Homecoming (8 page)

“But Scott didn’t ask for that.” She swallowed nervously. “He didn’t, did he?”

“No, I think he wanted standard sex. But he got all prudish when I told him what I needed in an LTR.”

“LTR?”

“Long term relationship. I like to get everything out of the way up front,” she said, very businesslike. “I waited too long with Jon, and now he thinks I misled him.”

Jill put her head down on the table and moaned. “Oh, god. He broke up with you because he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your…”

“Dildo. I have a dildo, Jill. And a harness. Actually, I have two. Dildos. A small one for men,” she added, her devilish smile making her eyes sparkle.

“Damn it, Lizzie, you’re going to be single for a very long time if that’s an entrance requirement.”

Lizzie laughed. “
Entrance
requirement. That’s funny.” She shook her head. “That’s not a requirement. It’s something I like, but only if a guy’s into it. I just brought it up because Scott was pushing me, and I wanted to push back.”

Jill leaned back and looked at her for a minute. “That makes sense. Kind of.” She took a sip of her drink, then nodded when the server strolled by and asked if they wanted another. She didn’t usually have two cocktails by six o’clock, but this wasn’t a usual day.

“It makes perfect sense. Jon wasn’t into it, but he also didn’t push me to do things I didn’t want to do. Our relationship was very balanced.”

“But he broke up with you,” Jill reminded her.

“Yeah.” She let out a heavy sigh, then drained the rest of her drink. “He freaked out when I told him I like to have sex with women.”

Jill was very, very grateful she hadn’t had another mouthful of her drink, because it would also have been sprayed everywhere. “What?”

“I’m bi,” Lizzie said, smiling when the server dropped off their drinks. “She’s cute, isn’t she?” Her eyes followed the server, clearly checking out her ass.

“You’re bi? Since when?”

“Since ever. I had sex with girls before boys.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Do you know the Halperns?”

“Dr. Halpern? The chiropractor?”

“Yeah. His daughter Erica was the first person I had sex with. She’s a big ol’ dyke now. Lives in Northampton. Mecca for your people.”

“Holy crap!” Jill dropped her head to the table again. “Why are you telling me all of this? I could have lived, happily, and not known any of these details.”

Lizzie poked her shoulder. “I’m not embarrassed about being bi. Don’t try to shame me. It won’t work.”

Jill sat up quickly. “I’m not trying to shame you, Lizzie. It’s just…” She shook her head. “I don’t know a lot of active bisexuals.”

“You only know passive ones?”

“No, no, I just know women who were with guys and then figured out they were lesbians. And one guy who was married to a woman before he fell in love with a guy. But no one who goes back and forth.” She took in a breath, trying to process all of this. “How does that work, anyway?”

“Sure you want to know?” Lizzie took a sip, looking over the rim of the glass with a foxy smile. “It might give you the willies.”

Jill rolled her eyes. “You’ve already told me you like to fuck guys. How much worse can it be?”

She pointed at Jill, scowling. “You’re trying to shame me again. Knock it off.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I’ll keep my editorial comments to myself.”

“Fine. I’ll answer your question.” Her eyes met Jill’s. “If a guy’s into it, we could invite a woman to join us in bed. If he’s not, I might arrange a date for myself, like with someone I met on a hook-up app.”

“What does your mother think of this?”

Lizzie laughed. “Do you honestly think I’ve told my mother I pick up women using an app? She’d strangle me!”

“I assume she knows you’re bisexual.” Jill slapped herself on the head again. She was going to concuss if she kept this up. “Of course she does. You’ve made it clear you’re not embarrassed. Nor should you be,” she added, emphatically.

Lizzie didn’t look so self-assured when she raised her glass for a sip of her new drink. “I’m not embarrassed,” she said carefully. “I’ve never been in an adult relationship with a woman, so there’s no reason to bring it up.”

“What? Why not? I mean, if this is part of your identity…”

“I suppose it is,” she said, clearly hedging. “So far it’s been a sexual thing. Mostly. And I don’t feel the need to tell my mother what I like to do in bed.”

