Michelle Makes a Move

She swung her legs out of the car and stood up. Trembling, Michelle did the same, wondering if her legs would even hold her up.

"Maybe," she said, her voice surprisingly level, "maybe it's best that we table this discussion till we're both calm and not dealing with a flood of stress hormones. Let's go give our statements and think about this later."

Kryssa looked at her.

"Good point. This really isn't the time to make big decisions."

"Nope," Michelle replied, leading the way to the door she always used when checking reports on the job. "First things first."

Inside, a young uniformed officer greeted Michelle warmly.

"Hey, heard about the incident," he said. "Are you OK?"

"A little shaken up," she admitted. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "OK, a lot shaken up. That's never happened to me before. I had no idea what it was really like to be threatened like that."

"So you were threatened?" he said, taking out a form and snatching a pen before it rolled off the counter.

"I don't know that they threatened us with words, but they certainly chased us in a terrifying way," Kryssa said.

He looked up and seemed to see Kryssa for the first time. His eyes widened and he stuck out a hand. Her lips curved up as she shook it, acknowledging his admiration.

"Sorry, miss. I didn't mean to ignore you. I'm Officer Stankowski. Paul Stankowski."

"Kryssa Kowalski. The driver."

"Glad to meet you, but sorry it has to be like this. Could you please spell your name for me?"

"With a name like Stankowski, you can't spell Kowalski?"

He smirked. "It's the Kryssa part that's tripping me up."

She pulled out her mobile phone and jabbed at the buttons. "Just pulling up my insurance card. It'll give you all my info. Meanwhile, Michelle can probably tell the story better than I can."

"I'll need to take separate statements, but no reason Michelle can't give hers now."

As she scrolled through her emails looking for the insurance card, Kryssa was struck by Michelle's concise and factual account. The shaky girl from the car seemed to have transformed into a poised professional. Must be the journalism training, Kryssa thought, opening the email from the insurance company. How many times had she witnessed something horrible and then had to write about it just minutes later? No wonder she was so repressed.

Had she, Kryssa wondered suddenly, gotten into journalism because it gave her an excuse to be the way she already was? Or had she become that way because her job forced her to? Based on the little Michelle had said about her family, Kryssa suspected the former. She regarded the other woman as she spoke, emphasizing a detail here, fleshing out a description there.

"My only other question -- can you remember what they shouted in the parking lot?" Officer Stankowski asked.

"I couldn't hear."

And Kryssa knew she was lying.

"They called us 'damn dykes,'" Kryssa interjected. "We talked about it in the car, remember?"

Michelle flushed.

"Oh. Right. Yes, that's right."

The officer looked at them both, then scrawled something on the form.

"Michelle," he said, and they both could hear the warning in his voice, "please read the statement for accuracy and sign it."

Still blushing, Michelle quickly read it.

"You left out the bit about what they shouted."

"You said you didn't hear it. Your friend said she did. It'll be in her statement."

Michelle inhaled deeply, then let out her breath slowly. Her mother's face flashed through her mind, then her aunt's, and her grandparents', all angry and judgmental. Her father's followed, more compassionate but still stern. Then a memory of him, telling her to do the right thing, and hang the cost. "The truth shall set you free, Michelle. Always remember that."

She knew then what she had to do.

"I was wrong. I did hear it. It should be in both our statements. Please add it, and I'll sign."

"All righty." He wrote in a couple of lines quickly, then shoved the form back to Michelle, who signed it without comment. All three jumped when the front door slammed.

"What a couple of assholes!" a new officer swore, stomping into the room. Kryssa stared at her. "Not you, ladies! Those idiots who chased you. They're downstairs right now, swearing how they didn't do anything and you provoked them and their taxes pay my salary. Fuckwits!"

In spite of herself, Kryssa laughed.

"You must be Michelle's friend on the force."

"Yep! Officer Tori Wagner. Wag to my friends. Are you Kryssa?"

She nodded.

"Well, ma'am, that was some fancy driving you did there! As a sworn officer, I can't condone speeding, but you obviously had your reasons."

"She hasn't given her statement yet, Wag," her colleague warned.

"Well, shit. What have you people been doing all this time? Trading recipes?" But her eyes twinkled as she spoke, and Kryssa found herself liking this brusque, funny woman.

