Three
Daphne had no idea what emotion, or rather emotions, because there was more than one, she was currently experiencing, but as she eased herself gently off Gillian DeGarmo, shock seemed a rather insufficient descriptor.
It had been twenty years. No, twenty-two, and a few months since graduation. The whole world had changed since then, and Daphne with it, but looking down at Gillian, she could find little difference.
She’d aged, of course, but in the small ways that blessed some women with grace as the soft curves of youth gave way to a more worldly sort of elegance.
Of course Gillian would be one of those women.
She’d been one of those women even when she’d been a girl.
She exuded class with the haughty press of those lips, the curve of her eyebrows, and the perfect pantsuit, even when sprawled flat on her back.
The thought made Daphne laugh, the final straw in the absurdity of it all.
Gillian sat up with a little huff. “God, your laugh hasn’t changed a bit, nor has the unorthodoxy of your comedic timing.”
Daphne laughed a little harder. “Neither has your vocabulary, or your delivery. You never could say something plainly. God, you’ve somehow managed to become even more you, which is saying so much, because you were very sure of yourself at seventeen.”
“The only thing we ever had in common.” Gillian pushed herself up to standing and smoothed down the front of her blouse, though it didn’t need it.
She looked entirely put together as she towered over Daphne now.
Still, it would do no good for her to stand, as Gillian had always been several inches taller, and given the spikes on her heels, she’d no doubt manage to appear intimidating at any angle.
Daphne flopped back onto the mattress and smiled up at her. “I don’t know. We had one other thing in common. Being the only lesbians in our graduating class seemed like enough for people to lump us together.”
Gillian shook her head. “Surely we’ve moved past that.”
“You’ve moved past lesbianism?” she prodded teasingly. “I never expected you to flip the script, Ms. All-American Basketball Champ. “Didn’t you go to Smith or something sapphic?”
“No. Of course not. I mean …” Gillian got flustered, then seemed to catch herself and take a slow, deep breath. “Cornell. I’m still a lesbian, and I’ve actually got to get to work.”
“Wow, you said that in the exact same tone you used to say, ‘I’ve got to get to class.’ It’s uncanny how you …” In the rush of everything, Daphne had failed to do the math. “You work here? In this building?”
Gillian’s already pale complexion waned as she seemed to do the same mental calculus. “I own the practice across the hall, and you … you’re the sole proprietor of Healing Touch?”
Daphne nodded slowly, the humor of the situation fading fast. Running into this woman in such a spectacular clusterfuck of a situation was one thing, but sharing space with her long term was something else entirely.
Gillian pinched the bridge of her nose as if trying to stem the same kind of throb building at the base of Daphne’s skull.
“You’re moving a bed into the office across from mine because you’re …
I’m sorry, give me a second … you’re opening a business, the nature of which requires you to lie down, and you will be earning money. I’m struggling to …”
Daphne continued to regard her from the aforementioned bed, a bit bemused at her apparent loss for words.
If it weren’t so enthralling to see a woman of such poise fumble and search, she might’ve been more offended at the insinuation she couldn’t quite bring herself to make.
“Gillian, are you asking if I’m a hooker? ”
“No,” Gillian snapped quickly. “First of all, the term we use now is sex worker, and I suppose I’m asking you to tell me what you do for a living, so I never have any of those images in my mind ever again.”
“As much as the remnants of my younger self would love to stay here and fluster the great and unflappable Gillian DeGarmo a bit longer, neither of us will be served by childish impulses if we’re sharing a waiting room.”
“The waiting room.” Gillian grimaced as if the idea caused her pain.
“Yes, please let’s do our best to compartmentalize any previous interactions, up to and including this morning’s awkward reintroduction, to focus on establishing a professional relationship.
Perhaps you could start by informing me what kind of business I’ll be sharing my space with. ”
The request was overly formal, but not out of line, and under other circumstances Daphne would’ve given the answer excitedly. She’d come in this morning humming with a sense of purpose and passion, and she hadn’t exactly lost it so much as she feared Gillian’s reaction would dim the light.
