Chapter 16 #2
“The way you two look at each other, it’s just… I can tell she cares about you. You feel the same way, don’t you? She’s incredibly intelligent, hardworking, diligent, she’s mature and responsible…”
I paused. “Just out of curiosity, when was the last time you said any of those things to her directly?”
She went quiet. I sat with it, drinking eggnog, while Miss Jameson sipped coffee with slightly quivery hands. She didn’t get to respond, though, not before the door swung open and Sam stepped into the room, a conspiratorial look my way.
“Bridge, I gotta lay low, they’re still eating tacos,” he said, even though I was frantically signaling him to hush, and he realized too late Miss Jameson was in here, when she turned to give him a look that would make little children cry.
“You come to my house on Christmas Day—”
“Oh, Miss Jameson—hi, miss, it’s so good to see you here—”
“While you’re dating my son without my approval—”
“Oh! You know, back in the dining room, I didn’t properly notice how nice your jacket looks, very fetching—”
“And you have the nerve to complain about the food I provide?”
“Now, Miss Jameson,” I said, and she relaxed just a little.
“I’m just a little bit allergic to, um…” Sam started, desperately searching. “Turkey?” I wondered if the question mark was because he was that bad a liar or if he wasn’t sure if it was turkey in the taco. If someone told me it was raccoon meat, I’d have believed it.
Miss Jameson welled up again. “You don’t like the tacos?”
“No,” he said, deflating. “No, they’re not really… quite to my taste. I am so sorry. I don’t mean to offend.”
“It’s an acquired taste, is all,” I said. Sam lit up.
“Like a fine wine.”
“Like coffee,” I added, gesturing to Miss Jameson’s drink.
“Or an artisanal cheese selection.” Sam nodded quickly. “I just don’t have the palate for it, is all.”
Miss Jameson stared at him for a long time before she turned back to me. “Do you like them?”
“I’m, you know.” I just needed to lie. That was all there was to it.
“It’s not what I grew up with like you and your family, so it’s some adjusting to do.
But that’s just what it’s like when you’re doing something new, isn’t it?
You have your perceptions challenged, you work to overcome it, and you grow fuller and richer as a person for it.
” Yeah. That worked. Sam nodded eagerly.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he said. Miss Jameson nodded slowly.
“Yes… maybe you’re right.”
“And that’s just how it is with Sam,” I said. This was such a wild-ass pivot, but maybe I could sell it. “He’s not what you pictured, but the more you think about him, the more you realize just how happy Kevin is with him, and we’ve all learned and grown from it.”
Miss Jameson let out a long, slow sigh. “Bridget,” she said finally, “is Victoria even planning on staying in town? Or is she leaving again?”
“Oh. Um. I don’t know.” My ears burned. I looked away. “I think she’s just taking it one day at a time, letting life do as it will.”
“Where is she planning to go this time? Seattle? Los Angeles? Why stop there? Maybe London or Tokyo.”
“I don’t think she’s going to London,” I said. “Or Tokyo.”
“We’ve always been traumatizing her by not letting her have feelings,” Miss Jameson sighed. “Isn’t that it?”
“See, I think you’re putting words in my mouth a little.”
“Apparently we were on that track even before I was born. I suppose maybe there’s no way out except for her to leave us for good this time.”
“Miss Jameson, I think these are your own feelings manifesting as something they’re not.”
She looked down with a heavy sigh. “I just thought she’d be closer, but now that she’s here, she’s farther away than ever…” She started for the door again, but I found myself in front of her, moving and catching her.
“I know,” I said. “But I… I mean, for what it’s worth, I really wish she’d change path.”
She gave me a searching look. I dropped my gaze.
“You know. Off this whole… not letting anyone see her, path. I wish I could be with her.”
She stared a minute longer before she softened, and she put a hand on my shoulder. With all the social grace of someone who had never done it before, she pulled me into a hug, awkward and searching, but I squeezed her. “You’re a good one,” she said quietly.
