Matchmaker

Releasing her hold on her great-aunt, Heather turned in Monica's direction, finally giving her a clear view of her. A partially opened, green plaid shirt covered a white v-neck undershirt, both atop black jeans, which in turn topped a pair of equally black boots. Not that Monica disliked the look, but the woman did seem a bit underdressed for a first date.

Even more surprising was the look that filled Heather's face as she looked past her great-aunt and noticed Monica standing there. After a heartbeat, she glanced back at Sylvia, then turned back to Monica.

"Hello, I'm Heather Reynolds," she said.

That slight glance had spoken volumes. Monica was willing to bet her paycheck that she was a total surprise and that Sylvia hadn't told Heather anything about having invited a guest to dinner. Especially one she was trying to fix her up with.

"Hi, I'm Monica Doyle, I live upstairs," she replied. "Your aunt was kind enough to invite me to dinner."

"Nice to meet you, Monica," Heather said, the surprise on her face now replaced by a warm smile.

"Why don't you two girls have a seat in the living room and I'll call you when dinner is ready," Sylvia said, urging them in that direction with gentle hand motions.

The two young women did so, with Monica returning to her seat on the couch and Heather taking the chair just off to the right. They'd barely sat down before Monica leaned over to Heather.

"Heather, it's obvious that you had no idea that I was going to be here," she said. "So if it's a problem in any way, I'll make my apologies to Sylvia and head back upstairs. I've had a real long day anyway so saying I'm a bit tired really wouldn't be much of a stretch."

"Nonsense," Heather replied, "there's no reason for you to leave. Believe me, this is hardly the first time my aunt has done this to me. She likes to think of herself as the family matchmaker and I've pretty much gotten used to it by now."

"Okay, then I'll stay," Monica responded, glad that Heather had insisted that she do so.

"I'm probably stating the obvious," Heather added, "but I'm assuming you like girls. Otherwise, you'd probably be sitting across from my cousin Andrew instead of me right now."

"Actually, she originally tried to fix me up with Andrew," Monica offered.

"Well, it's a good thing you told her you weren't into guys," Heather interjected with a grin. "I love my cousin, but there's a reason why he's still single and boring doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Well, to be honest, it took me almost two weeks to get up the courage to tell her that I wasn't into guys. I was so worried that she might have a problem with that."

"Aunt Sylvia?" Heather asked in a mix of surprise and laughter. "Honey, that's the last thing you'd ever have to worry about with her."

Heather paused for a second, then elaborated.

"I'm guessing that she hasn't told you yet any of the stories about her escapades in the early days of television back in the mid-fifties, when she was right out of high school," the older girl added, mirth still in her voice. "She used to say that just about every third person in the industry was either gay or bi, and even those that were totally straight usually spent so much time bed-hopping that you needed a scorecard to keep track of who was sleeping with whom."

"Really?" Monica said, greatly surprised since she never imagined people being that openly sexual back in those days. To listen to her grandmother, people barely had sex inside of marriage, much less what Heather just described.

"Oh come on, you don't think that we're the first generation to get our freak on, do you?" Heather asked as she noted the look of surprise on Monica's face.

"I guess not," Monica smiled. "I guess I just really never thought that much about it. I mean, after all, who ever imagines their parents, much less their grandparents, doing the nasty?"

"Well, after listening to some of Sylvia's stories, I certainly can," Heather grinned.

"You mean she ..." Monica heard herself ask, pausing in mid-question as she realized how inappropriate the question was.

Heather, on the other hand, didn't seem to think the question out of line at all.

"I've never asked it outright, so I can't say for sure," Heather replied, gesturing to a black and white photograph of a very attractive woman in her early twenties, the resemblance to their hostess evident even across a half century, "but I always got the impression, from the way she talked about it, that she had been quite in the thick of it at the time."

"In the thick of what?" Sylvia asked, having heard the tail end of the comment as she walked into the room with a tray of fruit drinks and appetizers in hand.

"Oh, nothing, Aunt Sylvia," Heather said, flashing Monica a conspiratorial smile which she shared.

