A Woman Lost Page 10

  I wasn’t surprised that Sarah hadn’t already told Hayley the story; I knew better. When you talk to Haley, you talk only about Haley. She didn’t care to know the details of anyone else’s life.

  I turned back to Sarah. “Are you okay?

  “I guess so. College doesn’t prepare you for these types of situations, you know.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The security guys took him to the SRO.”

  “What the fuck is an SRO? He should go to jail,” Haley muttered.

  “An SRO is a cop. School Resource Officer. And the boy was arrested,” retorted Sarah.

  “I’m so sorry, honey. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Oh shit, I forgot to bring the wine.” Sarah jumped up off the couch and rushed into the kitchen.

  Hayley set her empty wineglass down on the coffee table. “Jesus! After hearing about that, I wasn’t going to mention that she forgot the wine,” proclaimed Haley-the-Wonderful. Then she hiccupped.

  Sometimes, I really wanted to slap some sense into her. How could Sarah be such good friends with Haley? What a selfish ass! Surely, Sarah wasn’t attracted to her. Yes, Haley was beautiful, but would Sarah be so blindsided by that? No. No, Sarah wouldn’t be taken in by such a twit. A puerile twit.

  Sarah returned and filled Haley’s wineglass, but not her own. Turning away from Hayley, she sat next to me on the loveseat. I offered her my drink and she took a generous gulp.

  I spied a copy of the novel Fifty Shades of Grey on the coffee table. “Haley, are you seriously reading that crap?” I gestured to the book with my glass.

  Sarah blanched. “Actually, I am. Haley said she loved it and gave it to me to try. I thought I’d find it funny, but for some reason, I can’t seem to put it down.” Color rushed back into her face‌—‌too much color.

  Why had Haley given my girlfriend a sex book? And why did Sarah accept such a contemptible gift? What reprehensible plans did Haley have? Now, if she had given Sarah a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, I might have considered her a worthy adversary. But Fifty Shades? It was rubbish for the masses. Pedestrian. No, worse! Imbecilic.

  I put my arms around Sarah, marking my territory. It didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Ah, isn’t that nice. You two look like lovebirds,” muttered Haley.

  I resisted my urge to hurl my glass at her head.

  Sarah stood up. “Haley, I think it’s time I drove you home.”

  I darted out of my seat. “Sarah, wait! You’ve been drinking. I’ll drive her home.”

  If Haley had any nefarious scheme, I planned on thwarting it.

  There wasn’t an argument, but Haley looked disappointed.

  She didn’t live too far away, so I was home within ten minutes. I found Sarah in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

  Pulling the toothbrush out of her mouth, she said, “I’m sorry about Haley. She isn’t normally that bad.”

  I shrugged and grabbed my toothbrush.

  Sarah spat out a glob of toothpaste. “She doesn’t understand how hard you work.” She rubbed my back. “I know how stressed you are about finding a teaching position.”

  My mind latched onto her last sentence. I wondered … That might work! I might have found my bluff.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I decided to run my plan by Ethan at our next coffee “date.”

  “What do you mean?” Ethan plucked a cat hair off his shirt and peered over his glasses at me.

  “What if I tell her it’s not a good time to buy a house because we don’t know where I’ll get a job. When she told Haley I have to work long hours so I can get a good teaching job, it struck me that, more than likely, I will be moving in the next year or two.”

  Ethan stirred his coffee. “I don’t know, Lizzie. Maybe you should just be honest with her.”

  “Does honesty work in your marriage?”

  Ethan’s nostril’s flared slightly and he shot me a nasty look.

  “Listen, it would be great to be honest, but you know how much I hate hurting people’s feeling. Let’s be ‘honest’”‌—‌I made quote marks with my fingers‌—‌“I’m a wimp. Sometimes, it is just easier to lie.”

  “You don’t have a problem hurting my feelings,” he said, snarkily. “And you don’t have any problems kicking me in the shins either,” he added.

