Chapter 9 #3
She paused the podcast on her phone. She and Denny were huddled side by side on the couch, each with her own blanket and cup of hot chocolate. She opened the chat, mostly filled with her one-way texts and pictures of Denny’s snack wishlist. No other texts. No emails. No calls.
Eris had submitted her CV to multiple companies and agencies, but no one had responded yet. She lived in fear that someone would call and she’d just stare at the ringing phone, helpless. Her voice had never taken this long to come back.
Maybe if Denny had been less supportive about it…
Just wondering how much longer I'm going to be an unemployed loser
“You just recovered from a pretty serious injury, you shouldn’t rush back into work.”
Denny couldn’t be expected to understand.
She didn’t know how powerless one could feel without their independence.
Thanks to her, the balance of Eris’ bank account was above three digits for the first time since she’d had it, but that only made Eris feel even more of a burden to her.
Denny had insisted to split the profits of the quinceanera commission equally with her and Rocco; the only reason Eris had accepted was because Rocco had sworn he wouldn’t take his cut if she didn’t take her own.
She hadn’t told Denny, but earning that money had felt good, it’d made her feel like she actually had a purpose in Denny’s life, rather than just being an intruder.
Every time she got to do something helpful for Denny, her feet felt a bit more stable on the ground.
Or maybe it was the ground that felt more stable under her feet.
She could tell Denny had reached a spicy part in her book because she was sitting unusually still, save for a foot that wouldn’t stop wriggling. Eris could swear that sometimes she even forgot to breathe.
Hey chat, is it gay to squirm when you’re reading sapphics going to town?
“Sorry. Am I stressing you out?”
I’ve learned to block out your fidgeting
You’re not denying the gay allegation
Eris would’ve never asked if the subject hadn’t come up spontaneously. She suspected Denny wasn’t straight because of how extra nice and smiley she was around women, but that didn’t necessarily equal lesbian. Eris was extra cold and skittish around men, and yet she was inexplicably into them.
“Am I gay? I’m ecstatic!” Eris recognised the quote from Denny’s favourite movie. “Ecstatic and demisexual.”
Eris acknowledged the information with a hum.
Feelings make you horny?
“It’s not how it works for everyone, but yeah, that might be the most accurate description of how I experience it.” Denny’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What about you? Your ex housemate, she called you a… the D-word.”
Yeah, she doesn’t really know what it means
“So you’re not a lesbian?” There was an imperceptible twinge in Denny’s voice.
Eris shook her head with a hearty laugh.
Nope, not a lesbian
Everyone assumes I am because of how I look
“Not to be part of the problem, but you really don’t give off straight vibes.”
Who said anything about straight?
“Oh?”
Why do straights and gays think everyone’s like them?
“Of course, my bad!” A lingering pause. “So you do like women?”
Hell YEAH
“And also men.”
Not particularly
I am attracted to them, tho
“What’s the difference?”
Some are good in bed
Most are cunts
Good to fuck, bad to spend your life with
Denny chewed her lip. “‘I think I understand what you mean. I’ve been with women like that.”
The truth was that none of the men and women Eris had dated had meant anything more than a pastime to her, an enjoyable company at best. Some refused to kiss her because they found the scar on her lips disturbing.
Fine by her. Kisses were too intimate, anyway.
She liked it when people didn’t expect anything from her, because she wasn’t good at being a girlfriend.
Disposable relationships had been a convenient constant throughout her life: low maintenance, low involvement, low drama when they ended.
Rinse, repeat. The slate was always easy to clean and rewrite.
She was too busy keeping her shit together to care about someone else.
Still like me, even if I’m bi?
Denny curled an arm on the backrest of the couch and rested her head upon it, her eyes sleepy but intent. “I could never not like you.”
Eris’ stoic facade slipped at Denny’s sweet face watching her like just her existing was something extraordinary.
That bloody pout of yours, Denny
A coy grin. “What about my pout?”
WhAt aBoUt mY PoUt
Fuck off
For some reason the reply got Denny smiling from ear to ear. She licked her lips, scooting a little closer, knee-to-knee with Eris, and let out a soft sigh. “I’m really glad I finally get to communicate with you with actual words.”
Can’t believe you’re saying that after I told you to fuck off
“Feels good to see it spelled out rather than just guessing it from your dirty looks.”
Yeah that’s so romantic
Denny’s hand came up to brush back the loose wisps on Eris’ forehead that had escaped her half ponytail. “It is to me.”
Eris felt it again, that swooping sensation in her stomach that felt like she was plunging into an abyss. But it faded—it always did—and was replaced by a bizarre warmth. It spread inside her, bringing light to recesses of her soul that had never seen any.
How? How do you do this, Denny?
They stared at each other for a long while, until Denny’s poker face cracked, causing Eris’ to follow suit.
She forbade herself to giggle like Denny did. She was afraid to admit that she was getting used to this—the comfort, the lightheartedness… Who would’ve thought that being alive could be so unpainful?
When the laughter waned, they fell back into their customary silence. But something was different. They were too close and watching each other too intently.
Denny’s eyes were glossy when her hand lifted again to hover beside Eris’ face, so close that Eris could feel its warmth, but not enough to touch her. Denny couldn’t imagine how Eris longed for that touch, so much so that pressing Denny’s hand to her cheek was a need, not a choice.
She nuzzled into it like an animal discovering affection. She would never forget the tenderness of the pad of Denny’s thumb slowly tracing her cheekbone, lips pressed together, a sorrowful pinch between her brows.
Denny swallowed, pushing her hand further, until her fingers buried into Eris’ hair to curl around her neck.
A shiver coursed down Eris’ spine.
Denny misinterpreted her reaction and drew her hand away, mumbling an apology, but Eris brought it back to her face, inching closer. She didn’t know what Denny was apologising for. She wanted this, whatever this was—Denny’s touch, the love in her eyes. She wanted to drink this bliss, drown in it.
Her eyes closed. She savoured the crushing tenderness of the caress that brushed upon her cheek, over and over, as cautious as it was addictive. I’m not made of glass, she wanted to reassure Denny, but that was exactly how she felt: thin and fragile, one wrong move away from shattering.
No one had warned her. She had always felt invincible because pain had never crushed her, but it wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t the grief, it wasn’t the anger.
It was the love.
Love crushed people.
And maybe she was made of glass.
Maybe Denny was the hammer destined to shatter her.
She was willing to risk it.
There was someone now who would lovingly take care of all her pieces.
“Do you really not mind?” asked Denny, guilt strewn across her beautiful face. Eris could only press her cheek harder into her palm.
I don’t. I don’t, I swear.
“It’s just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my— I’m so physical in showing my affection and I know how much you hate being touched, but I… I feel so drawn to you, Eris…”
Eris lounged at her, burying herself in an embrace that Denny eagerly welcomed her into, a cocoon of warmth and sweet scent and strong, slender arms holding her like she was something precious and delicate.
Eris knew at once that she’d never want to be anywhere else.
She had been alive for twenty-five years and not once had she ever felt lucky to be.
Until today.
It’s okay, Sunshine. It’s okay if it’s you.