Sipping my water, I let her words sink in. I’m well aware that I’m pouting and I’m also aware that Rox knows it. Playing around with a response, I realize that everything I want to say just adds to her belief that I’m choosing to feel this way. Finally, I put my water glass down on the table and turn to face her. “There is a part of me that thinks all of this shit is just karma for what I did to Fran?”
She places her hand on my shoulder. “What did you do to Fran?”
The words I’ve been swallowing are sitting in my chest like a rock. Blinking back tears, I look at Roxanne. “I killed her.”
She puts her arms around me and cradles me while I cry. For a few minutes, I’m trying to gather myself. Butches don’t cry. Scolding myself doesn’t help. All I can think about is the way Roxanne’s arms feel around me and how much I need this.
It was a beautiful, sunny day. In my memory, I always want it to be a dark and stormy night. In my book, it was. It had a whole “Hemingway to die alone in the rain” kind of feel. In real life, however, it was about seventy-five degrees and sunny. There was a nice cool breeze. The day probably started with a rainbow. It was as if Mother Nature herself was conspiring to make me think that life was perfect. That bitch. Fran had been acting weird for several days. Well, in Fran’s case, I should say, weirder than usual. She was always a little strange and that was one of the things I loved about her. This was different, though. She kept starting and stopping sentences. She’d sit down in front of me and tell me that she wanted to try a new communication technique that her therapist had mentioned. I like to think that I was always open to trying whatever she wanted, but in the back of my mind, I have to admit that I thought most of it was ridiculous. Still, I wanted her happy. A happy Fran was a wondrous thing. She floated around me in a golden haze, dropping magic on my head. She changed me in those moments. She made me believe in a fairy tale world where I could live happily ever after.
That day, though, Fran was not happy. She bounced around the house, starting the dishes, moving to the bedroom, she got out some furniture polish and started taking books off the shelves, and when that failed to keep her interest, she announced that my baseboards were shockingly filthy and plopped down on her hands and knees to wash them with vinegar and water. I had a deadline for the article I was writing and I didn’t have time to cajole her out of a mood. I just sat there at my computer getting annoyed as she knocked around from room to room, slamming things around and muttering to herself. When her frenzied activity became too disturbing, I finally told her she had to go. I couldn’t write with her bouncing around like that. She stood silently and looked at me for the longest time. I could feel her eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around to engage. I knew if my eyes left my article, I would be sucked into whatever was going on with her. Finally, she whispered something to me. It didn’t register what she had said and I didn’t ask her to repeat it. I told her I would call her the next day. When she left, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. As much as I loved her, I found her bad moments exhausting and dealing with her while she pinballed around the world left me feeling drained. With her gone, I instantly switched my mind back to my work and for a few hours, she didn’t even exist. Later, much later, I missed her and regretted sending her away, but at the time, I was relieved.
Roxanne is stroking my hair and I’m aware that my tears have subsided. She pushes some hair out of my face and I sit up, embarrassed by my outburst. Sensing my mood, she’s quiet. She hands me a box of tissues and I blow my nose loudly. We both laugh a little when it makes a big honking noise and for a second, the tension is broken. Roxanne weaves her fingers through mine and I look up at her. She’s looking at me affectionately and I realize I have no reason to be ashamed. The soft lines around her bright eyes only add to her gentle beauty. Reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, our eyes meet and I lean forward to kiss her on the mouth. Her lips part slightly and I move in closer, wrapping my arms around her slender frame. Leaning into me, she shifts slightly to allow our bodies more contact. She feels firm under my hands and the heat starts in the base of my spine. It’s been far too long since I’ve had sex with anyone and even longer since I’ve had good sex. After Voldemort and her own particular brand of me me me lovemaking, I think I went into a shut down. Sex with Roxanne would be different. She’s kind and loving and I can imagine it being good – really good. Trying to shut my brain off is useless, but at least in this case, my brain and my body appear to have reached an agreement. Pulling Roxanne closer, I deepen the kiss, letting my hands slide down her back, shifting myself again to get even closer. As I move one hand around to her throat, she lets out a little whispered moan. Desire clenches around my gut and I groan, pulling her onto my lap. She lets me, but once she’s on my lap, she pulls back from my mouth, and grabs both of my hands, effectively stopping their exploring.