Chapter 15
Candace
Nat busies herself with the radio and ignores the industrial-sized wall that’s between us.
Did I do something wrong? After I asked for help zipping my dress, she turned off, and we haven’t spoken in almost thirty minutes.
The only noise is the chocolate candy she’s chomping on, and the first five seconds of a song before she changes it.
Should I have fixed my dress myself? I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. We were having a great time getting ready together, curling our hair, and I was so hypnotized by the way she could look so flawless, despite layering on pounds of makeup.
What if we’re not actually just friends?
What if this is more? The thought has been on repeat for days now.
More than that, what happens if I want more?
I really don’t know how to define more or what it’d look like.
Friends who cuddle and have sleepovers sounds too juvenile.
But friends who go on dates and kiss at the end feels like a giant step in an unknown direction.
Somehow, that doesn’t feel friendly, nor did the decision to forgo underwear tonight.
There’s a shrill voice deep inside, reminding me of my daughters and self-righteous parents.
Don’t even get me started on what the PTA mothers would do upon learning I was having an illicit affair with a woman sixteen years my junior.
I should be responsible and take all of that into consideration, but when I’m with Nat, none of it matters.
“Fun fact, Imogen Heap was in a duo called Frou Frou before taking off to go solo.” Nat leans over, turning the radio down.
My shoulders loosen. “Did she name any of her children after inanimate objects?”
“No, but the drummer in Warpaint named her son Audio. Also, Frank Zappa named his daughter Moon.”
“Wow, Greg and I argued over naming the twins. He wanted to go with Rebecca and Claire, but I’ve always loved Katie and Madison. Now I wish I had spiced things up a bit and gone with Fifi and Diva.”
“Already taken, I’m afraid.” She laughs.
We pull up to the historic warehouse they’ve transformed for tonight.
The rest of the ladies and I were here until midnight setting up, but this will be the first time I’m seeing it finished.
The theme is a little outdated, but it's a classic, and I can’t help but admire our handiwork.
All the turquoise and blues sparkle under the floodlights as we enter through the main doors.
“Oh, my gosh, fire whoever’s in charge of music tonight, they’re doing a terrible job.” Nat shakes her head, then makes a beeline for the refreshments.
Looking around, I wave at my girls standing in a group taking pictures in front of a cut-out seashell.
Long tables with teal tablecloths line the back wall, filled with punch bowls and mermaid-shaped sugar cookies.
Fishnets are hung from the ceiling, interlaced with colorful twinkle lights.
Below the stage is a pile of sand, not my idea, as the backdrop for photos.
Nat’s stuffing her face with cookies when I reach her.“Is it time to go yet?” Crumbs spill out of her mouth, and I use my thumb to clean her up.
“No, we’re scheduled for the first two hours, and then we’ll switch with other parents. My girls are spending the night at Betty’s house, though, so it’ll just be me tonight if you want to come over after.” I clear my throat. “If you’re free. Obviously. No pressure.”
She edges closer until our arms nearly brush, the sharp spice of her perfume settling in my lungs. “Do I get to sleep over?”
My head nods without permission, and a cheesy smile forms on my face, taking the place of actual words. Her hand slips over mine, gently stroking my fingers. For the first time, it’s not friendly, it’s sensual and borderline romantic.
The loud music makes it hard to hear, but our proximity behind the tables, and away from the craziness, makes it easier when she whispers, “I’ll promise to spend the night if we can leave right now.”
We’re in the middle of chaperoning, and all I can think about is Natalie in my bed.
Once again, I’m having relationship drama, and not even two years after the divorce.
I was with a man for almost my entire adult life, and never neglected my responsibilities for him.
Not even in high school did I act like this.
It’s so foreign, but none of it feels wrong.
“Did you want me to know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight? Is that why you asked me to help with your dress?” Strong fingers grip my chin, aligning my eyes with hers. “Do I get to help take the dress off tonight?”
I nod. “If you want to.” My pulse jumps hard enough that I’m sure she can see it.
“Trust me, I want to.”
When she bites her plump lip, my knees go weak. Everything in me screams to touch her, despite the lack of experience. I want her in a way I’ve never wanted a man. If my body can wake up with just her whispers and gentle touch, I can only imagine what will happen when we’re behind closed doors.
“Another hour won't kill you,” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It might,” she growls.
After what felt like twelve hours, it’s time to switch volunteers.
We couldn’t stay hidden for long, and once the other PTA members found us, we were up to our eyeballs in work.
Making sure students weren’t dancing inappropriately or making out in the hallway.
At one point, I’d kicked so many students from the hallway that I hung out there taking a break from the chaos.
Being alone in the dark made me think of Nat and wonder what it’d be like to be one of these students, ditching the dance to sneak off with her.
Once I said goodnight to my girls and made sure they’re all set with rides. We take off like two teenagers without a curfew.
She’s inside the car, setting up music, the minute I unlock it. Soft melodies play around me as we drive away. “Is this the girl from earlier?”
“Yeah, you said you liked her.” Nat reaches over to adjust the volume.
Butterflies swarm my tummy as we drive together, windows cracked, music vibrating through my body. I’ve never come alive like I do with her. It feels like experiencing the world and all its freedom for the first time.
When the chorus starts, her hand finds mine, and our fingers interlace.
The feeling is like coming home after a long vacation.
Every groove fits perfectly, as if it’s the missing piece.
I understand what she means now when she says to feel the music.
With our hands together, and the night sky above us, soft music billowing through the air, I feel it all.
We enter my neighborhood just as a song comes on repeating “It’s good to be in love.
” I’m paying attention to the lyrics more than I usually do, and they’re resonating with me.
An uncontrollable smile takes over, making my cheeks hurt.
The song is how I’m feeling right now. Am I having a midlife gay awakening?
The chorus is sounding a lot like the soundtrack of our story, and I’m wondering if it could turn into a love story.