Letters never sent, p.12
Letters Never Sent, page 12
“We’re home,” Annie said. “Well, my home at least. Want to come up for a bit? Sober up before you head home?”
Katherine blinked and considered the offer. If she went home, she would only be alone in her hot room. She nodded. “Why not.”
“I have a fan,” Annie said. “We can wet a cloth and put it over the front of it. It helps cut the heat.”
They crossed the street, and Annie unlocked the large, wooden outer door. It swung open and, as usual, Katherine smelled the decades of cooked dinners, aging building, and human occupation. The entryway and stairwell were stuffy as they climbed the stairs to Annie’s floor. She opened the door to her room and gestured for Katherine to enter.
“Would you like a drink?” Annie asked as she closed the door behind her. “I have whiskey.”
“I think I’ve had quite enough whiskey for one day,” Katherine said and walked to look out the window at the darkening street. “But a glass of water would be nice if you have it.”
Annie rummaged for something on one of the shelves and turned back to Katherine. She held a pitcher in one hand and a box of matches in the other. “I need to run downstairs for some water.” She pushed the matches into Katherine’s hands. “Why don’t you light some candles or the lamp? And turn on the fan. I’ll go wet the cloth.”
Katherine nodded and slid open the box of matches. She heard the door close behind her and the sound of Annie’s footsteps in the hall and, more faintly, on the stairs. Outside, the evening had turned a dusky blue-gray, and she stood, mesmerized by the people on the street below. A man and a woman talked. Several boys tossed something back and forth. She didn’t realize until she heard the door open and close behind her that she had been standing in the same position for several minutes.
Embarrassed, she pulled one of the matches out of the box and went to strike it. Her fingers, clumsy from the whiskey, lost their grasp on the thin piece of wood and the match fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up and, as she rose, banged her head on the corner of the table.
She cursed, and Annie rushed to her side.
“Are you all right?” she asked and took the matches from Katherine’s hand.
Quickly she took another match from the box, lit the candle, and tipped Katherine’s face down and to the side, frowning as she examined the small cut on her temple.
“Maybe it is a good thing we’re switching to water,” she said as she walked to the closet and returned with a washcloth. She dipped just a corner into the pitcher of water and pressed the cloth to Katherine’s cut.
“It’s not bad,” she said as she gently dabbed it against the wound. “But you’re probably going to have a headache.”
Annie cupped Katherine’s jaw with her other hand and steadied her head. Katherine felt the cool fingertips on her face and closed her eyes. Her body swayed just a little. She opened them to find Annie looking intently at her. As always seemed to happen when Annie stood that close and looked at her that way, Katherine felt odd. Her pulse thumped faster. Suddenly, the room seemed too small.
Katherine stared back, unable to look away. “I . . .”
Annie lowered the hand holding the cloth, though her other hand remained on Katherine’s jaw. She continued to stare into Katherine’s eyes, her breathing light and shallow. Slowly, she leaned closer. Katherine could feel her soft breath on her cheek. It smelled faintly sweet—like fresh tobacco and bourbon.
Katherine pulled slightly back. “What . . .” she started to say, but realized she didn’t know what she had been about to ask.
They gazed at each other. Annie leaned forward, arched slightly up on her toes, and touched her lips to Katherine’s.
It wasn’t even really a kiss, Katherine thought abstractedly. It was just a soft, fleeting brush of the lips. She inhaled sharply as she felt the rush of blood in her head, in her cheeks, in her lips. She had been expecting it, she realized. She had perhaps even wanted it to happen. She blinked, and Annie, whose face was still only inches from her own, seemed to understand. Her lashes seemed impossibly long as she closed her eyes and pulled Katherine’s head down. This time, the kiss was less tentative.
Katherine tipped her head to the side and opened her mouth. She felt Annie’s lower lip between her own. She felt Annie’s fingertips on the sides of her face, on her jaw, pulling her face lightly forward. She breathed heavily through her nose and made a small sound in the back of her throat—a soft, plaintive moan. Annie increased the pressure of her lips.
“No,” Katherine said suddenly as she comprehended what was happening and pulled away. She took two steps backward, her legs trembling. Annie looked stunned. “I can’t . . . I’m not . . . I’m sorry.”
“Kate,” Annie said helplessly. “I . . .”
“You don’t understand,” Katherine said, shaking her head and holding her hands out protectively in front of her. “I am not like . . . that.”
Annie frowned but didn’t reply.
“It was just the moment,” Katherine said. “We had too much to drink. It didn’t mean anything.”
Annie blinked and seemed to consider what to say next. “It did to me.”
“Annie, don’t do this,” Katherine said.
“I’m sorry, but it did.” Annie stepped forward, and Katherine stepped back. “I wasn’t planning this, Kate. But I’m not sorry that I it did. I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you—the day Ansen gave me the tour of the store and you were standing behind the counter next to Claire. Do you remember?”
