Chapter Eighteen
Julia wrapped her jacket tighter around her waist as she fought the midnight wind. It was a losing battle, like picking up dominos as a child plows through them with a little toy Tonka truck. It pushed her closer towards her car, blocking the street light as she fumbled through her purse for her keys.
“On second thought,” Erin’s quivering voice called between the expansive distance. She wrapped her long black jacket tighter around her thin frame as she turned to face Julia. “Can I come to your house and get some work done? I really don’t feel like going back to my apartment just yet.”
Julia checked her watch: it was well after midnight. She didn’t have a single thought in her body that could convince her she could do any work at that point. She wanted to fall into her bed, disappear between layers of sheets as she prayed for sleep to come. She wanted silence and wine, anything to push Marin’s memory out of her mind.
The streetlight dressed them in the dusty haze of night. The parking lot was empty–nothing but gusts of orphaned snow swirling across faded white lines. Julia’s chest warmed in spite of the chilliness that wrapped around her.
“I have no motivation left in me for work tonight,” Julia sighed, watching as disappointment flashed across Erin’s eyes, “but I’d love for you to come over. Are you hungry?”
“No.” Erin shook her head with the force of a blender.
“I think you should eat something,” she suggested quietly, knowing that she had to physically remind her to eat even when they were sharing the same space, knowing that her needs were always second on her list.
“I’ll pick something up on the way.” She smiled, that little glimmer of peace. “There’s a little Chinese restaurant that’s open until 2 a.m. not far from here.”
Julia was the tundra–frozen over in billions of years of failed evolution–as that single suggestion sunk into her, piling onto the layers of the day. The restaurant beneath their first apartment.
She thought a page officially turned, a painful lesson learned. It was a hill she finally had the energy to climb–a battle she faced and came out unscathed on the other side–but now that panic arose in the back of her throat and it burned like vomit threatening to rise within her.
Until that day–that day that she should’ve hidden beneath pounds of comforter feathers instead of venturing outside–she hadn’t thought of Marin in weeks. But now? There she was at every turn. Every thought. Every dream. Every nightmare. Everything she ran from. Everything she ran towards. Everything in between, and it felt like eons of pressure shattering her being until it disappeared like dust.
“That sounds delicious,” Julia lied, but Erin narrowed her eyes just slightly, as if she saw something else. How could she see so much?
Julia pushed away the sinking feeling within her stomach, just like she had thousands of times before. She smiled softly as she fished for the keys in her purse.
“I can pick it up and meet you back at your house,” Erin suggested. “I usually get shrimp lo mein. Do you know what you might want?”
“The same would be great. Here,” Julia began to rustle through her bag for money when Erin reached out and stopped her.
“Don’t you dare,” she grinned, “this one’s on me.”
“Okay,” Julia said with a nod, “but I’ll supply the wine.”
“No arguments here.” Erin walked backwards towards her car, the wind throwing her curls in front of her face in such a way that Julia wished she had a Polaroid camera.
Once home, she pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler. Slowly she twisted the cork and set two glasses on the granite beside it, the clinking slightly humming in her ears. She turned down the hallway to the bedroom, no longer noticing how bare the walls looked anymore.
She slid off her suit jacket and folded it neatly on the edge of her bed, leaving just her thin white blouse tucked into her jeans. In the bathroom, she stopped in front of the mirror with a sigh–hands pressing into the vanity so hard it could bore holes.
She was tired, sunken shadows highlighting her eyes in a halo of bruised yellow. She picked up her concealer and patted beneath those swirling pools of green and gold, wishing there was a serum that could erase the weight of years past.
Reaching behind her, she unclipped her hair and it fell in messy golden streams over her shoulders. She kept it up so much, sometimes she forgot how long it had grown.
Unconsciously, she found herself straightening her shirt, patting down stray hairs as she checked her teeth for any remains of the salad she scoffed down for lunch. She pulled out her perfume–a light scent of floral amber that merged with her natural tones for a subtle embrace–and spritzed it twice in front of her.