  “That’s the beauty of our friendship. Neither one of us can tell the truth to anyone else. It’s like therapy for us. But once we leave this coffee shop, the honesty stops.”

  “And we’re both trapped somewhere we don’t want to be.” Ethan let out an audible sigh.

  “That’s not entirely true.” I corrected him. “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “Oh, I forgot, you are only honest with me here, and not even with yourself.”

  I went to kick him again but hit his chair leg instead.

  “Ha! I knew you were going to kick.” He looked smug.

  “Seriously, though. I’m not sure what I want.” I rubbed my toes. “Sarah is a great catch. She’s cute, funny, and sweet. I don’t mind spending time with her. I’m sure I can get used to the idea. There are worse relationships I could end up in. Hell, I’ve been in worse relationships.”

  Ethan set his coffee cup down and looked me in the eyes. “Lizzie, do you hear yourself? ‘I don’t mind spending time with her,’” he mimicked. “How can you do that to yourself? And most importantly, how can you do that to her? You are dealing with another life here. Fine, screw up your own, but don’t screw hers up as well.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I could say the same about him, but we weren’t talking about him. Trying to change the subject was pointless.

  * * *

  Afterwards, I drove down Drake Road towards the foothills. I didn’t want to go home; I knew Sarah would be waiting for me. Instead, I headed to one of my favorite hiking spots. At one point on the trail, I could veer off and head up a steep rocky climb. I knew I would be huffing and puffing by the time I reached the top, but I loved the climb. At the top I could sit on a bench overlooking the city and be alone with my thoughts. I made most of my important decisions there.

  Am I not only ruining my life, but Sarah’s as well? I wondered. Am I even ruining my life? Aren’t relationships built on mad love? Can’t two people who get along fine be happy for the rest of their lives? And, the sex is fantastic. Am I just experiencing cold feet? I evaluated the questions from several angles. Even employing the logic I used in my studies when attempting to unravel contradictory historical research findings, I came up with a blank. I just didn’t know.

  I didn’t know. Wasn’t that awful? Here I was, considering buying a house with my girlfriend, and I didn’t know if I wanted to. I cared about her‌—‌that was true. But did I care enough to make such a commitment? Did I care enough to consider spending the rest of my life with her?

  The sun started to sink below the mountains, and I realized I better get my butt off the hill or I would have to hike down in the dark. Winter was coming, and it was getting darker earlier. Besides, Sarah might begin to wonder where the fuck I was, and I didn’t want to have that conversation again.

  * * *

  “Wow, that was the longest coffee ever.” Sarah’s smirk marred her beautiful face. I hated that my actions caused her grief. She deserved better, and I wanted to be worthy of her.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I stopped by the office and got caught up on some research.” I didn’t want to explain that I had gone hiking without her. The look on her face already told me I was in trouble. “Can I take you to dinner to make up for being a jackass?”

  “That depends. Where are you taking me?” She set Haley’s book down on the couch.

  “How about Phoy Doy?”

  It was Sarah’s favorite restaurant. She loved Vietnamese food. And right then, I needed to get back into her good graces.

  She smiled. “At least you know you’re in trouble. Good. I’ve been waiting all day for you to come home.” She hit my shoulder. “S
erves me right … you told me on our first date that you were a workaholic.”

  “Tell you what, no more work this weekend. You have me all day tomorrow. I won’t leave your sight.”

  She looked suspicious.

  I held up my hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You must feel guilty about something. All right, let me go change.”

  “I have a better idea.” I pulled her close. “Let’s take a shower together, and then we can both get ready for dinner.”

  She laughed. “Maybe you should blow me off more, Lizzie. I like it when you feel bad.” She kissed me.

  I laughed. “Come on, smartass. I want to get you naked, and all wet.”

