Everything became painfully parallel to those first weeks back in May—the quiet, the attempts at trying to stay close yet wanting so desperately to get away, never knowing which words to use.
She kept to herself mostly, staying in the room that by now is decorated with a new duvet and curtains, only ever showing her lost face when it was necessary, and to my dismay, that wasn't often.
I paced the halls like a ghost, contemplating knocking on her closed door, reaching out to her and giving in to what my body craved. I racked my brain more than enough times to find some sort of reconcile point. Things never would return to how I wanted them to. The innocence that was once heavy on us, gone, and pretending it was anything else than what it was ate more and more at my heart.
But again most things went avoided until is was reasonable to go in and unravel the depths I seemed to put myself into. I hated that Florence was getting caught in the wrath of that and I hated even more that it seemed she had gotten used to it.
I watched from afar, keeping my hands to myself, and hoped things would come around.
But hope, I've learned, can only get you so far.
Now it was Thursday, and the week and a half we spent floating around each other was coming to a halt at the start of my first day. It would be another one of pretending, using the rehearsed smile and responses to keep the facade, and other aspects of my ego, going.
Every robotic movement it took to get out of bed this morning was strategically planned. The flannel suit prepared the night before, my laptop and categorized files placed neatly in my tote. The bed was made, the curtains pulled back, and the sprayed perfume falling into a mist.
I stood at the mirror longer than I should've. Wanting for something to reach out and shake me into the Jane that was here a year ago. I wasn't more put together, or healthy, or anything really. But it was a time when caring was subpar and therefore living was done at free will without much conscious thought. Now the ugliest sides of me were seen in my reflection, and this time around it wasn't easy to avoid it. This time I didn't want to.
I pulled the handle and shook myself away from the morbid image, ducking my head under the faucet and swallowing the bitter ash of each prescription; beta blockers, mood enhancements, antidepressants, and a long list of vitamins.
Brushing my dripping lips with the back of my hand, I made sure not to look at myself unless I was ready to see what awaited. "You're going to be okay Jane. Everything's alright." I flattened out my pockets to my hips and smoothed the edges of my ponytail. I convinced myself over and over. Everything is going to be just fine.
My stumble upon the kitchen was welcomed with the young girl sitting at the counter nursing a mug as she starred aimlessly ahead. Her slender fingers played with tag of her tea bag. The words she hummed weren't easily heard. "You're up."
She stopped, not bringing her eyes away from whatever they captured ahead. "Yeah I wanted to make sure you ate before your first day." Next to her sat a simple plate of eggs and fruit, she pulled out the chair and patted the seat.
I let my bags lean against the wall before sitting. She looked over briefly. "This is the you I remember."
"What does that mean?" I let my hair flutter past my face in the hopes that hid my blush.
"A happier you or at least a better you. I could tell you loved your job from the moment I saw you and you look no different from then as you do now."
I brought the coffee to my lips I'd take the compliment as more than what it was, it was the affirmation I needed. "Well thank you," I smiled into my sip before bringing it back down to cool. "What are you doing up so early?"
"I was praying," Her fingers wrapped around the thin string outside of her cup, dipping and pulling the bag, "and I wanted to wish you luck, though I know you won't need it."
"Yeah, well, let's see if I can keep up." The steam from the coffee warmed my cheeks. I've heard little of her disconnect with her religion, starting with her father and then being banned from the mosque I knew had a whole other layer of reservations about. I didn't pry, having no comprehension of a power beyond myself and religious inquiries that would cause me to be devout enough. "I didn't know you still practiced."
"I haven't, not until recently."
"That's good. I'm happy you're finding your faith again."
She nodded, not lifting her gaze from her plate. "Are you ready?"
"I don't have a much of a choice now do I?"
"I mean, it can be a lot to digest after a year of being off..." She was treading lightly. Smart.
"Don't you think I know that?" I whipped my head, feeling my eyebrow flex into a frown. The venom of my words was apparent to me too. I tried to quickly recover, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to say it like that. I guess..I guess I am a bit anxious." I was aware my sudden angst no longer caused a visible reaction from her.
"Well if you scold your students like you do me then everything should go over smoothly." She didn't bother letting me finish my breakfast, taking the plates to the sink and beginning to wash.
"It's different with you."
"You've said that before."
"Because it's true."
She scoffed, "you'll always find a way around my words, won't you?"