Once she noticed what she was doing–the amount of effort she was putting into herself at almost one o’clock in the morning–she pulled her hands to her face. She shouldn’t care what she looked like, shouldn’t worry about what Erin might think. Not after an entire day bouncing around on a bus and chasing after teenagers in one of the largest cities in the country. Not after just seeing her ex-wife after so long. But she did, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.
With a sigh, she made her way back to the living room. Erin would arrive any minute, and she didn’t want an extra minute to overthink. Especially not the fact that this would be the first time in weeks that they’d be alone outside of work, alone in Julia’s house, of all places.
She picked up the remote to the fireplace beneath the television, turning it on to provide just a little bit more warmth as the temperatures continued to drop under the moon’s blinding magnificence. She grabbed her briefcase from the entryway and laid it on the couch as she pushed the coffee table to the side.
The doorbell chimed through the house and Julia jumped, its sound still so foreign as it ticked off the walls in a traveling rumble. When she opened the front door, she was greeted by Erin’s wind bitten cheeks.
Her work bag was in one hand and a plastic bag with a yellow smiley face was in her other. Julia didn’t realize it, but she puffed a little sigh of relief.
“Hey,” Julia said smiling as she stepped aside so Erin could come out of the cold.
“Hey, long time no see.” Erin walked past and slid off her shoes in the entryway as Julia took the bag.
“Wine?” Julia asked, walking to the kitchen with the food.
“I’ll never say no to wine.” Erin walked over to the island and leaned over it just slightly. “And if I ever do, you should be worried.”
She took off her blazer and her sheer white tank top barely covered her shoulders, or anything else, for that matter. Julia had to tell herself to look away, to not trace the sharp angles of her collarbone as she mapped out the hem on her physique.
“Noted.” Julia handed Erin her glass and then held hers up to it. “Thank you for suggesting this.”
“My pleasure.” Erin smiled as their glasses clinked together. It was the first time she smiled in hours. “I thought you liked red?”
“I do,” Julia raised the glass to her lips, but then she paused, “but I know you like white.”
They both took a sip, their eyes never leaving the other. They stood separated by the island, their smiles hovering between the two of them like strung balloons.
There was that feeling again–the same one that wrapped around her at The Tipsy Hatter that first night–that indescribable way her eyes, her smile, her body, everything seemed to gravitate towards Erin like it was put into motion within the cosmic waves. Completely unavoidable.
“We should be exhausted.”
“Dead to the world,” Julia agreed.
“And yet,” Erin paused.
“And yet,” Julia replied with a smile.
“Can I ask you for a favor?” Erin spoke softly.
“Anything.”
“Can we not talk about anything that happened today?” she asked slowly. “Just for tonight?”
“Yes,” Julia whispered, their faces still locked on the other. She didn’t want to talk about her day either–the undeniable cruelty of happenstance that bit her in the ass.
She finally broke eye contact first as she turned towards the food on the counter.
“Let’s dig in!” Julia grinned, breaking the silence with the crinkling of the plastic bag.
They sat on the floor in the living room, the heat from the fireplace warming their hands as the wine warmed everything else. Nothing but the quiet of night surrounded them. In a good show, their work leaned against the table, but they didn’t reach for it. Not once.
“So,” Erin sat down her white box of lo mein and leaned on a knee she brought up to her chest, “what do you think so far?”
Julia was confused. “Of what?” she asked, quickly swallowing a piece of shrimp so she wouldn’t be obnoxiously talking with her mouth full. She wasn’t Keegan, after all.
“What you’re getting out of McSellen,” Erin explained, twirling more noodles on her fork. “Do you feel like I’m helping any?”
Julia couldn’t help but smile as she looked past the wine glass she lifted to her lips. “Of course.”
“Unbiasedly,” Erin said. She rolled her eyes before smiling behind her wine. “Do you see any real change coming from my evaluations?”