“I get that,” Jill said. “But if it’s more than that. If it’s something that made you break up with a guy you really liked…”

“He broke up with
me.
He didn’t believe I could be faithful if I was bi. Which is just asinine,” she insisted, her cheeks coloring. “Straight people cheat all the damn time.”

“You just said he broke up with you because you liked having sex with women. That implies you
asked
to have sex with women.”

“I
didn’t
ask. We were in bed one night, and he asked me to tell him my fantasies.” She let out a sigh, looking truly sad. “After I told him I fantasized about women, he started questioning me. Once I admitted to being bi, I was out on my ear.”

“Harsh,” Jill said soberly. “Very harsh.”

“Agreed. Especially because I’d consciously given up women to be monogamous. He was worth it,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning down a few degrees.

Jill wasn’t sure if she was treading on thin ice, but she asked the question anyway. “Do you think you could have been monogamous forever?”

Lizzie put her chin in her hand and sat quietly for a minute. “I
think
I could have. But given that my desire for women is really strong, it would have been hard.” She sighed again, this time with a determined look making her eyes spark. “I would have focused on him and our kids. If you’re going to be an adult, you don’t have to scratch every itch you get.”

“I think the strap-on would have come out at some point,” Jill said, unable to avoid teasing her. “You would have needed some excitement.”

She let a smile bloom, and it eventually lit up her face. “That’s probably why he really broke up with me. He feared my big, throbbing dick.”

Jill shoved her fingers in her ears and closed her eyes. “I can’t hear you and I can’t see you. Tap me on the arm when you’ve stopped trying to give me nightmares.”

***

When Jill got home that night, a big box was lying on her porch. She picked it up and opened it with one of her keys, then pulled out several wads of tan paper before lifting out a lovely, graceful, wrought iron lamp, with six delicately curving arms, each wired to hold a bulb.

Pleased, she held the piece up to the light and took a good look at it. It was just the kind of thing she’d buy for herself. She’d never been crazy about the fixture she had over her dining room table, but Mark couldn’t have known that. He did, however, know her, and he’d used that knowledge to make something she couldn’t wait to hang up. He didn’t need to offer such a generous gift, but she was really glad he had. Maybe one day they could actually sit down and have a drink together—if Lisa let him.

On a cool, but clear
night in mid May, Jill rushed around her house, neatening up for bridge. Seven people would be there in less than an hour, and she still had a decent amount of work to do.

She’d made snacks; fresh vegetables and dip, some hummus, tabouli, pita chips, taco chips, and salsa. The taco chips would go first. They always did; but then, people would eat the vegetables once they had no other choice.

The cats knew company was coming, and had secreted themselves in a closet or under a bed. She wasn’t sure how they always knew, given that she cleaned the house once or twice a week and cooked regularly, but when guests were coming, David sought shelter moments before Goliath joined him. When guests were there, not a treat in the world would entice either of them to come out. That made most of her friends semi-seriously believe she kept a litter box just for fun.

Everything was dusted, the throw pillows were fluffed, the half-bath on the first floor was spic and span, the matching glasses were washed and set out on the breakfront in the living room, dessert plates nestled next to them. Cloth napkins sat next to shining forks and spoons. Everything was ship-shape.

Just before eight, she turned on some music, choosing one of the streaming services she could access through her computer in the den. When she’d done some remodeling, she’d had speakers run into every room on the first floor, letting her fill any spot with sound. It hardly mattered which of her many channels she picked, though. Someone would change it within moments of arriving.

Jill went into the living room and peered out the window when she noticed movement on the street. Karen and Becky were, as usual, the first to arrive.

Friends filled different needs at different times, but these two had been her stalwarts for the entire time she’d been back in Burlington.

Becky was attired in her usual frumpy professor look, with her hair in need of a trim, and khakis that she’d probably owned since the nineties. Her usual Birkenstocks were a source of good-natured teasing from the whole group, but Becky wasn’t the type to care if people teased her about her style. It would be quite another thing if you tried to make her feel inferior about her brain. Jill had watched the usually mild-mannered woman trounce a lecturer who’d attempted to belittle her at a party, something she hoped she never had to witness again.

