Chapter 25 Gwen #3
After a few moments, Gwen lifted her head, faced Leigh. Leigh was looking at her tenderly, like she truly loved her and cared for her in a way Gwen had never felt cared for before.
Their faces were just a few inches apart, and Gwen found herself drawn toward Leigh, magnetized.
She closed her eyes and allowed her lips to find Leigh’s lips.
Gwen could hear the blood whooshing in her ears.
She kept her eyes closed, kept herself contained in this strange world of darkness where kissing her friend felt good for no reason she could explain.
It wasn’t sexual. Gwen didn’t feel any urge or longing for something beyond the kiss.
She just wanted to be right here, in this moment.
Leigh didn’t pull back. She moved her lips against Gwen’s.
She took Gwen’s top lip in both of her lips; then she did the same with her bottom lip.
When Leigh slipped her tongue into Gwen’s mouth, it was sensual and kind, not sloppy and greedy like Gwen had experienced with most of the men she’d kissed in her life.
They kissed and kissed, not pausing to try to put words to what was happening.
Gwen had no idea how long it had been when Leigh pulled back suddenly and said “Oh shit” before Leigh even opened her eyes.
When Leigh did open her eyes, she realized why Leigh looked panicked.
Nathan was standing in the front entryway, his work bag at his feet, arms crossed over his chest. It was obvious he’d seen enough.
Leigh jumped to her feet, looking nothing like the confident, assured woman who Gwen knew—the woman who wouldn’t take shit from anyone.
“Ladies,” Nathan said, a punishing monotone.
Gwen knelt down for June, who, picking up on the anxiety in the room, started to cry. Oh, her sensitive baby.
June’s car seat was right by the front door, right next to Nathan. Gwen scurried over, careful not to make any eye contact with Nathan. What could she possibly say? She didn’t understand what had just happened herself; there was no use trying to explain it to him.
As Gwen buckled June into her seat, she waited for Leigh to come to her—their—defense. She waited for Leigh to say, “Gwen, you don’t need to go. We weren’t doing anything wrong.” Because they weren’t, were they?
But Leigh didn’t say anything like that. Instead, she said to Nathan, “I know what you’re going to say. That was totally wrong, I know. But she kissed me.”
She said this as if Gwen were not right there, in the room. Gwen looked at her friend, craving some eye contact that said I’m just telling him what he needs to hear; call you later. But Leigh wouldn’t meet her eyes.
There was one more humiliating necessity—grabbing the diaper bag from the living room.
She tiptoed out of the kitchen, as if playing along with this ridiculous notion that she wasn’t there at all.
She got the bag and then tiptoed back to the car seat, lifted June, and left, closing the door behind her.
As the door clicked shut, she heard Nathan say, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. ”
June cried as Gwen took her to the car, and she cried the entire drive home. Not even the motion of the car, the white noise of the roads, could get her to settle.
When Gwen arrived back at her house, the house that was once their dream house and now just seemed like a ball and chain, she parked in the driveway and checked her phone. She expected a text from Leigh, but there was nothing. She decided to send one herself.
Hey. Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. You were right—it was all my fault. I think the movie got to me? I hope we can put it behind us
She felt stupid after sending it. Leigh had taken her to that movie. Leigh had participated in the kissing. It was an emotional day. She was vulnerable. She needed nurturing.
She waited for Leigh to respond, to tell her not to worry about it, that Nathan had calmed down after she explained things. She stared, willing the three dots to appear. Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
She rested her forehead on the cushioned steering wheel and began to sob. June had finally stopped crying but then ramped up again upon hearing her mother sobbing. Soon, they were both wailing, as if in competition with each other.
“Gwen?”
She lifted her head to see Jeff, sweet Jeff, at her window, his fingers tapping on the glass. She opened her car door.
“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.
He looked into the back seat.
“Is June okay?” he asked.
“She’s fine,” Gwen said.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked again.
“I don’t know,” she said. She did know, but she couldn’t possibly tell him. He wouldn’t understand.
“Come on,” he said, taking her two hands in his.
He helped her out of the front seat, and when he went to get June from the back, Gwen glanced at her phone again.
Nothing.
“Let’s get you two inside, okay?” he said.
He walked ahead of her with June, but she stood still. She felt unable to move.
“Babe?” he said. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, told him what she knew he wanted to hear: “I’m just having a really hard day.”
He set June’s car seat on the ground. June had already stopped crying, likely comforted by the presence of Jeff, a sane adult. Jeff put his arms around Gwen, pulled her into him.
“We all have hard days,” he said.
Poor Jeff—he had no idea what he was up against.