Wherever the Dandelion Falls (30 page)

"How long did you date?"

"A few months," I said, shrugging. "It was fun."

"Did you love her?"

I shook my head. I'd liked Maggie, but I couldn't have loved her at the time. My heart wasn't ready. "It didn't have that magic element to it, you know?"

Faye's eyes bored into me as she murmured, "Yeah."

There was a moment of precarious silence as I felt my insides squirm, realizing I had just driven us to a point of acknowledging how much potential we had. It felt too vulnerable. Kind of like how the idea of having sex felt too vulnerable.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself I had time to unfold for her. She was patient and kind and willing to go first in so many ways. Maybe that's why she felt safe enough for me to entertain the idea of loving in the first place.

My heart raced as I even thought the word.

I shook myself out of the trance Faye had locked me into and sighed. "So yeah, we dated for a few months, and then we just kind of fizzled out. She had the decency to make it official."

Faye pursed her lips, still halfway in her trance. "I can't imagine you ever fizzling," she said, frowning.

I cocked my head, curious what she meant.

She understood without me asking. "You're just so full of life. It would take a force of nature to knock that out of you."

I was stunned she thought of me that way. As someone who identified with my starched lab coat and the predictable bun in my hair and the drone of the air vents above my desk, it was curious to me that Faye knew I had once held so much life. She didn't even need a microscope to see.

And then I realized that she was indirectly asking if something had happened that had knocked my carbonation out. She believed someone had hurt me or knocked me down, and that was the only explanation she could think of for me not being bubbly.

"I guess," I said, pushing away memories of Damon. "Maggie just wasn't the right person."

At that Faye backed off, adjusting herself on the couch. "Sucks to be her," she said, looking into her wine glass with a coy smile.

And that little smile told me that, for whatever reason, she felt lucky to be dating me.

"I'm happy to be dating you," I said, quiet and shy.

She lowered her wine glass and looked at me with a smile that was unguarded and free. She held my gaze for a moment before she murmured, "I'm happy to be dating you too."

She sat there looking at me as if the light was falling on my face in a way she had never seen before. Then she leaned forward and placed a soft, innocent kiss on my lips. It felt like a resolution, a promise that she wouldn't push me to do anything until I was ready. I didn't feel like I was squirming anymore. I just felt soft inside.

As she drew away, I followed her, laying my head on her shoulder in thanks. She took my hand and studied my knuckles, the tip of her index finger brushing the sensitive spots between my fingers.

"I like this," she murmured. Her fingers danced soft over the back of my hand.

I snuggled closer to her, feeling her chest rise with her breath and soaking in the warmth that seeped through her clothes.

"Me too," I said, my words mumbled from being soaked in her for so long.

"When can I see you again?" she asked.

I looked at the patterns she was tracing into my skin, feeling as though every tiny hair was rising to meet her, electric with the faintness of her touch.

I wanted to say,
Right now. You can see me again right now.
But it was almost two in the morning, and sleep was hovering over me. I needed to sleep in my own bed or risk shattering the magic that was happening because we weren't having sex yet. I wanted to protect it as long as I could.

"Tomorrow," I said, smiling at the way Faye's heart beat stronger against my ear at the word. "Let's do something special."

"Like what?" she asked, her tone indicating she would agree to almost anything.

I paused, thinking of how I wanted to keep learning about her and understanding her in ways that were deeper than her skin. "Surprise me," I said. "Take me somewhere you love."

I heard her smile above me.

"And next weekend I'll take you somewhere
I
love," I offered.

She tilted her mouth into my hair and left a kiss there, agreeing without words.

After a few minutes we got up, reluctant.

She gave me a soft, sleepy kiss at the door, eyelids drooping with tiredness and warmth. Her whole body was slack. I held her for a minute before thanking her. Realizing I would have to walk to the bus to get home, she picked up her keys and insisted I drive her car home. We'd be seeing each other in the morning anyway, and this way I'd get more sleep. Warm with her affection, I kissed her one more time before walking down to her car. As I started the engine, I looked up and saw her smiling down at me from her window. When she saw me looking at her, she waved, as though she would wait at the window until I returned in the morning.

As I clacked down the stairs of Dr. Turner's apartment and stomped out onto the street, my anger melted and I was gripped with paralyzing anger at his betrayal. I had never hated someone so intensely in my whole life. Dr. Turner had crossed a boundary I had never imagined he would.

I knew that occasionally customers snuck cameras into the booths at Jez, but the security guards usually managed to wrestle them from their hands, and my face was disguised enough there that I was pretty sure no one would recognize me if the pictures ended up online. Not that it didn't make me nervous. Of course it did.

But I didn't have relationships with those men. Those men were dirt beneath my Ellies. Dr. Turner was someone I knew and trusted to be better than that. I had foolishly thought that because we were doing something illegal together, he would follow the guidelines I'd laid out.

I slumped under the weight of my mistake, starting to cry as I rounded the corner. All my anger at Dr. Turner suddenly turned on myself as I realized I had no one to blame but me.

As my crying became harder to keep quiet, I was grateful for the car I'd purchased two weeks earlier. Aside from constant trouble parking, it was much easier to get around.

