A New Alexandra Ch. 12

Alexandra pulled the ski cap down, trying to block the icy air from the back of her neck. Damn pixie cut, she thought, smiling at the laws of unintended consequences. It had been three days since her dramatic haircut. She still had not tired of playing with the new style, enjoying every minute of it.

And especially enjoying, she thought, the way Kira runs her hands through it when we kiss.

It was lunchtime, although the steel-gray sky and December gloom made "midday" seem like a misnomer. Alexandra had exited UChicago's brutalist monstrosity of a library, a morning full of exam cramming bursting from her ears, when her pocket vibrated.

She fumbled with the phone, extracting it from the coat just in time for the name MOM to vanish from the display.

Oh well. She'll leave a message, Alexandra thought. Then she stopped. She never calls me for anything good. Ever. Not even my birthday. That's an e-card and a mailed present.

A young man behind her dodged frantically to avoid her figure parked in the middle of the sidewalk. On cue, the phone vibrated again. Alexandra stepped aside and removed a glove.

"Hello?"

"Alexandra?" There was tension in the high-pitched voice. Not a smile on the other end of the line. She's not squeaky when she's happy.

"Hello, mother. Typically, I'm indeed the one to answer my phone, yes." Alexandra stepped aside, settling on one of four benches under a large, winter-bare tree.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I just left the library to grab some lunch. What's up?" Please tell me nobody's sick. Or dead.

"Oh, nothing." Then why are you calling me? "I was just wondering if you'd seen today's edition of the Chicago Tribune."

"Um, no. I don't get the newspaper."

"Then you might want to pull up their website."

Alexandra switched the phone to speaker. Wish I had some headphones about now.

"Um, do you read the Tribune every day?" In other words, why do you read a newspaper from the city where I live and you don't?

"No, just most days. You see, it allows me to at least keep up with what's happening in Chicago in general. Because, let's face it, you aren't the best at keeping in touch."

"I'm sorry." Why am I apologizing?

"Did you pull up the page?"

"Yes."

"Scroll down."

"How far?" At least there's not much wind. Although maybe that would be better. I could get out of this conversation, whatever it is.

"Halfway to the bottom, at least on my screen."

Alexandra scrolled, lump growing in her throat. "What am I looking for?"

"I suspect you'll know it when you see it," said her mother, voice still tight.

Innocuous headline followed by bland column teaser rolled past. Ads filled much of the screen alongside a photo of the Blackhawks game, something about Shedd Aquarium, and a particularly unappetizing screen grab from a traffic camera.

Then she stopped. Oh, shit. What I'm looking for is me. Me, ice skating on Saturday night. Nose-to-nose with Kira, her skating backwards, her arms around my waist. We're clearly about to kiss.

"Um," she managed, throat closing. That photographer, the woman with the professional-looking lens. An actual professional.

"Skaters enjoy Saturday late hours at the McCormick Tribune Ice Rink," read the caption.

"Alexandra, it comes as quite a surprise to see your photo on the website of a major newspaper. Congratulations," said her mother. The last word dripped with sarcasm.

"I...I didn't know someone had taken a picture of u- um, me," she said. I didn't swallow that "us" in time. Not that it matters.

"Alexandra."

"Yes?"

"What the hell did you do to your hair, sweetie?"

Alexandra burst out laughing, relief surging through her. Seriously? Is that what this is about?

"I cut it. Well, obviously I didn't do it myself. You get the picture."

"I see." Her mother kept her thick hair long and straight even now, although the chestnut color became less and less plausible with each year that passed.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm an adult and I wanted a change. Not that my reasons matter, mother."

"Well, I must admit it doesn't look as unfortunate as I would have expected."

"I'll take that as a compliment." A young man had sat on the bench opposite her, sipping from a take-out coffee cup and texting.

"I have another question, Alexandra."

Shit. Please, no.

"Okay."

"Who is the other young lady in the photograph?"

"Her name is Kira." Alexandra took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear. Her heart thundered in her chest. Sweat pricked at her pores.

"I know that. She's been in some recent photos on your Facebook. That's not what I'm asking."

Deep breath, Alexandra. This had to happen sooner or later. She looked around her, at the bare tree and grey sky. At the figures zipping along the sidewalks, their minds on exams and coffee and Christmas and heaven knows what. One more deep breath. She exhaled.

