Ring, ring.

“Hello?”

“Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“Mom…”

 “Now I’m just worried about you.  You sound strange.”

“I just said hello!”

“A mother can tell.”

“I’m just tired, Ma.  I – uh,”

“Did you just wake up?”

“…No.”

“Honey, I thought you were going to talk to your boss, that Geraldine, and see if you could get on a better schedule.”

“Mom, it’s not that easy.”

“Honey, you know, it’s almost summer.”

“…I know.”

“So, have you had any auditions?”

“Look, Mom, I’m doing my best.”

“Honey, you’ve been there for over six months.  All I’m saying is before you know it you’ll be twenty-four.  Your chances are just going to get worse and worse.  Now, don’t you have any leads on auditions?”

“I – no.”

“…Sweetie.  You need to start looking into these things.  Why don’t I come down there and – ”

“No!”

“…Now there’s no reason to shout.”

“Ma, I’m failing, okay?  I’m failing miserably!  I’m gonna be a bartender for the rest of my life!  I’m a loser!  Is that what you want to hear?  Your daughter’s a loser!  Just leave me alone!”

Pause.

“Don’t forget to get the weekend of Jake’s wedding off.  It’s on a Saturday.  Remember, July seventh.  Now, it would help if you could get the week before off too so you could help me out with the preparations.”

“I’ll… I’ll let Geraldine know, but it’s still pretty early, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s already June.  The earlier you ask, the more likely you’ll get the time off.”

“…Oh.  Okay.”

“And I only say this because I love you, but do look into those auditions.  You only get one chance at this sort of thing, after all.”

“Sure.  I will.”

“Bye now, baby.”

“Bye.”

Click.

 

Michelle put the phone down, rolled over in her bed, and looked at the clock.  It was 2pm, and several days had passed since she first met Beth, epileptic friend of pit bulls, at The Caribou.  When had she started to lose the daylight?  She navigated her new world of darkness in a drunken daze. 

She showered laboriously and ate a bagel.  The dry mouthfuls passed down her throat, flavorless.  The rhythm of the chewing began to turn her stomach, and she threw the last quarter of the bagel away, swallowing a few gulps of coffee to settle the churning.  She brushed her teeth and got dressed.  It’s Saturday, isn’t it?  Yes.  Should I knock on Sam’s door?  Not three yet.  Too early still.  She filled another cup of coffee and curled into the sofa with the remote.

At four, she banged on Samantha’s door with an open palm.  She waited, banged again, and pressed her ear to the door.  Nothing.  Probably one of her one-night stands was a murderer.  Cut her throat.  Chopped her up in little pieces and stuck her in the freezer or the tub full of Drano.  Stop it.  That’s sick.

She walked to the club herself that evening, sweating in her long sleeves.  June.  Is it really June?  She said June.  Yes June Mom said June but no then Jake’s wedding is only a month away so no not June but god it’s warm out and Mom probably knows but it was just god it was just a few weeks ago these streets were freezing with snow when I walked to work in a scarf and hat and that means god could I have been dancing that long no wow yes June really June wow.

She entered the dressing room and someone thrust a moist cupcake into her hand.

“Happy graduation to me!” Vivian shouted at her face.  “I’m a high school grad!”

Michelle looked down at the cupcake she held.  Purple frosting piled on chocolate cake topped with a yellow frosting smiley face.  June.  Really June.

“Beth made them for me.  I graduated yesterday.  I’ve got my diploma and everything.”  Michelle looked past the high school graduate and saw Beth sitting on the counter in front of the mirror.  Frosting clung to her lips as she smiled and waved.  Leon sat on the floor, panting and reveling in the coos and pats he was receiving from the girls.  Princess was on her knees in front of his nose letting him lick her face. 

Michelle made her way to her locker.  She took a single bite of her cupcake and dropped it into the trashcan.  She didn’t see Sam anywhere. 

“Princess,” Claudia’s voice called from the doorway.  “Honey, you got to get out here.  Your regular’s been waiting for almost an hour.  He’s gonna leave if you don’t hurry.”

Princess huffed and hugged Leon around the neck.  She stood up and held out her arms for a moment until she had her balance, then walked out.

Michelle sat at the mirror next to Beth and did her makeup while Leon’s constant breath warmed her thigh.  Almost inadvertently, her eyes kept darting around the dressing room, expecting to see Samantha and never seeing her.

Before going out into the club, Michelle knocked on the office door.

“Come in,” said Claudia’s voice. 