Karen was always a little more stylish, but she also went more for comfort than trend. Wearing nothing to attract attention or make too much of a statement, she looked like a psychotherapist, which is exactly what she was.

Jill opened the door and, after exchanging hugs, her guests were their usual, complimentary selves. “Your place always looks so neat and orderly,” Karen said, looking around wistfully as Becky took a right, heading for the den. “Our house is so filled with books and papers, it looks like an abandoned library.”

“Becky’s an English professor,” Jill reminded her. “That’s a professional liability.”

“We should do better. Hey, Beck,” Karen called out. The music changed to something much mellower than Jill had chosen. As expected. “Why don’t we do some spring cleaning? I read you should donate all of the books you haven’t looked at in the last year to the library.”

Becky walked into the kitchen, and put her hand on Karen’s back. “That’s a great idea, honey.” She rolled her eyes when only Jill could see her. That tactic seemed like a good one to employ in a long term relationship. Agree with everything, but allow yourself to quietly retain your own view. God knew most people never got around to doing the things they agreed to. Why argue about them?

Skip and Alice were next, with the porch-light shining down on Skip’s growing bald spot. A guy looked so much balder when his thinning hair was very, very dark. Jill guessed he’d try a comb-over, but was equally sure Alice would put her foot down before it got out of control.

They were arguing about something, barely taking the time to offer a hug before they went into the living room to continue talking; harsh whispering floated into the kitchen. No one paid much attention. They were notorious arguers, but they seemed to have a solid marriage. Maybe the fights were the glue that held them together.

Mary Beth, Kathleen, and Gerri were the last to arrive. Mary Beth and Kathleen owned a big house not far from Jill, and Gerri was their tenant—for the last fifteen years. Jill wasn’t sure how they worked the arrangement out, but she’d known lots of relationships that didn’t last half as long, so they were doing something right.

Mary Beth and Kathleen had been friends for years. Kathleen was around Jill’s age, and Mary Beth a few years older. Gerri was a bit of an enigma, working at home in some sort of technical support job. She didn’t seem to have separate friends, and usually tagged along with Mary Beth and Kathleen for everything from bridge to holidays to family funerals. That wouldn’t have worked for Jill, but they seemed perfectly content to be thought of as a group.

Of the guests, half of them worked at UVM in some capacity, but none were in Jill’s exact department. She wasn’t afraid to socialize with co-workers, but she preferred going out for a drink or dinner to having them over to her home. There was a line she was careful not to cross, and letting business associates know too much about you seemed a little dangerous. Maybe that was her mother’s influence.

Gerri had been brewing beer for a few years, and she’d brought some of her summer ale for the group. Alice, a teetotaler, brought a case of diet soda that would most likely remain in the pantry until the next time they came. There were many junk foods Jill liked, but she’d never been able to stomach a diet anything.

They began to play, several years of experience keeping the games fast but loose. No one got particularly invested in the outcome, and they stopped for breaks more often than most groups would. That’s why Jill enjoyed the evenings. Even though they were fairly good players, they didn’t believe it was a life or death proposition.

“Hey, Jill, have you seen Becca lately?” Mary Beth asked when they were taking one of their three breaks. Mary Beth worked in admissions with Jill’s ex, but had been very respectful of both of them, never serving as a gossip carrier.

“No,” she said, realizing everyone had grown quiet, listening for her answer. “I haven’t seen her since the day she moved out.”

“How do you manage that?” Skip asked. “I see every person I’d rather avoid on a daily basis. Sometimes I wish I worked at Ohio State or Minnesota. It’d be nice to get lost in the crowds.”

“I’m not sure why we haven’t seen each other,” Jill said. “I haven’t gone out of my way to avoid her. We must be on different schedules.”

“I only asked because she had to put Boomer down,” Mary Beth said. “I know you were fond of him.”

“Oh, crap,” Jill said, her stomach doing a flip. “I loved that damn dog. I found a few strands of short yellow hair when I was vacuuming earlier and thought of him.” She let out a sigh. “I’ll send her a note. She must be devastated.”