“I didn’t really, either, when I started college,” Charlotte said. “No clue at all.”
Marin gave her a grateful smile. “There were ...signs... in hindsight. Female friends I felt a little too close to, a female professor I definitely had a crush on.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “But my parents had drilled into me from a young age that I was expected to get my degree and then get married ... to a man. Again, I was naive. And eager to please. So when I met Andrew, I put all my energy into that relationship.
“He seemed perfect. He was charming. Funny. My parents loved him, and so did my friends. He was so romantic, always bringing me flowers and gifts, and I thought I was so lucky to have him. My friends started asking if I thought he was going to propose, and that felt kind of scary for some reason, but I wasn’t sure why. I once confessed to a friend that our sex life wasn’t that exciting for me, and she told methat’s just how it is once you’re in an established relationship, so when hedidpropose, I said yes.”
Charlotte watched quietly, her eyes never leaving Marin.
“I was twenty-four when we got married, had just finished my master’s and was planning to go for my PhD. I’d always wanted to teach, but Andrew convinced me I’d make more money, and sooner, going into finance instead. I’m not proud of the way I let myself be influenced back then, but ... as they say, it sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“Hey, I’m the last person to judge on past decisions,” Charlotte said. “I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes. Probably, most of us look back and wish we’d made different choices, but we were doing the best we could with the knowledge we had then.”
“Yeah, so things were okay for a few years. Andrew and I were reasonably happy. Sex was kind of a chore for me, but it wasn’t terrible. I ...” Her cheeks felt uncomfortably hot. It was hard to share these intimate details about herself with someone, and while she felt close to Charlotte, they really hadn’t known each other very long. “I was in denial for a long time, but on some level, I think I always knew. I fantasized about women ... andonlywomen.
“I’ve always been a huge book lover, but I think I subconsciously avoided reading queer stories because I was afraid of how they might make me feel. My book club choseThe Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, and my first thought was ‘Ugh, seven men!’ and then I found out it was a sapphic love story, and I balked. I actually considered skipping that month so I wouldn’t have to read it. What can I say? The denial ran deep.”
Again, Charlotte gave her an encouraging look.
“I read that book, and ... let’s just say, my eyes were opened.” Marin exhaled. “I was forced to face reality. Not only did I not love my husband, I wasn’t attracted to men at all. I started reading as many sapphic books as I could get my hands on, fantasizing that I could have what those women had ... a passionate, loving relationship withanother woman. Andrew and I still shared a bed, but I was dreaming about a different life.”
“Is that when you decided to leave him?” Charlotte asked.
She let out a bitter laugh. “I wish, but no. He has a big personality, and by this time, we’d been married for a decade or so. I didn’t want to rock the boat. Also, my parents were in their seventies then and having a lot of health problems. It was a difficult time. I lost my mom to cancer and my dad to a heart attack, both of them gone before I turned forty.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that,” Charlotte said, her tone sympathetic.
“A hazard of having older parents, I guess. Anyway, after they were gone, I started thinking again ... I needed to divorce Andrew, but as much as I hated living in a loveless marriage, it was terrifying to think of blowing up my whole life by divorcing him, especially because he’s not a bad guy. We had some good times together. So I kept putting it off, waiting for the right moment.” She took a deep breath and stared straight at Charlotte. “Until you sat beside me on that bus and read me a horoscope about how it was time to be my authentic self. I was floored.”
Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth. “Wow, yeah. I could tell those words meant something to you, but I had no idea.”
“I didn’t believe in signs, but my god, how could I see that as anything but?”
Charlotte nodded, looking slightly breathless.
“I decided, okay, maybe it’s really time.” Her chest constricted, and she rubbed a hand against it. “I was feeling pretty determined when I got off the bus, and then, of course, that car hit me.”
“Oh, Marin . . .”
“I could feel myself slipping away. I don’t know how to describe it.” She steeled herself against the shakiness that gripped her every time she relived her brush with death. “The pain was so overwhelming that I felt almost disconnected from my body. Not numb, but ... separate.It was a kind of terror I didn’t know was possible, because I felt myself dying. I knew it was happening, and I was just ... so scared. And so sad.” A tear slipped over her cheek, and she swiped at it with a trembling hand.
“It was pretty damn terrifying for me just watching, so I can only imagine.”
“People talk about your life flashing before your eyes, but it wasn’t like that at all, at least not for me. I just kept thinking about all my regrets. I was devastated that I would die without ever having found the courage tolive. It was a horrible feeling.” She shuddered. Behind the fear and the crushing sadness, she’d been so cold. There’d been so much pain. It was disorienting and terrifying and so traumatic she could hardly bring herself to think about it at all.
“I’m so sorry.” Charlotte touched her hand. Her fingers were so warm. It made Marin realize how cold hers had become by comparison, as if she were reliving the way it had felt to nearly die on a snow-covered street.
“I have no memory of the time my heart stopped. No white light. Nothing.” She took another deep breath. “I was there on the street, and then I was in the hospital, hooked to machines and clinging to life. But I was alive, and I vowed right there in the hospital bed that if I made it home, if I got a second chance, I was going to start living my life the way I’d always wanted to. I wasn’t holding anything back this time.”
“Good for you. Goddammit, Marin, I’m so happy you’re getting that chance.”
“Yeah, me too.” Another burst of anxious laughter escaped her. This didn’t feel like the right moment to laugh, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She laughed, and then she hiccupped, and suddenly she was crying. Her breath hitched as the tears started, and just like with her laughter, the tears seemed to pour out without permission. “I’m sorry. I just ...”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Charlotte scooted closer on the couch, resting a hand on Marin’s shoulder. “That was a hell of a story you just told, and it sounds like you’d been holding it in a long time. I think these tears are a cleansing.”
Marin pressed a hand over her eyes, embarrassed by her tears, because they just wouldnotstop. But the ache in her chest lessened with each sob, like pressure had been building there for the last twenty years or so, maybe her entire forty-seven years, and now she’d finally found the release valve.
What must Charlotte think, first watching Marin nearly die and now watching her fall apart? Why couldn’t Marin ever just act like a competent adult in front of her? “Sorry,” she whispered, wiping furiously at her face.
“What did I just say? Please don’t apologize. Here.”
