Seeking Sara Summers (14 page)

Julia sat on the bed. Sara wrapped her bathrobe close against her chest and avoided looking directly at her. “I’m so sorry,” Sara said, with renewed humility. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually kiss women or take my friends hostage for wild midnight rides.”

“That’s why we need to talk,” Julia said. “About the kiss. You need to know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sara laughed. “A great many people would disagree with you, Julia.”

“You sound like you may be one of those people.”

“Maybe I am.”

Julia paused, as if thinking through an argument for a case. “There are people who judge whatever they don’t understand,” Julia said. “But this isn’t about them, it’s about us.”

“But I kissed you.” Sara threw these words across the room, like fuel on a flame to make her shame burn brighter. She lowered her voice, “I’m not a lesbian.”

“I’m not, either,” Julia said. “I think labels are useless in this instance, anyway. But it was real. It was honest. Friends kiss each other all the time.”

“Not like that!” Sara countered, a crimson reminder crossing her face.

“No, not like that,” Julia agreed. “But it wasn’t awful in the least, Sara. It was just different. And strange for both of us, I suppose, because we’ve never kissed each other before.”

Sara touched her lips and quickly withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry for the dramatics last night,” she said. “Do you hate me?”

“Of course I don’t hate you. Quite the contrary.”

Sara walked to the window overlooking the courtyard and the stone icon. For several seconds she was quiet. “I wonder what she would say about all this,” Sara said, motioning to the statue in the garden.

“Honestly, I don’t think she would mind,” Julia said. “Deities are very understanding from what I hear.”

Sara stood at the window for several more seconds before joining Julia on the bed. She hung onto the bedpost as though it was a life raft bobbing around in a deep sea. A brief laugh rode on a wave of regret. She hadn’t even told Julia about the young waiter at the café. What was going on with her? At her age, did she suddenly have a libido? Or was it that she needed to prove to herself that she was still alive?

“You’re not losing it,” Julia said, as if she had heard Sara’s thoughts. “You kissed me. Big deal. And if I were totally honest I’d have to say I rather enjoyed it.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Yes, I did,” Julia said. “I’ve never kissed a woman before. Not that the possibility hasn’t entered my mind from time to time. But I have to admit it felt perfectly natural.”

Their eyes met. Was Julia telling the truth? “I liked kissing you, too,” Sara said finally. She lowered her head, as though this confession carried with it the penitence of a hundred Hail Mary’s. “What do we do now?”

Sara wanted Julia to take the lead, like she had countless times when they were girls. She wanted Julia to tell her that she didn’t see her that way, that the kiss was nice, but a one-time thing. Case closed. Years from now they would laugh about that crazy night in Siena, a product of too much wine and too much Italy.

“It’s an interesting situation,” Julia said. “But whatever happens, I think we can handle it. Our friendship has endured this long, right? I think it’s destined to survive, no matter what.”

“I like thinking about our friendship that way,” Sara said.

“Just promise me, no more driving off into the night, okay?” And please don’t torment yourself. Life is too short.” Julia stopped herself, as if she realized what she had said.

Sara extended her hand across the bed and created a bridge between them. “Life
is
too short,” she said.

“What’s going on with you two?” Max asked over breakfast later that morning.

“Yes, you’re both awfully quiet,” Melanie said, as if her interest had suddenly been aroused.

“Quiet?” Julia asked. She took a sip of fresh-squeezed orange juice and glanced in Sara’s direction.

“We stayed up late talking,” Sara said, “I guess we’re just tired.”

Sara trusted Julia would not talk about last night. Yet what had happened between them night before seemed to be the uninvited guest to their breakfast table. The looks between them had changed. It was as if their friendship would now be divided into two clear time distinctions: before and after the kiss. But even that revelation was not the most significant to Sara. Although she had suffered mortification on many levels, Sara found herself wanting to kiss Julia again. Was this what being alive was about? One temptation after another? Sara bolted down the espresso in front of her, wishing for something stronger. All her needs had woken up at once.

“We thought we might go into Siena today, if we can borrow the car,” Julia said. 

“Of course,” Max said.

Sara glanced in Julia’s direction. They hadn’t talked about any plans for the day. But perhaps an adventure in Siena would take her mind off of everything and return her to her usual state of pleasantly numb.