I crawled into the driver's seat, locked the doors, and slumped down, letting myself cry for a minute. I was glad it was dark and no passersby could see me. I sobbed and sobbed, makeup running down my face until I looked like a raccoon. How had the smart, good girl from Ann Arbor ended up in San Francisco wearing tacky lingerie, crying her whore makeup off in a new BMW after having sex for money? I didn't even recognize myself.

After the loudest of the crying had run through me, I took deep, desperate breaths of leather-scented air. I couldn't go home to Justine. She'd know immediately that something bad had happened. I would have loved nothing more than to let her protectiveness wrap me up, but she knew who my client was, and I couldn't risk her directing her wrath at Dr. Turner when there was a possibility that he had other footage of me. He could ruin my life, even if I had threatened him with the footage now stuffed in my purse alongside my condoms, lube, and baby wipes.

I couldn't tell Justine what had happened. She would explode.

I thought about calling Callie. She knew about my "side job" and she would understand. But she worked the Private Pleasures Booth on Saturday nights and wouldn't be able to talk until four in the morning. I needed to talk
now
.

For a brief moment I debated calling Kimi, telling her she'd been right to worry about me and that I should have tried to get a job in my field. But even if I was willing to sacrifice that much pride, I couldn't bring myself to call her so late, since it was already two in the morning in New York.

I realized just how alone I was and started crying harder.

I had no one to call.

I took out my phone to scroll through my contacts just in case I'd forgotten someone who might lend a sympathetic ear. I had Anya's number, but she'd probably cluck her tongue and tell me it was rough, but it happened and there was no use crying over it.

As I turned my phone on, I saw there were a few text messages from Faye. I looked at the picture she'd just texted me of Schro, fast asleep in front of her door with a message that said,
I want to go out and get a slice of pizza, but Schro thinks I should stay home and have tuna salad instead.

I smiled at the picture, feeling my face strain in its puffiness. Faye's life was so simple. She went to class, did her homework, played with her cat, and spent time with her boyfriend. I wished my life could be like that for just a day.

I looked at the timestamp and saw that Faye had just sent those messages ten minutes ago. Clearly she was awake and not planning to go to bed soon if she was thinking about going out for food. Desperate for someone to talk to, I called her and felt my heart race as the phone rang.

She answered right away, her voice cheerful as she said, "Hey!"

I sniffled and tried to mirror her happiness as I said, "Hey."

"Are you okay?" she asked right away.

I sniffled again. "Not really," I admitted. I always tried to be strong and in control around her to help ease her ever-present anxiety, but there was no way I could do that right now.

"Did something happen?"

I tried to catch my breath, hoping I didn't sound too soggy as I dodged the question. "I had a bad night," I said.

"Oh no..." Faye cooed. "Do you want to come over and talk about it? I'll wake Schro up so he can give you snuggles."

Somehow, offering to share her cat with me was the perfect thing to say.

"Okay."

I drove to Faye's house feeling oddly blank as I navigated the familiar streets in my flashy new car. The car felt in stark contrast to everything about me; it was stately, well-engineered, and commanded authority, while I felt faulty and cheap.

Faye met me at her gate and used her quietest, sweetest voice as she ushered me upstairs. She sat me on her bed, immediately handing me a cup of hot herbal tea and placing Schro next to me. He nuzzled my knee and I was suddenly flooded with guilt and anger again. It was as if that soft nudge of his kitty nose reminded me of my own fragility. I started to cry and realized I hadn't wiped my makeup off. Faye was seeing me with my awful whore makeup running down my face and was kind enough not to comment on it.

I buried my face in my hand. Faye wouldn't know what to say if I told her the truth. She would be overwhelmed.

She put her hand on my knee and I had the urge to fling it off. I didn't want her to touch me while I was in the clothes I'd worn to Turner's. I didn't want to be wearing them at all. They made me feel cheap and for the first time, dirty. I managed to squeak out, "Can I please take a shower?"

"Of
course
," Faye said, as though I had asked if I could breathe the air in her apartment. "I'll get you my favorite lotion to use afterwards." She brushed my arm for a minute before she paused. "You don't have to tell me what happened, but... are you...
hurt
?"

Knowing she was asking if I'd been assaulted, I shook my head. I hadn't been assaulted. At least not physically.

"Okay." She squeezed my arm and got up, retrieving a clean towel for me. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Taking deep breaths to calm myself down, I muttered an exhausted
Thank you
and asked if it would be too much trouble to borrow a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She assured me it was no trouble at all and handed me some clothes.

After I'd scrubbed myself pink and sedated myself with hot steam, I shut off the shower and slowly spread lotion over my body as though it could give me new skin. I got dressed in the soft pants and t-shirt Faye had loaned me, not bothering with underwear. There was no way I was putting my lingerie back on.

I emerged, glad to have shed my costume so I could sit with Faye like a normal girl. But despite being in Faye's casual clothes, part of me was still Violet. I started to wonder if she had overtaken me without my realizing it.

Faye looked up from where she was typing at her desk. "Feel better?" she asked, her voice soft and warm like the steam billowing out of her little bathroom, forehead creased with concern.