“Well,” Julia sat up a little straighter as she set her own food down, “you’ve already helped with teacher evaluations and remediation, identifying weak points in our curriculum, and we’ve moved onto budgeting to determine what necessitates more attention or what can be reallocated.” Julia stopped her spiel, knowing too well she put her administrative hat on for the conversation. She really did need an off switch.
“Well, thank you, Dr. Jenner,” Erin mocked in a sarcastically professional voice.
“I’m sorry.” Julia rubbed her face with her hand, hoping she wasn’t blushing from embarrassment that tinged her cheeks. “It’s been a day,” she sighed. “The short answer is yes. I think with your assistance, we’re actually going to make some improvements.” And then she allowed her lips to move without thinking. “I really like having you around.”
“Thank you.” Erin gave a soft smile and then picked her food back up. “I really like being around.”
“They’re really lucky to have someone as passionate and forward thinking as you.”
“Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doing,” Erin mumbled, and then her eyes went wide as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“What do you mean?”
“I just, I–” she paused. “I think so many others have so much more experience than I do. Being a woman in this profession, coming into places where they don’t know me or my background, is hard to command respect.” There was a moment of silence and then she added, “Not like I see them do for you.”
“Me?” Julia laughed. “It doesn’t get any easier the longer you’re in it. I’ll let you in on a little secret: no one knows what they’re doing.”
“Oh, come on! In all honesty, I haven’t seen a school run better than Kleinton, and it’s not because of the building, or teachers, or even students. They’re the same everywhere,” Erin hesitated, her lips apart as if she wasn’t done speaking. “It’s you, Jules.”
Julia wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment, but it sent butterflies scattering throughout her stomach. And hearing her name said like that again? Oh, that feeling hit her in her core like a cotton candy cloud.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. She picked her wine back up and swished it in the glass before taking the last sip of it. “Would you like some more?” she asked, while raising her own.
“Absolutely,” Erin said with a smile, “but you sit. I’ll get it,” and she was up before Julia could even argue.
“So, any fun plans when you get back to Virginia?” Julia asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than the clinking of glasses or the slosh of wine from an emptying bottle.
“No, actually,” she said, handing Julia her glass. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You’re over halfway done with your contact, and you haven’t daydreamed about getting back to your life?”
Julia was in shock, a grin forming on her lips as she took another sip. Erin looked torn as she considered that question–her face wrinkled limestone as she thought about her answer.
“Can I say something that might sound weird?” she asked, setting her glass down. She slouched back down on the rug and leaned against the front of the chair that was behind her.
“You never have to worry about asking that with me.” Julia watched as those words ran through Erin’s mind, contemplating everything that came before.
“There are places I have to go that I can’t wait to leave from. There are assignments that are there and gone before I can even wrap my head around them. But Kleinton?” Her eyes never left Julia’s. “I can’t explain it. All I know is I haven’t thought about home much.”
Julia wasn’t quite sure what Erin felt, but she knew a piece of it lived within her, too. It was so easy to forget that anything else existed when she was with her, as if time was truly just a construct and everything else insignificant.
She wasn’t sure how she should respond to something so honest. Should she agree and admit that she feels the same way? That in the last year combined, she hadn’t felt as alive as she had the last couple of months? Maybe Julia was overthinking it all–forcing something to be written when it hadn’t even been imagined yet.
“I get it.” Julia wanted to reach for her food or wine–wanted to do something that would take her eyes off of Erin–but she didn’t. “Kleinton is like that for so many.”
“I didn’t say it was just Kleinton,” Erin corrected, a small twitch of a smile pulling just one cheek upward towards her scattered freckles.
Well, shit. She forgot to breathe and instead let out a little breathy sigh to avoid it being too obvious. Erin noticed. She always noticed.
“I’m excited for summer.” Erin picked up her food again.
“Why is that?” Julia asked. She picked up her food as well, thankful for the change.
