Chapter Eight
Julia didn’t realize the sun began to set until her legs cramped from being in the same position for almost twelve hours. She finalized twenty-two teacher evaluations and planned out the activities for the next faculty meeting still two and a half weeks out. Forced to get up, she admired the papers scattered around her in disarray. Organized chaos, she reminded herself.
She knew sitting on the couch promoted bad posture, knew there was a perfectly empty desk just several paces away. But she liked the way she sunk into the cushions with her laptop perched on her legs. It always brought her back to when things were simpler, easier.
***
Twenty years ago, she met Marin at a charity event. Julia attended because ticket sales supported the expansion of after-school programs for underprivileged communities. She wore a formal yellow gown with a daring thigh slit. She could wear things like that back then. The dress hugged her curves and the neckline fell just below her shoulders, tracing her chest in a sweetheart cut. It was stunning.
She caught sight of Marin from across the room halfway through the night. Leaning against the bar, she held a crystal glass of bubbling champagne in her right hand. Her head was thrown back in an infectious fit of laughter. Even to this day, Julia still doesn’t know what was so funny.
A long black gown hugged her waist and fell in shining ruffles over her slender hips. Back then, her fiery red hair flowed in magnificent waves, trailing behind her like flickering flames. She had little auburn freckles that speckled her ivory complexion. They traced the bridge of her nose and fell just under those sparkling blue eyes. Though time faded them, obscured by years of nighttime moisturizer, Julia could still recall the precise spot where they disappeared just behind the curve of her ears.
It was that laugh that made Julia not want to take her eyes off of her. Her voice defied expectation. She was tall and slender–the very definition of elegance. She resembled those historic portraits in museums–the ones of great women, with hair always in the most perfect place, lips always in such a pose that anyone could see how others bowed before them. That was the air that Marin commanded, grabbing attention in the most dramatic way.
Her voice wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t clean with a high tone. Her voice was a mix of sultry spice and controlled rasp. It was unlike anything Julia heard before and her laugh was contagious. Julia fought the need to smile while watching, while observing the spectacle she stumbled upon.
With her own champagne in hand, Julia stood there, unable to tear her gaze away, wondering what kind of joke could make a woman like that laugh. That was when Marin looked over and saw her, too. Julia jerked her eyes away so fast her champagne threatened to lurch out of her glass.
She turned back to the group of administrators she was huddled with, also from Kleinton, who chatted about the phenomenal turn out. They clinked glasses of whiskey and champagne over comments of how much money the event might actually result in and what types of programs could be developed.
She was mid conversation about her upcoming involvement in a new lunch food initiative when Marin appeared at her side. She was startled, completely in awe over her bold grace as Marin slid right in–a magnificent river separating simple marshy banks.
“Good afternoon,” she said in greeting, raising her glass to everyone. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Marin Hartland with Hendrickson Marketing.”
“Penelope Riley.”
“Jackson Graham.”
“Elizabeth Jostly,” another added, all shaking her hand around the circle.
“Julia Jenner,” she introduced lastly.
And that was all it took. As the crowd thinned and tipsy adults ran out of checks to write, they packed into their taxis and Ubers. Julia and Marin sat around the grand fireplace, soaking up the intimacy of their own company. They had an entire bottle of champagne to themselves, filling their glasses to their heart’s desire.
Julia said anything to hear that laugh again. She mentioned she taught science and how last week a student distracted her in the hall just so another could pull the emergency eye wash shower. Marin confessed she was just starting her master’s in marketing, and how she submitted a copy of her grocery list to the editors instead of her rough draft on the last communication analysis. They laughed until their mascara was beyond repair.
“Well, I think they may kick us out if we don’t head out soon.” Marin chuckled, leaving her hand on Julia’s thigh as she spoke.
Julia wasn’t sure if there was flirting in the subtle way Marin would reach out and hold her arm or leg as she laughed, or if that was what young women in their twenties did then. She could’ve imagined how her laugh sounded louder when she was the cause over that young bartender.
“I suppose so.” Julia’s eyes glistened with the reflection of the fire in them.
She stood, and Marin followed her lead. She smiled at her–both just stuck in that gaze–with the backdrop of that extravagant fireplace behind them. Maybe there was something in the way Marin looked at her. Just maybe.
