Chapter 32
32
Ginny sleeps till ten the morning after drag trivia. Not having a regular day job is really working for them.
There’s an unread text on their phone when they wake up. It’s from Elsie.
Happy Palentine’s Day!
Okay.
That’s fine.
That’s normal.
It is normal, really. On February 13, Ginny always wakes up to a text from Elsie. Usually it’s much more effusive, talking about how great they are and how honored Elsie is to be their best friend. Palentine’s has always been Ginny and Elsie’s holiday. They dress up, go out somewhere fancy, alternate who pays each year. This year it’s Ginny’s turn.
Ginny doesn’t know how to respond. They feed Rufus and let him out to play in the freshly fallen snow in the backyard. Then they register their business name online with the state and pay the fee.
Sue called them an infant last night, but they feel like a goddamn adult.
The heat of coffee in their mug warms Ginny’s hands as they stand at the sliding door, watching Rufus bury his head in the snow. They haven’t told Hearts of Hope yet, but Rufus is going to be a foster fail. Not because there’s a single thing wrong with him, but because Ginny is too attached. He’s been good company the last three weeks.
Last night was good company, too. Ginny was surrounded by people who were the exact type of queer they want to be—authentic, genuine, real. Happy.
And Ginny is happy about a lot of things. The whole point of taking space from Elsie was to live life for themself, and they are. They’re doing what they want, not building a life around her. But fuck, they miss her.
They miss the big stuff, but the little stuff, too. Taking dumb pictures. Elsie reading a book in the garage while Ginny works. Elsie sneaking treats to their foster dogs, even though that also annoys the fuck out of Ginny. Elsie doing full recaps of Real Housewives episodes Ginny has never had an iota of interest in watching. When Elsie loves a book so much she steals Ginny’s phone to borrow the audiobook from the library so they can listen while they build.
Maybe they don’t have to miss it all. They needed space af ter the trip, but now? Elsie has reached out. They can reconnect. They can be okay. This isolation was self-inflicted. It was important and it was necessary, but Ginny’s done with it now.
Happy Palentine’s Day. Can I take you to lunch?
Ginny idles their truck outside the back of the store like the last month never happened. It could be mid-January—when Elsie emerges, she’s in the same red hat and mittens she wore the day Ginny quit their job.
But everything else is different. The way Ginny’s chest clenches at the sight of her. The timidness in Elsie’s smile once she climbs into the truck.
“Hi.” Her voice is soft.
Ginny breathes. “Hi.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
They look at each other for a moment, before Ginny clears their throat and shifts the truck into drive. The long-term silence between them is a hurdle they need to leap over as quickly as possible, but it’s a lot easier to do without having to hold eye contact.
“Thanks for giving me space,” Ginny says once they’re on the road. “I needed to stand on my own two feet and all that. Which I’ve done. And now I, uh, I miss you.”
“The second we get out of this car I’m hugging you so hard,” Elsie says.
Ginny’s face breaks open in a grin. They couldn’t hold it back if they tried. But they have more to say.
“I told you nothing was going to ruin our friendship, and then I kind of abandoned you for a while there. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Elsie says, waving a mittened hand. “You needed time. It was good. For both of us.”
Even only seeing it out of the corner of their eye, Ginny is bowled over by how beautiful Elsie’s smile is. Their heart feels lighter than it has in weeks.
“I have so much to tell you—” they both say at the same time, then laugh.
“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me the most important thing that’s happened since we—” Elsie trips over the sentence. “Since the trip.”
This, Ginny thinks. They’ve been shaping their life into what they want it to be, all on their own, but still, the most important thing that’s happened is making up with Elsie.
“I created an LLC for woodworking,” they say instead.
“No shit!” Elsie smacks their arm. “That’s so fucking cool!”
Ginny grins, a little sheepish. “It is, yeah.”
“So you’re going for it? All woodworking, no day job?”
“I am.”
They tell her about doing Bapa’s bathroom and looking at finances with Sue. They tell her about building the bed for Zina and Shea—leaving out the suspension part of it. They’re not ready to talk about sex with Elsie. Not yet. They tell her about Rufus, too, and Elsie plucks their phone from the cup holder to scroll through pictures.
She asks so many questions, Ginny talks about themself all the way to the restaurant. They want to know what she’s been up to, too, but it’s nice, how much they have going on.
Elsie sticks to her word. As soon as they’re parked, she leaps out of the truck, meets Ginny at the driver’s-side door, and wraps them in a hug. It’s tight enough they lose their breath.
“I missed you so fucking much,” she says.
Ginny’s face presses into Elsie’s shoulder. She feels so good in their arms. She smells like the perfume she’s worn since middle school, and it almost makes Ginny cry. They know they needed the space, but fuck. They need this. They need Elsie.