“My family is from Madrid, and two years ago I booked a trip to stay with my abuela there. She has this beautiful little villa on Alberche Beach. It’s away from most tourists and turns the most beautiful color of teal in August.” Her eyes glimmered as if that sparkling water was reflected in her iris’.
“That sounds amazing.” Pictures of crystal-clear beaches floated through her mind like the filaments of a dandelion in a warm summer breeze. “When was the last time you saw her?”
As soon as Julia asked the question, she wished she didn’t. Erin’s eyes immediately dimmed as she looked down at the noodles dangling from her fork.
“Before I started this position,” she sighed, a slight melancholy undertone in her voice. “I’m not really good at balancing life.”
“Amen to that.” Julia raised her glass and then Erin broke into a little chuckle. “At least you’ll see her soon.”
“That’s true,” Erin said, nodding as she took another sip. There was a small moment of stillness and then she asked, “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”
“Not at all,” Julia said, pointing in the direction. “It’s down the hall on the left.”
With a small smile, Erin disappeared down the hallway, her presence still felt between walls. Julia turned towards the crackling fireplace and rested her head back on the couch cushions behind her.
She stretched her legs out along the rug–her toes inches away from the blowing heat–as she picked up her glass again. She finished what was left in her cup and then looked up at the fan high above her, the black blades slowly twirling. That simple motion sent waves of peace throughout her, sailing on soothing currents.
After sitting in that contentment for a moment, she turned her head to see the bottle of wine sitting on the counter, calling her name. She wasn’t sure why being around Erin made her glass empty so fast. Did she sink so deep into the taste because it calmed her? Or was it because, drink by drink, she shed layers of armor off–the only antidote for an introvert?
She stood and refilled both of their glasses and then caught her sound system out of the corner of her eye. As the alcohol fluttered in her stomach–lightening every limb and synapse awareness–she turned it on. A soulful Tracy Chapman’s rasp filled the air and Julia couldn’t help but bob her head as she swayed with the guitar.
“Give me one reason to stay here,” Julia sang, her voice almost an inaudible noise at first, “and I’ll turn right back around.”
Her head bounced from one side to the other as she spun in the kitchen–her socks as graceful as ice skates on the white tile. The wine in her full glass mimicked her movements–one starting where the other ended–it was just her in that empty space.
“Give me one reason to stay here, and I’ll turn right back around.”
Julia didn’t immediately see Erin leaning against the corner of the hallway. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Small wisps of coffee brown hair framed her face–her cheeks matching the rosiness of her lips–and she had the biggest smile scrolled effortlessly across her lips.
“Oh!” Julia jumped, forgetting that for once she wasn’t alone in the darkness. She pulled an embarrassed hand to her face as if it would wash away the self-consciousness. “I’m sorry.”
Erin just shook her head, those perfect curls bouncing behind her with every movement. That smile never left her face. Julia was kissed by the sun, as if her skin had never truly felt the warmth of those inexplicable rays until those green eyes found her.
“Said I don’t want to leave you lonely,” Erin sang, making her way to the kitchen where Julia stood, each hip mimicking the beat from the drums, “you got to make me change my mind.”
She picked up the glass Julia just poured for her and brought it up to those pink lips. She took a few sips before she twirled in a circle, the glass high above her head as that silky voice filled every available space in the room. Julia’s lips parted as her face split in half.
Erin stretched out and took the hand that Julia still had pressed to her face. She twirled her around, almost spilling their wine, and they both laughed. Hands held waists and fingers as they found their rhythm. They bounced to the rest of the song, taking turns singing the lyrics and draining their glasses as they floated through the kitchen like autumn leaves drifting in the wind.
When the song ended and At Last by Etta James began playing, they both stood still as the rise and fall of their chests sent particles vibrating between them. Julia gripped the edge of the countertop, delicately setting her glass down.
“I haven’t danced in the kitchen in a very long time.” Julia grinned at Erin, who was now leaning against the island.
She had to forcefully pull her eyes away from Erin. She made Julia speechless–a woman with years of education and experience under her belt, an avid reading collection bordering walls–frozen in time without a single word on her tongue.
