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Three nights ago we had another fight.
They've been progressing over the years, but this one was our worst yet. Stephanie walked out, and I haven't heard from her since.
If I'm going to start something, I may as well start from the beginning. And the beginning would be my first time.
His name was John Morrison. He was my best friend's boyfriend. We had a few drinks, and then we had sex. I was just another one on his hitlist, and he was the first I ever had. I recall lying there and thinking - with eyes welded shut - about all the things that made me happy, just so I could escape the horror of the act we played in. My mind landed squarely on Michelle, and instantly I felt better. I came to with a new resolve as John pounded away. A resolve to stick through this because of one, simple promise.
"Sleep with him, and I'll be yours forever"
Actually...this isn't far enough. I should probably go back even further. Back to when I first realized that I was gay.
Girls are allowed to be together for the most part of our lives. We're allowed to hold hands, sit in each other's laps, and even kiss with no questions asked. It's easy to be a girl, and for a while it's easy to be a lesbian. Then girls turn thirteen, and the childish run arounds become a bit too daunting. Most girls automatically become self-aware and only do certain things when society permits. I wasn't one of those girls. Neither was my best friend Michelle McCool.
For most of our lives we lived in England together. She was an exchange from America with a bad attitude to boot. Teachers hated and feared her, but her grades were good and her fights happened outside school walls. We started to hold hands shortly after we first met in elemenary school, and kissed for the first time in the handicap toliet station of the girls' bathroom. I knew for the longest while that I was in love with Michelle, and thus knew what I had to become to stay with her. LayCool soon became a staple hot topic amongst our ever-changing peers - ranging from rumors about us owning a gang, to us getting married to each other when we turned sixteen. The latter I wished more than anything would come true. I always dreamed that it would be me and Michelle. Forever.
I turned fourteen, and Michelle was gone. From the grapevine I was told that she had returned to America to attend a high school there called The Academy. Anger had come first aimed at the feeling of betrayal that I had obtained from her actions. How could she leave me without telling me anything? It was in that thought that I recalled Michelle's overbearing parents, and soon shifted my anger to them. How dare they take away my Michelle? It was due to this that I worked hard to get transferred to The Academy. That thought coupled with the dream I still believed in made for a crushing blow once I landed and watched what was mine be kissed by someone else. In no time at all, I came to hate the boy called John Morrison.
Determination has always been a strong point of mine. Back then, it was a thousand times more potent. I stuck to Michelle at every oppurtunity I got, and she never once shrugged me away. I felt at home with her. Soon she and John began to hit the rocks, and in the end I gave the hinderance my virinity to keep him away fron Michelle forever. They broke up that very night, and once I got changed, Michelle took my hand and we walked together like it was just the two of us. And I fell more in love.
Barely three months into the school year and a tape surfaced in the grapevine. In it was Morrison, and me.
Rage ate me alive as I sought out Morrison for answers. He told me - quite cockily - of the bigger picture I had been too blind to see. Michelle had planted a camera in the room with an idea to push me to a new limit just to see if I could handle it. I was shocked to stone upon hearing this, and even went on denying until my most beloved told me the same thing with a smile on her face. I was facing two options then. Run and hate her for the rest of my life. Or earn her belief in me by sticking this through for as long as she wanted me to.
Needless to say, I chose the latter.
The stragtey worked like a well oiled machine. Soon people grew out of interest in the topic when none of the parties involved wanted to say anything about the matter. I became a ghost to the school, but I still had Michelle. However, the heart-ache grew to an extent where I pondered at age fifteen whether or not I should just kill myself. I had to dissolve myself of anyone and everyone in order to get the mere attention of one single person. I had to be crazy. I had to be a-
"Move it tart." I looked up outside my broken thoughts and saw the stern face of the very vain Stephanie McMahon. In comparison to a free-spirited Michelle, Stephanie's aura felt like a ton of bricks slowly compressing my body. I told myself to do as she said, but something held me to the ground.
Never...ever...had I seen someone so flawlessly beautiful.
"Stephy~" Whined a barbie from her left. "Let's go~"
Stephanie glared back at her. "Get away from me you ugly bitch."
In an instant, everyone backed away from the girl as though she were a plauge, and with tears streaming down her face, she ran like I should have a long time ago. Sulking in my own mudpit did not last long as Stephanie now had her eyes back on me.
"Let's go." She spoke, while walking ahead. It took me only a second to realize that I had actually turned to follow her. The time it took me to cease moving - although a mere second long as well - felt closer to eternity.
I wanted to follow her. I wanted to be beside her. I wanted her.
Stephanie "Princess" McMahon.
One night, after sex, as we lay beside each other, we talked.
"What was she like?"
I glanced up to Stephanie to find her still looking at the ceiling, before holding onto the arm she had strapped across my chest. "Who're you talking about?" I asked knowning full well who our conversation suddenly took a turn towards.
"I want an answer Layla." Stephanie turned to me, forcing me to look further away from her intense and demanding gaze. "I've told you about Hunter, now tell me about Michelle."
I took in a deep breath - deeper than the norm - before finding the courage to speak. "I don't know." My hand tightened around her arm, holding her warmth closer to me. Over and over I had to tell myself in those few seconds that Michelle was gone. That I wouldn't be waking up to that nightmare again. With this conviction, I managed to continue. "All I remember is pain. Lots of pain."
