Wherever the Dandelion Falls (65 page)

I must have looked lost and worried, because Faye tilted her head and looked at me in concern. "You okay?" she asked.

Swallowing, I nodded. "Yeah. That's great, baby," I said, trying not to sound panicked.

Faye saw right through me, as always. "You seem anxious."

Knowing I wouldn't be able to fool her, I admitted, "Parents kinda freak me out."

Faye rubbed my knee and nodded. "It's okay. They're not coming anytime soon, and I'll make sure you don't have to spend too much time with them. Dinner and dessert, tops."

I took a breath and nodded, letting my guilt drown out my anxiety for a minute. "I'm happy for you," I said. Because in all honesty, I was. I was so relieved and happy for her when I could feel that happiness over my own issues.

Faye's smile returned in full. "Me too," she said. "Shall we go celebrate?" she asked. "I'm in the mood for ice cream."

"Sure," I said, relieved for a distraction.

We went out to ice cream, giving each other quiet smiles between bites. But I was so distracted, I couldn't finish my serving. Faye scooped mine up, almost bouncing in her chair. I felt I was about to crawl out of my skin. It was the first time I could remember actively wanting to be alone when I had her around. Usually being around her was as refreshing as being alone, but not today. Today she was a reminder of all the things I wasn't proud of and all the things I was afraid of.

When we got back to her apartment, she looked at me with a sneaky expression and pulled me into her. I was glad she didn't notice how distracted I was, but when she started undressing me, I knew I was heading in a dangerous direction. No sooner were we naked on the couch when I found myself sealing my eyes shut tight, imagining I was somewhere else, imagining fantasy people touching me in exotic situations. I was as far from that couch and the woman I loved as I could be, even though we were naked and pressed against each other. We both came, though I had some difficulty, and afterwards there was no relief or happy warmth to bask in.

Faye knew something was wrong. She'd known before, but she'd still tried to have sex with me, and now I felt horrible for not stopping her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, sounding sleepy and sad.

And even though it wasn't, I took a breath and said in my most convincing voice, "Yeah. I'm just tired."

Faye stroked my back, combing through a few locks of hair, fingers tugging a tangle apart.

"Okay," she said, sounding sad. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Heavy with guilt, I let out a weary breath and didn't reply.

A month went by and I relaxed a little bit, though I still felt myself withdrawing from Faye more often than I meant to. I felt bad about it, and our sex life suffered more than it should have. Because it was the easiest excuse, I blamed my job. She tried not to tense or object when I'd rise from her bed to go to work, but I felt it. I knew she didn't like my job. The problem was that most of the time, I
did
like my job. It was starting to become a problem, but we never talked about it. We didn't talk about any of our problems. It felt like a swelling wave that would come crashing down at some point.

It was right before Valentine's day when Kimi called one afternoon while I was at Faye's. With the wedding coming up the first weekend in August, she was calling frequently now. I was relieved I wasn't her Maid of Honor; being a bridesmaid was the maximum amount of work I could handle. I didn't have to plan her bachelorette party, and thank god, because the cupcake workshop followed by a Broadway show that Victoria planned for her was nothing I would have come up with myself. Maybe it was because of my job, but I was surprised to hear there would be no male strippers or even a penis cake. But knowing my sister, that would have been uncomfortable for everyone there because she would have disapproved.

"Hey, Riley," Kimi chirped into the phone. I was glad she was in a good mood. I wouldn't go so far as to call her Bridezilla, but sometimes she got worked up over insignificant things, like the place settings and the different flavors of icing on each level of her cake. The one time I dared to try to calm her down by saying that in twenty years she wouldn't remember what limo company she hired to take her and John from the church to the reception, she sighed in frustration and told me I wasn't helping. From then on out, I just listened and assured her I knew she'd make the right choice.

"Hey, Kimi," I said.

Faye was laying with her legs across my lap reading
Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers
, a book someone in her coming out group had suggested. Every once in a while she look up and tell me an interesting tidbit or story. It was sweet to see how she was immersing herself in her new identity.

"How's it going?" Kimi asked.

"It's good," I said, tapping Faye's knee with my fingers absentmindedly. "Just relaxing."

"Are you with Faye?" Kimi asked.

"Yeah," I said, apprehensive as to why she wanted to know.

"Cool," Kimi said. "You guys are always together these days."

The way she said it was meant to be encouraging, but it came across as judgmental. She thought I had no life outside of my relationship.

Which honestly made me nervous sometimes too. I had invested so much time and effort into Faye, I didn't have much to fall back on if it didn't work out.

"Not always," I said, trying to convince myself.

I glanced at Faye, glad she was engrossed in her book. I wasn't saying anything mean, but it felt like a weird conversation to be having in front of her.

"I can't wait to meet her," Kimi said, sounding genuine this time. "She sounds like a sweet girl."

My anxiety surged. Kimi assumed she'd be getting an introduction. Which wasn't a bad assumption, but something about it made me squirm.

"She is pretty sweet," I said.

Faye must have known I was talking about her, because she looked at me and made a silent kissing motion before going back to her reading.

"I was calling to see if you've gotten your invitation and what you thought of the design," Kimi said, once again making her wedding the point of a phone call.

"I did," I said. "It's beautiful."

Kimi sighed in satisfaction. "Oh good. Now send in your RSVP card so I can start working on the seating chart!" she said, only half joking.

"I will, I will," I said, trying to stave off Kimi's impatience.

"You know, you'll have twice the odds of catching the bouquet," Kimi said in a playful tone.

Confused, I said, "What?"

"Because there's two of you!" Kimi said, as though it was obvious. "Your odds are doubled because Faye will be there too."

I felt myself chill and my stomach tense at Kimi's implication. Kimi was assuming Faye would be my date to the wedding. I had tried not to think about that.

