Eighteen #2
Brooke seemed to read the situation and said, “Let’s slow down. We’re all here in the same igloo, and we all love you. We want you to be happy. Deep breath, and big sip of wine.”
Gillian was being managed, she knew it, and she wasn’t too proud to appreciate it. She did as instructed, letting the air fill her lungs and the wine fill her senses. Warmth spread through her core, both the literal and the figurative kind.
“Okay,” Robin said more deliberately. “You kissed a woman you like for the first time in ages, and it curled your toes, right?”
She nodded. “I mean, two weeks ago I would’ve argued with the idea of liking Daphne. I haven’t cared for her for much of our lives, but that seems in flux now. I don’t think I dislike her anymore, but I’m not sure I trust what I do feel in its place.”
“That’s amazing,” Tegan said. “You’re growing, you’re shifting, it’s exciting. You don’t need to know everything right now.”
“But I like knowing everything.”
They all laughed even though she hadn’t been joking.
“And you’re good at it,” Brooke said, “but there’s nothing wrong with slowing down and taking some time to figure things out.”
“Or …” Robin waggled her eyebrows. “There’s also nothing wrong with speeding up to figure things out.
You two have spent the better part of a lifetime bickering and miscommunicating and poking at each other, even in your minds or over perceptions of memories.
What if you flipped the script completely and found out all that dancing around was a waste of time? ”
“I vote for this plan,” Sawyer said.
“Shocking,” Brooke mumbled.
“Come on, Brookesy.” Sawyer nudged their friend’s foot through the blanket. “You remember G-Money in her glory days. She was a sight to behold, legs for days and a string of little budding sapphics following her around like puppies. She could get it any time she wanted.”
Brooke smiled fondly. “I remember. I also remember her wining and dining women the rest of us could barely even look at. She wooed a professor, a lawyer, and if I recall correctly, right after graduation there was a city councilwoman. If she wanted to sweep someone off her feet, she could do it without resorting to one-night stands.”
“Hey now,” Tegan cautioned. “Let’s not stigmatize one-night stands.”
“Let’s not stigmatize a friend with benefits either,” Robin piled on.
“Let’s not talk about me like I’m not here,” Gillian finally cut back in. “And also, maybe not make all of these examples quite so past tense. I may not be in grad school anymore, but I don’t think I’ve completely lost my ability to relate to women even if the skills are a bit rusty.”
“Hard agree,” Tegan said. “You’re a catch. What’s holding you back?”
“Until about three hours ago, I didn’t even realize there was something to be held back from.
It seems like a rather large leap to be deciding if I want a one-night stand or a long-term relationship.
Shouldn’t I weigh pros and cons? Shouldn’t I think about the future of our office?
Shouldn’t I inventory possible consequences and have a plan in place for if this goes off the rails?
Shouldn’t I research workplace best practices or report something to our HR person?
Except that’d be me. I need a plan for if we sleep together and it goes horrible versus if we sleep together and it doesn’t. ”
“Stop,” Brooke finally called. “I can’t take anymore. I’m trying not to be in full-on therapy mode, but every time you of all people say the word ‘should,’ it feels like someone’s jamming a needle under my fingernails.”
“Same.” Robin shivered, and Tegan nodded solemnly.
“Doesn’t bother me.” Sawyer crossed one leg over the other and sipped from their hot chocolate.
Brooke rolled her eyes at them before turning back to Gillian.
“I know you love a contingency plan, but the collective is correct in noting you’ve been great with women in both short- and long-term situations.
This isn’t a question of capability or responsibility.
It’s time for the boss to act like the boss.
Forget ‘can’ and ‘should.’ What do you want? ”
Gillian closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, letting both the fullness of the question and all the sentiments behind it wash over her. This kind of reflection should’ve calmed and centered her, but instead something powerful stirred her senses back to a heightened state.
Energy ran along her spine and down her limbs in a way it hadn’t for ages, at least in moments when she wasn’t kissing Daphne, but the confusion gave way to clarity as she began to speak.
“I want to be more of myself again. I want to feel a sense of control and competence somewhere other than the office. I want to feel alive and present, not in a calculated or practiced way, but like someone who finally has nowhere else I’d rather be.