"I will." It was a true. I had a habit of mending things into my way. "I should get going, there's a bit of a commute."
"Yeah..." She stood at the entryway with the rest of my coffee in a tumbler. The door stood wide open, the remains of a breeze whisking the strands from my ponytail. She anchored her weight to one foot, eyes widening in deep concentration.
She had me a nervous wreck this morning. I bit my lip, unsure of how this departure was to go. "We haven't quite figured out the phone situation but the landline is here. I'll be in classes all day but you can leave a voicemails..."
Florence closed in on the distance between us. The immediate closeness slowed my rambling and I circled in on those dark brown eyes. "I'll be okay, Jane." She rose a bit on her tippy toes to reach me at my heeled height, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Have a good day."
I brought my hand over her waist, squeezing. "You too, Florence."
She let me go after that, keeping her head peaked out of the door until the elevator descended.
-
I thought I was done with bars after my last time at Nicky's. It was right after I kicked Florence out and had stupidly decided to confide in him. Much of that seemed a blur now but I was fully aware that I had gotten belligerently drunk and made another reckless mistake for the third time that day.
I've known Viola Quinn for years. At least, as long as I worked at Westlake High School when we were hired together our first few years out of college. I had no idea what I was thinking moving back to the town I visited when seeing my estranged father but staying in California, with my mother, was not a choice. And after receiving my degree and finishing my second year of teaching, I was not feeling as fulfilled as a successful twenty-something should be. So I fled—another tasteless habit of mine—and wound up interviewing at the very same high school my long time friends, Nicky and Kaylee, went.
The last name Donovan worked, turned heads even, and my reputation was awarded long before I stepped in the classroom. I was the well respected daughter of a famous author and to these people, that meant something.
The one person it didn't mean something to was Viola and very much like the girl stranded in my apartment, that attracted me to her.
It wasn't long before we became acquainted, especially after being in the same hallway and both teaching human sciences. It felt almost inevitable, and certainly pathetic, that all it took was for a couple drinks to get in our system and sleep together. It was the way too many of my encounters had gone, even the most unlikely dynamics with a prior student.
Tonight resembled that one, all those years ago when we were younger and had a lighter head on our shoulders. And after a year of not seeing each other and I leaving with no explanation, this was how we were confronting things.
I couldn't deny the offer, it was tradition on the first day of school and everyone had inquired about my absence. A quick pop up would ease their suspensions and then I would go back home to the girl that hung throughout my conscious the whole day.
But now, now I faced a sour woman who was standing her ground. Rum and Coke in hand, her slick Betty Boop hair glistening in the dim lightening, and it wouldn't be Viola if she hadn't worn a crimson red lip. "You don't speak anymore?" She took a seat next to me at the bar, eyeing the Shirley temple I had gone with and hastily rolling her eyes.
The times we did sleep together she began to notice was only when I was intoxicated. I didn't give her the chance to comment about it. By the time it got to be too much, I had already broken her heart.
"First days are usually the busiest." I played with the stem and did my best to avoid her. There was too much temptation beginning to tighten's its hand around my throat.
"We're down the hall from each other."
"Seems you could've spoken too, don't you think?" I really wasn't upset, but I had been snappy all day and obviously tired but the woman wasn't letting up. It was unfortunate, really, if there had not been anything after that last night we shared, I had no doubt she would still be here. How can I tell her she was the one? How do I say that's not how I feel anymore and I never will again? How do I prove that no matter how much I denied it, the only thing that hasn't changed was her and how that wasn't actually a bad thing?
So much of me had poured into her and it was the first taste of mutual love I've ever felt. It wasn't ruined frankly or even damned from the start. Whatever it was though, was better off coming to a stop.
Worse of all she wasn't like Kaylee or Florence. She was and had always been beautiful, perfect Viola.
She sat back, adjusting herself in her tight cut pencil skirt and partially turning to me. "Do I even need to ask?"
"You really don't." I didn't feel obligated to be here any longer. Most of the staff had gone home to their families after one drink and those who lingered were simply just starting the beginning to the end of a very long night. This could wait. It would. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I got in my car after that and quickly rushed home. It was late and traffic was not light. Each light felt seconds too long, each car seemed to use their break far too much. It wasn't helping my exhaust or my growing anticipation.