Erin’s hair was in a tousled mess, sticking slightly to her forehead. Her shirt was untucked from the many times she turned and twisted, raising her hands above her head. Those emerald eyes glistened with a hazy sheen–the alcohol creeping up into her movements. Erin turned towards the empty bottle of wine and shook the droplets in the bottom.
“There’s more in the cooler,” Julia said through a smile, tipping the last of what was left in her glass into her mouth. The coolness was refreshing compared to the flush in her face.
“Would you like another glass?” Erin asked, twisting another cork out of a new bottle. “It is a school night,” she joked.
Julia looked at the clock on the wall, bronze scrollwork twisting around it like feeble branches in the night. Time didn’t matter, not tonight.
“You know what? Yes, I do.”
Erin poured them more, and they made their way back to the living room. They collapsed onto the couch, their shoulders overlapping, but neither of them moved away from their sandwiched position.
“I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Erin said eventually, pointing to the walls with her already half-drunk glass.
Julia turned towards the blank walls and the odd empty spaces on shelves. How could she have forgotten? How could the emptiness become a welcome home mat; there so consistently that you never even notice when a neighborhood kid steals it? She suddenly felt self-conscious, like her entire mind was out on display in a bougie museum for criticism.
“It was past due,” sighed Julia, taking a gulp much too big of the dry wine.
“I like it,” Erin said quietly. “It gives it character.”
“What?” She chuckled as she turned to face Erin. “The faded paint on the walls?”
“Absolutely, very chic,” she said in an exaggerated tone, her hands a flourish in the air.
They both laughed for a moment–their faces just inches apart and her breath sweetly caressing Julia’s face–both falling into their drinks when the silence dragged too long.
“It’s a good thing,” Erin said finally.
“It is,” Julia agreed, but she let out a deep breath with the last word.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Erin and see if she noticed. She wanted to say something about Marin–she wanted to say something about how she just appeared earlier, but saying that to Erin? It felt wrong, and she couldn’t explain why.
“We didn’t get one thing done tonight,” Erin said with a grin, pointing to the mess of paperwork peeking from their bags. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I never had any intentions of doing any work,” she whispered into Julia’s hair.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Julia whispered back, “neither did I.”
Julia looked over and met Erin’s eyes. She still sunk into the back of the cushions, one leg tucked beneath the other. She looked so casual, so at home as if this was just what they did on late nights: eat Chinese on the floor of her living room while 80s and 90s music hummed behind them, the light of the fireplace sending hues of warmth along their skin.
“Thank you for this,” Julia said.
“For what?”
“For coming over, for all the help, all the time.”
“Anytime.” She raised her glass and they clinked them together once more.
They stayed on that couch for another hour before either made a move to end the night. They finished the last bottle of wine over reminiscent family memories, simple conversation. Erin talked about her family in Spain and how only her grandparents still live there. She showed Julia pictures of her niece and nephew, both with that same unruly, curly brown hair and freckles scattering their noses.
They told secrets that hadn’t left their lips in years. Julia talked about what made her become a teacher in the first place. About how when she was little–and if we’re being honest, even now–her mother was focused on the appearance of life, instead of enjoying it. She was too busy making Julia fit into the picture of what a little girl should be and aspire to, rather than take the time to actually see all the wonder hidden beneath pink ruffles and black tap shoes.
One teacher showed up to every spelling bee, every concert, and made sure that not one birthday passed without giving Julia a cupcake with rainbow frosting with a single candle on top. She was there for her when no one else was, and now Julia makes sure every child in her school has an adult like that.
“I should get going,” Erin grunted, checking her watch reluctantly. She rubbed her tired eyes and sat her empty glass down on the coffee table.
“You can’t drive,” Julia said, taking the last sip of her own. “My head is spinning, so I can only imagine what yours is like.”
“Are you insinuating I’m a lightweight, Julia Jenner?”
“No, Erin Calanis,” she chuckled, “but I have at least twenty pounds on you.”
