I Kissed a Girl Ch. 12

The moment I saw Jenna Swallow walk by me and take a seat at a table on the other side of the bar, my past hit me like a punch to the gut.

Even though I regained an iota of control of my senses, my pulse continued to quicken. My breaths remained shallow. I took a big gulp of beer to try to compensate, cringing at how painful it was to swallow.

She looked just as beautiful as she had the first night I'd met her. And as forlorn. Lost. Alone. In need of a friend.

Like that first time, I hesitated. Not out of nerves now but concern. To make sure I was in control of my emotions when I approached. Fate had us crossing paths again. There was no doubt about that. But why? That's what—dare I say—scared me.

I'd been her first. I'd coaxed the frightened kitten out of her cage. Encouraged her to embrace the fact that she was a lesbian. Made her feel comfortable associating with others like us. Ultimately, I'd shown her pleasures she'd only imagined. And then I'd left her high and dry while she was sleeping with a "Dear John" note. I'd been too chicken-shit to tell her to her face that I was leaving. To explain.

Even twenty years later, guilt still nagged at me every now and then in the silence with only my thoughts. I wondered where she was...what she was doing. Did she hate me as much I hated myself for what I'd done?

But mostly, I wished I could have been there to wipe her tears at my goodbye instead of being miles away when she'd woken up the next morning after her college graduation and found me gone.

Now, I stared at her as I had in that gay club so long ago.

Her long hair was still that silky blonde that curled and lay perfectly over her shoulders, just the way most women dreamed they had. Her legs and ass were just as toned in her jeans as they'd ever been. But her face, though more striking than ever, looked...troubled. Downcast eyes. Slightly shiny cheeks indicative of a recent crying session. Then there was the way she kept her left hand fisted on her lap, her right hand shaking whenever she reached for her glass.

The years had obviously been good to her. Yet, they'd been hard on her, too. At least of late.

My instincts to help her told me to get up. But still, I watched her from my spot in the shadows at the end of the bar closest to her for a few minutes. Wondering what she was thinking. Feeling. What had brought her into this particular bar at the same time I was here. Why she was even on the East Coast.

I chugged down the last of my beer for liquid courage and stood. I would be lying if I said it was easy to walk up to her again. A voice in my head tried to dissuade me...insisted I turn around. That it would be better to leave our history exactly where it was...in the past. But my heart won out, just as it had that first time in the dance club after watching Jenna all night.

What would I say, though? What if she wouldn't talk to me?

Jenna had her head tilted down, seemingly studying the bottom of her now-empty glass. My eyes zeroed in on her forehead. That was the last place I had touched her with my fingertips...my lips. I'd stroked her hair while she slept and then kissed her softly there. All before turning my back on her for what I thought was forever.

It may have been two decades ago, but I could still remember how she'd felt in my arms that night when I'd made love to her, knowing it would be the last time. How she'd felt. Sounded. Tasted. Smelled.

I swallowed heavily and stopped beside her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She didn't even look up. It was just like déjà vu. Time rolled back in my head when she said, "I'm sorry. Thank you, but—"

"I'm not interested in dancing. It's just a drink." The words just flowed out of my mouth without thought. My hand moved, pulling out the chair next to her. And then I was sitting without invitation, trying to remember how to breathe. "My name is Susie."

Her head jerked up, those violet eyes shiny and slightly red, her mouth gaping. Anything she might have thought of saying was lost to a mumble of gasps and tears as she lurched to her feet, her hands clenching and releasing while they reached out to me like a child.

I welcomed her into my arms with the warmest of hugs, feeling her trembling. Or maybe I was the one shaking. I chuckled and rubbed my hand across her back until she settled down. "I would ask how you've been, honey, but it's obvious you're doing great."

Jenna hiccupped and laughed, squeezing me tighter. She eventually returned to her own seat—a little to my dismay—then used her napkin to blot her face. "Susie...it's so good to see you."

Relief rushed through every part of me, erasing all of my fears. But not my guilt. Never my guilt.

A serious question was on the tip of my tongue, but she rested her left hand on the table. Jealousy briefly swirled through me. Somehow, I restrained my emotions and swallowed my envy.