  She pulled her shirt off. I took her hand and led her into the bathroom.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “God, I love it when we shower together,” Sarah whispered an hour later, as the hostess sat us at our table. “You have an incredible way of lathering me up.”

  “Is that what you call it?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “In public places, yes.” She placed her napkin in her lap.

  I suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Have I ever told you I used to be afraid of using too much soap?” I desperately wanted to change the subject.

  She cocked her head and looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “When I was little. I used to be scared of using too much soap. One time, in the tub, I told Annie I was going to use heaps of soap so I wouldn’t have to bathe for a month. Annie laughed and said if I did that I’d get hideous sores all over my body and I’d smell wretched.

  “I misunderstood. I thought she meant that if I used too much soap I’d get sores. It wasn’t until years later I figured out what she meant. For years, I used only the smallest amount of soap. I was obsessive about it. Every day, I’d spread a very fine layer of soap all over me and then I’d rinse it off as fast as I could. I didn’t want any sores.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Sarah covered her mouth and laughed. “I can’t believe you! You must have been an adorable kid.” She paused, crinkling her forehead. “Who’s Annie?”

  “She was my nanny.”

  “You had a nanny? I didn’t know you had a nanny.”

  I fidgeted with my napkin. “It’s not something you go around telling everyone. I’m not my brother.”

  I could feel her eyes on me, and I could tell something was brewing.

  Our waitress approached to take our drink order. Sarah ordered a chardonnay and I asked for a Thai tea. It tickled me that a Vietnamese place served Thai tea. I suspected that the owners weren’t even Vietnamese, since I overheard them speaking Korean to each other.

  As soon as the waitress departed, Sarah pounced. “Do you feel like we are getting closer?” she asked, all trace of humor gone from her voice. “I mean, these past couple of weeks I’ve felt an even stronger bond with you. Have you noticed?”

  Why play that game? I wondered. Of course, I couldn’t say, ‘Why, no, I haven’t noticed that.’ I’d come off as a bitch. I swear sometimes she phrased things to hear exactly what she wanted to hear.

  I had no choice. I cleared my throat and responded, “Now that you mention it, I see what you’re saying.” I nodded my head slowly in confirmation.

  Sarah reached across the table for my hand and began to lightly rub her fingers along my arm. “Lately, I feel like we are closer than ever. I mean, you never would have told me the story about the soap. But now, you just tell me these stories openly.” Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “And earlier, in the shower, you have never touched me like that before.”

  I racked my brain, trying to remember what she was talking about. Yes, we’d had sex in the shower, but it was just a fuck. At least, that was how I thought of it. Obviously, Sarah felt differently. How was that possible? How could two people do something together and have two completely different experiences? I had told her the soap story because I wanted to change the subject. It was a diversionary tactic, not a “let me tell you a childhood memory story” moment.

  I smiled and squeezed her hand, unable to think of anything to say. Staying quiet was the best course of action for this particular pickle, I decided.

  “What would you two like to order?” The waitress tapped her pen nervously against her notepad. Was she uncomfortable around lesbians?

  “Ah … ” Sarah glanced at the menu. “I think I’ll try the noodle bowl with salmon.”

  “And you?” The waitress looked at me, expressionless.

  “The noodle bowl with steak and shrimp, please.”

  I handed my menu to the woman and turned my attention back to Sarah. Her expression confused me. She was smiling, but there was an air of sadness about it. After a few moments, she said, “So, when will you have time to start looking at houses with me?”

  “Um, shouldn’t we talk to a mortgage guy first? No real estate agent is going to take us seriously without proof we can qualify to buy.” I took a sip of my water. “By the way, have you been reading the papers? They all say this is a horrible time to buy a home. The rate of foreclosures is skyrocketing due to variable interest rates. And banks don’t want to give mortgages to new homebuyers. So much for the American dream.” I shook my head and tsked about the sad fact, all the while wondering: Am I laying it on too thick? I knew we would actually be a wet dream for a mortgage broker‌—‌two lesbians with trust funds, and both with steady work histories. But I didn’t want to point that out.

