Never Say Never (9 page)

Maybe I was getting over her. Or maybe I was just too sleepy and disoriented to care. Or maybe it had something to do with Michelle.

We chatted lightly about the project. I answered her questions and explained some of the problems we’d found. I had just placed the last spoonful of chicken noodle soup into my mouth when she gave a meaningful nod toward the vase of flowers that separated us. “From Michelle?”

Uh-oh.
I sensed Sara’s wall slam into place as I blinked, trying to gather my wits. Then I remembered I didn’t have to make up a story. She knew I was a lesbian.

“Yeah. Pretty huh?” I managed lamely, attempting nonchalance.

Sara picked up her napkin and pressed it to her lips.

“Look, if it’s none of my business, you can just say so.”

“No, no.” I waved her off. “It’s not that. It’s just that ...” Again I struggled to clear my thoughts from the fog. I was so tired.

“Look, can I be honest here?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” I took my time answering, carefully pouring coffee into first my mug then hers. I stirred in some cream, carefully studying the steaming liquid instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m having trouble understanding this change in you. We haven’t spent this much time together in, what, six months? An awful lot has happened between you and me and I can’t forget all that and spill my guts simply because you’ve decided you can cope with it now.” I took a sip of coffee, more to stop myself from saying something I’d regret than because I was thirsty. I was surprised by the forcefulness of my voice. Surprised that I could say the words. Surprised to find that her rejection still hurt.

“So let’s talk about it.” Her voice was quiet and calm.

She didn’t have to prompt me, the words poured from my lips unchecked. “I spend so much time avoiding questions. For months I tried sidestepping any references you made to my personal life.”

I paused, wounds opening, and looked at her. “Then when I finally told you the truth, you just shut down. Wham. No more comments. No more questions. Nothing. Barely even a hello.” I stood up and took the few steps to the bed and sat down, anxious to put space between us. “I’m a little leery of opening up to you again.” I shook my head, not knowing what else to say.

The silence didn’t last long.

“Okay, fair enough,” she started, taking a deep breath before continuing, a bit unsteadily. “I owe you an explanation and an apology of sorts.” Now it was her turn to fidget, stirring her coffee, her eyes only touching mine briefly.

“When you told me that you were a lesbian,” she stuttered slightly over the word, uncomfortable with it, “I took it personally.” She held up her hand when something like a grunt escaped my lips. “You really knocked me for a loop, and I couldn’t handle it. I know now that those feelings weren’t quite fair.” She struggled to search for words, and I stayed carefully quiet and expectant.

With a deep breath, she continued. “Initially, all I could focus on was that you had been lying to me all along. I couldn’t see beyond that or let that go. I was completely shocked those first few days. All I knew was that I had made this really great friend whom I cared an awful lot about, and I felt that I had lost you. I had tried so many ways to get you more involved in my life. Like trying to set up double dates.” Her laugh was without humor as she rolled her eyes. “I kept thinking about those stupid dates and the way you kept sidestepping personal questions, and I felt like a fool. You lied and I was so gullible. So humiliated.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” I told her. “I know it’s probably difficult for you to appreciate. All I can tell you is that I struggled constantly with wanting to tell you. But you have to understand that I’ve lost several friends that I really cared about, and I just didn’t want to risk losing you too. I kept thinking that you would be in and out of my life in no time, and that there was no reason to rock the boat.”

“I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Pretty awful, I guess.”

“It is. But it happens so often that I’ve almost gotten used to it. Just like I’ve gotten used to the lies.” I shrugged. “But eventually I get to a point where the lies are so big that I can’t keep up. I know that I have to make a decision. Either I risk it, move on, and the friendship grows or dies, or I continue to lie, keep the walls up, and the friendship withers and dies anyway, because it has to be superficial in order to sustain those lies.” We were quiet for several moments, sipping our coffee.

“I must have disappointed you then, when I behaved the way I did.”

I smiled ironically, trying hard not to let old feelings rise up inside me. “Disappointed? No. Actually, I was crushed.” She winced at my honesty. “I’m sorry. I was cruel. I knew I was being a jerk, and I couldn’t stop myself.” She shook her head.