"I was just about to ask what brings you out to our little spot on the East Coast, but that rock on your finger explains it." I flagged down the waitress and held up two fingers. I was going to need some more of that liquid courage to hear Jenna's happy story. After a moment to collect my thoughts, I leaned my arms on the table and narrowed my eyes, amazed that my voice didn't shake. "The question is, who's the lucky gal? Or maybe you gave up on true love and swung for the other team?"

Jenna's face lit up when she smiled softly. "Oh, it's true love. The one and only."

I whistled long and low, my heart thumping hard in my chest. But I was smiling, too. "You found her again. Did you have to tie her down and beg her to marry you?"

Jenna's grin widened, adding a sparkle to her eyes I'd forgotten about. "Well, there has been some rope and quite a lot of begging through the years, but it wasn't in regards to the proposal. That came very willingly."

I couldn't help it. I grasped her hand and squeezed it, my words sincere. "I'm so happy for you, Jenna. You deserve it."

The waitress returned with two full glasses of beer and a basket of fries and a burger. Jenna cut the burger in half and gestured for me to help myself. She picked up one section but just held it.

I studied her. Noticed how her smile faltered. The way she avoided my eyes. It all reminded me of the night we'd met. The Jenna I'd observed then was the same one sitting next to me now. She was carrying the weight of another secret. I'd been able to tell what it was before...she'd had the same look I'd seen on so many others in the club who hadn't come to terms yet with being gay. This secret, though? I had no clue. It could be that no matter of coaxing would get her to reveal it. There was just a strong resolve to try to help. I owed her that much after how I'd hurt her.

My heart ached for whatever pained her. And my arms still tingled from our hug. She had left her mark on my soul all those years ago, though she was not my true love. I took a swig of beer and a deep breath. Even though I'd already eaten, I snagged two fries to be polite and nibbled on them.

"So...you've found wedded bliss out here in the mecca for lesbian lovers. Yet, you are a hot mess, once again hiding from...something."

She dipped her head even more and finally took a bite the sandwich in her hands.

"You can delay all you want, honey, but you'll spill." Sipping my beer and holding another fry between my fingers like a cigarette, I settled in, looking forward to the distraction from my own thoughts.

The longer we sat, though, the more I became certain of one thing. Jenna had grown more confident of herself since we'd last seen each other. Not so easily swayed.

Her mouth contorted from partial smiles to frowns, her eyes varying from being bright then dark and back again. After a few minutes of watching her eat not only one but both halves of the sandwich and over half of the fries without a word, I began to doubt my presumption that it would just take time and a stern look from me for her to tell me what was bothering her.

But I had the patience of a mule, too. Some called it stubbornness. I told them it was all about perspective. And my perspective was, I tried to paint things in a positive light. Usually.

I kept Jenna company, and the waitress refilled our glasses when they got low. My protégé was halfway through her third beer before she sat back and burped. She excused herself under her breath. I arched an eyebrow and smiled softly. "You'll feel even better once you get it off your chest. Honesty is the best medicine. Remember how twisted up inside you were when I met you?"

Her whole countenance suddenly fell completely, just shy of possibly crying. And once more, I was back in that bar watching her struggle as one after another, she rebuffed the advances of four different women. How she'd been able to do that and keep from breaking down back then was beyond me. Hell, how had I thought I stood a chance after observing all those rejections?

Granted, the first one I was glad she'd turned down. Lisle had had a reputation to love 'em and leave 'em, her cowboy image usually a magnet for anything with breasts. I'd realized after the fact that Jenna was drawn more to the femme type. While she'd preferred to wear pants, she was very much comfortable being a woman. Still was, from what I could tell. I chalked it up to being a newbie—a fluke, even—that she'd been interested in me, a butch.

But the rest of those women? Maybe Jenna had seen through their ulterior motives...a drink and a dance that led to other types of dancing in the dark. I, myself, had not hoped for anything that night except to console her. Be a friend. Maybe pursue her intimately down the road. So it had all come as a surprise when she'd invited me into her home after sharing a cab...and then into her head and eventually her heart.

"I'd help you unwind," I blurted, "but I think your wife would hunt me down and skin me alive."

