Chapter Twenty-One
There’s this moment of bliss in the morning, right before you open your eyes but yet are fully awake. When the lights shine through the curtains even though they claimed to block out the morning when you purchased them. When the sheets wrap around you like a gown, ice cold as they drape over your bare thighs. And everything is silent.
At that moment, life doesn’t exist. Your family, your job, your problems haven’t sunk back into your consciousness. Everything you wished you’d done or didn’t isn’t there. All your hopes and worries, gone. All that is there is a little haze in the back of your mind, the contentness of your body before it all comes rushing back.
But it does come rushing back at some point.
“Ugh.” Julia rolled into the sheets beside her, burying her face into the feather pillow.
She kissed Erin. She kissed Erin. And she liked it. No, she loved it. The way her stomach stirred, lightning every cell in her body. The way her warm hands trailed along her body. The way their bodies fit so perfectly together, swells and dips melding into one. The way her cupid’s lips tasted, lasting and always longing.
She wanted to do it again. She wanted to do it over and over until there were no breaths left. She wanted to always be in view of those starry eyes, always sucked into their vortex.
For once she thought with her heart instead of her head. She put what made her happy ahead of all else, what she wanted ahead of anyone else. And no one died. Nothing burned to the ground.
But could it mean anything at all? At some point, Erin will go back to Virginia and continue to live her life on the beach. She’ll leave and forget Kleinton and Julia ever existed. For her, it was probably a fling. For her, it would end in a few weeks.
Could Julia do that? Have this amazing thing with that gorgeous woman and pretend it didn’t matter after? Could she kiss her like that again, knowing there would be a time when she wouldn’t be able to anymore? Does she want that? Does she want to be that reckless with her already fragile body and mind?
She opened her eyes and stared at the spinning fan above her. That kiss couldn’t just be a temporary thing for her. It only happened twice and already she couldn’t forget. It couldn’t be nothing, because it was already something to her–and that was a game she already lost once.
Even with Marin in the back of her mind–wanting so badly to know what she was thinking, wishing so much that everything could just go back to normal–Erin felt inexorable. The entire last year was like walking on a tightrope, teetering on the edge more with every step. She struggled through it, determined to get to the other side, not knowing a bridge laid to her left. It was always in sight, always in touch. But she chose the tightrope. She chose the hard road.
Now she’s falling off, the fraying tether the only thing still attached. She’s been falling, just not feeling the weightlessness yet, knowing it was her doing all along. Until now. Now, she looked up because there was a forward somewhere within there.
She wanted to fall so badly into the unknown; she didn’t care if she came out or not. But there was no possible way this would end well. There was no probability, no scenario, that this would result in her getting the girl without losing something else. She tried, but there was no avoiding her feelings anymore.
She reluctantly got up–her tired knees threatening to give way when she arose. On her way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, she stopped to run hot water in the shower.
At least it was the weekend, and she didn’t have to see Keegan and have her spidey mom-sense know something happened. She didn’t have to meet Erin’s eyes and have a conversation about why her mind was a ping-pong ball–the very cliché of Katy Perry’s Hot n Cold.
She stepped into the shower and let the boiling water rush over her body in waterfall strides. She stood under it until her pale skin flushed under the heat. She picked up her white luffa and put her favorite cashmere scent on it.
The warm musky fragrance filled the bathroom, swirling around her in hot strands, caressing her skin. As she rubbed it over herself–the suds forming and dissipating over the valleys of her body–she gasped in pain when it touched her left breast.
It was tender right beneath the nipple, sore almost, as she grazed the soft sponge over her. She hesitated, gently running her fingertip beneath the swell of it. There was a small bump, an almost unnoticeable hill that changed her familiar terrain.
She panicked, her stomach turning to knots as the luffa dropped from her grasp and sprayed bubbles up the surround of the shower. She quickly turned and rushed through the curtain, almost slipping on the suds beneath her feet.
