Never Say Never (4 page)

“Look, I know there’s an imaginary line that I’m not allowed to cross. But I’m going to take a risk and cross it anyway. We’re leaving tomorrow, so what can it hurt. Right?” I took a long and dangerous gulp of my margarita, my thoughts beginning to spiral. She leaned forward over her drink and lowered her voice.

“What happened, Leslie?”

“What do you mean?” I feigned ignorance, but she brushed my feeble attempt aside.

“We hit it off so well last fall. I really thought we were friends. I just don’t understand what happened. What changed? Did I say or do something wrong?”

My heart was sinking. Her green eyes were actually bright with tears and bewilderment. Her voice was heavy with sincerity.

“No, Sara. You didn’t.”

“What is it then? I don’t get it. I thought we were getting close. Then you clammed up on me. What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything. Really, Sara. It’s me.” Whether she knew it or not, she’d found my weak spot. I was instantly vulnerable.

“Then tell me what’s been up with you. My god, you’ve been so distant.”

“Look.” I tried to get the words out, but couldn’t. “I can’t —” I just shook my head and stared at her, watching the emotions flicker across her face. Sadness, frustration, even a hint of anger.

She sat back, silently watching me, evaluating me. I stared back, helpless, wanting nothing more than to rescue her.

“I’ve been lying to you.” There. I’d spit it out. The first few words. There was no backing out now. Air rushed in my ears as my heart pounded wildly.

She watched me quietly, waiting for me to continue. I needed prompting. She seemed to be searching her memory, but was unable to come up with anything.

“What could you possibly have been lying about?” Deep breath. Heart pounding.
Say it. Say it. Say it.

“I’m gay.” The two words came out in a whoosh, just barely audible. I cringed and braced for her reaction, reprimanding myself for choosing the word
gay
instead of
lesbian
.

A smile jumped to her lips. A worried one found mine. My relief was fleeting. She laughed loudly and leaned forward.

“Excuse me? I thought you said you were gay.” I could feel the blood draining from my face as nervous shivers threatened me.

“I did,” I mumbled.

The smile froze on her lips. Her tongue darted out and in.

She kept her eyes fixed on mine.

“You’re gay?”

I remained focused on her smile, noting how one corner twitched ever so slightly. She was trying desperately to mask her feelings.

“Yes.”

The silence that followed was deafening. We sat there for an eternity, simply staring at each other. I was cringing but completely focused on her face and the empty, carefully-fixed smile that remained plastered on her lips. She had been completely unprepared for my confession, caught so off guard that she had no idea how to respond. It was equally apparent to me that she did not like what she had heard but was trying desperately not to show it.

I wished that I could take back my words. I needed to soften the blow. Perhaps humor was best.

“Should I tell you that I’m just kidding?’

Her short laugh was not amused. “Not if it would only be another lie.”

Ouch. That was that. I could feel familiar hurt beginning somewhere in my belly. I looked away from her, unable to meet those steely eyes any longer.

She picked up her drink and calmly placed the straw to her lips, sucking long and slowly until the glass was empty. I had never seen a margarita disappear so quickly. She motioned to the waiter and tapped her glass. He complied quickly, taking away the empty glass and replacing it with a fresh one.

I shivered slightly and took a deep breath, letting the cold knot settle in my stomach. This scene was far too familiar to me and, without thinking, my coping mechanisms fell into place.

“So, I guess this explains why you didn’t want to double date with me and James,” she stated with a raised brow, the smile never leaving her face. I’m sure if the joke was sincere or if I detected sarcasm in her tone. It didn’t matter. I was now firmly prepared for the worst, and the last thing I would do was let her know that what she thought mattered to me in the least.

“That would be the reason. Yes,” I nodded. “I am sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to.” I shrugged, wanting to explain but not being able to. “It’s difficult since we work together.”

“And you thought I’d tell everyone.”

“Something like that.”

She shook her head quietly. It was her turn to put the walls up.