“You’re stuck with me for life, Holtz,” Elsie says, right into Ginny’s ear.
“For life, Hoffman,” Ginny says back.
Elsie releases the hug and beams. “C’mon. I’m starving. ”
When they’re seated, food on trays in front of them, Ginny finally asks after Elsie.
“What about you?”
Elsie’s already got three fries in her mouth.
“What’s the most important thing that’s happened since the trip?”
“This,” Elsie says.
Immediately, she laughs, but it’s not sincere. Ginny knows Elsie’s normal laugh, and this isn’t it. This is her fake, embarrassed laugh. Ginny doesn’t think they’ve ever heard it directed at them.
“No, but seriously,” Elsie says, like her first answer was a joke, “I designed a new logo for the store, and this morning I showed it to my dad, and he actually liked it!”
Ginny lets it go. They don’t need to know every feeling Elsie is having. They can focus on the good and let the awkward shake itself out.
“This morning?” they say. “This just happened, and you let me talk about myself the whole ride here?”
“I wanted to know what you were doing!”
Ginny puts their burger down and holds out a hand. “Lemme see!”
“Okay, but please recognize I do not have a graphic design degree and go easy on me.”
Elsie opens a photo and slides her phone across the table, then hides her face in her hands. It’s a decent logo—clean, modern, unique. Not busy, like their current sign.
“It’s good!”
Elsie parts her fingers to peek at Ginny. “Really?”
“Really! Of course your dad liked it. I know he’s been a dick about branding, but how could he not like this?”
Elsie finally drops her hands from her face, which is the cutest shade of pink. Ginny’s chest feels warm. They missed this.
“Yeah, so, like, I did a whole presentation,” Elsie says. “And he actually listened and asked good questions and—yeah. It felt good.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Elsie goes even pinker. “Shut up.”
“I am! I know it’s not always easy, talking with your family—especially your dad—about store stuff.”
“Yeah, well. Someone taught me to speak up for myself recently.” She shoves another fry in her mouth, then talks while chewing, like she’s trying to pretend she didn’t say that. “So anyway, I’ve got other ideas that go along with that, but I started with the visual stuff to ease my dad into it.”
Was this what it was like for Elsie, back in high school? Ignoring the awkwardness, pretending it wasn’t there and powering through? At least Ginny knows they can do it. The two of them have gotten through everything so far; they’ll get through this, too.
“That’s smart to ease him into it,” Ginny says. “Tell me all these other ideas, though.”
Elsie smiles, grateful Ginny’s trying to be normal, maybe. Or excited to talk about her ideas. It doesn’t matter why, just that it’s her real smile. Ginny knows.
“Well, so, this refresh of our visual brand should come with a rededication to our ideals.” She sounds so fucking smart. “We say we’re beginner friendly, but the only beginners we’re reaching are the ones willing to come to a hardware store and ask questions. There are so many potential customers who are too overwhelmed to get started. I want to do DIY classes. Beginner ones. So people who don’t know that much don’t feel intimidated or laughed at or whatever. I was even thinking you could teach one. Or Sue. Or—I don’t know, even your grandpa with the spinny thing.”
“Lathe,” Ginny provides. “And he would absolutely love that.”
“We could do one a month, and that’s three months right there. Plus, we could get plumbers, electricians. Any sort of tradesperson. I’m not actually interested in tools, and I’ve never had to learn about them, because my dad or brothers or you have always handled stuff for me. But what about people who don’t have those connections? If we help teach them, we can create a customer from someone who isn’t currently one.”
Ginny loves listening to Elsie talk about something she cares about.
“And, like, you know how my dad loves to feel super smart helping people who don’t know stuff? This is gonna be a hard sell but… I want to put him on TikTok.”
Ginny bursts out laughing, and Elsie’s face falls.
“No—” They put a comforting hand on her arm across the table, still chuckling. “I’m not laughing at the idea. It’s a great idea. I’m just imagining the videos. They’re gonna be hilarious.”
Elsie looks at Ginny’s hand. Ginny takes it back. Apparently they’re going to have to relearn how to touch each other, just like sophomore year.
Ginny wanted things to go back to normal. They feel normal, some of the time, but Elsie seems… unsure. She keeps looking at them—not with pity, but with something. There’s just something off. Probably it’s that they haven’t talked in weeks. Ginny themself isn’t completely certain how to act, how to be normal, after the time apart. And if there’s a bigger reason for Elsie’s awkwardness, Ginny doesn’t ask. Whatever Elsie feels is not Ginny’s responsibility. If she wants to talk about something, she can bring it up.