Katherine felt herself blushed. She did remember. She remembered seeing Annie—remembered her awareness of her gaze. Had she sensed this connection even then? Had she somehow encouraged it?
“I’m not interested in women,” she said, quickly. “I like you, and I’m flattered but I’m not—”
“I think you are,” Annie interrupted.
“You’re wrong,” Katherine said, aware of the flush in her cheeks. Her tone was harsher than she had intended. “I need to go.”
“Stay,” Annie insisted. “Please. Stay. I won’t do that again. I swear, it just happened.”
“I need to go.” Katherine raised her hand to her temple. She winced slightly. “My head. I need to take care of my head.”
Annie grabbed Katherine’s hand. “Kate, please. We need to talk about this.”
“No.” Katherine pulled her hand away. “I need to get home. I’ve had too much to drink and my head hurts. I need to go home and sleep. Besides, we have work tomorrow.”
“I don’t want this to hurt our friendship,” Annie said.
“It won’t,” Katherine said quickly. All she wanted was to get out of Annie’s room and be outside. She picked up her purse and rushed out the door.
THE HUMIDITY OF the afternoon was just beginning to give way to the cool of the evening as Katherine rushed from Annie’s building and hurried along the sidewalk. Her thoughts were fractured and jumbled. Annie had kissed her. But Annie was high-spirited and aggressive. Her behavior was often shocking. What was more upsetting to Katherine was how she, herself, had reacted. Not only hadn’t she stopped Annie, she had kissed her back. And, until she realized what she was doing, she had enjoyed it.
Katherine pressed her fingertips to her lips. They felt swollen and strangely sensitive. She had a flash of Annie’s impossibly long eyelashes brushing against her cheek as she closed her eyes and kissed her the second time. It had felt good.
But it isn’t supposed to feel good, Katherine thought wildly. What had happened was appalling. It was unnatural. Wasn’t it? She felt sick as she imagined what her friends would say—what her family would say. Was this what Claire had been trying to tell her? In any event, she needed to put an end to it.
As she walked, she considered her options. She could pretend it hadn’t happened—that she had had too much to drink and didn’t remember it. She could simply blame it on the whiskey and make clear that such a thing could never happen again. Or, she could distance herself from Annie, let the friendship lapse into mere acquaintanceship and try to never let something like that happen again.
With a sigh, she opened the door to her building and climbed the stairs to the floor she shared with Claire and two other women.
Claire opened her door and popped her head out. “Hey, kiddo. You’re home earlier than I expected. I would have thought you and Annie would still be at it.”
Katherine felt herself flush. “I had to call it a night. The fair, the heat . . . it was all too much.” She gestured at Claire’s nightgown. “Why aren’t you with Lenny?”
Claire waved a hand. “He and the boys were going to get blasted, so I decided to come home. Work tomorrow.” She smiled and leaned forward to get a closer look at Katherine’s face. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She noticed the cut on Katherine’s temple. “What happened to your head? Did you fall?”
Grateful for the diversion, Katherine nodded. “Too much heat.” She touched her chin. “I dropped something and when I stood up, I hit my head. It’s nothing really.”
Claire stepped fully into the hall and placed her hand on Katherine’s forehead. It felt cool against Katherine’s flushed skin. She left it there for several seconds and nodded gravely.
“You do feel warm,” she said and peered into Katherine’s face. “Perhaps we spent too much time outside today.” Her expression softened. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, maybe take a cool bath.”
Katherine nodded, grateful for the kindness. She walked toward her room and stopped, aware of Claire watching her, and turned to her. “I know I don’t say this enough, but thank you for being such a great friend. You always have looked out for me and I appreciate it. I really don’t know what I would have done all this time without you here. I don’t tell you enough how much I value you and our friendship. Thank you.”
Claire blinked in surprise, then smiled. “You’re feverish. And you’re talking nonsense. Go get your things, and I’ll draw you a cool bath. That and a good night’s rest will fix you right up.”
MUCH LATER, KATHERINE lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling, noticing, not for the first time, that the plaster had a slender crack that extended from the wall to the light fixture. The night was proving to be a sleepless one full of recriminations and a giddy awareness of something she couldn’t identify.
Over and over she replayed the events of the evening—the kiss, her hurried exit, the combination of exhilaration and anxiety she had felt as she walked home. What, she wondered for the hundredth time, was she going to do when she saw Annie at work in just a few hours? What would she say? How should she act? She had already considered feigning sickness but decided that would accomplish nothing but delay the inevitable. They should meet this head on. They had had too much to drink. The kiss had meant nothing. She would greet Annie as if nothing had happened. And if Annie pressed the issue, well, she would deal with that then.