Not that Gillian’s opinion should matter.
Plus, Daphne had defended her aspirations so many times she could do so in her sleep, but, for some reason, her stomach clenched with the realization that she simply didn’t want to.
Not now, not here, not to this woman or to the girls either of them had been.
And rather than think about that too hard, she sidestepped.
“Your space? The lease listed the waiting room as communal for the whole floor. I’d be just as entitled to ask what kind of professionals I’ll be sharing my space with.
Come on, tell me, what did the class valedictorian do with her Ivy League education? Finance? Economics? Tax Law?”
Gillian expression softened. “All of those were on the table, but no, I’m a therapist.”
Daphne opened her mouth, but no quick retort came.
A therapist? Gillian? She could’ve taken a hundred guesses and not come close. Someone could’ve told her Gillian needed a mental health professional in high school and gotten no argument, but the idea that she’d become one rearranged Daphne’s worldview.
“I own the practice across the hall. I have three other women working with me, every one of them kind, smart, and dedicated to the work, to our clients, to each other. We’re more like a family of friends who share a sense of care and purpose than a group of colleagues, and we’re not perfect, but what we do matters to a lot of people.
” Gillian sighed and shrugged her shoulders seeming more tired than frustrated now.
“Safety and confidentiality are of the utmost importance. I’m protective both of my team and the people we serve. ”
Daphne nodded, all the defensiveness and need to needle evaporating in the face of Gillian’s plainspoken assessment of her life’s work.
“It sounds amazing, and while it’s still a bit weird to be working across the hall from you, it’s good to know I’ll be sharing space with people who hold similar values.
I promise I foster the same gravity and careful consideration with everyone coming in and out of my own practice.
You have nothing to fear from me or any of my clients. ”
Gillian’s shoulders eased. “You’re in a mental health field? That honestly makes more sense for you than it did for me back in high school.”
Daphne smiled, the first fully genuine one since the two of them had recognized each other. “I’m mental health adjacent, and probably unsurprisingly, I took a quirkier and windier path than you.”
The corners of Gillian’s lips curled upward. “You don’t say?”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m still on-brand a bit, but don’t act like you broke the mold completely over there with your power-lesbian attire and business boss details.”
“Fair, but now you know what I do for a living, and I only know you’re adjacent to it, which seems more than a little cagey for someone who accused me of not being able to say something plainly.”
“Zing.” Daphne chuckled nervously. “You noticed that.”
Gillian waited patiently while Daphne glanced slowly around at the room, seeing it differently now. “I’m also comfortable sitting in the silence.”
“Picking up on that,” Daphne said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you got good at whatever you needed to be good at in order to succeed.”
“Thank you?”
“Should I also trust that you’ve managed to nail the whole nonjudgmental listening thing, too?”
“Am I about to be tested?”
“You’re very good at tests, if memory serves. Didn’t you get a perfect score on the ACTs?”
“Daphne, do you not like your job?”
“No.” She finally stood, and tried to hold this woman’s impressive gaze, somehow confident, cool, and concerned all at once.
“I love my job. I love it the way a person can only love something they’ve had to fight for and defend and build without any blueprints.
I love it with the same kind of protectiveness I heard in your voice when you talked about your people.
I love it with the fierceness of a woman who’s been discounted and discredited and grown defiant even in her weariness. ”
Gillian’s lips parted slightly as her body angled slightly forward. It was such a subtle reaction, but it spoke of interest and genuine curiosity. Daphne seized on those impulses, or maybe her own sense of building momentum. “I’m a professional cuddler.”
Absolutely nothing about Gillian’s expression changed. Honestly, if they’d been on a video call, Daphne would’ve thought her screen had frozen, but in person she found the reaction, or complete lack of one, infinitely more disconcerting.
“Gillian, I cuddle people. I’m opening a snuggery.”
“Okay,” Gillian said with unnerving calm.
“Okay?”
“I’m listening.”
Daphne stared at her. “Listening to what?”
“You.”