Abe was sitting back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, his hands folded and resting on his stomach.  He nodded his head rhythmically with closed eyes, lost in the music that traveled into his ears through two tiny white headphones. 

“Can we help you?” Claudia asked from her seat at the computer.  Her chin rested on a fist as she watched the televisions stacked in the corner.  Michelle saw that the room in which the man had assaulted her was empty.  In another room, Princess was bouncing up and down on the lap of her regular, and Michelle averted her eyes as she realized what was happening.

“Um, yeah,” she said.  “I need to take a week off.  I mean, um, is that okay?”

Claudia looked at Michelle out of the corner of her eye.  She picked up a pen in a slender hand and began to chew on the end.  “This week?” she said, pen still in her mouth.  “Honey, I can’t have all you girls gone at once.” 

“No, I need a week off in July.  The first week.  I mean, the week before the seventh, which is a Saturday.  And the Saturday.  And the Sunday too would be nice.” 

Claudia looked back at the TV sets and put down her pen.  “You getting fitted for another bridesmaid dress?” 

“Haha, no.  Um, I’m wearing it, actually.”

“Hmph,” Claudia said.  She shifted to cross her legs.  “That’s fine, baby.  You can have that whole week, Sunday to Sunday.  It’s your sister getting married?”

“My brother.”

“Hmph.  Well, that’s probably for the best.  It can be hard for a girl to watch her sister getting married.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know.”

Claudia nodded and turned back to watch the screens, arms crossed and forehead creased.

Michelle stood there for a few moments looking at Abe, who had not opened his eyes since she had entered the room.

“Hey, do you guys know where Samantha is?” she asked.

“Sam Feranutos?” Claudia said without breaking her gaze.

“Yeah.”  She realized upon saying it that she had never been sure of Samantha’s last name. 

“She’s taking some time off,” Claudia said.  “She left yesterday.  Called in this morning and said there was an emergency in her family.  Mother’s sick.”

Something was wrong with the image of Samantha running off to tend to a sick mother, but Michelle couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  What is it?

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said.  Something about… yes, her mother.  She mentioned it once before….  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Claudia shook her head.  “Nope.  Maybe a week.  Maybe more.  It’s alright.  Girl’s been working here for four years, she’s never late, never sick, and hardly takes vacations.  She can take her time visiting her mom on her death bed.”

That’s it!  Yes!  Dead!  Sam’s mom is dead!  Ha!  I knew she was lying.  But why would she lie?  Where the hell is she?

           

Only the cameras caught Sam the day before.  Dressed in a black satin bikini, wearing red lipstick and eye shadow, her heart raced and her surroundings melted into a blur as she ran to Mlle X.

As before, she was sitting alone at a table in the back.  She sipped on a pink martini which she abandoned to stand up and embrace Samantha.  They held each other for a moment in silence, Sam running her hands down the woman’s long hair, smelling scents of spice and cinnamon.

When they finally let go, Sam stood there for a moment, amazed at the sight of her.  Yes, she was just as she remembered, golden brown hair, milk skin, lips makeup-less, bitten pink.  The woman smiled.

“Hello again,” she said.  “Long time, no see.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” Samantha said.  She wanted to reach for her again, to touch her and confirm her presence’s reality, but she didn’t.

“Me too.  We have so much to catch up on.  It’s Sam, right?”

“Right.  Samantha.  Sam.  And –  I’m sorry.  Your name is…?”

“Gracie.”  She giggled.  “Gosh, you never even got my name?”

Sam shook her head.

“Can you sit down?” Gracie asked, retaking her seat.

“Sure.  I mean, of course.”  Sam pulled up a chair.

Something about Gracie was different from the Mlle X Sam remembered.  Small wire spectacles still sat on her sharp nose, her hair still fell straight down her shoulders, but her clothes were tailored.  She wore pinstripe pants and suspenders over a white business shirt, and her shoes had heels.  Her smile was broad, and she looked Samantha straight in the eye when she spoke.  She rested her hand confidently around her martini glass, but didn’t drink from it.

“What time do you get off?” she asked, raising the corner of her lip in a half-smile.

“Well, I’m supposed to work all night.” 

“Oh.”  She lowered her eyes, turning her head. 

“How about now?” Sam offered.

Gracie’s face lifted.  “Sounds good.  Now sounds good.”

Sam gathered her things and left with Gracie.  They caught a cab outside and rode it back to Sam’s apartment.  Neither spoke much, but their hands ventured together and entwined as they neared their destination.  