I doubted she’d really think that if she knew what my nice, respectable job was, but I’d take it. “Thanks,” I whispered.
Once she’d left the room with a whispered excuse about needing to get more coffee—her mug was full still—Sam spoke quietly.
“So you and Vicky aren’t actually together?”
“Um, we’re… no.”
“That was a lot of hesitation. Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t look right at him. That was probably a problem.
“Okay, talk. What’s the energy?”
“There’s all kinds. There’s, like, solar, wind, hydro… coal and natural gas…”
“Mm-hm…”
“There’s even nuclear.”
He gasped, a hand to his chest. “Oh my god, so you’re fucking each other!”
“What—how did you even get there from nuclear energy generation?” I shot, my face hot.
“Nuclear energy. Atomic fusion. Little atoms making love, just like you two.”
I sighed, a hand to my forehead. “Oh my god. Okay, first of all, nuclear power generation isn’t done with fusion, it’s done with fission. Nuclear fusion happens in the sun and we don’t have a safe and reliable way to harness it for net-positive energy on earth yet.”
“How long have you two been fucking?”
“It’s been like a month, oh my god, stop asking about it.”
“Oh my god, so you’re in love.”
“No!” My face was so hot right now. I drank more eggnog-inspired rum. It didn’t help. “It’s—it’s just casual. Just physical. That would be kinda fast to be all I love you anyway.”
He put his hands over his mouth. “Ooh, so you’ve been counting the time until you can say it.”
“Oh my god, Sam. She’s not dating me! We’ve had that conversation already,” I said, falling off into an awkward mumble. “She refuses to date people seriously.”
He nodded, looking more serious now. “Kev was like that, too.”
“Yeah?” I hugged myself with my free hand, picking at threads of my knit sweater, suddenly feeling small. “What, um… what’d you do to win him over?”
“Told him to make a decision.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s scary.”
He shrugged. “It was. But I respected him enough to make the choice he needed to choose, and I respected myself enough not to stay any longer if he couldn’t commit.”
“How long were you two… you know, before you officially got together?”
“Oh my god, girl, we were on and off for, like, six months while he tried to figure out what it meant about him. Learn from my mistakes and don’t wait that long. It was awful. It’s a good thing he’s so cute now that I can overlook it.”
I shifted awkwardly. “I’m not doing anything like that today. Can you imagine ruining Christmas Day for her like that?”
He clapped a hand on my back. “Ugh, no way. C’mon, girl, I bet those horrible fucking tacos are gone now. Let’s go have a merry Christmas.”
They were, thank god. Victoria sheepishly admitted to having eaten mine, apologizing profusely, and I bit back my vomit long enough to reassure her I really didn’t mind.
And as we all gathered around the fire, the better part of the extended family gathered, Victoria’s cousins’ kids opened presents while the grownups sat and made conversation, and I couldn’t take my eyes off Victoria the whole time, thinking about everything Sam had said. Everything Miss Jameson had said.
Nan had said basically the same things too, but, uh, I didn’t need to think about that.
And once night fell and we filtered out, Victoria walked closer to my side than she normally would. I kept cool despite it until we got back into the car, and she leaned across the center to rest her head on my shoulder.
“This was easier,” she whispered. “With you there.”
“The—getting to the car?”
“No, Bridget.”
“Oh. Right. Family—the whole family thing of seeing—” I cleared my throat, and I looked down at Victoria’s hand on the center console.
I respected him enough to make the choice he needed to choose, and I respected myself enough not to stay any longer if he couldn’t commit.
Right. Yeah. I slipped my hand into hers, and when she laced her fingers with mine and squeezed, I felt like my heart would explode.
“I’m glad I could be there for it,” I whispered.
“Me too.” She turned, and she pulled me into a kiss—tender and sweet and adoring and absolutely not an initiation for sex, and it left me reeling. When she pulled away, her eyes were sparkling, and it made me want to scream. “Let’s get home.”
“Yeah… let’s.” I had another month to figure this out with her. I was going to die.