"I'm afraid dinner will be at least another fifteen or twenty minutes," Sylvia said as she laid the tray down between them on the coffee table. "So I thought you might like something to snack on in the meantime."

Then, just as quickly as she'd appeared, Sylvia retreated back to the kitchen.

"Well, since I'm sure she actually planned that so that we'd have some get acquainted time, why don't we do that?" Heather suggested as she picked up one of the glasses and took a small sip.

"Sounds like a good idea," Monica agreed, volunteering to go first.

Long ago, back when she'd first started dating outside her immediate circle, Monica had worked out three capsule biographies. Which one she used was based on the person she was trying to impress. It only took a few seconds to decide that Heather called for version B. A choice that proved correct, as not only did the other woman seem genuinely interested, she interrupted three times to ask questions.

Then it was Heather's turn and Monica listened with equal interest as she described her life as a loan officer for Northside Savings and Trust. Of greater interest, however, was her brief but telling mention of her last girlfriend, the one that Sylvia had alluded to. The shift in the tone of her voice told Monica that their parting had not been an amicable one.

The glimpse into Heather's dating past caused Monica to hope she might learn more. Unfortunately, Sylvia reappeared just then and announced that dinner was on the table.

The dinner conversation was a lot more conventional, with Heather pressing her great-aunt to share some of the more conservative stories of her television days. As entertaining as they were, Monica couldn't help but wish she was learning more about the young woman sitting across from her.

"So who's ready for dessert?" Sylvia asked as she surveyed the collection of empty dishes in front of both girls.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," Monica said, having eaten twice what she normally would've. "Everything was just so delicious."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass too, Aunt Sylvia," Heather chimed in. "In fact, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave in a bit as well. I promised someone I'd meet them almost a half hour ago."

Hearing that, Monica's heart dropped. Things had been going so well, at least she had thought so.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Sylvia said, disappointment in her tone. "Can you at least stay for coffee?"

Monica held her breath, trying to will Heather to say yes.

"Not really," Heather said, her tone apologetic. "I really should've left already."

As if on cue, Heather's cell phone started to ring. As she removed it from her pocket, offering apologies as she did, Monica had a fleeting glance at the photo attached to the caller's profile. It was just long enough for her to form an instant dislike for the beautiful, twenty-something Latina that she learned, from the brief conversation that followed, was her competition for Heather's attention this evening.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go," Heather said, after having just lied, saying she had already left.

"Well, if you must you must," Sylvia sighed.

"It was really nice meeting you, Monica," Heather said as she rose from the table.

"You too," Monica responded, a forced smile hiding her disappointment. "Perhaps we could have that coffee another time?" she added hopefully.

"That would be great," Heather replied in an even, noncommittal tone.

As Sylvia walked her niece to the door and hugged her goodbye, Monica started to clear the table, piling one dish atop the other. On her return, the older woman said that wasn't necessary but the younger insisted, staying downstairs until the last of them had been washed and put away.

-=-=-=-=-

"Damn, damn, damn," Monica said softly as she closed her apartment door behind her, storming right past the living room and into the bedroom.

It was obvious that whatever her opinion of how the dinner had gone, it obviously hadn't been shared by Heather. If the short haired blonde had been even the least bit interested, she told herself, she would've at least asked for Monica's number.

Kicking off her shoes, she pulled off her dress, tossing it over the small wooden chair in the corner. Just as quickly, she tossed her bra and panties on top of it, grabbing the blue nightshirt that had been earlier laid out on the bed. She held it in front of her for a moment, then tossed it aside as well. Angry as she was, she wasn't in the mood for the kittens and flowers that decorated the nightwear.

She pulled down the sheet on the single bed and crawled in naked beneath it. As soon as she had done so, the weight of the day, temporarily suspended by the promise she felt at dinner, came crashing down around her. In no time at all, weariness overtook her and she fell fast asleep.

A sleep rudely interrupted only an hour later when a loud knocking on her door forced her back to consciousness.