Again we were quiet. I watched as she bent her head, looking at but not seeing her clasped hands. Quietly, she went on.

“My best friend in high school turned out to be gay.” I tried not to show my surprise. “The circumstances when she told me were quite different from what happened with you. But for a while after you told me, I couldn’t help wondering why two women that I enjoyed so much both turned out to be gay!” She laughed, or tried to.

She looked so lost, and I was torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to know more about the circumstances between her and her best friend.

“Anyway,” she sighed, “I think I’m past most of that now. I’ve really missed you. I enjoyed being with you so much before. I miss that. I want us to be friends, and I know that means knowing and accepting who you are. I apologize. I hope it’s not too late.” A part of me was nearly elated. Had this woman once hurt me? Had I really spent months agonizing over her? If I could learn to trust her, forgiveness would be the easy part. “Of course it’s not too late.” My smile was tentative. This wouldn’t be easy for me, and I knew it.

“Good,” she laughed earnestly, taking a final gulp of coffee.

“So tell me, do you like Michelle, or what?” I wrinkled my nose. “Yes. I like her.” My voice sounded less than enthusiastic, even to my own ears.

Sara groaned and threw her napkin at me. I snagged it in midair and tossed it back.

“Seriously. I like her. Other than that, I’m not quite sure how I feel about her.” I tried to describe my feelings. “She’s sweet, fun. A great dancer. Persistent. Very nice.”

“Very nice,” Sara mimicked me.

“Lame, huh?”

“’Fraid so.” She cocked her head to one side. “Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “Like pulling teeth,” she lamented.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.”

“So I shouldn’t take it personally?”

“No.” I was thoughtful. “I’m like this with almost everyone. Trust takes a while.”

“Guess just have to work on earning it, then. When are you going to see her again?”

“Friday.”

Her eyes glittered as she smiled. “Okay. Tell. I’m dying to know. Did you spend the weekend with her?” Heat flushed my cheeks. I was not going to talk about this with Sara. “Most of it.”

“Argh! You are infuriating!” She paced the floor in front of the bed. “You are good at not answering questions.” I shrugged. “Years of practice.” In a sense, I was amused and frustrated all at once. I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass. “I’m sorry,” I fumbled. “Give me time to get used to this honesty thing, okay?”

I could tell she was still frustrated, but she was willing to relent. “Okay. No more questions tonight. But sooner or later, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me about it.”

“You got it. Now I’m going to kick you out so I can get some sleep. You’re making me think too hard.”

“Okay, okay. I can take a hint.” She threw up her hands and sauntered over to the door. Before she was all the way through, she leaned back to peek around the corner at me.

“Thanks for joining me for dinner. I know you really just wanted to sleep.”

“My pleasure.”

“How about breakfast?”

“Your place or mine?” The words were out before I could stop myself. The heat rose in my cheeks. If she noticed, she pretended not to. She clucked her tongue, playing coy. “Surprise me,” she replied, and was gone.

“Surprise her,” I muttered to myself with a groan after she’d left. I padded over to pick up the dinner tray and carry it out to the hallway. I locked the door quietly, smiling and shaking my head all the way before turning out the light and crawling into bed. For the next few minutes I lay in the dark, replaying the conversation we’d just had.

I tried not to dwell too much on the past. I didn’t want to analyze and pick apart the rationale that she had offered. If I was to take her at her word, then she had been hurting too. And it felt good to have at least talked about it. Perhaps it was even good that so much time had passed since it had happened. Time had given me perspective and a chance to put my infatuation where it belonged.

I didn’t know if I could trust her yet. But I wanted to. As a cautious optimism settled over me, I snuggled down into the blankets and gave in to my exhaustion.

Susan, my confidant, was not nearly so forgiving. “Be careful, Leslie. I don’t trust her.”

It was the following Thursday night, and she had called just as I was returning from the office. I barely had a chance to slip into my sweatpants and sweatshirt when the phone rang. She wanted to know all about my weekend with Michelle. I had been squirming a bit over her questions, so I changed the subject by telling her about my conversation with Sara.