Reaching her door, Samantha fumbled with her keys before selecting the right one and nervously sliding it into the lock.  She thrust the door open and Gracie followed her inside.  They turned toward each other, and Gracie spun around and held Sam around the waist.  She flung the door shut, pressed Samantha against the wall, and kissed her. 

A flood of passion flowed through the embrace and into Sam’s chest.  She felt it burning, and let it grow and smolder in her until she didn’t think she could stand it any longer.  It was almost too much, and just when she thought she might burst from excitement and love and happiness, Gracie pulled away. 

Her lips were wet, and she licked them in a circular motion.  “So,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “why don’t you make me some tea?  We can get caught-up.”

Trembling, Sam nodded.  She went to the kitchen and began heating the teapot. 

“Goodness sakes,” Gracie remarked as she wandered around the apartment.  “New place, but it still feels the same.  I can see so much of you in the décor.  And you look exactly the same.”  She glanced at Sam and winked.  “But then, I would expect that.  I’m so glad to be back here.  It’s so soothing.  So comforting.”  She sat down at the kitchen table and waited.  Her crossed leg swung rhythmically from the knee, but she was otherwise motionless as she watched Sam prepare the tea.  She sighed.  “I’ve missed you.”

Sam shivered.  “Me too,” she said, looking back at her.  “I’m, I’m so glad you came back.”

“It’s been what, two years?  Two and a half?”

“Something like that.”  She selected two bags of herbal tea and placed them in two mugs, waiting for the water to boil.  “So, did you finally get your PhD?”

“Oh, no, actually, not yet.  I took some time off and now I’ve changed it from biology to philosophy of science.  I’m getting there though.  I should finish in the next couple of years.  And good memory, by the way.”

“Wow.  I’m amazed.  I’m so impressed.  You know, I couldn’t even finish school.”

“Yes, but you had other things going on.  If my mother died while I was in school, I might have dropped out, too.”

“Wow.  Talk about memory.  You remember that?”

Gracie smiled.  “I remember everything.”

Sam felt a warm sensation in her cheeks that she hadn’t experienced in ten years.  She was blushing.  The teapot shrieked, and she poured the boiling water over the two teabags.  She brought the mugs over to the table, steam rising from them like nebulous serpents.

Gracie clutched her mug with both hands, letting the steam wrap around her face.  She inhaled through her nose.  “I wanted to thank you,” she said.

“Thank me?  Thank me for what?”

That smile again appeared beneath those glasses and those eyes.  “You know.  I know you know.  What you did to me that night two years ago.  It was illuminating.  The forehead thing, when you touched me and looked at me.  God, I felt imbued with wisdom and awareness like I’d never known in my life.  It was like you were sending it to me through your fingers, through your eyes.  I’ve never felt that close to anyone.  Not even during sex.  The next morning, everything was so clear.  I’m sorry I had to leave, but you have to understand.  It was like I had new eyes.  I had a new life.”

The flush in Sam’s cheeks drained, leaving a ghostly pallor.  Her eyes fell.  “I understand,” she said quietly. 

She had heard variants of this speech so many times before.  Since the very first time with Louis, everyone she had ever sat with, silent, looking, ended their time together with some form of this effusive, verbal gratitude.  

Sam heard the clink of Gracie’s empty teacup placed back on its saucer.  The two women looked at one another.

“I want more,” Gracie said simply.

Samantha swallowed.  “Again?  I’ve never sat with anyone twice before.  Not like that.”

“No, not like that.  I want you.  I want you like two people want each other.  Like animals want.  I want your body, as well as your soul.” 

“I –” Sam choked.  “I don’t do that.”

Gracie stood and drew closer.  “I don’t believe you.  In that room at the club, you let me touch myself.  I know you felt something.  I know you feel something now.  I can see the burning in your cheeks and your stomach and your thighs.  I know what it looks like to want something.”  Gracie pressed Sam against the wall again.  Sam’s lips parted in a gasp.  They kissed, and Gracie brought Sam to bed.

She touched Samantha reverently, inch by inch, savoring each curve and crease of soft skin.  Several times that night, Gracie kissed her lover’s eyes and called her an angel.

When they sat chaste years before, Sam touching lightly the skin of Gracie’s face, Sam experienced her as a channel of energy and knowledge.  She knew Gracie’s childhood, her isolation, and her fears.  She understood her new vibrancy and love for life, and saw in flashing images everything she had ever done.  As Gracie saw the world, she saw it, and she knew and realized how the loneliness, the knowledge of biology and philosophy, the broken marriage and passive manipulation of her parents, and every other unique instant of this woman’s life had painted a specific and meticulously unique window through which she viewed it all.  It was a glorious picture, warm and luminous and very comfortable.