Uncertainty lingered in her mind until Marin placed one hand on her waist and pulled her body against hers. She held Julia there, their faces just inches apart as she gasped for a breath before pressing those soft lips into hers. It was bold, something Julia would never have done. Marin’s tasted like luscious champagne bubbles, sending fireworks exploding in her stomach. Julia pulled back, stunned and in blissful awe at the same time.
“I’d like to see you again.” Marin’s raspy voice filled Julia’s head with foggy warmth.
“How’s right now?” Julia’s voice was sultry and so unfamiliar to hear like that. She wasn’t that bold, but the way Marin’s eyes undressed her lit a fire that she couldn’t ignore.
“Let’s go.” Marin kissed her again, this time pushing her hips into Julia’s.
They called a taxi, barely able to keep their hands off each other in the back seat as he pretended not to notice. They didn’t try very well. The driver kept looking back in his mirror and then darting his eyes away again. Marin pushed Julia into the seat and she felt flat on top of her. They laughed over the alcohol that hazed their vision and ignited their chest.
Julia kissed Marin into the building of her apartment, barely allowing her the time to type in her keycode to her door before running up the stairs. Julia laughed as she chased that red hair, trying so desperately not to fall in that ridiculously tight dress.
Marin’s studio was small and simple, designed more for a lowly college student than a young professional woman. The bed laid out in the open, just across from her couch and television and within a few steps from the kitchen. At least it was a short trip.
Without hesitation, Marin approached Julia, her hands immediately tangling in her golden locks. She pressed her against the open door, the weight of their bodies colliding against it with a satisfying slam. Julia wanted to kiss every inch of Marin’s porcelain skin. She wanted to soak up every spice she could smell, but couldn’t taste.
Marin’s hand ventured to Julia’s thigh, where the slit in her dress revealed a glimpse of sun-kissed skin. Sliding her fingers beneath the smooth fabric, she pulled it up to Julia’s hips.
“Well then,” Julia exhaled against ruby red lips.
“I can’t stare at that leg any longer with all that fabric obscuring my view.”
With each step, she guided Marin backward, their bodies pressed together, and the dress inching up, revealing only delicate lace against skin.
That first night together, they lost themselves in the confines of that bed. Hours passed as their bodies intertwined, sweat forming and cascading down in a mix of salty and sweet raindrops. Yet, even in their exhaustedly trembling state, they couldn’t resist each other’s allure. That’s what their relationship was from the very beginning: spontaneity and passion. From the very moment they met, they craved each other. They had to have the other, and they did again, and again, and again.
The very next day they went out to dinner, and then the next day to the park, and then again the day after that, until they decided after just a couple of months that it would just be easier to live with each other than waste the time traveling to each other.
Typical Uhaul lesbians.
Their first shared apartment sat above an old Chinese restaurant downtown. It was a modest space, with just one bedroom and one bathroom. The scent of lo mein permeated the sheetrock, and the floors creaked under the weight of their footsteps. Despite its imperfections, it was their home–a place they could call their own.
They didn’t have a desk or office. They barely balanced paying their student debt on top of groceries and rent. Instead of silly things they’d have time to worry about later, after a long day of meetings and teaching, they laid next to each other on their cheap couch, sinking deep into the overly plush cushions while one read the paper and the other huddled over a novel. That was the comfort that became a need more than a simple want.
***
Despite now having a spacious home to spread out in and a desk to sit at, Julia still chose to sink into those cushions, desperate to feel that content tranquility again–of having nothing and having everything at the same time.
With a growling stomach from unintentionally fasting throughout the day, she made her way to the kitchen. Julia could cook. Oh, she made the most incredible dishes like Tuscan white bean and garlic soup, seared scallops and spinach beneath a pomegranate glaze, or her famous saffron risotto. She could easily own her own restaurant, entirely self-taught, too. She could make the most amazing meals, but she didn’t anymore. It was something about cooking for one, as if her enjoyment of the food alone wasn’t worthy of the time it took to make it.
Instead of reaching for a sauté pan to sear the salmon waiting in the refrigerator, she grabbed a ceramic soup bowl and poured an unhealthy serving of Fruity Pebbles into it. Instead of making anything for herself, she spent the rest of the night creating Keegan’s favorite appetizers for their girl’s day tomorrow: caprese salad, baked crab and artichoke dip, jalapeno poppers, shrimp cocktail, and of course, chicken wings. They’d spend the day planted in front of the television, yelling at referees while picking at snacks. Julia couldn’t wait for the reprieve.