“I’m not sure I trust her that much either. But I want to.”

“Just be careful. Don’t let her hurt you again.” For some reason, I felt the need to come to Sara’s defense.

“She’s not going to hurt me. Really. She’s like her old self.”

“Do you still have the hots for her?”

My blood began a slow boil. “I do not have the hots for her,” I insisted.

“Uh-huh. And you never did.”

“If I did, it doesn’t matter. I don’t anymore.” I wanted to drop the subject fast. “How’s Pam?”

“She’s fine. Don’t change the subject.”

“Susan,” I sighed heavily. “Please. Its okay.” I heard a light tapping on the door between my room and Sara’s, so I dropped my voice. “She’s knocking on my door now, so I have to go.”

“Ooh, the adjoining door?”

“Yes, the adjoining door.” I was exasperated but didn’t really mind her taunting. “I’m letting her in now.” I held the receiver to my shoulder with my chin and edged my way over to the door.

Sara was on the other side, dressed in a huge oversize sweatshirt and black thigh-hugging spandex pants. She held up a white bag from our favorite Chinese restaurant for my inspection. It smelled delicious. I motioned for her to come on in and held up one finger to indicate that I’d be just a minute.

“I hate to cut this so short,” I was saying to Susan.

“Wait! What about Michelle?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later.” I watched Sara as she pulled little white cartons from the bag and arranged them carefully on the table.

“Promise?” Susan was asking.

“Promise. I’ll try to call later tonight, okay?” She seemed satisfied.

“Okay. Hey Leslie?”

“Yeah?” I adored this woman, even if she was so aggravating.

“I’ll bet I was right all along,” she said quietly.

“Right about what?” Now what was she talking about?

“About Sara. She probably wants you.”

I laughed nervously, hoping that Sara didn’t notice. “Very funny. I owe you.”

“Bye, Les.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone and took the few steps over to join Sara at the table. “Mmm, smells good.”

“I hope I wasn’t intruding,” she said as she handed me a pair of chopsticks.

Why was I feeling so paranoid? “No, not at all. It was my friend Susan from Boston. I’ll call her later. Did you get fried wontons?”

“Of course.” She tapped one of the cartons, and I quickly reached for it, opening it up and pulling out a wonton.

It amazed me how Sara and I had slipped back into our easy friendship. Subtle changes had taken place since our conversation the other night. This was the fourth night in a row that we were sharing dinner. She had even joined me for breakfast again that morning after admitting that she hated going downstairs and eating all alone. “The men are all on the make even at that hour,” she’d told me.

We were once again open and easygoing with each other. Not unlike before. Yet there were differences. Intangible differences.

It seemed to me that Sara had made a decision to invest an enormous amount of energy into getting me to open up and trust her. She was patient and tolerant in her coaxing, seeming to study my responses, digesting them and filing them away.

There was also the gay thing that seemed to hover between us, and I was very aware of this new facet of our relationship. It always seemed to be there, showing up in small nuances. It was almost as though she was watching me differently, watching me to see if she could somehow identify what made me different. She hadn’t yet started asking questions about it, but I fully expected them to come.

Once we finished eating, we assumed what had become our favorite after-dinner positions. I hopped onto the bed and settled near the pillows, pulling my legs up and tucking them under to sit cross-legged. Sara stayed in the armchair beside the table, turning just enough so that she was facing me.

“How did you know you were gay?” she asked out of nowhere, starling me. Then she laughed nervously, her face contrite. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I’ve wanted to ask but wasn’t sure how.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. It took me a moment or two to gather my composure and my thoughts. Part of me wanted to avoid the question and the topic entirely. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew I had to open the door a little wider.

“I’m not sure, exactly.” Her eyes grew cloudy, and I realized she thought I was trying to wiggle out of the question. “I’m not being evasive,” I laughed. “It’s just that it didn’t happen overnight or anything. Believe it or not, when I was a teenager I was really boy crazy. Completely over the top.”

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide. “You know, the more I get to know you, the more I can’t even imagine you with a guy.”