That made her grin. But once more, her face went through the motions, my words seeming to trigger thoughts in her mind.

Just shy of sighing annoyingly, I said, "Okay. As much as I've always loved watching your facial expressions, tonight is the exception. Jenna, you need to start talking, and now. I can't help if I don't know what the problem is."

She blinked at me, confusion then resignation flitting through her eyes. But she didn't tell me to mind my own business.

I watched her sip her beer and lean forward, wrapping both hands around her glass. And then I breathed a sigh of relief when she finally opened up.

For the next sixty minutes, I listened to her tell me all about finally reconnecting with Kat, the love her life. The trials and tribulations of one woman Jenna had worked with who'd ended up stalking her because Jenna had turned down her blatant advances...resulting in the woman accidentally shooting Kat. That Jenna was drowning her sorrows in beer today because her wife had just found out about the stalking part. Then there was the fact that Jenna had never told Kat about her estranged brother.

I let her vent. Cry. Hash out her thoughts aloud. I tried to remain calm and be supportive. Not necessarily for the decisions she'd made, but to know I was still her friend despite what had gone down. When she asked for advice, I gave it to her, even though I knew she might not like it. All in all, she was back to sniffling and shaking her head while the features of her face contorted.

"What Lauren...your brother...Kat's old boss...the man on the moon thinks?" I sighed and shook my head. "It means diddly squat. When I met you, you were trying to prove yourself to the world, Jenna. Even after all this time, you still are. But you don't have to. The only opinions that matter belong to yourself and the person waiting at home for you. Her willingness to marry you—carry your child—means she knows you're not always going to be strong. With Kat, you've got nothing left to prove. I am certain she still loves you despite any faults you may have, because she has faults, too. And having weak moments is not a fault. It just means you're both human."

She was in the midst of apparently absorbing my synopsis of her ordeal when she suddenly shoved her chair back and looked around. "I-I have to go."

"Yes, honey, you do." I stood and gave her one of my big bear hugs, holding on longer than necessary. God, she felt so good in my arms. "If she didn't truly care about you, it wouldn't bother her so much that you remained silent."

Jenna nodded against my shoulder, her fingers gripping at my back. Just like she used to do when...

Not for the first time, memories of our time together were crystal clear in my head. I quickly shoved those thoughts aside because I knew I would start crying, too.

"It doesn't mean she won't get upset, Jenna, but you have to be completely open with her going forward. Because you love her. Just keep that in mind when you tell her the rest, which you have to do. There's no question about that. You can't change what happened with her previous job or the shooting, but she needs to know you were hurt that she didn't stand up for the two of you...why you kept Lauren's communication to yourself." I swallowed heavily and held her out at arm's length, smiling softly. "And you definitely need to tell her about your brother. You owe her that much."

"I will," she said gruffly.

I watched her set her jaw in a determined way I'd not witnessed before. It made me smile. My Jenna was all grown up. Assertive and no longer the scared, young woman I'd once known. I was happy for her. Proud of her.

On impulse, I pulled her into my arms again. I breathed her in. Kissed the side of her head. And forced myself to swallow my tears when I released her.

Jenna gathered her things and started to leave when she asked, "Are you living here in Northampton?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Please, voice, don't fail me now.

"For a time, I did. After us. I'm just back visiting a sick friend. She has breast cancer. Doesn't look good." I glanced up, praying that my eyes did not reflect the lump in my throat. Thankfully, I managed a smile and patted her hand. "It was so good to see you, Jenna. Must be fate that we crossed paths again."

"Yeah. Fate." She squeezed my shoulder. Acted as though she might say something else but closed her mouth. She was on her way again when she spun around. "Oh, wait! I have to pay for my food."

I smiled wider. "I'll take care of the bill, honey. Now, call yourself a cab. You're in no shape to drive, and your wife needs you home in one piece."

"Thanks, Susie," Jenna whispered, leaning over to hug me again. "For everything."

And then I was alone with my thoughts.

###

I don't know how I ended up in my car. Or on the other side of town. It was a miracle I hadn't crashed after all of the beers I'd drunk today. What a hypocrite I was for telling Jenna she should get a cab.