“That’s offensive.”
“That’s a fact.”
“I’m going to see if there are any taxis available at this hour.”
Erin attempted to stand. Her wrinkled forehead hinted that she thought she could make it to the entryway. She stumbled on the first step, her heel catching the bottom of the couch, sending her tumbling backwards into Julia.
They both laughed as their bodies collided, the dry wine on the tips of their tongues. Julia brushed Erin’s hair out of her face, her hand resting on her warm cheek.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Julia giggled. “You can’t even stand!”
“I can too!” Erin retorted, a subtle slur beneath her words. “I’m just not trying.”
“I’m not putting you in a stranger’s car in this state,” Julia said more sternly.
The giggles slowly dissipated from Erin’s lips. She just looked at Julia, her eyes trailing to where that soft hand still pressed against her cheek.
“Don’t be silly,” Julia said, lowering her hand in one swift movement.
She helped Erin up with a firm hand around her waist. She could’ve sworn she heard her breath halt at the touch, a sharp intake of air expanding her lungs.
“You can stay here in the guest room.”
Just as the words left her mouth, she realized how big of a mistake they were. Erin couldn’t stay there with her. Not while they were both wrapped in the giddiness of their inhibited state. She couldn’t trust herself not to avoid saying something stupid or embarrassing, or worse.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” And there were those words that left her mouth before conversing with the level-headed thoughts in her mind.
Julia stood with an outreached hand and Erin took it for support, bracing her weight on wobbly knees. She guided her inebriated legs to the hallway, their fingers still tangled together. Julia opened the door to the guest room and turned on the light above. It was obnoxiously bright compared to the firelight in the living room.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll get you something to change into,” Julia said quietly. “You already know where the bathroom is. There’s a clean towel hanging up in case you want to shower in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Erin said, her fingers finally falling from Julia’s embrace.
Julia walked to her room and grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants. She took a new toothbrush from the drawer in her vanity. As she looked up at herself in the mirror, she stopped and took in the sight.
Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, her hair sticking up in all sorts of directions. It wasn’t even in a bun–the weight of it oddly heavy to her heightened senses–and for once, it didn’t seem to weigh her down.
Even in her disarray, she noticed something different. Past the smudged mascara, past the small blemishes worn foundation no longer covered, there was something else. She was smiling. As she held the clothes in one hand and a toothbrush in the other, she looked like a teenager off to a slumber party. She looked happy. Is this what happy looks like?
After everything that happened that day, Marin’s piercing eyes and trembling voice, she should be tucked into a ball. She should be sunken into the satin bed sheets, a wet ring of tears haloing her pillow. She should be breaking, like she had so many times before, but she wasn’t.
Down the hallway, the door to the guest room was open, but Erin was nowhere to be found. The house was quiet despite the light melody of music carried through the kitchen. She left the clothes and toothbrush on the edge of the bed.
She walked back to her own room and closed the door. Leaning her head against the cold grain of the wood, she took a deep breath. She tried not to think of the day she just had, tried to push everything else down except the knowledge that someone who held such comfort was beyond just a few walls.
With the cold sweats, drenching her in sweat from the inside out, Julia didn’t usually wear much to bed. Tonight, however, that wasn’t an option–not with her playing it safe. Throwing on a pair of sweats that were far too big, she tried to find normalcy in her routines. She couldn’t let her thoughts wander to the beautiful woman just down the hall.
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she stood in front of the mirror. She still wore that stupid smile–a foreign invader on a somewhat familiar face. She admired it, a feeling of relief spreading through her body. It was a long lost-friend, a confidant she missed so much.
But she hesitated too long, and now all those stray thoughts were running free. This would be the first time Erin would see her without makeup. It would be the first time that she didn’t have layers of cosmetics hiding what was underneath, and that terrified her.
It was one thing being almost 40 and being able to hide a decade beneath designer foundation and cream, distracting those that weren’t persuaded with tailored suits. It was something completely different standing in front of someone without that cloak, completely vulnerable as they possess the tools to pick out every sun spot and wrinkle that trail her face.
