Chapter 20 #2
“I think it’s part of why I really connect with documentaries. They cut through the bullshit to find what’s real and true. That’s what I want to do with film—say something honest. Tell a story, with a purpose.” Renee shook her head.
“What is it?”
Renee hesitated for a moment, then said, “Before you called me about this job, I was about to drop out. I wasn’t going back after my leave.”
“Oh, Renee.” Lola leaned against the counter beside her and rubbed her arm. Renee leaned into her touch. “Why?”
“I just … couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make films . It’s the one thing I dreamed of my whole life and then when I got the chance, I froze. I thought it was the program, but when I was on leave, I was still talking myself out of every idea I had for my thesis. None of them were good enough.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Which part—that my ideas were bad or that I talked myself out of them? Because both are highly believable to me.”
“The first part,” Lola said. “I’ve seen your work, Renee. I know you have great ideas. You should have more faith in yourself.”
“Are you kidding? I had everything I’d dreamed of at that program, and I went running back to my mom’s house.”
“And you tried again. You’re making your thesis, and it’s going to be so much bigger and better than anything you could have done before.” Lola stilled. “And if it isn’t, at least you’ll know for certain that it isn’t your fault.”
Renee frowned at her. “How’s that?”
She hated to say this, but she had to make Renee understand. “I don’t know what will happen to the film once everyone realizes I don’t have anything for the next album. You think the staged shoots were bad, wait until you’re watching me sing ghostwritten songs at gunpoint.”
“Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Renee slipped her arms around Lola’s waist. “I’m making this film, and you’re making this album.
You’re Lola fucking Gray. You’d written what, a thousand songs before you even met Ava?
Plus, now you have your original muse back. I’m like catnip for your creativity.”
Lola laughed, and Renee, satisfied, pulled away to fill the pot for pasta.
“Thank you for blessing me with your presence,” Lola said, watching her muse’s muscles flex as she set the pot on the stove. “It’s not only Ava, though. The LavaTruthers are going to pick apart anything I write and connect it to her, no matter how careful I am.”
“So?”
“So, then the rumors that I’m bi will explode, and it’ll be a huge mess.”
“Lo, your fingers probably still smell like my pussy.”
“ Renee! ”
“I’m just saying that you are bi. Nothing’s wrong with that.”
“I know nothing’s wrong with it. I’m happy with who I am.
It’s complicated professionally. I can’t simply announce I’m bi for no reason, especially when the whole world knows my history with men.
With Ava, Gloriana wanted to hard launch the relationship at the same time, so everything would make sense, for the public. ”
“I think the public would have gotten the idea without her.”
“My team didn’t think so. And they were the ones who’d be spending months crafting a narrative, to make sure the announcement is really worth it.” Seeing how low Renee’s brows had fallen as she spoke, Lola added, “You have to understand, I’m a whole industry.”
“But you’re also just a person, who deserves to be herself.”
Lola felt suddenly that she might cry. “It’s not that simple for someone in my position.”
“Okay, I get that.” Renee searched her face. “But it doesn’t seem like this is making you very happy.”
“That’s not always the most important thing,” Lola managed.
Renee pulled Lola to her chest. Lola felt the words vibrate when Renee said, “It’s important to me.”
“L ET ’ S GO INTO Petoskey today,” Lola said. It was their last day.
They were naked in bed. Renee lay on top of Lola, her body deliciously solid.
“Might be nice,” Renee mumbled. “There’s a farmers’ market. Antiques.”
Lola’s fingers wandered through Renee’s hair. “If I wear my glasses and a beanie and that weird jacket, no one will recognize me, right?”
“No one’s expecting a celebrity up here.” Renee squirmed contentedly against Lola’s chest. “But can we lie here a little longer first?”
“Okay. A little longer.”
P ETOSKEY WAS CHARMING. They walked down the beach to check for Petoskey stones—with no luck—before heading up the hill to the town.
Views of the bay peeked out between brick buildings with quaint striped awnings and streets with old-style gas lamps.
They stopped at antique stores, where Lola picked up and put down a hundred different knickknacks, from crystal figurines to matchbooks to old-fashioned cheese graters, and Renee challenged herself to find the most over-the-top vintage gown.
Lola had never had a real pasty, so they found a bakery and bought the last ones in the case, biting into the flaky crust while the white-haired woman behind the counter explained that she still made them in the traditional style, with rutabaga, potato, and beef filling and suet in the dough.
They wandered into a used bookstore where dust floated through the air, and in a narrow aisle, Renee reached for Lola’s hand.
Lola pulled back when their hands brushed, bumping against a shelf about polar exploration. “Sorry,” they both said at once.
“It’s just—” Lola said.
“No, yeah, I get it.”
“No, I—” Lola glanced around the empty store. It seemed safe enough. Praying this wasn’t a mistake, she slipped her hand into Renee’s. “I want to.”
Renee beamed back at her.
T HEY GRABBED DINNER at a craft brewery that had a heated outdoor area with a food truck serving kimchi poutine and laksa carbonara.
Lola swallowed a bite of gochujang-covered cheese curd and washed it down with a guava sour. “I have to admit, this is better than I expected for rural Michigan.”
“This isn’t rural Michigan. We’re adjacent to the Traverse City micropolitan area.” Renee was sitting beside her on the picnic bench. Below, their feet tangled together.
“Makes sense. It feels very micropolitan here.”
Lola glanced around the other tables. No one was paying attention to them. They were chatting around the fire pit, or playing cornhole. Lola suspected that the bachelorette party at the table in front was full of Lo-Lites, but they hadn’t spotted her.
Renee saw her checking and squeezed her hand. “You’re fine, okay? With those glasses, you’re like the lead in a nineties teen movie, before the makeover reveals that you’re devastatingly hot.”
“You’re such a flirt.” Lola grinned. “You know, this is my first real date with a girl.”
“How does it feel?”
How did it feel? It felt so normal, it was almost unreal.
They were out at a bar, sharing fries and having beers, like regular people did.
They weren’t sneaking around, because hiding was the best they could do, or scheduling sleepovers weeks in advance.
It wasn’t hard to imagine some alternative timeline where she and Renee had grown together instead of apart.
Maybe they would’ve moved to Grand Rapids or Royal Oak, and had a queer circle of friends that teased them about being high school sweethearts.
A life where they had their own house on the lake.
“It feels good. I wish we could stay here forever.”
“We can come back. Whenever you want. Well, we need Deborah’s permission, but you know she loves you.”
As they walked back to the car, Lola felt bold. She didn’t want to forget this moment. She felt better than she had in months, in a whole year—maybe longer.
She pulled Renee into a kiss, right there on the street.
Lola’s beanie slipped back as she tipped her head up. Her dark hair tumbled free.
“Should you get that?” Renee murmured.
She should, but she loved the way Renee was looking at her. Lola put her fingers lightly to Renee’s jaw, rose up on her toes, and kissed her again.
She didn’t think, at the time, that it had been so obvious.