"I was taking Michelle's statement," the officer said with dignity.

"Well, get on with it. I've got two jackasses in the basement waiting to be charged. If you take too long, they'll infect our other guests with their bad manners. Can't have that."

She winked at the group and sauntered back to the door, closing it slightly more gently this time.

"She's a trip," Officer Stankowski muttered.

"She's terrific!" Michelle countered.

"She's both," Kryssa said. "How about you take my statement so she can charge the bad guys?"

"Good idea."

With that, the officer steered Kryssa into a small office to give her the privacy to describe what happened. It was harder to tell the story than she had expected, but the officer kindly led her through the narrative, prompting her here and there as she spoke. Thinking back on her friend's concise account, her respect for Michelle rose, and she said so.

"Michelle's been reading police reports for years, and she's an excellent writer," he remarked. "She knows exactly how to word things. I wouldn't worry about her doing better than you. It's not a competition. And I bet she couldn't have driven that little car out of the parking lot, much less outrun a carload of, um, jerks."

Kryssa looked at the floor, considering his point.

"Now, ma'am, I have to ask you -- do you think this was a hate crime?"

She looked up and into his steady hazel eyes. "You mean, were they harassing me for being a lesbian?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes and pictured the scene, weighing it, analyzing it. In the waning light, they couldn't have seen her holding Michelle's hand from the road -- although the men would have seen they were female since they were backlit by the western sky. Opening her eyes, she shook her head.

"I think they were opportunists. A couple of jerks who wanted to scare us, maybe attack or rape us. I think that shout was just a shot in the dark." Her lips quirked. "A shout in the dark."

His shoulders dropped about an inch.

"I also have to ask -- do you want us to charge them under the hate crime statute?"

She didn't have to think about that. "No. We can't prove it, and the more I think about it, I think they were just targeting us as vulnerable women."

The officer smiled.

"Which you're obviously not. Vulnerable, I mean."

Kryssa smiled back.

"No, we're not."

He filled out a few more lines, then slid the form to her to sign.

"I'm glad Michelle met you," he said as he reached for the door.

"Why?"

"She needs a friend. She's too intense."

"We just met. I only moved back to Toledo a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, you're a hometown girl?"

"You bet. Ever heard of Kowalski Homes?"

"That's your family?"

"My parents. I'm an architect. I've come home to join the family business at last."

"That's excellent. My girlfriend and I are saving up to buy a nice house next year. Maybe you can build us a place."

Kryssa shot him a look. "Absolutely. Our rates are reasonable -- exactly five thousand more than you want to spend and not a penny more."

He held the door for her and they emerged into the larger room where Michelle awaited them. "So -- what will you charge these goons with?"

"Probably speeding and reckless endangerment, regarding your part of the incident."

"My part?

"Yeah. If they have any outstanding warrants or other violations, that's separate."

"Ah."

Suddenly, Kryssa felt her energy drain away. "Well, thanks for being so nice about it all."

"My pleasure." He took a sudden, hard look at her face and his expression softened. "Hey, you'd better get home. When you crash after an adrenaline rush like that, it can be brutal."

"You're not kidding!"

As the two walked to the car, Kryssa wondered where she would find the energy to drive. She felt Michelle's fingers brush her hand, searching for the keys.

"I'm driving," Michelle announced. "You look half dead."

"Sure," Kryssa relinquished the keys without a qualm.

"And we're going to my house for the night."

"Wait a minute..."

"Don't argue with me. You're exhausted, and I won't have you driving in your state. I know you're mad at me, and you don't have to say another word to me ever again. But you're staying in my guest bedroom. That's final."

In spite of herself, Kryssa gave a half laugh at the small woman's ferocity. The timid girl from earlier had left the building, replaced by a much more confident version.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, her voice meek. "But what will I do for pajamas?"

"Hmmph. You'll use my brother's T-shirt and a pair of my yoga pants and you'll like it. And no jokes about getting into my pants."

They got in the car, and Michelle started the engine, enjoying its rumble and feeling of power as she pulled away from the station. She could get used to a car like this. She glanced at her passenger to share her pleasure, but Kryssa's head had sagged against the headrest and, improbably, she already appeared to be asleep. Michelle looked at her tenderly. In repose, Kryssa appeared much younger than her 29 years. Feeling a sudden urge to care for her, Michelle had to restrain herself from stroking that curving cheek, smoothing that silky hair.