I could no longer guess her thoughts.

“I won’t do that.”

“Thank you.” We both sounded so cold, going through the motions. Thankfully, the controlled smile had left her lips. Now her expression was carefully blank.

“I’m glad you finally told me.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Again I tried humor. “That makes one of us.” This time her smile was wry. I thought she might let me off the hook, come to my rescue somehow. But she didn’t. We simply sat silently. Out of nowhere, anger engulfed me and I wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting me. I tried to check my anger as I watched her finishing her new drink. She must surely be feeling the effects of the tequila.

“Maybe I should be the one to drive us back to the hotel?”

The eyes that met mine weren’t quite focused. “That would probably be a good idea.”

I watched her for a moment, giving her another opportunity to say something, but she didn’t. “Okay then, let’s go.” I stood up and dropped a wad of bills on the table before turning away. Sara followed a few seconds later.

If our friendship had grown a little cold over those last few months, then my confession had plunged it squarely into a deep freeze. The next morning, we checked out of the hotel in awkward silence. The ride to the airport was thankfully short, and I drove again at her request. Her only words were, “I will never drink another margarita as long as I live,” before she slipped sunglasses over her eyes and leaned against the back of the seat.

With little time to spare, I dropped her off at the terminal before returning the rental car and boarding the plane. I was disappointed, though not surprised, that Sara was not in her assigned seat next to mine. I spotted her a few rows back, huddled in the corner and staring out the window. I debated whether to say something and was about to approach her when she caught me staring.

“I think I want a window seat today.” Her voice was carefully polite.

“You can take mine. I don’t mind the aisle.” She shook her head and motioned me away. “No, no. You go ahead. I’m probably just going to sleep anyway.” I stood staring down at her, bursting inside, wanting to scream and shake her and make her understand. I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t changed, that I was still the same person that I was six months ago. But I couldn’t. I just stared down at her, willing her to reach out. But she turned away, obviously uncomfortable, and stared out the window. My knees grew weak and my eyes clouded over as I stumbled back to my seat.

Over the following weeks Sara’s rejection was complete. The blank smile and polite voice became the standard with which she addressed me. We avoided each other whenever possible, our interaction limited to meetings when a group of others were around us. Our gazes never met, and she made it perfectly clear that she no longer wanted a personal relationship with me of any kind.

Those first few days I spent in something like a stunned stupor.

I knew the shock had worn off when I spent a solid week kicking myself before anger took over. I allowed it to settle inside me, cynicism replacing my bruised ego.
Another lesson
, I told myself.

The same old lesson, learned all over again.

My eventual change in attitude began to show in the way that I responded to her coldness. I couldn’t help the occasional sarcasm that slipped into my voice, and I stopped caring whether or not my mocking responses were noticed. She was the one who had cast the dice, and she would have to deal with the consequences.

The next phase in our project also helped to put distance and perspective between us. My duties now shifted to the technical side completely as I worked with Frank and Kenny to bring the software to Boston and install it on our computers there. We then began the tedious process of making changes to the system, coding and testing, making improvements wherever we thought they were needed.

Sara, on the other hand, was charged with the unenviable task of finding a business partner for our company. The idea was to find a highly visible company willing to cut a deal with us.

We would completely overhaul their existing computer system and replace it with our own at no expense to them; in exchange, we would use their name as a reference and in our advertising strategies. It was a relatively common practice in our business.

Sara practically jumped at the opportunity to get back on the road again. As a result, she was out of the office three or four days a week, wooing potential customers.

Near the end of May I was able to get away for a vacation on the Cape. I tagged along with Susan and Pam to Provincetown and spent the next ten days lying on the beach under a blistering sun, floating in the cold Atlantic salt water, and picking my way over pebbled beaches.

In those two short weeks, Sara managed to close a deal with the Austin Group, a prestigious retail chain based in Atlanta, Georgia. When I returned from vacation, we met with two men who represented their company. The first, an older gentleman named John Austin, had started the company some forty years ago. His one-room store had grown into a chain of furniture stores all across the southeast.