Her hand grasped around the concealer, and then pictures of her vain mother flashed through her mind on an unforgettable reel. She didn’t want to be like her. She wasn’t like her. It shouldn’t matter what she looked like. To anyone else, it wouldn’t bother her. But Erin? Dammit.
She walked out of the bathroom before she’d have to wash her face again. Opening her door, she couldn’t help but check on Erin one last time. The room was empty again, but the clothes were gone. The bathroom door creaked open, a sliver of artificial light rainbowing into the hall behind a long shadow. Erin came out, the clothes falling off her small body.
Her face was washed, glowing even in the lack of luminosity in that hallway. Julia couldn’t help but smile at how casual she looked–striped down to the most basic layer of every human characteristic. She was completely stunning. Her hand caught in strands of her hair as she combed it out, and just a little toothpaste was still in the corner of her mouth.
“Thanks for the clothes.” She smiled as she wiped the little dot of toothpaste with her hand, still a subtle slur on the backend of her words.
“I think they’re a little big.” Julia fought back a chuckle.
Erin tightened the string around the elastic waist, a peekaboo of tanned skin flashing from beneath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gleamed.
“You’re right. They fit perfectly. That 90s baggy look is definitely making a comeback.” They both couldn’t hold back the slight tug in the corner of the lips.
They stood there like that, Julia standing at one end of the hallway and Erin at the other. She wanted to step towards her, wanted to see if Erin smelled the same without layers of cotton, foundation, or lipstick.
While she was standing there talking herself out of it, Erin walked slowly towards her, trailing along the empty wall. Her hands were still around the ties of her pants, one side of her shirt slightly untucked where a spot of warm flesh could be seen.
Just one foot away, she stopped and looked up at Julia. Julia fought the need to hide her face, to pull her hands up and shelter everything she fought to hide each day. She thought the night would protect her secret, but not from that close up. Nothing could be hidden under a microscope.
“What?” Julia asked, mortified that she didn’t put on that concealer.
“You are beautiful.” She spoke so softly, so breathlessly that Julia swore those words caressed her heart. “Sometimes when I look at you, I’m just in complete awe.”
Julia’s stomach flipped at the same time her breath hitched, eyes growing wider no matter how much she tried to stop them.
“Erin–” she quietly exhaled, the puff of air involuntarily coming out.
She’s never believed that phrase before, never felt like she was worthy of its meaning. But from her lips? She’d believe anything.
She wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her so tightly, because she quite possibly might be the last good thing left on Earth.
“I’m sorry.” Erin stepped back, interrupting her train of thought. “You know what they say about one too many glasses of wine.”
You’re ruining this!
“Erin,” Julia began again. She wasn’t sure of what she wanted to say next, but knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to reach down and bring Erin closer to her, close whatever space was between them permanently. “I–” she began again.
“So, I’ll see you in the morning,” Erin cut in, nodding vigorously as she backed more towards the door of her bedroom.
She had one hand on the door, it partially pulled close. Her forehead was wrinkled in thought as she hovered there–a battle within Julia wasn’t privy to.
“Erin, please let–”
“Thank you, Jules,” she said at last, right before the door swooshed closed.
Julia wasn’t sure how long she waited in that hallway. She didn’t hear any movement in the room. Erin could have been leaning on the other side of that door for all she knew, waiting for her to knock, waiting for her to say anything other than single syllables.
Why is it that only after a moment has passed, that you have the foresight of what you should’ve done? Why does the train have to blow through the terminal for you to understand that grabbing a coffee along the way wasn’t the best decision? They say that hindsight is 20-20, but how do you know you’re blind until the moment glasses rub on the bridge of your nose?
If Julia met those natural mossy eyes again–the alcohol helping shave away all the doubt she consciously built up–she wouldn’t have one word as an excuse. She’d fall into them like all the times she wanted to before.