Water pooled on the tile below her, dropping off her in connected rivers as the water pounded in the shower behind. She stood in front of the foggy mirror–her naked body pink with warmth–as she wiped the condensation, it trickling down the edges of her reflection. Gently, she pulled her breast towards her.
It was almost unnoticeable–barely even there as she looked and touched its presence. Has it always been there? Like a mole you forget you have on the back of your neck until you reach back to scratch it? Or was it a new invader who had mistakenly docked at the wrong shore?
Julia’s hands shook as she dropped them to her sides, the action in slow motion reflected back at her in the mirror. This can’t be happening. Life had done a good enough job–no, a fantastic fucking job–kicking her in the ass as it was. She didn’t need this, this possibility of something within her that didn’t belong.
Sure, she wanted to sink into that deep abyss more times than she could count, but not on the terms of something else. She wanted a choice. She needed to finally be the one who made the choice.
She was finally feeling more like herself. She was crawling at a snail’s pace at reclaiming it all, but she was finally moving. She was trying–trying to forget, trying to forgive, trying to move on. But just like that, the Jenga game of her existence removed one crucial piece, and she’s back to teetering.
Panic was something she became more and more accustomed to over the years. Panic in the overwhelming aspects of her job. Panic in the thought of living out the rest of her inconsequential life alone–never having another to share pancakes with on Sunday mornings, or stealing a kiss as the New Year’s Eve clock strikes midnight. Panic in the memories of a life not lived to the fullest; a life that never quite weighed as much as all the pressure she put upon it. Panic in not being enough, not doing enough.
Right at that moment, her panic was real. It took over her nerves, shaking her body to the core–her thoughts racing around a Daytona track. Her panic was time and the idea that there really might not be enough of it.
She picked up her phone with shaking hands, a wavering thumb hovering over her contacts. She knew who she wanted to call, who she wanted to wrap her in a comforting embrace.
Instead, she called the doctor she hadn’t heard from in years. Her tweety voice answered immediately, chirping about how long it had been. Julia couldn’t engage in the small talk, couldn’t waste another moment, and so she blurted it out mid conversation.
“I have a lump under my breast,” she gulped, leveling her voice.
She didn’t cry. The panic within her, squeezing the life out of every cell within her, didn’t reach her outside composure.
“Okay,” Dr. Rosel said quietly. “When can you come in?”
“What does this mean?” she asked, her quiet voice like a loudspeaker in her empty room.
“It could be a lot of things,” she said reassuringly. “We’ll get you in on Monday. We’ll take some scans, and we’ll tackle this together.”
Together. Just her and a distant doctor she hadn’t seen in more years than she cared to admit.
“Okay.”
“Is Marin there? Can I talk with her?” she asked, her voice full of satin comfort.
Julia’s chest clenched in agony. She placed one hand over it, twisting her skin into her fist until the pain was worse than what came from the inside.
“No. Marin and I aren’t together anymore.”
There was silence over the phone; too much silence. Why was there always so much silence? The type of silence no words could fill and make whole again.
“Do you have someone you can call?”
“Of course,” Julia lied.
“It’s important that you have someone, Julia.” She knew. Did everyone know? Was she made of glass, a spectacle for all to ogle at?
“I’ll see you first thing Monday morning, Dr. Rosel. Thank you for taking my call.”
And then she hung up. Together. Whatever it was, we’d get through it together.
She should call Keegan, her constant, but she couldn’t drag her into something like this when she had so much going on at home. She didn’t want to burden anyone–not without knowing exactly how much weight she would be laying on their already brittle shoulders. And so she didn’t call anyone. She didn’t tell anyone.
She laid back on the bed in her drenched towel as her dripping hair soaked the pillow beneath. Sun crept in through cracks in the blinds, but she didn’t open them. Her stomach growled, but she didn’t have the energy to get up. She laid there as the light turned to dusk, as Saturday came and went.