The rain had finally let up, but it left the sky a dreary gray. It matched the feeling in my soul. And the color of the house that rose two stories beyond the hood of my car.

I could no longer keep the tears at bay. They came pouring out of me in sobs that wrenched my body. I screamed. Stomped my feet on the floorboard of my car. Pounded my fists against the steering wheel. Cursed God for handing me such a raw deal. For making it ten times worse for my old friend who was bed-ridden on the other side of the south-facing window with the drawn curtains.

When I was all out of emotions, I crossed my arms against the wheel and rested my forehead on top of them, closing my eyes.

"Oh, Lizzie," I groaned. "Why has the world been so cruel to us?"

Then I snorted softly. Did I really think anyone would ever answer that question? I'd been asking it ever since that dreaded day during our senior year of high school. Ever since Lizzie's mom had given me an ultimatum. A quite unreasonable one, but I'd had to accept it...for Lizzie's sake.

Long before I'd met Lizzie, there had been just my mom and I. My dad had left before I could crawl. My mom's parents had disowned her when she'd gotten pregnant out of wedlock. The one attempt I remember of her trying to reconcile with my grandparents was when I was five. They'd not even let us in the front door. Grandpa had told her to take her tomboy bastard and never come back.

It wasn't my mom's fault that I only wore jeans and T-shirts growing up. We couldn't afford to buy dresses or pretty things for me. Mom worked three jobs just to pay the bills, keep a roof over our heads, and put food on the table. She always made sure I ate—even though there were nights I knew she didn't—and my clothes were clean despite being secondhand from a coworker who had four sons. I kept my hair in a ponytail after the elderly neighbor lady who couldn't cut paper straight offered to trim my bangs one summer. Mom agreed because it was free. I wore a baseball cap for weeks to hide how uneven it looked. The hat became a fixture outside of school, even after my bangs grew out.

Then there was the fact that all of the kids on my block were boys. I just developed a tough skin and hung out with them. Sometimes, girls joined us at school. But not usually.

All that changed the summer before fifth grade. That was when a new girl, Elizabeth "Lizzie" Rhodes, moved into the house two doors down from our apartment building. She was shy at first and stayed indoors. My mom suggested I go introduce myself since she thought I could use at least one close female friend. Once I'd gotten to know Lizzie, I'd threatened the other kids in the neighborhood and at school that I'd beat them up if they didn't let her play with us.

At first, Lizzie seemed to enjoy being in our group. But only two months into the school year, she started sitting down by herself on a bench at recess. She wouldn't come out to play with me or the neighborhood kids after school. When I went over to her house, her mom would tell me my new friend wasn't feeling well.

I thought I had done something to hurt her feelings. My mom found me crying in my room one night and finally told me that Lizzie had leukemia. That why she was always so tired and didn't want to play anymore. I was happy Lizzie wasn't mad at me, but unfortunately, because she was so sick, she was going to have to stay home from school while she got better. I convinced my mom that I could help Lizzie with her schoolwork...that she'd want a friend to keep her company. To play with indoors when she was strong enough.

Around that same time, one of my mom's jobs changed her shift. She talked to Lizzie's mom, and they made a deal that I would come over after school, eat dinner with Lizzie's family, and then I'd go home. I brought Lizzie the day's assignments, and I helped her when she wasn't sleeping or feeling sick to her stomach. Sometimes we just watched cartoons. She smiled a lot, but I could tell she was scared.

Lizzie eventually went into remission. But it was still several months before she regained all of her strength. Before she was able to go back to school. Even then, the arrangement with Mrs. Rhodes stayed in place. Lizzie and I spent all of our free time together over the next six years. Doing homework. Having sleepovers. Becoming best friends.

By our senior year, I had evolved to wearing an open, flannel shirt over graphic Tees every day. I'd continued to wear only jeans. To keep my hair short thanks to a local barber who cut my hair pro bono if I kept his shop clean. I'd even bulked up a little in the shoulders and arms from playing basketball with the guys during lunch and on the weekends. I wore the tomboy title with pride.

I still remembered the final conversation I'd had with Mrs. Rhodes. It had been a snowy Thursday night in February, and we'd just finished eating dinner. It would also be the last time I saw Lizzie for almost three decades.