanted to get to know her.”

“And have you? Gotten to know her?” Rachel’s attempts at humor often veered into the crass.

“We’re taking it slow. A few amazing kisses and a lot of great conversations.” The stolen moments at the fundraiser she kept for herself. They were too fresh and special to share yet. She hadn’t met anyone who matched her physical energy the way Olivia did. Her skin tingled thinking of Olivia’s hand cupping her ass.

“Ugh, old lesbians. Kill me now,” Rachel said. “All they do is talk, talk, talk. I mean, they never even go out. What do they have to talk about?”

“I think it’s sweet.” Salma ran her fingers through her husband’s curly beard. “I loved our early talks. How long have you been seeing her?”

“Almost two months.”

“Two months and nothing more than a kiss?” Rachel tossed a red stream of hair over her shoulder. The edge in her voice redoubled.

“She’s a single parent. She can’t leave the house whenever.”

“You’re making my point for me! After Angie dumped you, all you could talk about was finding someone willing to put time into a relationship and be as serious as you were.”

“Olivia is serious. More serious than anyone I’ve dated.”

“But she can’t possibly have enough time!” Rachel brushed off the hand Mara rested on her forearm. “Jill was obsessed with residency, Angie was obsessed with her training, and now Olivia’s obsessed, and rightly so, with her son! Why do you always pick women who don’t put you first?”

Anger churned her stomach. Rachel always picked apart her love life. “Just because Olivia has multiple priorities—”

“She has one priority. Her kid. You will never rate higher.”

“It’s not a competition! Millions of people manage to love their kids and their spouse!” She waved at Ahmad and Salma.

“So you want to marry this woman? After two months? How very lesbian of you.”

“That’s not my point, and you know it—”

“All I know is I was there the last time a woman broke your heart. I don’t want to see it happen again!”

Ellie shoved away from the table, chair legs scraping the floor. “Keep this up, and you won’t need to worry about it! I’m going to the bathroom. Can we have a new topic when I get back?” She threw down her napkin before her temper took full control of her mouth and marched through the tables.

She slammed open the restroom door and paced around the small space. It had been a mistake mentioning Olivia. Rachel had been so supportive when they first worked together, coaxing Ellie to full confidence after burning out at her previous job, making long meetings fly by with her wit. But discussing personal relationships had steadily become an exercise in frustration.

The door eased open, and Mara peeked around it. “Sorry. Rachel had a bad day.”

“She break a heel?”

“Suicide attempt. One of her middle schoolers.”

Sympathy muddied the waters of her indignation. “Fuck. Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it. But since she unloaded on you, I thought you should know.” Mara hooked a thumb on her tooled leather belt and leaned on the sink. “Plus, she’ll never say it, but she misses you. Work isn’t the same for her since you left.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stick around until the bitter end, then scramble for a job?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what?”

“She wants to see you more, but she doesn’t express it well.” A thin eyebrow canted upward. “Does she have a point, about falling for women who don’t put you first?”

“No!” Ellie pushed the hair from her eyes and squeezed it into a ponytail behind her neck. “When she lists them off, I know it sounds that way—”

“Things often sound ‘that way’ because they are ‘that way.’”

“Yes, Jill chose Stanford over me, but before that, the relationship was balanced.”

“And Angie?”

Tonight was supposed to be about Olivia. She didn’t want to pick through the wreckage of past relationships. “Angie didn’t put me first because she never intended for us to be serious. I didn’t recognize it soon enough. That’s on me.”

“Your explanations make sense. They do. But as a social worker, I’ve noticed people often react strongly to statements of truth. Or at least partial truth.”

“How do they respond to stupid statements rudely delivered?”

Mara’s laugh matched her smile, soft but genuine. “A lot like you did.”

“You’re much nicer than Rachel, you know?”

“Somebody has to be the nice one. Might as well be me.”

Ellie leaned against the bathroom stall. The cool metal leached through her shirt, quenching her flare of temper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made that crack. She’s your girlfriend now. I’m just irritated. And feeling a little guilty about the suicide thing.”

“All you knew was she came at you. Not your fault. Rach has a public and a private side. In a group, she tries to be the star of the show, and her worst tendencies come out. We’ve discussed it.”

“Two social workers? And two lesbians? I’m sure you have.”

“You really care for Olivia, don’t you?”

“I do. More than I thought possible.”

Mara’s piercing eyes didn’t waver. “Be careful. Rachel may have said it poorly, but a woman who’s been through so much may have some sharp edges hiding in all that sorrow.”

An image of Olivia surfaced—sitting in Ellie’s car, tired and vulnerable.

“C’mon. Rachel will buy you another drink to make amends.” Mara tugged on her wrist, and she let herself be dragged back to the table.