Saturday night she awoke to a racket vibrating the pillow next to her head. Her high-pitched piano ringtone blared in her ears, completely disorienting her slumber state. She reached across and touched the cold screen, her eyes squinting at the blue light screaming at her.
“Hello?” she croaked.
“Are you sleeping?” Keegan asked. “It’s 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday! Even the kids are up!”
“Just fell asleep while reading,” Julia lied, pushing back the bile that crept into the back of her throat. She rubbed her still exhausted eyes with the back of her palm as she rolled over and faced the ceiling. “What are you up to?”
“We just got back from dinner at Hennen’s Steakhouse,” she explained, screaming children her backup singers off in the distance. “It reminded me that I should remind you about our double date.”
Julia went blank. She remembered Keegan saying something about it months ago, and then maybe she said something else about it earlier that week. Her mind was a scrambled egg. Think. Think. Think. Did she say it was next week? Or was it the week after that?
“Of course,” she hummed. “I’ll be there. What was the place we were meeting at again?” Her head throbbed, a tension headache wrapping her shoulders in a vise, pulling at the temples and squeezing her neck.
“Rosana’s Hall at seven.”
“Ooh, fancy-smancy.”
“I told you, this is important for Ben! If he wants to make partner this year, Lauren needs to be wrapped around his fat little fingers.” She sighed deeply. They needed the raise that would come with making partner at the marketing firm. “Thank you for agreeing to this.”
“Just remember,” Julia said and smiled into the phone, “this is the last setup you get to guilt me into.”
“I know, I know,” she groaned. Julia could practically feel her eyes roll through the phone. “Just don’t be late, please!”
“When am I ever late?” Julia scoffed. “I’ll be there early. I have plenty of time to plan an outfit that will ‘knock her socks off.’”
“Why do I have a feeling you don’t remember what day we planned for?”
“Hmm?” She was caught red-handed.
“Julia,” Keegan sighed sternly. “You–”
“Next week,” she guessed, but with the gasp that escaped the mouth on the other end of the phone, she knew she was wrong.
“Do you ever listen to me when I talk!”
“Selectively.”
“Our reservation is for tomorrow, you doofus.”
“So, I wasn’t far off.”
“Ugh!” Keegan moaned through the phone and Julia could picture her palm pressed against her forehead.
“I won’t be late. I’ll be there,” she sighed.
She wanted nothing more than to hide away in that bed for the rest of her life, avoiding how the pulsating from her tender chest sent shivers up her spine.
They got off the phone and Julia disappeared back beneath the sheets. Her exhausted body welcomed the darkness behind her eyelids, sinking so deeply that only the noon daylight slithering through cracked blinds awoke her the next day.
Erin - 12:39 p.m.
Hey there.
Of course. She finally allowed herself to surrender to Erin, tried to embrace the unknown and think with her heart instead of her head. And now? She doesn’t even know if it was worth it, if there will be enough time to start living like she should have from the beginning.
Julia - 12:42 p.m.
Hey stranger.
Erin - 12:42 p.m.
I’m going to propose something, and you have to promise me you’ll consider it.
Julia - 12:43 p.m.
Propose? Erin Calanis, I barely know you.
Erin - 12:44 p.m.
Haha
Erin - 12:44 p.m.
I would like to take you out tomorrow night.
Shit.
Julia - 12:45 p.m.
I have something going on already… Raincheck?
Julia watched as those three little dots appeared and then disappeared.
Julia - 12:45 p.m.
I promise.
Erin began typing again, those same little blue dots, but she didn’t respond. Julia rolled back over, burying her face into the comforter to drown out the light. She laid there, the night moving on around her as she hoped the quietness would just shut up for once. Morning came and past, the sheets creased with wrinkles beneath her. She didn’t have the energy to get up.
As the sun began to set once again–her room highlighted in the most beautiful marigold hue–she inched herself closer to the edge of the bed. The clock on the wall ticked towards six. She didn’t have much time to pull herself together into a presentable adult.