I want to trust my brain and body to work in tandem, and I want to follow my intuition over my schedule.
I want to be the me that feels strong, confident, and self-assured, no matter what anyone else in the room or in the relationship is doing, thinking, or feeling. ”
She opened her eyes to see her friends’ smiles and nods of approval.
“There you are,” Brooke finally said, “and for what it’s worth, if you show up like that, I don’t think it’ll matter if you’re dating or not dating Daphne. If you’re there in your fullness, there shouldn’t be any other conflict that matters.”
She wasn’t sure she’d go quite that far, but she liked the sentiment enough to let it stand.
“Actually,” Sawyer said, “I’d go a step further and say that in my experience, it’s the showing up in my fullness that actually resolved most of my relationship conflicts.”
Robin rested her hand on their shoulder.
“Yeah. I know it’s a very different situation given your past with Daphne, but I wonder if that doesn’t make it even more powerful for you to just be the woman you are now, not your teenage-rivalry self, not annoyed office-interrupted self, not afraid or trying to control.
I think we can all agree, the power of a woman who knows her own worth is a force to be reckoned with, no matter what else may be unfolding around her. ”
Gillian made Robin’s point all the sharper by flashing to a memory of Daphne declaring herself a professional, a friend, and a mother who trusted herself.
It had been compelling, inspiring, beautiful.
Had she seen something similar in Gillian?
More importantly, what might they do if they both became the people they each liked to be … together?
Hugh nearly bumped into Daphne on the porch, then made a pointed glance at his Rolex. “What are you still doing home?”
“I, um, I moved my appointments for today to start on the half hour instead of the hour.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”
“I’m changing things up, offering different choices, different rhythms, and maybe it’s good to …”
Her voice trailed off as he folded his arms across his chest and stared out at the snow-covered street. “It’s cold, Daphne, and I don’t want to stand in the freezing out-of-doors all morning. Either spill the beans quickly or move along with whatever mess you’re currently creating.”
“Harsh.”
“You know I have a low threshold for discomfort, physical or otherwise.”
“Me too.” She whined. “Which is why I’m avoiding Gillian.”
“Of course you are.” His shoulders sagged. “Do you have so little faith in your self-control, or hers, that you put every one of your clients off by thirty minutes?”
“No. I mean, probably not, but you weren’t there.
” She’d filled him in on the basics—they’d kissed again, it was good, it couldn’t happen anymore for so many reasons—but that had been days ago, and she might not have been quite as forthcoming about how much it still affected her.
The memories of Gillian’s mouth created an unnerving kind of heat inside her even as winter’s cold saturated the city.
“I lost control. We both did. Everything escalated so quickly. I wasn’t even thinking. ”
“Because you were enjoying yourself for the first time in who knows how long. You’re all about intuition and getting in touch with your body.”
“I know.” She tugged her stocking cap down over her eyes for a second. “It’s tearing me apart, but this thing with Gillian, I can’t trust it.”
“Why not? It’s simple. You want her, she wants you, you’re both adults. What’s stopping you?”
“We work in the same office and have a long history of hating each other.”
“Oy, lesbians. You always have to complicate everything.”
“I didn’t complicate it. It is complicated. The complications are baked in.”
“You’re putting undue emphasis on tiny bumps in the road. You work across the hall from her. You aren’t even in the same business. She can’t fire you or exert undue pressure.”
“No, but she could make things awkward.”
“Darling, why would she do that when you’re already excelling in the job?”
“What?”
“Things are already awkward! There was never a moment when they weren’t.
You knocked her over with and onto a mattress on day one, and you’ve goaded her virtually every opportunity since then.
The few conversations you’ve had that were not tense or loaded are the exception, not the rule.
I cannot fathom how snogging her thoroughly would make things any worse, but I can conceive of several ways it might make things better. ”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not just talking about great sex, though in my world, that is reason enough to do something … or someone.” Hugh chuckled at his own joke. “But it could also release some of the tension, offer a reset, start over.”
“Or make it worse, or create new and different tensions, or plunge us back into active animosity when we just found an equilibrium.”
“This”—he made a vague gesture in her direction—“is not equilibrium. You’ve been rocked back on your heels or pushing into her space back and forth like some manic pendulum.”