"She's my girlfriend."

Silence for a moment.

"Girlfriend or girl space friend?"

"No space, mother. I'm gay. She's my girlfriend, my partner, my sweetheart, whatever label you want to put on it. We've been together a couple months now and she's absolutely wonderful. She's in law sch-"

"Alexandra, I'm not interested in hearing about her right now." Whoa, fuck you, you and your bitchy-ass PTA-mom voice. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry," her mother quickly added. "I didn't mean that to come out that way. I...well, I should let you talk."

"There's not much more to say other than it really, really sucks to get outed by a photograph in a newspaper. I..." Tears flowed freely now, hot down her frozen cheeks. "I...I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was afraid..."

"Don't be afraid," came the reply. Her mother's voice now was back in its normal register. More, well, maternal. "This is a big shock to me and I haven't told your father, but I'm listening."

"How is he...going to handle it?"

"Honestly, I expect pretty badly. But that's my problem, not yours. Not yet. He's my husband and you're my daughter. So I will make sure we all get through this."

That's a lot better than I expected. I expected "Are you sure?" Or some other phrase that trivializes what I just went through. But no. That was...almost supportive.

"I'm assuming from how you phrased it that you want me to tell him, rather than you?"

"Yes." She sobbed again, brushing the tears away. Her head was bowed, almost between her knees.

"Alexandra. Breathe. This is all new to me, so can I just ask a basic question or two?"

"Okay." The tears began to slow.

"When I talk about this with anyone who asks, how would you like me to describe your...um, sexual preference?"

Alexandra sucked in breath. "Lesbian. I'm a lesbian. Gay is fine too, if you need to go for one syllable. And most people talk about orientation, not preference. It's not like I'm making some choice between Coke and Pepsi. It's not something I can change." Nor would I want to, in case you're gonna ask.

"I'm sorry. I'm...I promise I'll try to learn the right language."

"Mom. Stop." For a moment, anger swelled. You basically forced me to come out to you, and now you're fishing for pity. "Like you said, I'm sure this is a shock. It is for me. I didn't want to have this conversation like this. I want to go now. I don't mean to be..." The tears came again. "I just wanted to have lunch."

"I'm sorry," her mother repeated. "I should...I should let you go." She stopped. "I'm sorry, I just had to know."

Oh, fuck you. Fuck your entitlement.

"Not the right way to end the conversation, mother. Good luck with the old man."

"Alexandra, I-"

"Mom. I need to go. I'm outside, it's freezing, and I'm about to cry again. Bye."

She pressed the red X, then leaned back on the bench, staring at the bare tree limbs above her. The spindly arms branched out randomly across the monochrome sky. Alexandra put on her gloves, sliding her phone into a pocket.

"Hey," said a voice, not unkindly.

She looked forward. It was the guy from the other bench. Camel hair overcoat, clean-cut, dark hair.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help but overhear that. If that was...um. He bit his lip. "If that was what it sounded like, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Do you need anything?"

Alexandra nodded, tears returning.

The stranger wrapped his arms around her. Held her for a long moment, then sat on the bench.

"I'm Jamie," he said. "I'm a third-year. I came out to my parents last summer. You did great. It gets better from here."

"Thanks." She blinked away the sheen of tears.

"It does. And you nearly broke my heart with the part about getting outed. I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too." She held up the screen, showing him the picture. "I'm Alexandra. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." A smile crossed his face. "You two look super-cute together. It really is a great photograph. It deserved to be on a major newspaper's website. It just sucks hardcore what it meant for you personally." He moved to the end of the bench, body turned towards her.

"I love her," she said.

"I know. And it's obvious from the picture that she loves you too." He exhaled a cloud of mist into the sky. "And I'm sure your mother loves you as well. It takes time. For me, shit was really weird for like a month after I came out. Like my parents didn't know how to deal with this 'new' me, who was the same damn me that had always existed. But they got over it."

"That's good."

"Yes. Getting over the denial, my dad called it. Which is actually a good way to put it. I mean, when you're talking about gay people who haven't come out yet, who's really hiding from reality? The person in the closet, or the people who refuse to see what's often pretty obvious?"