While studying for her doctorate, she remembered reading that a psychologist somewhere–maybe Sweden or Norway–determined that taking scalding hot showers is a type of self-harm. Only now did Julia understand.
She stood underneath the boiling water until her skin matched the same shade as her lips. The way that water beat off her back, the sting beneath her skull, made her numb body feel something. She wanted to feel anything other than the anesthetic that coursed through her veins, the heaviness of the concrete that filled her limbs.
After she got out, careful not to touch her body too much or linger in front of the mirror, she pulled on a tan pair of cropped pants and a white blouse. A dark sweater slung over her shoulders as she slipped into heels. Her long blonde hair was curled perfectly, and it fell in tangled waves of her back. She forced herself to put on makeup, hiding the puffiness of her face that no amount of sleep would remedy.
She arrived at Rosana’s Hall early, just like promised. She sat in the warm car after she arrived, her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. She didn’t want to go in–didn’t want to give Keegan the chance to see her eyes and wonder if something was wrong.
She felt afraid, unsure of absolutely every choice she made up to that point. Everything is wrong. Everything but the way Erin’s body melted beneath her touch. And she wanted that, craved the feeling that would allow the butterflies to stop fluttering in her stomach.
A knock on her window jerked her into an upright position. She almost smacked her head on the roof of her car as she gripped the steering wheel for dear life, like that would save her if an intruder was trying to get into the vehicle.
Keegan stared at her from outside the window, a grin splitting her face in half. Julia took a deep breath, steadying her shaking hands before grabbing her purse and meeting her out in the cool March breeze.
“Thank you for coming.” Keegan hugged her with a strong grip and Julia almost lost her composure in that familiar contact.
She wanted to tell her so she could hold her and remind her that everything would be okay. She just wanted to hear those words, but she couldn’t. Not tonight. Keegan needed this.
“Anything for you,” Julia said, smiling as they pulled away.
“So, that means–”
“No,” she cut in. “This is your last romantic setup. Your matchmaking business is closed.” They both laughed a little as they walked towards the entrance, arm in arm. “Is Ben inside?”
“He’s still at work. He’s going to leave with Lauren shortly.” She looked down at the watch on her right wrist. “They’re probably almost here.”
They both got settled inside. They reserved a quiet booth in the corner, away from the hustle in the middle of the restaurant. A gold sconce hung from the dark beams across the ceiling, hovering over their glass table. Around them, quiet hums filled the air as extravagantly dressed couples and business soirees leaned over tables with deep chuckles in their throats and wine glasses in their hands. The sound of a subtle piano flowered in a far-off corner somewhere–the foundational layer of the ambiance in the massive hall.
They both relaxed in their seats. A waitress in a tight black dress was immediately by their side with a bottle of white wine to start off their meal. Julia took the offer graciously, smiling as she stated that the bottle could be left.
“Rough week?” chuckled Keegan, but she had no idea. Julia just nodded as she raised the glass to her lips once more. “It felt like it dragged on forever!” There was a slight pause, Julia unsure of what would spew from her lips if she opened them. “You’re not talking with Erin much anymore.” She didn’t mean to, but a groan escaped from her throat and Keegan’s eyebrows shot towards the gold crown molding covering every corner of the ceiling. “What?”
“We talked earlier this week,” she groaned. Keegan just studied her for a moment, her lips pulled into a swiggle. “It’s complicated.”
“You used to talk to me about complicated things,” she said softly.
She was right, and it stung the back of Julia’s cloudy eyes. They used to be an open book, words written together–binding reinforced with intertwined fingers that weather out every storm. It was always together.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, reaching out to hold Keegan’s hand across the table–her fingers damp from the condensation on her cold glass. “You’re right. I’ve been a shitty friend lately.”
“Oh, stop–”
“No.” Julia shook her head. “Please, let me apologize. I’ve lost sight of what’s important, and I guess that includes our friendship. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I promise, I’ll do better.”
Keegan couldn’t hold back her smile, the way her cheeks pinkened just slightly.
“Thank you.”