The other gentleman could not have been much older than myself. Billy Austin was John’s grandson, and it was obvious that he would one day inherit his grandfather’s business. It was equally obvious that Billy Austin was gay, particularly when he appeared more than casually interested when I mentioned where I had vacationed. We hit it off instantly.

The next several months were filled with anxiety as we worked long distance to hammer out a proposal and a contract. During that time I was in constant contact with Billy, who turned out to be incredibly talented and outrageously funny. We developed an easy, teasing friendship.

By August, tension had grown between our two groups, to the extent that no one really believed that a deal would be made. So when Billy called for his daily chat just two weeks before Labor Day, I reached for the phone with reluctance.

“Hey, gal,” his throaty drawl called out before the receiver was pressed to my ear.

“Surprise, surprise,” I laughed. “Hey Billy. Got any real news for me today?”

“It’s done.”

There was silence as he waited for my reaction. “No. Are you kidding?” After weeks of stagnation, I couldn’t believe it.

“No kidding. I just faxed you a signed contract.” I chuckled, enjoying the moment. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” he implored. “When can you be here?”

“Whoa, Billy. We haven’t even picked the team yet.”

“That’s easy. We know who we want. You and Sara. Period.” Although somewhere in the back of my mind I had known I might have to spend some time in Atlanta, the thought of traveling again left me exhausted.

“Gee, Billy,” I hedged. “I’m really not sure. I’ll have to work on it here and get back to you.”

“Ah c’mon, Leslie.” His voice dipped lower as he teased me.

“You’ll love it down here. I promise I’ll show you a heck of a good time.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you will.” While we hadn’t actually come out to each other, I was certain that he knew I was a lesbian.

“Seriously, Leslie. I want this to go as smoothly as possible, and I am confident that you’re the best person for the job.” I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. “And Sara?”

“Well, Sara managed to charm an awful lot of people while she was here. She would certainly help smooth the transition.” I thought about what he was saying, knowing it made sense.

But I dreaded the thought of working that closely with Sara again. I didn’t think I could stand her coldness day in and day out. “I’ll talk to her, Billy. We’ll work something out.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow and let me know when you’ll be here.” He laughed, full of himself, and hung up the phone.

Well, well. I certainly am in a pickle now.
I placed the phone back in its cradle and gazed out the window, wondering just what to do next. I knew that I had to formulate a plan before my boss got too involved. He would bend over backward to make Billy happy, and I wanted to avoid an embarrassing scene with Sara.

I decided that the best thing to do was swallow my pride and confront her with Billy’s idea. Together, maybe we could come up with a plan of action.

With much trepidation I found myself outside the door of her office. I took a deep breath and peered in to find her, thankfully, alone. She was sitting at her desk, dark head bent over several charts and graphs that were spread out before her. A pair of glasses were propped on the end of her nose, and an errant lock of hair fell low on her forehead.

I watched her for a moment, slightly wistful. I missed her. The old her. But I was thankful that I had been able to put it behind me. Before my nerves got the better of me, I tapped lightly on the open door.

Startled, she glanced up, whipping the glasses from her nose and dropping them on the desk.

“Sorry to bother you.”

“Its okay.” She recovered quickly from her start and fixed a smile on her face. I was sincerely beginning to hate those perfectly even white teeth. “What can I do for you?” I wasn’t sure how to start, so I decided to forget the preliminaries and dive right in. “We might have a problem, and I thought it best that you and I should try to come up with a solution before someone else does.” She didn’t offer me a chair, but I sat down anyway. “The good news is that Billy called and the contracts have been signed. So congratulations,” I added awkwardly.

Her eyes sparkled as a slow grin spread across her face. She really was quite beautiful. “We did it.” I sat quietly and let her soak up the news. After a moment she continued. “I’m glad. So what’s the bad news?”