Samantha usually experienced contact in this way, and the quotidian nature of the sexual encounter dropped the passion she had been holding in her chest down to her gut, where it churned and upset her stomach.

Sam lay on her side, Gracie holding her from behind in spoons.  She breathed deeply, and felt Gracie’s soft breasts brush against her back as their chests rose and fell.  She wanted so much to be happy where she was.

“So what are you?” Gracie asked, playing with Samantha’s dark hair.  “My angel?”

“No.  I’m not an angel.”  Gracie ran a hand down Sam’s side, sending a shiver in the other direction.

“I’m so sorry I left, Love,” she said, holding the dark-haired woman tight.  “I thought it was over.  I thought I didn’t need you anymore after that night.  I took my new eyes and went out and I lived.  I learned to love and to trust.  To laugh.  I met people, I knew people.  I experienced so much, but I swear to holiness and everything good, every day I thought of you.”

“I thought of you, too,” Sam muttered.  “Every day.”

“There’s just something about you,” Gracie mused as she began to fondle the white skin of Sam’s arms.  “I don’t know.  It’s beyond what you did for me that night.  I knew it because I couldn’t get you out of my head.  I know it for sure now.  Now that I’m back here, I feel safe.  I feel comfortable.  Samantha, you have to know, I’m in love with you.”

Sam’s back stiffened slightly, but Gracie continued to stroke her shoulders with gentle fingertips. 

“I just – I want to be with you, Samantha.  I want to live in this silly apartment and cook dinner with you.  I want to wake up next to you in the morning and just lie there and not run away.  I want to ask you how your day’s been.  I want to walk into the bathroom to get my deodorant while you’re peeing.  I want to take disastrous little weekend trips to dumb little places, and be bored and angry and listless with you.  I want to find your first wrinkle.  I want to spend so much time together that we get absolutely sick of one another, and then realize that even with all the petty annoyances, there’s still no one else in the world for either of us.  I want to have explosive fights and wild make up sex.  I want – I want to cup your breasts in my hands and kiss your forehead.  And really, mostly, I want to feel comfortable with this knowledge I have: that I have never seen and will never see any woman or man as beautiful as you.  That I will never want anyone as much as I want you.  I want you, and I want you to want me.”

Sam felt Gracie’s warm body wrapped around her, and she lay there for a few moments breathing in the scent of her, drawing it in.  An instant passed in which she thought she could rest in those arms forever and be perfectly content, but it was an instant, and it did pass.

When she tried to speak, a lump choked her throat.  She cleared it away, and said as clearly as she could, “Gracie, I think this was a mistake.”

Sam could feel the gentleness leave the body behind her.  “What do you mean?” it said.

“I mean, I think you thought this was something it wasn’t.”  In their merciful position, no one had to look anyone in the eye.

Gracie let go.  She pulled away from Sam and weight shifted.  Without looking, Sam knew she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I thought you felt the same,” Gracie said.  “It seemed like you did.  It felt like it.”

“I’m so sorry.  Sometimes feelings lie.”  Sam remained on her side, staring at the far wall, hoping Gracie wouldn’t walk around to face her.

“I came back for you,” she said from the end of the bed.  “Even after all I got from you, I came back.  I didn’t need to.  I was whole after just one night.  But I came back because I love you.”

No one else had ever come back, and she had never before cared.  She let Gracie’s words pass through her without acknowledging them.  They held too much weight to be considered.  She said nothing. 

The silence smothered.  After a solid minute, Gracie stood up.  Sam winced when she thought she might walk around the bed to address her.

“You know what I’m saying is true,” she said, dressing behind Sam’s back, no resentment audible in her voice.  “I know you know it.  I just assumed with all you know, you wouldn’t have any problem accepting a change.  I guess I was wrong.  It’s okay.  This is just, well, it’s just really all rather tragic.”

The bed dropped Sam down again as Gracie sat to slip on her shoes.

“I’ll see you around,” she said as she stood up.  Sam expected her to say something else, but she heard nothing but diminishing footsteps and the sound of the front door opening and closing.  At last she felt the tears come.  She hadn’t cried in almost a decade, and the heat of it all caught her off guard.

She wiped her eyes with her hand and saw her fingers stained red.  She thought for a moment she was crying blood.  Then she remembered.  It was just her makeup leftover from the club.

Filed under: Michelle, Michelle's family, Mlle X, Princess, Samantha, Vivian, wedding by Jade