Alexandra laughed. That feels good. "Not sure it really matters. One person gets to carry the weight of the secret."

"And now you don't have to. That's one of the reasons it gets better."

"I hope so. That conversation sucked, to put it mildly."

"You got through it with fewer tears than I did with my parents." He stroked his cleft chin. "Anyway, I didn't mean to barge in. I just, well...you know. One of my friends helped me a lot through the process of coming out. He just asked that I pay it forward and help someone else. I hope I did that, if only a little."

"You did. Thank you." She leaned over and embraced him, a tight squeeze. A pretty good hug for someone you've known all of five minutes. "I'll pay it forward someday too. At least I hope so."

He stood. "By the way, I don't know if you know or whatever, but a few of the LGBT student organizations are sponsoring a movie night on Thursday at Ida Noyes. If you don't have a final on Friday, stop by."

"I might." If this week doesn't kill me first.

"It's at eight. If you do come, please say hi. Oh, and bring a flask. That's just tradition. Anyway, I need to get back to the Reg," he said. The massive Regenstein Library's Brutalist façade loomed overhead. "It was good to meet you. And seriously. It gets easier now."

"I hope. See you Thursday, maybe."

"That I hope, new friend."

"Thank you." Alexandra's hands began to shake as the conversation wound down. "Good luck studying."

"Thursday, Ida Noyes. Be there, lady."

--

As soon as she closed the door, kitchen smells hit Alexandra's nose.

"Almost ready!" Her girlfriend's voice was hurried. Pans and utensils clanged in the background.

Alexandra hung up her coat and tossed her bag onto a chair. Kira's tall frame leaned out of the kitchen, blonde hair in a messy bun.

"Hey," she said. "It's going to be salmon with carrots and mashed potatoes. A little bit of soy glaze on the salmon. That okay?"

Alexandra's stomach rumbled in response. "I'm sorry I'm late. I went for a long run and an extra-long shower."

Kira gathered her in a tight hug. She stroked Alexandra's neck and kissed her forehead. "Please. After a day like that, I think I can cut you a little slack. With vegetables."

"It smells great. Thank you so much."

"For what? I'm your partner. I make you dinner and support you. I'm sorry I wasn't around when you called earlier."

"You were in an exam. I think I can cut you a little slack for that. No vegetables, though."

Kira turned back to the sizzling pan. She turned the burner off and retrieved two plates.

"I actually was surprised you got here so soon," she said. Alexandra tried to grab glasses for water. "Shoo, you little pest. I'm making dinner. Go have a seat."

Kira winked behind her tortoiseshell glasses. Grr. Eyelashes, Alexandra thought.

Alexandra ignored the instruction. "Well, it would have taken longer except my Uber driver was a former cabbie."

"Yeah?" Mashed potatoes plopped promisingly alongside a beautifully crisp salmon fillet. And her ass in yoga pants? Yes, please.

"Yep. It was the full experience. He talked nonstop, drove like he'd never done it before, used the horn instead of turn signals."

"It's not a true Chicago taxi experience unless the car's absolute heap of shit," replied Kira. "But I get how you got here fast."

"Speed limits? What are they?" Alexandra grabbed a plate and turned for the dining area. "Oh, and the car was in fact a heap of shit. I think it rattled when it was sitting still. Worst Uber I've ever seen. Five stars."

"I'm glad you have such high standards," said the blonde. She slid into position across from Alexandra. "Drink?"

"Just water, thanks. I think between the sweat and the tears today, I need some hydration."

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat," replied Kira in a gravelly English accent, jaw locked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tsk, tsk, Alexandra. Winston Churchill. First speech to the House of Commons. 1940. 'Blood, toil, tears, and sweat.' You're at best at three of four today. See, it can't have been so bad?"

Alexandra shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as the laughter escaped. "Seriously, honey, where do you come up with this stuff?"

A glass of water landed in front of her, perched atop a coaster. She cut into the salmon. The pink flesh flaked perfectly along the fork.

"I'll grant you that if I'm pulling out speeches from the darkest hours of World War II to make your day seem better, it probably wasn't the greatest. How's the fish?"

Alexandra chewed and swallowed. "Good enough that I wanted to eat it, rather than spraying it all over the table while answering."