"Oh…" I said, glancing sideways at Faye. "I'm not sure she's coming."

I cringed, anticipating Kimi's reaction, hoping Faye didn't know I was talking about her.

"What?" Kimi asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I thought for sure you'd want to bring her."

"I do," I started, feeling guilty. There was no one I wanted to bring to the wedding with me besides Faye, but we hadn't talked about her going with me, and I didn't want her introduction to my family to be at such a high-pressure event. The thought of having dinner with Faye's parents was enough to give me an anxiety attack, and the thought of bringing her with me to my sister's wedding wasn't much better.

"So what's the problem? Does she have to work?"

"I, um… I don't know," I said.

"Okay," Kimi said, sounding skeptical. "Is everything okay with you guys?"

"Yeah," I said. As I said it, I felt like I was lying. Nothing was wrong with us that I could put my finger on, but I was so uneasy about our relationship lately, it didn't feel entirely right.

"Okay…" Kimi said, still skeptical. "Let me know if you want to talk about anything."

It was a sweet offer, but one I knew I wouldn't be taking her up on.

"I will," I said. "And your invitations are pretty."

We chatted for a few moments about nothing of consequence before hanging up.

Once I set my phone down, Faye lowered her book and looked out the window, pensive. After a few minutes, she said in a quiet, sad voice, "Why don't you want me to go to the wedding?"

I felt so guilty at her tone, I wished I hadn't answered the phone in front of her. She had known I was talking about her, and worse, she'd heard me all but dismiss her.

"I do," I said, trying to sound convincing. "I just didn't know you felt about it. It's a lot of pressure, and you'd be meeting my family and tons of my friends from growing up…" I was getting more and more uncomfortable with each excuse.

"Of course I want to go," Faye said, still looking hurt. "Do you not want me to?"

Overwhelmed with guilt and knowing no reason would be good enough to make her feel better, I leaned sideways and kissed Faye on the cheek.

"Of course I want you to go," I said, giving her the most genuine smile I could muster.

Faye looked relieved. "Good," she said. "I already have my dress picked out."

Her certainty and enthusiasm did nothing to calm my nerves, but there was a tiny bit of relief in knowing that I hadn't hurt her feelings with my confusing ambivalence about our relationship.

A few months later on the one year anniversary of our first date, Faye called me at work and asked, in a polite, formal way, if she could have the honor of taking me out to dinner. It was so sweet, hearing the way her voice strained with professionalism and excitement. She sounded young, but mostly nervous. It made me nervous. Why the fuss for the occasion? Was she planning something radical? I felt fear shiver through me at the possibility.

Faye arrived at my apartment that night looking radiant. She'd put on sparkly earrings and was wearing a different shade of blush that matched the plum blouse she was wearing. Her nails were freshly lacquered and each eyelash seemed to have its own extension.

She looked, in a word, perfect.

She drove cautiously downtown and pulled into the valet of the Hyatt. She handed her keys to the valet, and put her hand up, stopping another attendant from opening my door. Her heels clicked as she walked the faux cobblestones in front of the headlights, and her soft grasp on the handle opened my door before she gave me her hand, helping me out of my seat. I had never felt so cherished or wooed — that's what she was doing, wasn't it? She was wooing me — in my life.

At her exceptionally chivalrous behavior, I grew even more nervous. But nervousness isn't always negative, is it? Sometimes nervousness is just sparks and energy that feels good, but still disrupts your ability to think clearly or sit still. I was filled with that now, and as she laced our hands together and walked inside, I felt like she was promenading me. Our hands were tucked between our bodies as her other hand held her clutch, her steps small and rigid in her heels, but it felt ceremonious to me. We'd never done anything like this.

She led me to the glass elevator. I was mesmerized by the twinkling lights around the hotel lobby, peeping through the interior foliage as we lifted up into the sky.

We walked into a restaurant at the top of the hotel, and she gave them her name. We were immediately led to a beautiful table with her last name on a little card in the center and a bucket of champagne on ice beside it.

I sat down, in awe of the effort Faye had put into making our one year anniversary so special. The host told us the specials for the evening and reached to open the champagne. Before the champagne had been corked, I felt dizzy and realized something was different about this restaurant. Or rather, the city around it. Our surroundings were moving. Faye smiled when I gripped the armrests of my chair to steady myself.

"It's okay," she hushed. "It rotates. You get to see the whole city while you eat. It's beautiful from up here."

She was talking about the city, but she was staring directly at me. I tried not to blush.

Faye kept her eyes glued to me as the waiter corked our champagne. I was amazed that this beautiful woman who could sometimes be so shy was going through all this for her stripper girlfriend. No matter how hard I fought it, that word and all its negative connotations had weaseled its way into my identity. Like a smudge across the top of a pristine blouse that I only wore when I wasn't working, the word
stripper
, with all its baggage, was now part of me. Beautiful, proper girls like Faye didn't date strippers. And yet here we were, a year in, and she was showering me with gifts I felt I didn't deserve.

The funny thing was I could easily have afforded these luxuries on the money I made at Jez. The fact that our fancy night out was being paid for by someone who didn't have as much money as I did was what made me feel I didn't deserve it.

We were halfway through a plate of bell pepper and onion crostini when a tall man came to our table. Thinking it was our waiter, I turned to politely smile at him. But instead I was greeted by the face of the last person I ever expected to see.

His jaw had widened and his shoulders were unbelievably broad. He still had his dimples and the hint of rosiness in cheeks. He was sporting a five o'clock shadow and was dressed in the nicest suit I'd ever seen him in. Nicer than the suits he'd worn to prom with me and nicer than most of the suits of the guys who came to see me at Jez.