'The goddamn building had better be on fire,' Monica thought irritably as she looked at the clock on the nightstand, pulling the sheet off her as she did. Her short robe was closer than the nightshirt, so that what she wrapped around herself as she headed out to the door, determined to give whoever was there holy hell if their reason was anything other than the building being evacuated.

A second set of knocks came before Monica reached the door, emphasizing the impatience of whoever was on the other side. She started to reach for the lock, but then paused a moment to more tightly wrap her robe around her naked body.

A few months back, Jane's younger brother had been staying over during spring break and had come knocking to ask her some question, the subject of which she could no longer recall. What she did remember was that, like tonight, she had answered the door in nothing more than her robe - which had been left loose enough to give the twenty year old a very close view of her breasts.

During the previous week, the college student had made several attempts to ask Monica out, each time being politely rebuffed. The unexpected display when she opened the door had encouraged him to renew his efforts threefold during the remainder of his visit. At one point, Monica was on the verge of saying that, while she really wasn't her type, his sister had more chance of getting in her panties than he did.

"This had better be impor..." Monica said as she pulled open the door, only to have her words fade into silence when she saw who was on the other side.

"Too late for that coffee?" Heather asked, a broad smile on her face and a paper bag emblazoned with the name of a popular coffee franchise in her hand.

Without waiting for an answer, not that Monica was capable of giving one at the moment, Heather accepted silence as acquiescence and stepped past Monica into the apartment.

"I love what you've done to the place," Heather said as Monica closed the door behind her. The comment momentarily confused her until she realized that Sylvia's great-niece had obviously seen the apartment before she moved in.

"Thank you," Monica finally said as she watched her guest remove three large cardboard cups from the bag and place them on the countertop.

"French Vanilla is my favorite," Heather said as she crumpled the now empty bag, dropping it into the nearby trash, "but I wasn't sure how you feel about it, so I got an extra regular blend just in case."

"French Vanilla is one of my favorites too," Monica replied automatically, still trying to sort out just what was going on.

"Excellent!" Heather beamed as she handed one of the marked cups to Monica.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Monica said as Heather, her own coffee in hand, dropped down onto the couch and made herself at home, "but didn't you leave here more than an hour ago to meet someone?"

"Guilty as charged," Heather said as, popping the lid off her cup, she took a sip of the still steaming brew.

"Then what are you doing here?" Monica asked.

"Well, there is a little story to that," Heather said, gently swirling the cup in her hand to better savor the pleasant aroma drifting up from it, "but thankfully, not a very complicated one."

Still holding the unopened cup in her hand, Monica gave the unexpected guest a look that said, "I'm listening."

"I'd made it all the way to the club, it's called Scarlett's by the way and if you've never been there, you should definitely check it out," she began, "and was out on the dance floor with Isabella, rocking to the music, when I realized that I really didn't want to be there. I mean, Isabella was unquestionably going to be a pleasant evening's diversion, but it was also clear, that was all she was ever going to be."

The image of the girl on Heather's phone appeared in Monica's head - pleasant diversion indeed!

"You on the other hand," she continued, "had definitely struck me as someone with the potential to be so much more. So I decided that getting to know you better was a much more productive use of my time."

Remembering her long held belief that things like this didn't happen to her, Monica considered the idea that she might actually still be asleep and this was all a dream. It wasn't until she absentmindedly lifted her coffee cup to her lips and felt the heat of the contents against them that she accepted this was very real.

"Careful, that's still a bit hot," Heather warned.

Monica took the top off her cup and let the cooler air of the room balance out the temperature of the hot coffee, blowing on it at the same time to make it drinkable.

"Wasn't that a bit unfair to your date?" Monica asked after taking a small sip of the now cooler liquid. "Just to leave her like that?"

It wasn't that Heather's unexpected reappearance hadn't sent Monica's heart a-fluttering, it most certainly had. But in her mind, since she'd never believed in the old maxim that "all's fair in love and war", that had to be balanced with how she would've felt in Isabella's place.

