Wherever the Dandelion Falls (47 page)

"You don't know," I echoed. I could hear my disappointment in the words.

Faye scrubbed for a moment longer, the rushing of the water masking any sounds she was making. But I saw her shoulders curling up to her ears as her head dropped lower and lower, until it looked like she was standing under something that was crushing her.

I debated getting up and standing next to her so I could see her face, but the weight of her uncertainty pressed me down hard into her mattress, and I couldn't move.

But when I saw her wipe her face with the back of her wrist as her torso twitched, I knew I had to get up. There was something snagged in her too, and that made me forget about the loop she was threatening to tug away from me.

I walked up behind her, making my footsteps heavy so she'd know I was approaching. When I looked at her face and saw the silver tear tracks, I wanted to mould myself into her. I forgot about the heaviness her uncertainty gave me. She wasn't uncertain because she wanted to be. Her uncertainty came from something that hurt.

"What's wrong?" I asked, voice hushed as I put my hand on her lower back.

She startled at my touch, but I held my hand firm and warm on her, trying to steady her. When she took a moment to answer, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the bird inked into her shoulder blade. She flinched, and I wondered if it hurt.

"Nothing," she gasped, but I knew better than to believe her. I only had to wait a few seconds before she said, "I just don't know if I can."

Something had cracked in her, and now she was crying faster, which broke my heart. She was getting so agitated, her hands were flinging droplets of water onto the countertop around the sink. I could feel her shaking as she poured her attention into the dishes until finally her hands were so frantic and clumsy, she dropped a glass and it shattered into the sink.

And just like that, she broke. She braced her arms above her against the cabinet as her shoulders curled forward. She didn't muffle her whimpering as she shook, and each little sound made my heart twist and strain toward her. I wanted, more than ever, to just hold her until everything felt right.

"It's okay," I cooed. I turned off the water and moved my hand on her back in a little circle, the way my mom used to do for me when I was afraid of thunderstorms.

"It's
not
okay," she whimpered, letting her arms fall as she turned to face me.

I moved my hand around again, hoping it would be better than whatever empty words I could find, like
Yes it is,
or
You can tell me
. In truth, I didn't know what to say.

She tried to collect herself with several sniffs as she turned back to the sink. "I don't really... do relationships."

Normally I would have rolled my eyes or balked at those words. People who say they "don't do relationships" are just trying to push people away or provoke them. But Faye's words were so mournful and unsure, I didn't believe her.

"Why not?" I asked, trying to be as tender as I could.

Faye closed her eyes again and pursed her lips, the bitter truth rising to the surface.

"My family will take everything away."

And with that admission, I knew I'd been right. Faye
wanted
to do relationships. She wanted to do relationships with her whole heart. But she also wanted to be a good daughter, and that was a piece of her heart too. No wonder she felt ripped in half.

"They would have a hard time with you liking girls?" I asked, testing my theory.

Faye nodded again, eyes still closed.

"I understand," I said, hoping my words would cushion her enough that she felt she could breathe.

Something relaxed in her face, though she kept her eyes closed. "You do?"

I stayed quiet and warm for her. "I would never want my parents to be disappointed in me."

She exhaled and dropped the sponge into the sink in relief. "They were
so
upset when they found out," she said. It sounded so heavy, and she was relieved to lay it down.

"I thought they didn't know," I said, confused.

Faye tilted her head, admitting she'd omitted something. "They kind of know."

I had to know what had happened that had unraveled Faye so much. Faye stared at nothing in particular in front of her, as though she were watching something I couldn't see on the countertop. She was far away for a moment as she debated whether she should tell me.

Everything within me leaned toward her, begging her to tell me why she was so distraught. "What happened?"

"I was nineteen," Faye said. The way her voice was wavering let me know that this was difficult for her to say. "It was the end of our freshman year. She was my roommate."

Now I was starting to see where this was going. Maybe, like me, she had someone who had unraveled her.

"She came home drunk. I was standing over my bed folding laundry because I was a nerd who did laundry in the middle of the night on Saturday."

She took a deep breath, committing herself to finishing her story.

"I was standing there, and she came up behind me and spun me around and just — she just
kissed
me. Out of the blue. Then she laughed and pulled me backwards onto her bed. I didn't even know she liked-" Faye's words choked off, and I could hear the terror that had coursed through her then.

"Was it a good kiss?" I asked, letting a soft, playful smile flit across my face for a moment, hoping she would remember that not everyone was shocked by two girls kissing.

But she grew more flustered. "It was over before I knew what was happening."

I was sad for her, and wondered if the kisses I gave her echoed any of the terror I saw in her eyes now.

When the silence grew overwhelming, I quietly asked, "What did you do?"

Faye trembled a little more. "A lot," she said. "Stuff happened."

"Good stuff?"

Faye winced and nodded. "She said she thought I was hot, and the alcohol just gave her the courage."

I knew all too well that alcohol was the social lubricant Faye usually needed to kiss girls.

"She was
—
she was
so
beautiful." Faye stared ahead of her and I thought I saw a hint of a smile on her face as she remembered this mysterious roommate.