Stephanie said nothing more after that. Instead, she leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly before closing in on me and allowing us to sleep.
As I stand here in this tiny bar I find myself on the verge of tears as I've come to realize a frightening truth. My life before is seemingly repeating itself. I give with a whole heart, and in return my reward looks like this. Me, alone, in a bar, staring at the options laid before. Calculating which drink will get me out of this desolate place faster. In the end, Jack Daniels wins out. It's slow, but it's the most methodical in that memory is near impossible after one bottle. I grab my opener and pop the cap, and place the bottle to my lips. There I hold it as my eyes - merely wandering about in idle time - hold the sharp blues that look back.
I never even heard her come in.
The drive home was a long one. It would have been better, in the end, had I driven myself, but not once - not even after years have passed - have I been able to say no to Michelle McCool. We barely talked for most of the trip solely because we had done nearly all of our talking in the bar. That's right. The English Muffin. The place we-
"-bought together to start our future." Michelle speaks as she takes a seat on the bar stool. My mind has to catch up with the fact that she's here...now. "What's wrong Layla?" She smiles crookedly just like I remember, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You-!" I pause for a moment to recollect. "Where were you Michelle?"
"About." Anger - the kind that burns lava - boiled inside me. I wanted to hurt her just like she had hurt me. But it was too late now wasn't it? "Anyways, I see this little place hasn't changed one bit."" Her eyes religiouly scan the bar - what was once our bar - before returning to me. "It looks the exact same. Down to the very grease spots."
"Why are you here?" My frown deepens. "Why now? Why are you back?"
"Aww." Cooly floods out of her mouth. "I thought you'd miss me."
"I never would!" I lie. "It's not like you promised anything! But to not even care enough to show me some bloody respect-" My palms slammed the counter with enough force to break it. "I left my entire family, my home for you and this!" I motion madly to the space around us. "And for what?" My voice pitches higher, "Just to get casual sex from a wife beater?" Tears bleed out of my eyes, stinging in agony as they passed over the threshold. "Why the bloody hell are you in town? Why can't you just leave me alone?" I shriek.
Michelle leans back with arms folded, "A few months ago I had come back to see you. I was convinced we'd pick up from where we left off. But then" She pauses to take a sigh, "I saw you kissing another woman right in this very seat."
I glance to the bar stool that is housing Michelle and immediately conjuer up all the times Stephanie had sat there ordering 'the usual'. My heart skips a few beats with each vivid vision I get of the Princess I had desired since the day I first saw her. Through all the hell Michelle McCool put me through, my mind would only have to return to that stern face and those words belonging to Stephanie, and instantly I had strength to fight another day. Until...
"You don't understand what it means to see the person you love look so unbearably sad everytime you hold her! I can't take it anymore Layla! If you love her so damn much why don't you just go find her? Either way I'm done! Good bye!"
"Earth to Layla." Michelle calls with a hand waving across my face. I snap to and find her smiling like she always used to.
But I feel nothing, and instantly I realize my mistake. What I wanted was for Michelle McCool to be Stephanie McMahon. It never happened, and so I got Stephanie to compensate. Those were the words I'd use to convince myself in the fight against a now overwhelming truth. I have fallen in love with Stephanie McMahon.
I am in love with the Princess.
By the time I conclude that fact and decide to do something quickly about it, Michelle's face has now invaded the tiny space that separsaated us. Without thought, I shift as far away as I possibly can.
"L-Layla?" She questions after a moment of awkward silence.
"I don't want you Michelle." A fire starts somewhere deep within, and with it comes a wave of unmovable understanding. I know what I want now. I know who I want now. And she is not here. "I don't love you. I never truly did."
"Bullshit!" Michelle spits viciously as she snaps back into her seat. "If you never loved me then why did you stick around so long? Why is the bar still there in the exact shape I left it in?"
"Because I never had the money to go on." I smile softly. "It's ironic though. As much as I hated the place, once Stephanie started coming by, I couldn't even dream of selling it."
"Stephanie? As in McMahon?" A scoff preceded her response. "Stephanie is a married woman Layla. She will never be able to give up her perfect world for someone like you. Like us, or the life we choose to live." Once more Michelle closes in, but stops before I can react. "I can give you that life Layla. I've changed in these few years, and I've come back for you." She smiles once more. "Just like I promised."
Childhood memories approiately play in my head. I think as far back as I should have started. As far back as the first time I met Michelle. As far back to the fact that when she said 'I like you' then, she meant it for the first and only time in her life. Like Stephanie's usual order, with Michelle I would be the one waiting to be requested. Always the one waiting.
I left Michelle tonight. I closed the door of the car and walked away towards the condo Stephanie had bought for us, and for the first time in three years actually looked at the light peach building as something I hadn't had in a while.
My home.
9:00 am.
The new door of the brand new Tarts N Treats cafe opens. The small bell affixed to the hinge tells me tht someone has entered. I look to the visitor and smile - glass and juice already prepared.
"What will it be today?" I ask as she takes a seat on her favourite bar stool - the only thing not remodelled.
"Oh." She sighs world-wearily with a coy grin strectched across her face. Her sharp eyes tear towards me. "Just the usual."