Making her way to the Anthony Wayne Trail, Michelle pondered her reaction. She had never felt this way about any of the men she had dated, even Robbie, her college boyfriend, whom she had planned to marry at one time. She sighed. Having spent the last two decades trying desperately to be the person she thought her family wanted her to be, this new way of thinking and feeling and being was going to feel strange, no question. She glanced back over at her sleeping passenger and smiled involuntarily. The awkwardness and recriminations would be worth it. How quickly Kryssa had found her way into her heart!

It was silly, really. She barely knew this woman. And yet, here she was, driving this near-stranger to her home and feeling buoyant at the thought of having breakfast with her in the morning. Michelle would apologize again and they would eat omelets and sourdough toast and read The Sunday Saber together, and maybe Kryssa would see a future for them after all.

If she was lucky.

***

"Wakey, wakey!"

A burst of light turned the inside of Michelle's eyelids deep red. She moaned and turned onto her side, pulling the coverlet over her eyes and regretting her decision to bring Kryssa home if this was how she repaid her kindness.

"The lark's on the wing, the snail's on the thorn..."

Michelle sat up and glared at her cheerful intruder. "Do not quote Browning at me before breakfast."

"My, but we're cranky!" Kryssa crossed the room and reached down to the hall floor to pick something up. "Fortunately, I have just the remedy for that."

She approached the bed with a small tray holding a large cup of coffee, a spoon and a napkin, plus sugar, diet sweetener and milk.

"I wasn't sure how you like it," she said, watching approvingly as Michelle's scowl faded into something approaching civilized. "So I brought everything."

"I retract everything I was just thinking about you," Michelle said, inhaling the coffee's fragrance and reaching for the spoon. "And thank you."

"You're welcome." Kryssa seated herself on the mattress as Michelle stirred milk and sugar into the steaming cup, wriggling slightly as the seam of Michelle's old yoga pants, borrowed for the night, wedged itself into her crack. Kryssa didn't mind showing off her toned body, but the fit of the skin-tight pants bordered on indecent -- and uncomfortable. Luckily Michelle's brother's shirt was long enough to cover the worst of it, at least when she was sitting down.

She remained quiet as Michelle sipped her drink, watching her friend's face as it moved from baleful sleepiness to a more serene alertness.

"Thanks for letting me stay here last night. You were right -- I needed it. I think I was asleep before I even stretched my legs all the way out."

Michelle set the cup down beside her phone on her nightstand and plunged in.

"You're welcome. And ... I'm sorry I upset you."

Kryssa shrugged.

"I shouldn't have had any expectations. But," and she paused briefly, "I did feel like you were sending mixed signals, if not leading me on."

Michelle nodded. "You're right. I was. It was wrong of me."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Because I like you." Michelle looked up at the ceiling for a moment before returning her gaze to Kryssa's now-serious face. "Actually, would you mind if I just talk for a minute? Because I have a lot to say."

Kryssa inclined her head. "Please."

"I've been in denial a long, long time. While I was driving you here, and then after I put you to bed, I was thinking about how I've lived my life. Always trying to achieve one more thing, always trying to give my family one more reason to be proud of me. To love me. But it was never enough. It didn't matter what I did. There was always something else I should have been doing, some other goal I should have been achieving."

"That sounds like a stressful way to live."

Michelle snorted. "That's an understatement. It seemed like my family was always changing the rules and regulations for what constituted success. My brother -- that's his shirt you're wearing -- he gave up on all that and moved to Pittsburgh after college. He found a great job and met a great girl and they have a beautiful baby. But that's not enough, because they're not only not married, they live four hours away! To my mother, it's a deliberate slap in the face."

"She sounds like a real charmer."

"That's one word to describe her." Michelle rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, I stayed here like a dutiful daughter and after a couple of years at the paper in Sandusky, got a job at The Saber. That made them happy for about five minutes before my mother started in on how I needed to make up with Robbie, my boyfriend from Ohio State. That way, we could get married and produce some local grandchildren for her to warp."

Kryssa raised one eyebrow. "Her exact words?"

