Beneath the Surface(23)

“Well if you’re meeting her parents, I demand to meet her.”

“You will. Soon enough.” It wasn’t as if Sheryl hadn’t considered the swiftness with which she was falling for Kristin. She was all in already, which wasn’t her usual M.O.—and which was probably the reason why Caitlin was calling her out on it. Sheryl wasn’t the head-over-heels type. At least, she thought she wasn’t. Perhaps, if the right woman came along, she was. She wondered if she would have noticed Kristin at the party if someone else had been in charge of wine sponsorship—if she had allowed her past to keep her from taking on that particular task. Perhaps she would have been too busy to notice Kristin. Or her heart would have started beating faster as she applied the stamp after letting her in. Or, and this was perhaps most probable of all the things that didn’t happen, Kristin might not have come to the party at all. The sponsorship procurer might not have flirted with Kristin the way Sheryl had, and nothing would have happened. Kristin would still be in the closet. And Sheryl’s heart wouldn’t be all the way in her throat as it was now, even when she was just talking about Kristin.



“I’m nervous,” Kristin admitted.

“I really couldn’t tell. You keep fiddling with that bracelet and your knees must be having a ball hopping up and down like that,” Sheryl said.

“That’s not helping.”

“I know, but you have nothing to be nervous about.”

“What if I’m not feminist enough for them?”

“What if I’m too feminist for Cassie?”

“Don’t worry about Cassie. You’ll blow her away.”

“Why would the same not be true in your case? Besides, Caitlin and Betty might not have officially met you yet, but they clocked you at the LAUS party. Trust me, your presence there did not go unnoticed.”

“Why? Because uptight Koreans stick out like sore thumbs at lesbian parties?”

Sheryl laughed and shook her head. “Trust me when I tell you that you are far from uptight.”

“But I’m not like you and, presumably, not like your friends.”

“Caitlin might give a speech on how monogamy is not built into our DNA and how it’s against evolution and all that, but that doesn’t mean she won’t like you. Though it might mean that you won’t like her.” Sheryl looked up. “Speak of the devil.” She bent over the table and whispered to Kristin. “And sometimes that can be taken quite literally.” She plastered a big smile on her face, rose, and hugged Caitlin as she kissed her on each cheek.

What a greeting, Kristin thought. She and Cassie just nodded at each other when they met up. Christ, she needed another glass of Merlot. Kristin didn’t know how Sheryl got through situations like these without the lubricating effects of alcohol. She herself was living proof that drinking alcohol didn’t have to lead to abuse.

By the time she was introduced to Caitlin, Betty and her girlfriend had arrived as had Cassie. Kristin couldn’t help but wonder how it made Cassie feel to have drinks with a bunch of lesbians. It wasn’t that long ago that they both had been, to Cassie’s knowledge, two straight best friends. That was the thing about coming out. It changed the lives of those around you as well.

Wine was poured generously, pleasantries exchanged, and Kristin soon learned she truly shouldn’t have been nervous. Sheryl had a way of putting not only her but the people around them at ease. Soon Betty’s girlfriend was talking to Cassie, Betty and Sheryl engaged in a back-and-forth about the meaning of something their mutual boss Aimee had said, which left Kristin to engage Caitlin in conversation. She knew Caitlin and Sheryl had dated briefly once, which intimidated her further, but as it turned out, Caitlin was much like Sheryl and had refined the art of skipping awkward small talk and launching into a big topic headfirst.

“I see you shave your legs,” she said, leaning back and examining Kristin’s body below her skirt.

“Er, yes,” Kristin said.

“What’s your motivation?”

Kristin quirked up her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Do you shave them to conform to what society—and by society I mainly mean the male gaze—expects of you or just simply for your own esthetic reasons?”

“I have quite honestly never thought about that.” Kristin vaguely remembered her mother putting a razor in the palm of her hand and showing her how to rid her legs of hair. She’d seen her mother do it, then she was doing it herself. She had never questioned why her father didn’t go through the ordeal—because it could surely feel like that from time to time.