Wherever the Dandelion Falls (19 page)

Judging by the crowded state of the waiting room, I was going to be there a while.

Faye spotted some comfortable chairs near the TV and rushed over. She plopped down and patted the seat next to her. When I sat, she gently took my elbow in her hand, examining the blood-stained towel before giving me an exaggerated pout.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No, it feels great," I deadpanned.

She ignored my sarcasm and looked around, anxious. "You must be hungry after work. Do you want me to get you some food?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I'll call Justine and she'll come wait with me."

Faye bit her lip. "I'll stay until she gets here."

On one hand, I didn't want to deal with being around Faye. She'd hurt my feelings and confused me, and now I was in physical pain and disoriented by my anxiety. But on the other hand, having a familiar face there while I was scared was comforting.

I took out my phone and called Justine, tapping my foot as I waited for her to pick up. But she didn't. I left her a brief message telling her I was fine but needed her to call me back. Then I hung up and sighed.

"You shouldn't have said that," Faye said. "You don't call someone from the emergency room and say you're fine. You tell them what's going on."

I looked back down at my phone, hoping Justine would call back any second.

"I didn't want her to worry."

"It's okay if people worry about you," Faye said.

Before I could stop myself, I muttered, "You certainly didn't when you were fucking that girl yesterday." I thought back to Faye's mussed hair and guilty expression and felt anger bubble up.

"I said I was sorry," Faye mumbled. Then she turned suddenly, changing her mind. "But who I sleep with is none of your business."

Surprised and suddenly defensive, I volleyed back, "You're right. You can fuck as many people you like. Have fun."

Faye frowned. "Slut-shame me all you want, but you went home drunk with me once too. You're in no position to judge."

I was frustrated and exhausted by my anxiety, my injury, and Faye's petulance.

Faye crossed her arms, not budging as she stared at me. Something about her belligerence pushed me to make sure she knew what she'd done wrong.

"You can sleep with as many people as you want, but you shouldn't mess around with people's feelings like that."

She pursed her lips before she said, surprisingly calm, "I thought we were on the same page. I didn't mean to mislead you into thinking there was more happening than really good sex.
Really
good sex."

Her apology was so straightforward and genuine, my anger and resentment started to drain. Her compliment of my sexual prowess didn't hurt either.

She continued. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to stay until you get some attention in this godforsaken place. Or until Justine gets here."

Convinced she wasn't a horrible person, I nodded, pressing the makeshift dressing around my injury tighter.

But one question still burned in my mind. It was the question I didn't want to think about too much because I didn't want to be an accomplice to hurting anyone else's feelings.

"Can I ask you one thing?"

Faye looked at me with a hesitant nod.

"Was that girl - Was she your girlfriend?"

Faye's eyes went wide for a second before she sputtered, "No.
No
." She waved her hand as though the idea was unsavory. "I'm not—I'm not dating anyone."

Relieved, I settled back into my seat. "Okay. Just wondering."

Faye patted my arm before rocking out of her seat, declaring she was famished and was going to find food for us.

Since Justine never called me back, Faye ended up staying for all three hours I was in the emergency room. I softened more towards her than I imagined I would. By the time I'd been stitched up and released, it was two in the morning and I was more exhausted than if I'd worked at Jules' for ten hours without a break. Faye must have been tired too, but she didn't show it. She drove me to my doorstep and offered to help me unlock the door. I gave her a grateful, fatigued smile and declined.

The next morning she texted me asking how I was doing and if my hand still hurt. It did, but I told her it was fine. She sent me pouty face emoticons and wished me a swift healing.

I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn't. She showed up that evening with two boxes of microwave macaroni and cheese, saying it must be hard for me to cook without the use of my dominant hand. As we settled onto the couch, she took a long sip of water and said, "Can we have a fresh start?"

I realized her gesture had been one of apology, and decided to accept it.

Was she asking to date me? To pretend we'd never slept together? To just see what happened? I wanted clarity, since she was so hard to read sometimes. "As what?"

"Friends," she said immediately.

I was disappointed that she answered so certainly. She had told me she was single. What was wrong with me that she didn't want to entertain the possibility or being more than friends? But she was generous and attentive, and I supposed it didn't matter what we were as long as she kept being nice and honest.

But I also didn't know what
friends
entailed. Was she
friends
with the other girl too? Did friendship include sex? So I asked, "With benefits?"

She bit her lip. "Is that something you can do and keep it separate?"

Her hesitation convinced me she really was looking out for my feelings. She knew not everyone could have no-strings sex. I had thought I could, but after just two times with her, I wasn't sure. So I said as much. "I'm not sure."

"Just friends, then," she said. She held up her water glass for me to clink.

Heavily, I held my water glass in my uninjured hand and tapped it to hers. “Friends."

I didn't know what a formal date with Faye would entail. Would it be something fancy, like a cocktail bar in SoMa with dim lighting? Or would she do something lavish, like a fancy restaurant where the chef comes to your table and makes small talk before cooking something overwhelmingly delicious with an even more overwhelming bill? Or, would she opt to take me to something like the opera, plunging me into a medium I knew nothing about? Or what if she was like Henry or Vance, expecting me to hook up with her? Whatever Faye had planned, I was certain I wouldn't know what to do.