"I'm impressed that you're concerned," Heather said, her tone such that Monica was unsure if she was being sincere or not, "but when I explained to Isabella why I was leaving, she had no problem with my doing so. Which means, knowing her like I do, she'd already met, or at least set her eyes on, someone else before I got there."

Part of Monica wasn't sure she should believe that, but a larger part of her cried out that she had done enough to satisfy her conscience. Giving in to that cry, her tinge of guilt faded .

Isabella certainly sounded like a player, Monica thought as she took a longer sip of her coffee, but then again, it was pretty obvious that Heather was too, at least sometimes. Normally, that was another thing that would've set off alarm bells, but this time she was willing to take the risk.

"I guess her loss is my gain then," Monica finally said as she took the seat next to Heather on the couch. Suddenly, she no longer felt the least bit tired.

Their conversation pretty much picked up where it had left off downstairs, recovering some of the same ground before branching off into more personal areas that the previous lack of privacy precluded. It didn't take long for the subject of exes to come into the exchange, with Heather now much more forthright than before.

"Janine and I were together about four months," Heather said in response to Monica's question.

Four months, Monica thought, was probably a very long time in Heather's world.

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking?" Monica inquired.

"Well, things were going great, at least I thought so," Heather began. "We got along, had similar outlooks on life and the sex, well, the sex was phenomenal."

As she listened, Monica wished she could even imagine phenomenal sex.

"But then one day I realized that Janine wasn't as committed to the relationship as I thought she was," Heather added a bit ambiguously.

"What made you come to that conclusion?" Monica asked curiously.

"Well, it was pretty obvious when I stopped by her apartment one afternoon and, after letting myself in with the key she'd given me, found her going down on a woman she'd only met the night before when we'd gone to a friend's birthday party."

"Oh my God!" Monica gasped.

"It was pretty much downhill after that," Heather said, stating the obvious.

"I would guess so," Monica observed, not sure what else to say.

Monica wouldn't have needed all of both hands to count the women she'd had intimate relations with, but among that short list had been a few one nighters and quickies at a club. So hooking up with someone you just met wasn't something she could pass judgment on. Still, the rules were supposed to be different when you were in a relationship.

"So what about you?" Heather queried, shifting the focus over to Monica. "The girl you were living with before you moved here was named Carrie, right?"

"Yes," Monica confirmed, having mentioned her name earlier in the evening. "She was...I mean she is a paralegal at Rossi, Vargas and Howell."

"So, what happened with the two of you?" Heather asked.

"I guess my job happened," Monica replied. "My hours become longer as they cut staff, and obviously that began to affect how much time we could spend together. It got so bad at one point that she wanted me to quit and find a position someplace else. But places as good as Westside are hard to find and besides, I really love it there."

"So she made it her or your job?" Heather asked.

"Pretty much so," Monica agreed.

"Then she's an idiot," Heather said, adding a long pause later, "at least in my opinion."

"I'm not sure I'd say that," Monica said, thinking how much it hurt when they split up.

"I would," Heather insisted. "It's the quality of time you spend together, not the hours - at least if there's a good reason."

"That's what I thought," Monica said, remembering making a quite similar statement to Carrie, "but she didn't see it that way."

"Then you're better off without her," Heather said with finality.

Logically, Monica knew that to be true, but who said the heart was ever logical?

As their conversation went on, it shifted back and forth between the conventional, books, movies, favorite foods, and the less so, including the inevitable question, when did you first realize you like girls?

"I can't really say when I first realized it per say," Heather said, "but I certainly remember the first time I did anything about it."

She went on to tell the story of how she had hooked up with a girl from another school when her high school basketball team had gone to the State Capitol to play in the championships. The two had met before when their teams had played against one another, but despite the fact that each had quickly picked up on the other's interest, it never went beyond a few stolen kisses and secretive touches.

"Being two hundred miles from home can be quite a liberating experience," Heather said. "I couldn't have imagined crossing that line back home, at least not at that age. Dolores was the one that made the first move, but I was so glad that she did. Everything I'd been feeling made so much sense after that."