Like each Sunday, she woke before her alarm. It was the same routine every week. She grabbed the vacuum and began cleaning in the kitchen. Her house was always spotless–Martha Stewart could eat off her floors. Julia was raised as a homemaker since she could walk, her mother’s voice still nagging in her ear that her plates still weren’t clean enough as she scrubbed them once more.
That might be one of the many reasons why she hadn’t invited her mother to New York for Thanksgiving the last few years. The last time she saw her, she was enjoying her very expensive retirement community in South Carolina. She spent her time ogling at the orange bachelors and tanning her pruny skin on the beach. She took pleasure in frustrating the staff with constant reminders of how different things were in her day, emphasizing the greater respect that was supposedly given to those with gray hair. She fought with her nurses instead of her family. That’s where Julia hoped she’d stay. Frankly, it’s the best money Julia’s ever spent.
The one time she actually visited her in the last couple of years, she sat on the beach across from her. Veronica never aged. Her perfectly styled gray hair seamlessly blended with the occasional strand of blonde that defied the passage of years–her face far too tight to be in her late seventies. That’s the power of Botox and a bitchy attitude, apparently. It was August, the last time she saw her. Summer vacation officially began, and the air was disgustingly humid. Julia planned a two-night stay, using the excuse of scheduling reports to cut her visit short.
***
“Where’s Marin?” Veronica asked, bringing a wrinkled hand to her sunglasses-covered face.
Veronica delicately speared another forkful of salad, her focus still fixated on maintaining her appearance. Even in her advanced age, she cared too much about what others thought of her body. Oh, no! Couldn’t possibly have that piece of cake! No, no, no, Julia, this salad is more than filling. Do you see these almonds? It was as if she believed Julia would be billed by the pound for her mother’s eventual demise from that resting bitch face.
Ocean waves caressing the shore and the gentle rustling palm trees overhead drowned out Julia’s thoughts. They could’ve met in the dining hall. Even more convenient, they could’ve sat over Zoom–perfectly protected in their own states–and chatted like they usually did, pretending to enjoy the other’s company.
Veronica could’ve done anything other than drag her daughter hundreds of miles away with guilt weighing down her suitcase, just to sit across from her on a beach, forced to apologize for her tone to the poor teenage waiter who was told the wine just wasn’t at the right temperature. It’s 105 degrees, Veronica. What did you expect?
She would give up her first-born child over seeing her disappointment in person, that sad look in her eyes. She carried that weight like an anchor around her heart. Being a superintendent wasn’t prestigious enough for Veronica Jenner’s only daughter. A lawyer? A doctor? Sure, that would’ve done it. If she married a man that was one of those things? Well, hot diggity damn. She would’ve had her mother’s approval over Mount Everest.
“Marin couldn’t make it,” Julia responded, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “She had a big week at work.” She lied. She always did.
“Mmm,” her mother said as she nodded, bringing the condensation-covered glass to her lips.
The wind whipped around them with the beat of the waves, but she was ready with her hair securely pinned back; unlike Julia, who wasn’t prepared for a casual lunch on the beach. She was in her usual flying attire–a navy suit with a white button up underneath. Her brown loafers–gold accent buckles matching the buttons on her jacket–were already filled with sand, itching every toe. Her thighs were sweaty from the cotton-wool blend of material, cooking in the summer sun. Veronica didn’t even offer the chance to change before having someone whisk her luggage away to their visitor’s wing.
“What are you doing these days, mom?” Julia asked, silently mouthing the words thank you as the waiter placed a scotch on the rocks in front of her. She didn’t even have to ask. It was as if the short few times she visited, they knew.
“Oh, you know,” she hummed, lifting her glass and gazing towards the ocean as if posing for a photo. The drama. Already?
“Actually, I don’t know,” Julia admitted. “What’s the activity this week? Pickleball? Bingo? Oh! Are you learning the harmonica?” Her voice was between glee and sincerity, and Veronica couldn’t place it.
Julia knew her mother picked the ‘hippest’ place she could find. It had the newest facilities and the best view money could buy. She never even called it what it was: a retirement community.
She’d her friends, laminating over the wild nights they used to have roaming the streets. She’d chuckle, never a laugh, and claim that everything on her retreat was exactly up to Veronica Jenner’s standards. They’d visit her, sitting in her suite or lounging in the hot tubs while smoking cigarettes and drinking wine. They’d allow her to pretend it’s a vacation, and then they’d leave.