On the day of the date, I stared into my closet, feeling the paralysis of anxiety overtake me. I inched back until I felt my knees brush the bed, and lowered myself to sitting. Keeping my eyes on the hangers and sleeves before me, I drew my knees up to my chest. I didn't know what to wear, and my thoughts were flitting around in such away that I knew the decision was going to take forever. I had the cute outfit from my date with Vance, but I wasn't sure I wanted to wear that. It seemed tainted.

I was about to text Faye to tell her I wasn't feeling well and ask to reschedule for the twelfth of Never when Justine knocked on my door.

"Riley?" she called when I didn't respond right away.

"Yeah..."

She opened the door a crack and saw me perched on my bed in my underwear.

She tilted her head and pouted. "It's gonna be fun. Don't psych yourself out."

I took a deep breath which only seemed to inspire another flurry of nerves.

Justine stepped toward the closet, scanning through a few things before she found a cocktail dress smushed against the wall, hidden by the sleeves of my winter coats. I'd forgotten about that dress. Kimi gave it to me the last time I went home for Christmas.

"Wear this," Justine said. "You can't go wrong with an LBD."

She beckoned with her hand for me to stand, and she fitted it over my arms and pulled it down, smoothing it over my hips. Then she made a swiveling motion with her finger, instructing me to turn around.

"Perfect," Justine cooed. "It makes your ass look good."

I winced and turned to face her again, but by the time I turned around, she was rummaging in my closet. She found the heels I'd bought for my date with Vance, placing them on the floor in front of me.

"Here you go, Cinderella."

I put my hand on her shoulder and slid my feet into the shoes. They didn't make me feel any steadier, but they did make my legs look nice.

Justine gave me a once-over. "She's not going to know what hit her," she grinned.

Ten minutes later, I had calmed down enough to do my own makeup. I kept checking my watch, but since I'd taken it off, I kept feeling dumb for looking at my naked wrist.

I was pacing around my room when the doorbell rang. I didn't want to pace in the living room. Justine was being sweet, but she could never pass up an opportunity for a little dig. Sure enough, she immediately called, louder than necessary, "Riii-ley! Your
date's
here!"

My body surged with anxiety. Why was I so nervous about this? I'd never been this nervous before a date. Not with Damon, not with Henry, not with Vance. Perhaps I was feeling this way because I had no business dating someone as ambitious and refined and glamorous as Faye. My body was rebelling against my mind, which was arguing that I was smart and capable and sexy enough to get away with dating her. Now I was almost sick to my stomach with discord.

But Faye was at the door and Justine wouldn't hear a single word of reasonable protest if I tried to back out now. So I set one foot in front of the other, trying to walk quietly and not incite comments from Justine.

Justine's eyes raked up and down my body, eyebrows lifting over a smile. It wasn't even a sarcastic smile, for once. Then she gave me a silent, animated thumbs up and whispered, “Go get 'er, tiger.”

I felt self-conscious, acutely aware of my body, but also better now that I'd gotten my roommate's approval on the final product. My heels were louder than my usual work flats on our worn hardwood, but I kind of liked it. They were an echo of Faye's confident steps.

I put my hand on the doorknob and took a breath before twisting it, screwing my face into a confident smile as I did.

Faye was on the other side of the door, hair flowing over her shoulders, lipstick coating her bright, full lips that smiled at me under sparkling eyes. She had something in her hands, and as I looked down to see what it was, I noticed that she was dressed casually. She had a v-neck t-shirt on and khaki skirt with a pair of flats. She looked like she was on her way out to the farmer's market or the grocery store, not a date. I stiffened with worry. Had I overdressed? She hadn't told me where we were going. I'd just assumed we were going out to dinner and maybe a bar or something.

"Hi," she greeted.

"Hi."

"I brought this for you," she said, extending her hands toward me. I saw that she was holding a glass jar full of saltwater taffy. "My friends and I went to Santa Cruz recently and I bought too much. I know you like sweets, so I figured..." She trailed off, shrugging, and I realized that she was more nervous than I'd thought.

"Oh, thanks," I said.

Her hand drifted further toward me and I took the jar from her. Then, hugging it to my stomach, I dropped my head and looked down. "I overdressed," I muttered.

"No, you look great!" Faye responded, though her cheer seemed forced. "You look... very nice, Riley." It sounded like she was trying too hard to use polite, neutral words and wondered what she had wanted to say instead.

"Should I change?" I asked, not convinced. "I should change."

“No, no," she said, hand fluttering forward to stop me as I stepped back into the house. "You look great."

"Not even my shoes?" I asked, realizing that with the three inch heel, I towered over her by more than half a foot.

"We are going to be walking a lot. Whatever you're comfortable in," she said with a smile.

"Okay, I'll change my shoes." I said.

"Okay," she said. "Those are cute though.”

I was relieved to be able to backtrack into the apartment for a minute. Now that I'd seen her, I had an idea of how the night was going to go. Maybe she wasn't going to put me too far outside my comfort zone. Maybe this would be fun.