“You are. Want to crash on my sofa instead?”
“Probably a good idea.” Cherie locked her car again and took Kaelee’s offered arm. “See? Stuff like this. I want to be treated like I’m special. You treat me like that and don’t even want to have sex with me. I want to try dating a woman. Be my lesbi-coach!”
Kaelee couldn’t hold back her laughter. There was something delightful about exuberant women. Thoughts of Marie intruded again. Tiny, curvy women were a weakness. “If I met you in a bar and didn’t know you, I’d totally make a move. You’re beautiful, Cher.”
“Ugh. Find me a date then.” Cherie scowled. “I have no idea how to approach a woman.”
“Same way as you approach a man, I bet. You just say, ‘Hi, do you want to get naked?’ Totally works for me.” Kaelee tried for a straight face, but Cherie wasn’t the only tipsy person. “It worked on Marie.”
“I can’t decide if I want to ask a million questions or not,” Cherie whined.
“Later when you’re sober, you can make a list, and I’ll answer them.” Kaelee steered her around a group of drunk men who went from looking at Cherie like she was a snack to glaring at Kaelee, as if her presence had stolen their chances.
“Ugh. It’s like they think women can’t be friends if they’re queer,” Cherie blurted loudly. She paused, giggled, and said, “I think I just came out! I mean, to strangers and all, but—”
“And to a friend,” Kaelee corrected her.
“Yes!” Cherie caught Kaelee’s gaze. “Friend, I think I’m queer, and I want to date women. Like seriously. Not like you do.”
Kaelee nodded. “Well, then I can be your wing woman or coach, but not in any naked ways!” She shook her finger at Cherie. “I only fuck women I don’t consider friends.”
“Kae? You need some serious therapy or a good woman to get rid of whatever baggage you’re toting around. You know that, right?” Cherie patted her face. “I want a woman with cheeks like yours, too. I could cut my hand on these.”
Kaelee chortled. Even in her tipsy state, she couldn’t make herselfdeny that more therapy was probably a good idea. Sometimes the childhood admonishments not to air dirty laundry were still so limiting. Secrets only empower the guilty, but knowing that didn’t quite release her from the pressure to stay silent. She resisted, but that wasn’t enough.
I’m going to make an appointment to hash through this, if for no other reason than knowing Tripp would hate it.
8Greta
Greta was nestled in her bed reading when her phone buzzed with a notification. She flipped it over to see a picture of her ex. Tasha smiled in that way that had once made Greta feel like she was safe, like everything was perfect. Shoulder-length, golden hair framed a face that would not be amiss on a celebrity. In the picture, Tash was laughing. They’d had a perfect night at the ballet.I need to change that contact picture.Seeing her photo felt like cold water over Greta’s mood.
“Are you injured?” Greta answered.
The line was silent a moment too long. “I can’t call an old friend?”
“Friend?” Greta echoed. “Did you misdial?”
“That’s a no then, Greta?” Tash laughed. “Still not ready to put the past behind us?”
For a moment, Greta wanted to say yes. She’d tried that a handful of times after the breakup, but half of those had ended up in awkward morning-afters. Tasha only called when she was already drinking, when she wanted affection, and although Greta understood… it alsohurt.Whatever Tasha was chasing in her life had meant breaking Greta’s heart, and that wasn’t something she could keep letting herself forget.
“I’m in bed, Tash. If you’re not injured or in some sort of peril,and you don’t seem to be, I don’t have much to say.” Greta closed her eyes against the flicker of a tear that threatened.
“I miss that bed sometimes.”
“You chose to leave it.”
“And you,” Tasha added. “I missyousometimes.”
“You leftme, too,” Greta pointed out acerbically.
“Friends without sex, then?” Tasha suggested. “Could we try that? I don’t want to be your enemy.”
Greta sighed. “You aren’t. I can’t keep letting you in, though, when you’ve had a few drinks and want to get off. I deserve more.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” Tasha whispered.
For a moment, Greta wished she could lie and say that Tasha hadn’t hurt her, that they had been in different places, but she wasn’t sure that lies were useful when they both already knew the truth. “You want to be my friend? Let’s try lunch after the holidays.”