"Did she have a name?" I asked carefully.

"Andrea," Faye said. "She was really beautiful," she echoed.

At that, I felt Faye opening. Or at least I thought I did. I thought I had an opportunity to slip my hand into hers. So I did, and she didn't pull away.

"Well," I said, giving her hand a squeeze I hoped was welcome. "I think
you're
really beautiful."

She ducked her head so her hair fell in front of her face, but I thought I saw a smile. I had said the right thing, for once.

"You have to watch out for beautiful girls," she mumbled.

"Why's that?" I asked, thinking she was joking.

Faye slumped, and I felt her shiver again. She seemed so fragile. She sniffled and said, "Because they'll tell your parents."

Shocked and upset for Faye's outing, I said immediately, "Faye, I would
never
tell your parents.
Ever
."

Faye sniffled again. "That's what Andrea said too."

Now I was upset. Who in her right mind would stab someone as beautiful and scared as Faye in the back?

"What?"

Faye nodded, biting her lips. "She said she'd let me come out when I was ready, but then she found out about me and Isaiah..." Faye let out a gasp of emotional air, slumping again. "I was messed up, but she made everything a hundred times worse."

I wanted to know who Isaiah was and what he had to do with Faye getting outed, but Faye was so fragile at the moment, I didn't want to pry. She'd tell me what she wanted me to know.

Sensing Faye wanted to sit down, I gently led her to the edge of the bed and sat down, tuning my body and ear to her.

"Isaiah was my best friend in college," Faye said. "We still talk sometimes. I panicked and slept with him after Andrea and I hooked up the first time. When Andrea found out a few months into our relationship, she went ape shit and told everyone I was a dyke, including my parents."

I felt myself crumple inside, heartbroken for the way Faye had been treated by the first girl she cared about or maybe even loved. I wanted to make up for all the awful things people had done to her for liking who she liked.

Cautiously, I took her hand between both of mine. Her arm hung limp in my grasp as I squeezed her fingers between mine.

"Faye, I would
never
out you. Even if you slept with a
hundred
guys right now," I murmured.

"Gross," Faye muttered, trying to lighten the mood. But it didn't need to be lightened. We needed to be right where we were.

"I'm sorry about your parents," I said.

Faye raised her eyebrows as her blank stare continued boring into the floor as she nodded.

"Not much I can do. Unless I want them to pull the plug on all this," she said, gesturing to our cluttered surroundings. Then she looked at me with an earnest, scared expression, and I knew that I was included in the
all this
she had gestured to. If her parents stopped paying her tuition and her rent, she would have to go home, which meant saying goodbye to me.

And I hoped, in the deep, selfish part of me, that losing me was the thing she was most afraid of.

I squeezed her hand again, trying to comfort her. But it's hard to comfort someone when there are things you can't say.

You won't lose me.

Don't let your parents tell you this is wrong.

I love you.

So I offered the next best thing. I lifted my hand and cupped her cheek.

"I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. Please believe that. If you can't do relationships, then… we'll figure something out."

Faye let out a relieved gust of air, as though she'd been holding her breath since we started talking. "Really?" she said, looking pained and hopeful.

Uncertain but committed to making her comfortable, I nodded. "Labels aren't important. What matters is that you're special to me."

Faye leaned forward and put her head against my chest. She held me there for a long time, and I brushed her hair down her back, relieved we finally understood each other.

After a long time, Faye spoke. "Can we not sleep with other people?" she whispered, shy. She sounded as though she was unsure of how I'd respond.

I was so surprised at her request, I didn't answer right away. I had assumed we were monogamous, but realized maybe I shouldn't have assumed as much. I began to panic; had she been sleeping with other people for the last few months?

I must have been quiet for too long, because she tensed. "Only if you want. I don't want to sleep with other girls," she mumbled. "Or boys of course.”

"Um… I haven't been sleeping with other people," I said.

"Me neither."

Relieved, I squeezed her tight to me and whispered, "Yeah. We can just sleep with each other." My smile spread down my neck through my chest to my toes.

She squeezed me back and I felt her smile.

I held her tight for a long time, and she didn't tense and extract herself from my arms for almost an hour.

We had made our monogamy a spoken thing. She had a hard time with spoken things. I loved that she was speaking to me.

I wished that she'd agreed to be my girlfriend or something that other people could understand. But knowing why she was so scared and hesitant, and knowing how beautiful and bruised her heart was, I couldn't bring myself to ask for more than what she was offering. She was slowly peeling back for me. And because she was so beautiful and so scared, I discovered I had all the patience in the world for her.

On the Friday after Faye and I agreed to keep dating, being as open and honest with each other as we could, Faye texted me a picture of a dozen pink roses with the message: "
In lieu of real flowers — hope you have a great day. I can't wait to see you tonight. XOXO
" I smiled, loving her sweet alternative to sending me flowers at work. I texted back a quick message of thanks with a smiley face, assuring her I was looking forward to our date too. She was taking me to dinner and then we were going to film night in Dolores Park. It sounded like a perfect July evening.