"No, seriously. I haven't made it in a while."

"Kira. Are you actually worried it's not good?" The soy sauce smell lingered in the air, mixing with the mashed potatoes on her tongue.

Kira sighed. "I'm still feeling guilty about not being there for you. And you get here early and I haven't finished dinner and I'm dressed all sloppy..."

"Stop. The food is amazing. I'd happily pay for this at a restaurant, but you already know that. And my weird, crappy day is not your fault. If I can't tell your role in my life apart from my mother's, we've got some issues." She picked up another forkful. "Also, if this is sloppy, I'd hate to see how hot you'd have looked if you put in more effort."

"Well, well. You're in much better spirits than I expected. Even if my sweater isn't quite as tight as you might like." She leaned back, relaxing. "Do you want to talk about it more?"

Alexandra shook her head, swallowing again. "It's over. I mean, I made the best of it. You saw the Facebook post too?"

"Yeah, some chick tagged me in a photo and claimed she was my girlfriend. It even sent that little note about confirming I was in a relationship with her."

"Well, what did you do?" It wasn't so easy to write that post while blinking away tears. Even if it's just the photo with four short sentences and a hashtag: "So, the Tribune put a photo of me in the paper this morning! Yes, I cut my hair. Also, I'm a lesbian. Kira and I wish you all a Merry Christmas. #finallyout" She'd slammed the laptop closed after posting and hadn't been online since.

"Oh. She was cute, so I accepted and posted something semi-flirty. I mean, wouldn't want to come on too strong, right?" Another wink behind the thick-rimmed glasses.

"Of course not. I mean, that might result in you having to make me dinner or something."

"Like I don't make dinner most nights."

"That's a far better option than me cooking," said Alexandra. "Unless you really, really like Hot Pockets."

"Depends. How drunk am I?"

"How drunk are you usually at eight o'clock?"

"Touché, Henderson. Although, with our nightly happy hour thing we've been doing..."

Oh, you tease. 'Happy hour' meaning our pre-dinner glass of wine while wearing lingerie. Which means we've been eating dinner pretty late recently.

"You're blushing," said Kira.

"Mind was wandering."

"Away from mashed potatoes and steamed carrots. Shame." The blonde paused, flicking a stray hair away from her glasses. "You haven't checked your Facebook recently, have you?"

A chill passed through Alexandra. "No, why?"

"It seems we went a little viral. You got like, several hundred comments. Your friends, my friends. My brother. Hell, my mom said we looked cute. Apparently the photographer even saw it -- she said she wished she'd gotten our names last night."

"I wish she'd gotten permission before letting the paper run it," said Alexandra.

"Well, yes, there's that."

They ate in silence for a moment.

"Your friend Sam, the one you're bringing to the game Saturday. Is her name Reynolds?"

"Yeah, why?"

"One, she left an incredibly supportive comment. Two, she's the Sam, I'm assuming? The one you've hooked up with a couple times?"

"She is."

"Alex, she's a total fucking cutie! Way to hide the damn ball on that one. What did you call her, a 'typical soccer player chick?'"

"Sounds about right. Also, she doesn't really talk. So I'm kinda nervous about bringing her to a team that has semi-required social functions when we win. And let's face it, we pretty much always win."

"Uh, you're saying that like Lucía talks or comes to social events. Aside from getting hammered last time. Does Mette like social events? Sweetie, besides Meg and me, you're basically talking about a whole group of socially awkward jocks who need two drinks to act normal."

"Gee, thanks. Butt."

"Well, accurate or no?" Kira stuck her tongue out.

"Accurate. Listen, I'm a nerdy jock lesbian. So that makes Sam Reynolds pretty much my tribe. I hope you and Megan the Sky Goddess can deal with that."

"I hope for everyone's sake that Meg Riis and her non-pilot wife don't take as much to Sam as they did to you. That might be dangerous for the young lady."

Visions flooded Alexandra's head. Herself eating Mette in the living room; on her back in the bedroom, the Riis ladies and Kira combining to force thunderous orgasms from her wracked body; the glass-walled shower, where she and Meg switched places going down on Kira and Mette until the hot water ran out. Yes, it might be a little much for poor Sam to handle.