  “I really haven’t been following the news. Do you think we should wait for the market to improve?” Sarah squinted a little and looked up from her placemat, which had a map of Vietnam on it.

  Holy shit … I didn’t expect this. My spirits started to rise. “Honestly, I don’t know much about the situation. However, I do have one major reservation about buying a house right now … ”

  Sarah grabbed her wine and took a swig. It was obvious that words failed her. She nodded, clearly urging me to continue.

  “W-we both know I won’t be working at CSU for much longer,” I stammered. “As scary as it seems, I’ll have to start looking for a teaching position at a different university. If we buy a house now, what if we have to turn around in less than a year and sell it.”

  I could immediately tell by her expression that she had already thought of a way around this. “Oh, Mom and I talked about that. We think it would be best to find something inexpensive now, and when you find a teaching job at a different university, we can rent out the house. It would be a great start to diversifying our portfolio.”

  “Our portfolio … ” I mumbled. Our portfolio. The words rolled around in my head like a pinball. Portfolio … our. Our portfolio. I had certainly never considered that phrase before. She really wanted to settle down together. Co-mingle our finances. What was next? A child?

  I realized Ethan was right. Here we were talking about buying a house together, yet we hadn’t even discussed our future. I was becoming one of those people I hated: the ones who get involved with someone and then have a nasty separation after a few years because they didn’t talk about what they both wanted out of life. One of the two always seemed so surprised that the other didn’t want everything they wanted‌—‌the house, the kids, the picket fence, etcetera.

  I had always lectured Ethan for not communicating that, and here I was‌—‌a steel trap. How could I do this to her? How could I do this to me? Nothing good will come of this, I thought, and looked up into her eyes. They twinkled with happiness.

  I smiled back. I did love the way she looked at me with those eyes. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Sarah and I didn’t talk much about the house situation. I spent most of my waking hours at the office, working on my dissertation. That was when I received my first email from Maddie. Late one night, my computer dinged, letting me know I had received a new email. At first, I thought it was either a student sending a last-minute request for an extension on a paper due the next d
ay, or a professor burning the midnight oil.

  To my surprise, it was from Maddie. It read: Hey, I found your email address online. Hope you don’t mind that I’m writing you. We haven’t talked in forever. Are you free tomorrow night for dinner? I have a late afternoon appointment with that family. Maybe I’ll have some new stories for you.

  I stared at the computer. One line in particular piqued my curiosity: “We haven’t talked in forever.” Earlier that evening, I had stopped working and pondered when Maddie and I had last spoken. I was starting to miss her. I wondered if it could be possible she felt the same way?

  It took me a few minutes to craft the perfect response: Hey, stranger. It has been way too long since I saw you. Dinner tomorrow sounds great. What time?

  I hit the send button before I could over-think it. Email was one of the best inventions ever for someone who hated to talk on the phone. It was perfect. I was always much braver via email. I could tell people exactly what I thought and not have to see how they took the news. It worked well with my students and colleagues, and that was what I usually reserved it for. I didn’t even have the Internet on at home. I had never bothered, since I had it at work.

  A few minutes later, my computer dinged again. I glanced up from my book. Sure enough, it was Maddie again. I opened the email immediately.

  Does 6 p.m. work for you? Let’s meet at our usual place. Why are you still at the office?

  Our usual place, huh? That had a nice ring to it. I quickly dashed off another email:

  Six at Coops is perfect. I’m just wrapping up at the office. Why are you up so late?

  Her response came faster this time.

  10 p.m. isn’t that late for me. I’m a night owl. Are you working or avoiding home?

  No matter what she said or wrote, Maddie always had a way to make me smile. I responded: I guess you could say that. Sarah and I have been having a lot of deep discussions about the future and things. I need a break from all of that. So, can I assume the same about you? Are you on the Internet to avoid things at home?