Julia would take any chance she could at reminding her mother of the very thing she hated so much: aging. It was the least she could do–a subtle rebellion, if you will. It wasn’t a lavish getaway. It was her home for the foreseeable future.
“Very funny, Julia,” she scoffed. “I haven’t seen Marin in a very long time.”
“She’s a busy woman.”
“Too busy for her mother?” Veronica gasped, far too dramatic for the circumstance.
Julia didn’t admit that she was even too busy for her at times. She didn’t shove in her face that her only actual daughter was sitting right across from her, as if that mattered.
“But I’m here, mom.” She tried to give her best good-daughter smile. “I’m so excited to spend your birthday with you.”
Veronica’s lack of response spoke volumes. No light ever glimmered in her eyes as she hugged Julia. She never expressed how excited she was to see her, never thanked her for taking the time out of her hectic life to make the trip there.
Don’t get her wrong; she loved her mom, but the distant once a month phone call to catch up on absolutely nothing was more than enough for her those days. She didn’t need her there and she most definitely didn’t need that look of disappointment face-to-face while stating that a better kept house probably would have made Marin stay. Yes, mom. It was that one week that I skipped laundry that finally pushed Mar away.
***
Julia finished drying off her damp hands from scrubbing the sink one last time when the front door opened with a bustle of bags. Keegan was late, as usual. It wasn’t surprising with the fleet of children she had to corral to their grandparents on the trip over.
Their tradition started as an every other week occurrence with Marin and a few other friends. After a while, life got busy or rather, they chose what was more important to spend their time doing. Then, it was just Julia and Keegan, and that was just fine with them.
Julia smiled at Keegan standing in the foyer with two bottles of merlot in her arms, something resembling yogurt staining her jacket.
“Emery just had to have one of those stupid yogurt tubes in the car and of course I didn’t see it in her hands before grabbing her out of her car seat,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “These kids will kill me one day.” She removed her jacket and headed towards the sink.
Keegan’s black hair was straightened, and they both wore their usual attire: old jeans and tattered t-shirts. Julia’s shirt was partially tucked in in the front, a long red crocheted cardigan hanging off her shoulders.
“Happy you made it in one piece,” Julia teased, taking the wine to the chiller. “I was thinking about calling the Sheriff there for a second. Figured you got lost, or kidnapped. With your luck, my money was on the kidnapper returning you.”
“Very funny. He just dropped me off, obviously. Oh–” snorted Keegan from the kitchen, “I’ve been dreaming about these poppers since Wednesday!”
“They’re all yours!”
“Thanks, Susie Homemaker.”
“If you had the time, you’d do the same.” Julia began taking the trays of food to the coffee table in the living room. Keegan rolled her eyes.
“If I had the time, maybe I could attempt it,” she retorted, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth. “But honestly, I could never keep my house as clean or come up with such amazing recipes, even if I didn’t have an army of kiddos wreaking havoc.”
Julia couldn’t help but smile as she arranged the rest of the trays on the coffee table. Keegan followed her, carrying two glasses of wine. Julia watched as she took the chaise to the side and immediately sunk into it, stretching her feet out onto the coffee table.
“Okay,” she took another sip of her wine and then leaned forward. “I can’t take it anymore. How did the talk with Erin go last night?”
“It went well! We went over the schedule, and everything is sorted out for Monday,” Julia replied, her focus on finding the remote for the television.
“Julia,” Keegan said sternly, narrowing her dark eyes and raising her glass to her lips. “You know that’s not the part I’m interested in.”
“It isn’t?” She played coy. She spent enough time with teenagers that she was good at it. “That’s the part that involves you.”
“I spoke with Erin about that schedule yesterday, as you most likely already know.”
“Oh, right! Any concerns?” She finally made eye contact as she tilted the dry goodness of her wine to her mouth. It was always something about that first sip that calmed any nerves.
“Only with your intelligence.” Keegan grinned as she tossed a pillow towards the middle of the couch, just missing Julia’s elbow.
“If you stain this white couch with red wine, you’ll pay in purgatory!”
“I’m paying now.” Keegan laughed as she got more comfortable. “Seriously, though. When’s the next date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“I know, I know,” she groaned.
