The hand on her knee gives her a firm squeeze. Both women stare at each other with watery eyes. “Thank you so much for telling me that,” Riley whispers gratefully.
“Nuh-uh, thank you for tellingme,” Charlotte replies, a weak smile pulling the corners of her mouth up. “So, uhm, if you never ended up dating that girl, what does that mean for you about dating in general?” she asks, her voice so soft that Riley has to strain her ears. She catches every single word however, and her eyes start sparkling.
“My, my, Charlie, are you asking me to date you?” she teases.
“No,” Charlotte purses her lips and decides not to comment on the nickname. “Shaky wants to know.”
Riley grins and scratches him under his chin. “Well, Shakespeare, how about we take a few steps back, hm? Let’s start at the beginning.”
“Meaning…?” When Riley’s eyes flicker up, Charlotte points at Scratchy. “Still him.”
“Meaning: let’s start over, and let’s be truthful this time. If you’ll allow me to flirt with you, I’ll promise to try and court you. I want to win you over, Charlotte. But I want you to go at your own pace.”
“Court me?” Charlotte scoffs. “Such a gentleman. How do you plan to do that?”
Riley gets up and walks toward her bag by the door. “Well, actually, I came bearing gifts.”
“Gifts?”
“Hm.”
As she walks back, Riley opens her bag and takes out something Charlotte doesn’t immediately recognize. When Riley crouches down next to her and presents it to her on her palm, the penny drops.
“Oh my god. Are those…”
“Our penises? Yep. They slanted over in the kiln, and stuck together like this.”
Charlotte loses it at the sight of the sculpture; Riley’s tiny penis leans against her massive one, the heads stuck together. It looks almost…
“Romantic, right?” Riley poses.
Charlotte's forehead drops against Riley’s shoulder and she laughs until her abs hurt.
Later that day, long after Riley has left, Charlotte picks up the sculpture that they’d both agreed should be in a prominent place on her desk. She turns it over and grins. It’s kind of romantic, sure. At least, that’s what the universe must be trying to tell them, she muses as she brushes her finger over their carved initials.
CN - RA.
Charlotte’s admission causes a sense of relief for about fourteen hours. After that, realization sets in. When she wakes up on Saturday morning it’s still dark, but she’s wide awake once yesterday’s conversation with Riley starts replaying in her head. Trying to get back tosleep is useless, so she gets up and walks to the bathroom, shedding her sleep shirt on the way to the shower. She stops when she catches herself in the mirror. She steps closer and looks at herself, really looks at herself, from her naked waist and breasts, up to her neck, and finally to her face and hair.
Hm. So apparently, that’s what a lesbian looks like. These are the features of a girlkisser.
She places the fingertips of her left hand on her cheek, and slowly traces them down past her lips, her chin, her neck, her sternum; she feels every little bit of skin, every dimple, every wrinkle, every goosebump that appears. This body, the one that she’s had for about thirty-five years, is a body that is apparently capable of having a physical response to another female.And not only that, she thinks as her hand reaches the swell of her breast and she circles the nipple with her index finger,apparently this is a body that wants to be coveted by another woman.
As her left nipple hardens under her touch, she shifts her ministrations to the right one. Are these breasts going to be able to turn someone on? Will these nipples be able to drive someone—a woman—crazy with lust? To touch and be touched by a person who, under all their clothes, looks like her. Is that something she’s ready for?
She shivers. No.
Alright, so she may or may not have admitted to being capable of having feelings for women—no, a woman. But what does that mean? What is she supposed to do now?Does she order a lesbian flag off of Etsy and decorate the living room? Is she supposed to order strap-ons in three different sizes, shave a slit into her eyebrow? How does this work?
The longer she looks in the mirror, the more insecure she gets, so she shakes it off and steps into the shower. As she lathers her hair with shampoo, she wonders if she should tell Gabi, maybe even ask her for advice. The thought alone makes her nauseous. It feels stupid and humiliating to not know how to navigate something that most of her friends have been doing for over a decade. Even thinking about admitting to what they’ve been trying to tell her this entire time makes her want to punch the wall. No: she’s not ready to share that part of herself yet.
She rinses her hair and relaxes a little bit into the feeling of the warm water hitting her body as her thoughts drift to Riley. The only person to have coaxed that piece of information out of her; things she didn’t even know until she heard herself say it, but it felt nothing less than true when she’d finally broken down.
There’s no point hiding it from Riley anymore; so is she the one to ask? To explore this with, even? Shit, what is it about that woman that makes her entire life tilt upside down? How and why did she let Riley slip past her walls so easily?
It probably has something to do with her most disarming features: her honesty, her willingness to be vulnerable and have an open conversation, the baring ofher own soul as Charlotte had slowly but surely peeled back small layers of her own.
What strikes her the most about Riley is probably her social intelligence. Sure, based on her job she must be book smart, but Charlotte is almost jealous of the immense amount of perceptiveness she hides under a thick cloud of humor, playfulness, curiosity and optimism. And so it turns out that the characteristics Charlotte had found so annoying about Riley—her confidence, her wit, her charm—are exactly the ones that amplify that perceptiveness. Because she knows how to use it, and may Charlotte be struck by lightning right here in the shower if that’s not insanely attractive.