Even as she thought it, though, she raised her hand to her lips. They still felt sensitive. She lightly brushed her fingertips across her lower lip—much as Annie had done with that first kiss. Just a light, brief press of flesh on flesh. And then she stopped, shocked; she should feel disgust. She did feel disgust. She moved her hand up to her forehead, to cover and rub her eyes. This was ridiculous. She needed to get up, get ready, and meet Claire so they could take the streetcar to work. Still, she lay there until she heard a gentle knock on the door and a soft voice.
“Kate?”
It was Claire, checking on her.
“Yes,” Katherine said as she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed. “Just a moment.” She grabbed her robe, thrust her arms into the sleeves, and knotted the sash as she walked to the door and opened it.
Claire peeked in. “How are you doing? Better?”
“Much,” Katherine said and forced herself to smile ruefully. “Though it appears as if I’ve overslept.”
Claire peered at her. “You look like hell. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes,” Katherine said. “I’m just running a little behind. Give me twenty minutes?”
Claire nodded. “But if you can be ready in fifteen, we might be able to stop for some bread at that little bakery on the corner. You look like you could use a little something in your stomach.”
“Good idea,” Katherine said with more enthusiasm than she felt. “I’ll meet you out front.”
ANNIE WAS WAITING for them outside the department store. She smiled tentatively as they approached. She looked as if she hadn’t slept well either.
“Hello, hello,” Claire said in greeting. “That was quite the day yesterday, wasn’t it?”
Annie nodded and turned her attention to Katherine. Though she was still smiling, her eyes were worried.
She’s waiting to see how I play it, Katherine thought.
“It was a lot to take in,” Annie agreed. “So, did you both sleep well after so much sun and excitement?”
“I did, but I’m not sure about poor Kate,” Claire said and inclined her head toward Katherine. “She was feeling feverish last night.”
Annie’s eyes jumped from Claire to Katherine. “Oh. That’s too bad. Is everything . . . all right?”
Katherine knew what she was asking. She hesitated almost imperceptibly and nodded.
“I’m much better,” she said with a tight smile. “I don’t know what came over me but it wasn’t anything that a little rest couldn’t cure. Probably a little too much to drink. I don’t remember half of what we did or saw.”
Annie nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I’m glad.”
Katherine was aware of Claire watching the exchange. She thought about Claire’s aborted warning the previous day and felt embarrassed. She knew without a doubt now what Claire had been trying to tell her. She turned with exaggerated nonchalance to her and sighed dramatically.
“Why is it that the work week drags by, but our days off go so quickly there isn’t even a chance to enjoy them properly?”
Claire laughed. “I don’t know. But if we don’t hurry up and get inside, we won’t have to worry about our work week because we won’t have jobs.”
KATHERINE WALKED DOWN the hall from the employee lockers to the large double doors that separated the public and employee spaces and saw Annie. She must be on her break, she thought as Annie walked toward her.
Katherine hesitated.
“Just going back on?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” Katherine said.
They shuffled their feet in an awkward silence.
“About last night—”
“We should talk—”
They spoke at once and stopped.
Katherine closed her eyes and shook her head. She sighed and placed a hand on Annie’s arm. “Let me.”
Annie pressed her lips together and nodded.
“I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding last night. Too much excitement . . . too much time in the heat . . . way too much to drink.” Katherine shrugged. “It was just a strange set of circumstances that I think we should write off as a mistake.”
Her speech delivered, she waited for Annie to agree.
“I don’t want to write it off,” Annie said finally. “And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. It did.”
“I’m not saying it didn’t happen,” Katherine said. “What I’m saying is that it was a mistake—two friends who,” she shrugged, “became overwhelmed by closeness.”
“Overwhelmed by closeness,” Annie repeated. “Maybe for you, but I wanted to kiss you.”
Katherine blinked, unsure how to respond. “So, you’re . . .”
“A lesbian?” Annie supplied. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
Katherine recoiled. “Well, I’m not. I like men.” She felt almost panicked. “And what happened last night cannot happen again. It won’t happen again. We’re friends, nothing more.”
Annie looked up at her, her dark eyes large and serious. “It will happen again,” she said in a low and soft voice. “Maybe not anytime soon, but it will.”
Katherine started to protest but Annie held up a slender hand.
“You seem to forget that you kissed me, too,” she said.
Katherine felt herself blush, the heat spreading through her chest and arms. “It won’t happen again.”
Annie blinked and exhaled sharply, eyes full of hurt. “Fine.”
Katherine’s anger faded. “Annie. I want to be your friend. I just—”
“All right,” Annie said softly. “I understand.”
Katherine reached again for Annie’s hand and stopped herself. “Just friends.”
“Sure. Just friends.” Annie raised her eyes to meet Katherine’s and shifted her gaze to look down the hallway to the break room. The awkward silence stretched.