"I'm paraphrasing."

Kryssa chuckled. "So your decisions, and your brother's, she sees them as all about her?"

"Exactly. But for the longest time, I didn't see that. She had always been that way. I figured it was normal."

"She sounds like a real piece of work."

"Yeah. Anyway, she kept complaining about how I was still single, and I would explain that my job mattered more at this point in my life, and I didn't have time to date. But deep down, I knew. I wanted to be attracted to men. And I liked men, you know, as friends, and I did date because I felt like I had to. I even slept with a couple, hoping to find that spark. But I never did. I never fantasized about them, never thought about holding them in my arms and slow dancing, or any of those things you see in romantic comedies."

"Did you think about women?" Kryssa asked, her voice gentle.

"I tried not to think about anyone."

"How lonely."

"Yeah. But it was better than admitting the truth."

"The truth being...?"

Michelle looked at Kryssa, sitting on her bed and wearing her brother's old Rush concert T-shirt and her own too-small pants. Her heart lurched.

"The truth is, I like women. I like their minds and I like their bodies. And I like you. Very much."

Kryssa regarded her, her face somber.

"I like you too. But I'm not going to ask you to go against three decades of psychological conditioning from a family that sounds dysfunctional at best."

Michelle's phone beeped in the silence that followed. She picked it up and saw a text there.

"Too late," she said, smiling and handing the phone to Kryssa so she could read the message. "I came out to my brother last night."

"Duh!" she read, staring at the cell phone in shock. "I've known u were gay for years. Dad thinks so too. Let me know if I can help. Luv u, sis."

She handed the phone back. "Wow. This is huge."

Michelle nodded. "Yeah. I'll tell the rest of the family this afternoon."

A feeling of unreality, tinged with elation, settled over both women, with an added dollop of concern on Kryssa's part.

"Are you sure you want to do this today?"

"Of course not. I'm petrified. But it's the right thing to do, and I'm going to do it."

"Can I help?"

Michelle shrugged. "Probably better if I tell them alone. I don't want them accusing you of seducing me, or worse. But if you could maybe give me a kiss for luck, I'd appreciate it."

Kryssa leaned in, helped by the sagging mattress.

"I think I can do that."

Michelle watched, mesmerized, as Kryssa moved towards her, tilting her head, and placed one hand on her shoulder. Her skin tingled at the contact. This was really happening! She closed her eyes as the blonde's soft lips met hers. Her own mouth seemed to melt slightly from the heat, then flow with Kryssa's. She sighed against the pressure, feeling her body shiver. She slid her hands around the other woman's shoulders, pulling her closer. Kryssa's other hand came up and gently molded itself to Michelle's cheek, warming it even more. Michelle's mouth opened, welcoming anything Kryssa might want to do with her.

So this was what it felt like to kiss someone fully, with no reservations, holding nothing back. Heaven. Michelle gave a little moan as her insides turned to liquid.

After a long moment, Kryssa broke their kiss, inhaling slowly, deeply, as she rocked back on the mattress.

"When you come out, you really come out!"

Michelle smiled.

"'When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way.' Same for lesbians."

"So now you're the lesbian poster child?"

"Yep. And you can have a signed copy of the poster as soon as they print it up."

Kryssa eyed her with respect.

"You really are amazing."

Michelle reached out and tapped the tip of her friend's nose.

"What can I say? I have the best role model."

**

Heart pounding, Michelle sat down on her parent's good armchair as her parents settled on the old couch across the room.

"What's this all about?" her dad asked.

"I have some news I want to share."

Her mother perked up at once.

"You finally have a boyfriend! I knew it would happen. Is it someone at work, or a man you met in your new neighborhood?"

"No, that's not it," Michelle said. Her mother's face fell.

"Well, I don't see why not. You certainly got the looks in the family. A pretty girl like you ought to be married and have a couple of kids by now."

"Now, Marie," and her father placed a restraining hand on his wife's arm. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"I didn't do anything of the sort!"

"You get all your exercise jumping to conclusions, and that's a fact."

Her mother looked as if she might argue, then subsided. "I don't know why you have to tease me like that. You know I don't like it."

"You always take the bait! I can't resist." He turned to Michelle, humor still glimmering in his eyes. "Honey, you were saying?"