“Do you, though?”
“I wish you’d just let go once in the while. You know, have a little fun?”
“Let go of what?”
“You could drive a woman to drink!” Keegan shouted, exaggeratedly finishing her wine.
“You’d drink with or without me,” Julia scoffed.
“Fine, when is the next non-date?” Keegan’s devilish smile forced Julia to sigh at her optimism.
“There will be no more non-dates. We’re focusing on the job at hand,” Julia said flatly.
Keegan leaned back into the couch and pulled her empty glass back to her lips, disappointed to see she reached the bottom. She stood, eyes still rolling.
“Job at hand?” Keegan repeated. “What are we? The mafia?”
Julia almost choked on the wine trickling down the back of her throat. “Maybe. You didn’t read the fine print of your contract very well, did you?”
“If you say so, boss,” she said sarcastically, her voice teetering on a Boston accent. “Refill?”
“If this is the topic of conversation, absolutely.” She held up her still partially full glass and Keegan took it to the kitchen.
“Has the board hinted at how they will be using this information?” Keegan asked, her voice traveling to the living room where Julia still sat.
“You know I can’t talk to you about that,” Julia answered, graciously taking her freshly filled glass of wine from Keegan’s grasp.
“You can’t even share just a bit?”
“Confidentiality states no.” Julia smiled to herself as Keegan eagerly piled shrimp onto a plate.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, putting her glass down. Keegan began to pull some shrimp onto a plate. “Is Brianne off the waitlist for school yet?”
“Not yet. They’re saying hopefully within a month or so. It’s so funny how we’ve waited a year for her to get into the district when the first three got right in!” Keegan stuffed her mouth full of food as she picked her wine back up. A chaser, you might call it.
“One article in Education Weekly and our numbers doubled overnight.”
“The internet is a scary place.” Keegan grimaced. “Oh, and so did the value of everyone’s home in the area! How much do you think yours would be worth now? You could sell it! Move closer to town?”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter.” Julia shook the thought right out of her head.
“Why doesn’t it?”
“Because this is where I belong,” Julia said, a painfully broken smile on her lips. “It’s home.” It wasn’t a big smile, not one where her teeth showed, but her mouth curled upward, nonetheless. She pushed the thought far away. “More shrimp?”
They sat around that table and ate until they waddled, drank until they swayed, and laughed until uncontrollable tears streamed down their face. Like every week, they shared stories about what students were gossiping about and which teachers were involved. They shouted at the television throughout the entire game, claiming that if they had a football, they’d run circles around those men even in heels and a pink tutu.
By the time they realized both bottles of wine were somehow missing, they were to the point of drowsiness as the sun set beyond the mountain of pine trees in the window. The weight of the week felt heavy as exhaustion seeped into their bones.
Slurring her words, Keegan leaned forward and said, “so, tell me exactly how you let Erin down.”
Julia groaned, “you really know how to beat a dead horse.” A hint of amusement tugged at the corners of her lips. Keegan giggled, her laughter amplified by the alcohol.
“I won’t drop it.” She swayed with her speech, flinging her legs haphazardly over the arm of the chair. “I will be a thorn in your side until you spill it all.”
“I know,” Julia sighed. “She took it fine. I said that night wouldn’t affect our work, and she said okay.”
“That’s it?” Keegan shouted in disbelief, drunk hands thrown up in astonishment.
“Yes, it’s that simple. See, no more non-dates.”
“That may have been what she said, but what did her body say?” Keegan shook her chest and almost fell over as she leaned more towards Julia.
“What do you mean?” Words were just as hard for Julia to focus on, just as hard for her lips to form letters.
“For a woman,” Keegan scoffed, “you know nothing about women.”
“Harsh!” Julia threw a pillow at her. Keegan barely caught it as it bounced off her lap.
As the clock ticked towards midnight, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Ben, Keegan’s husband, smiled from the other side of the glass flanking the door. Laughing and stumbling, they made their way to Ben’s car with Julia guiding them.
“To be continued.” Keegan giggled as she tried to stand. “You’re not off the hooky hook. Not in the least, Julia Marie Jenner.”
Julia walked her to the door. Ben reached out a helping hand, and they both stumbled with her to the front seat of the Tahoe.
“Sorry.” Julia grinned as she handed her friend off. Ben just shook his head with a smile, knowing all too well they needed it.