“I’ll cook tonight,” Julia said. “If Max doesn’t mind sharing his kitchen.”

“Not at all. In fact, that would be fabulous.” Max folded his newspaper and placed it on the table. “You’re in for a real treat, Sara. Julia’s the best.”

A piece of Italian pastry lodged in Sara’s throat. A fit of coughing followed. Her audience watched, as if trying to decide whether to laugh or perform the Heimlich maneuver. The obstruction cleared. Sara reassured everyone that she was fine.

Throughout their day in Siena, Sara caught Julia studying her like a riddle whose complexity had challenged her to the point of distraction. Sara’s defenses, in the recent past, had been as solid as Siena’s city walls. But now it appeared that the walls were crumbling. The beauty of this ancient city was weakening her.

It hardly mattered that Sara had just been there the day before. Siena was breathtaking. They entered a street Sara recognized.

“There’s a lovely café just around the corner,” Julia said. “Why don’t we go there for lunch?”

Sara realized it was Antonio’s café and she tried to come up with an excuse why this wouldn’t work. But before she came up with anything Julia had pulled her inside. A small bell announced their entry. Sara quickly scanned the café for Antonio and exhaled her relief when he was no where in sight.

They sat at a table and an older man greeted them. He looked like an older version of Antonio. He recognized Julia and smiled widely at her, saying something in Italian. Julia answered him in Italian and ordered two cappuccinos.

“You should see his son,” Julia arched her eyebrows.

“His son?”

“Is there something wrong?” Julia asked. “You look practically ashen.”

“I’m fine,” Sara said. “I’m just sorry I don’t get the meet the son.”
Relieved
, she wanted to say.

“But you do,” Julia said, motioning toward the back. “He’s bringing our order.”

Sara clutched her purse in her lap to anchor herself and keep from running out the door. Antonio smiled when he recognized her and Sara lowered her eyes. He placed the cappuccinos on their table and then left.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Julia asked.

Sara nodded and sipped her cappuccino too soon, burning her lips.

“Doesn’t he bear a slight resemblance to Michelangelo’s David?” Julia asked.

That was the same thing Sara had thought, but she didn’t share this with Julia.

“But he’s not that great in bed,” Julia added in a whisper.

A slight gasp escaped from Sara’s lips.

“Did I shock you, Sweetie?” Julia looked pleased.

“No, not at all,” Sara said, which wasn’t true. It was indeed shocking to hear that Julia had also been in the young waiter’s apartment and had actually tried out the bed. Her life had become a soap opera episode. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me, Sara thought. She missed the saucer when returning her cup to the table and spilled her entire drink. Sara threw a napkin on her mistake and to keep it from spilling in her lap.

“I can’t believe this,” Sara mumbled.

Antonio returned with a rag to clean up the mess. His attention stayed focused on Sara, a fact that was not lost on Julia. Antonio offered Sara a brief, radiant smile before walking away.

“Do you know him?” Julia asked.

“A little bit,” Sara said. “Yesterday when you had to go to Florence I ended up here. Funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

Sara noted a slight smile on Julia’s face. “Sara, did you go out with him, too?” She seemed to take pleasure in this possibility.

“Well, we may have gotten together for a little while.”

“You got together?”

Sara was enjoying the look of surprise on Julia’s face. “He wanted to show me a part of Siena I’d never seen before.”

“And did he?”

Sara wondered briefly if Julia was simply curious, or a bit jealous.

“If you mean his small fourth floor apartment, where dirty dishes were stacked to the ceiling and his smelly clothes lined the floor? Then, yes.”

Julia laughed. “Sara, I’m genuinely shocked. All this time I thought you were Demeter and it turns out you are Aphrodite.”

Sara knew enough about mythology to take this as a complement. Demeter was a mother goddess who took care of everyone. Aphrodite was sensual and seductive, the goddess of love.

“Did you?” Julia asked.

“Sleep with him?”

Julia nodded.

“No, I backed out at the last minute.”

Sara studied the young man from across the caf
é
. Was he Julia’s type, this young, athletic Adonis? Was he hers? Whose type wouldn’t he be? was the better question.

“So will you see him again?” Julia asked.