She didn't seem to hear my arrival. Her back turned from the entrance and hands folded beneath her chin. She was incredibly focused or thinking much too hard, much like things had been this morning. "Florence." The feel of her name passing my lips cooled me. I would never tire of saying it. "What's all this?" The dinning room table was adorned with candles and petals. A meal prepared on either side of the cloth she laid down.
Planting her hands on either side of her, she stood, leaning over the tall wicks and huffing them out. "Nothing, Jane." The plates were carried away as she walked around the island.
"Wait, Florence," I looked around at everything, losing my breath at the scene she must've spent all afternoon preparing. "All of this was for me?" My head tilted to the side sheepishly.
"I wanted to do something special for your first day back." She stopped at the sink, looking at the clock labeled on the stove, "but this was ready almost two hours ago."
I immediately cursed myself, having kept her waiting and she seemed ready to clean up and escape back to her room. I needed to make up for lost time, in more ways than one. "No, no, no." I stopped and took off my heels and finally set down my purse. "We can still eat and do all that you planned, right?" It was only seven, but the additional hours I stayed after school on top of the bar pushed the time back from when I'd normally be back. She knew that.
Biting her lip, she stood with her arms folded not too please but also not doing a very good job of hiding the smile that was spreading her cheeks.
I shooed her away, "go sit down I'll warm up the food."
The whole night was remade with the best of what I could do. The candles were relit and the vinyl started to spin, the steam was coming off from our meals again and neatly placed.
The small celebration was for more than for my first day back. It was enumerating being with her again, still after all this time I wanted to hold on to it. We shared a deep inhale letting the music go for awhile before either of us spoke.
I set the napkin aside and grabbed my fork. She did the same. "What did you do today?"
"Cooked, then cleaned, cooked again before I found a movie to watch. Cleaned some more..."
Blowing on my food, "you realize I was joking when I said you were the housekeeper?"
She chuckled, mirroring my action. "There's not much to do around here, besides it was a little dusty. You should be thanking me."
"You're right, thank you." For that and so much more. I hope she knew that.
More silence passed, the song changed into something smooth and warm . "What about you, how was your day? Were you students as bad as you thought?" She asked, the orange glow of the flame dancing on her skin.
"Too early to tell, my fifth period was a little chatty but nothing I haven't dealt with before."
"Anything else?" I knew I was being sensitive the moment I felt accused of something. I did nothing wrong. I engaged with my peers and did my job and I got to come home to company I wanted to have. That was a good days work yet still, there was always something to be guilty about.
"We went for a few drinks after work."
"Did you drink?"
"Florence.."
"I think I've earned the right to know by now." I hated she was right. One too many times she had caught me in compromising moments, drunk and sober.
My chin lifted. "No."
"I just needed to ask."
"I understand."
She sighed and pushed back her plate. The wax on one of the candles slid down the holder, air becoming thick with the threatening silence and avoidance. My day had already been full of subtle oddities. I wanted to talk I wanted to touch and bask in the presence. I wouldn't let things choke me.
"Come here, Florence." I could feel the longing start to creep into something much stronger.
She obeyed without much of a question and took the seat next to mine. We sat close, letting our arms touch and eyes wonder. The position of the fairly large dinning table sitting opposite of the standing windows.
I grabbed her hand, hoping to catch the rest of the sunlight. "I've come to realize those weeks with you gone I was miserable. And not because I was losing my mind or relapsed, but because all this time had passed. I would have been the one talking about taking time when really I've just been wasting it. I would've wasted it not being with you the way I should've been or bypassing the ways you've helped me. I don't want to overlook things, especially not with you. I care and adore you too much."
"Jane, I said no more apologies."
"This isn't an apology this is a proposal."
Her grip absentmindedly became tighter on my hand. "For?"
"Me and you. That's all."
She scoffed, rubbing her thumb over my clammy skin. "You've had me for much longer than you realize."
I was still surrounded by that air of temptation experienced earlier in the evening. Except now, now I think it wouldn't hurt me as bad. "Not in the ways I've really wanted to."
It was her whose body turned, who got closer, whose eyes flickered to and from my own to my lips. "And how is that Ms. Donovan?"
But it was I who grabbed her chin and kissed her. I kissed her like it wasn't the first time, like we had explored each other in this way many times over and it was familiar, whole, to be this connected. I twisted, nibbling on the bottom of her lip. The hunger satisfying our hearts, finally feeling full. I retrieved, missing the taste of her already. "That and so much more."
-
Ramadan Mukbarak!