“I’d be more inclined to clean up his apartment,” Sara said.

Julia laughed. “You never cease to amaze me,” she said.

“Sometimes I amaze myself,” Sara said. She leaned in and whispered. “So he wasn’t that good in bed?” Now it was her turn to wonder if she was asking this out of curiosity or jealousy.

“The packaging is much better than the delivery,” Julia said. “Surely you’ve known men like that.”

“Well, not really,” Sara said. “Grady’s the only man I’ve ever slept with.”

Julia looked surprised again. “You poor, sweet girl,” she said. She rested her hand on Sara’s for several seconds. Sara’s palm began to sweat.

Antonio returned to ask if they needed anything. Sara had to resist looking at his packaging. She was relieved now that she hadn’t slept with him.

After he left, Julia smiled and leaned toward her. “He seems captivated with you.”

But Sara didn’t care. As the day progressed she was becoming more and more captivated with Julia. Antonio offered little or no attraction. She and Julia had a history together and the intimacy earned by a long friendship. Not to mention that the kiss had been the most amazing she had ever experienced. “Can we go?” Sara asked.

Julia nodded. They left the café and walked along the streets of Siena and temporarily mingled with a flock of tourists being led by a tour guide speaking German. The tour guide was an exceedingly tall woman who wore a bright yellow blouse. She carried a car antenna with a yellow feather dangling from the top to keep her flock together.

“Tweedy-Bird meets Brünhilde.” Sara motioned in the woman’s direction.

Julia laughed and locked her arm in Sara’s, something she had done often when they had walked the streets of Florence. But this time Sara’s body stiffened. Her attraction felt like a potential wildfire fanning out in search of something to ignite.   

At least she wasn’t bored with her life anymore. If anything, it had become too exciting. In a matter of days she had the makings of a memoir.

Later that evening Julia and Sara had the kitchen to themselves. Sara had, more or less successfully, spent the day pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened the night before. Yet all she could think about was how beautiful Julia was.

Julia tied a red apron around her waist as Sara sat on a nearby stool. Something about the apron felt familiar. Soft music played in the background, a collection of Bach cello sonatas. Julia arranged her workspace and collected the ingredients she would need, dividing her focus between Sara and the cooking preparations.

“I don’t usually have an audience,” she said, “except for Roberto and Bella.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Sara asked, hoping the answer would be no.

“Stay and keep me company,” Julia said. “But I need to know why you’re staring at me.”

“It’s your apron,” Sara said. “I just remembered a dream I had last night. You were wearing a red apron almost exactly like the one you’re wearing now.”

“Isn’t it interesting that we’re having dreams of each other?” Julia asked. “What do you think the dream means?”

“Who knows,” Sara said. “Maybe it’s a premonition. Or maybe it’s confirmation that I’m supposed to be here right now. Like it’s destiny.”

“I’d like to think our being together has something to do with destiny.” Julia chopped and minced a garlic clove and its pungent aroma escaped into the kitchen.

“I hadn’t given destiny much thought until a year or so ago,” Sara said.

“Because of the cancer?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “It makes you think about all sorts of things.”

Julia wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m so glad you’ve got that all behind you,” Julia smiled. She sliced a green pepper with swift, easy strokes on a nearby cutting board. “You don’t know how nice it is to be with someone who can talk about serious things,” she added.

“I feel the same way,” Sara said.

Julia continued her preparations and then set them aside. She took a sip of wine. “Are you still upset about last night?”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” Sara said. “I’m hoping that it can be our secret forever.”

“I’m good at secrets,” Julia said.

“You always were.” Sara paused, wondering what had happened to the guilt and remorse from the night before. For some reason she felt perfectly calm.

“You know, Sara, I think Italy suits you. You look practically radiant.” Julia held up her wine glass and saluted her.

Sara wondered if it was Italy that suited her or Julia.

Julia prepared strawberries, pears and kiwi for a fruit salad. In the process she walked over and placed a strawberry in Sara’s mouth. The gesture seemed innocent on Julia’s part but to Sara it was deeply sensuous. The wine continued to loosen Sara’s reserve. She savored the fruit and the desire to kiss Julia again, a desire she had swallowed most of the day. And a desire, thanks to the wine, that was asserting itself with renewed bravado.