And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones
'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
Setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong
- Youth - Daughter
Sharon's sense of direction was much better than her own. Brenda sat with the map on her lap, squinting at it and then looking up, peering out the window at passing street signs, but Sharon had intuition, turning confidently onto Amelia's street with little struggle.
"I think… what was it?"
"1478," Brenda said. "There."
"That's it," Sharon said turning around in an empty driveway so she could park on the street in front of the house. There were two cars in the driveway - a small sedan not unlike Brenda's and a pickup truck. While Amelia was a fancy lawyer, Al worked in construction which seemed to be booming by the size of their mini-mansion and the several in development residential neighborhoods they'd already driven by.
"Jesus," Brenda said, peering up at the house. "This'll really put a garage slash apartment into perspective."
"Stop it," Sharon said, killing the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. "There's nothing wrong with a more compact life."
Brenda burst out laughing. "Keep it up. Amelia loves funny women."
"Are you nervous to go in?" Sharon asked.
"No," Brenda said, tucking her hair behind her ears and running her fingers through her bangs. "They're some of my closest friends. Why would I be nervous?"
"Okay," Sharon said with a nod and pushed open her door.
It was cooler than in L.A., breezier too, and Brenda zipped her thick sweatshirt before shouldering her bag and walking up the path to the porch.
"Are you nervous?" Brenda asked before she rang the bell.
"No," Sharon said. "My friends parents always love me."
Brenda snorted and rang the bell. It caused a cacophony on the other side of the door. A dog started barking, she could hear yelling and a loud bang. Finally, footsteps and then the door flew open to reveal a small girl with bright blonde hair.
"It's Brenda and her friend! They're here!" she shrieked.
"Ash, you're supposed to wait for a grown up!"
That was from Amelia's little sister, Kelly, not so little anymore.
"Sorry," Kelly said. "Come in! Come in! Brenda and… Brenda's friend!"
"This is Sharon," Brenda said. She walked in first, took the lead and hugged Kelly, touched the top of Ashley's head in greeting and looked around the foyer of the beautiful house. Sharon stepped in after her, shook Sharon's hand. Al came down the stairs next, in jeans and a cable knit sweater like he was walking off the page of a catalog.
He embraced Brenda and shook Sharon's hand and then picked up Ashley.
"Sorry, Amelia's up giving the baby a bath. We had a diaper malfunction."
"She pooped everywhere!" Ashley said.
Al chuckled. "She did indeed. Thank you, sweetie."
"Daddy," Ashley said. "She didn't bring a boy."
"Okay," Al said loudly, jostling Ashley up and smiling at her confused expression. "So this is the house! Do you have bags? Can I help you?"
Kelly snickered.
"Kelly can get them," Amelia called from the top of the stairs. They all looked up at her and she was a vision. Standing in a rust colored dress with the baby in her arms like some sort of Madonna figure. Her blonde hair was cut into a sleek bob and she was tall and thin and lovely. Brenda had to work to not touch her own frizzy mop of curls.
"Girl get down here," Brenda called. "I need a hug."
But Brenda met her halfway, taking the steps two at a time and wrapping her arms around her friend, mindful of the baby.
"I thought you were bringing a boyfriend," Amelia whispered.
"I never said boy," Brenda said.
"Kelly is in the other spare room, where are we going to put her?" Amelia said.
"We can share," Brenda said back. "Al said it was okay, I didn't know!"
"Of course it's okay," Amelia said.
"Ladies?" Al called.
They broke apart. "This is Sharon," Brenda said. "My roommate? Landlord?"
"Friend," Sharon said with a smile.
"A pleasure to have you," Amelia said, coming all the way down the stairs. "This is Kimberly."
"Kimberly!" Brenda said. "Like we discussed."
"You have a beautiful home and family. Thank you so much for taking me in last minute."
"Any friend of Brenda is always welcome," she said. "Come on, let's get you settled."
Brenda smiled at Sharon hopefully.
oooo
Brenda emerged from the bathroom to see their bags sitting on the double bed, made up with an expensive looking quilt with matching pillow shams. There was no sign of Sharon or anyone - even the ancient cocker spaniel, Tubby, was nowhere to be found. He'd barked at the doorbell and then again when they'd allowed him to waddle in from the backyard. He'd given both Brenda and Sharon a suspicious sniff, dragging his wet muzzle along the tops of their shoes, and then had gone to lie down on a round dog bed tucked next to the sofa in the den.
Brenda reached out to slide her fingers along the wooden footboard.
She could always sleep on the sofa, she supposed. Though she'd seen it already. Cream colored leather. Soft and luxurious but not the best for sleeping on. She'd sweat all night, she'd squeak when she rolled over.
She eyed the narrow bed again. It wasn't exactly the tiniest bed she'd ever shared with another person and Sharon had a very mother earth approach to her own bed. She was always in it with her children, always telling Brenda to take a nap up there, or patting the mattress beside her so they could talk. So while Brenda had technically been in a bed with Sharon before, she'd never slept in the same one as Sharon. She'd never stretched out, elbow to elbow under covers in the dark.
"Brenda Leigh?" Amelia's voice came floating up the stairs. "You want some wine?"
She did.
Sharon was in the kitchen, already wearing a borrowed apron, her hair clipped back with her big, black barrette. She had a wine glass in one hand and was looking over an open cook book.
"We're making pies," Amelia said. "Have you ever made pie?"
"I've eaten lots," Brenda said. "Like, so many."
"That's a no," Sharon said.
"Al wants pumpkin and cherry," Amelia said. "His parents are coming tomorrow, too."
"Jesus, Ames," Brenda said. "I didn't realize this was such a big deal."
"Thanksgiving is a big deal," Sharon said, licking her finger and lift a page. She held it up and read the next page for a moment before letting it fall again. "In my family, it was always a bigger deal than even Christmas, and we're Catholic."
"Then I'm honored to have you," Amelia said.
Sharon smiled.
"I think this crust recipe will work just fine," she said. "We'll just double it and get the dough in the fridge."
"Actually, you can go, Brenda, Sharon is all I really need," Amelia said. Brenda swatted at her.
"Where are your children?" she asked.
"Al got the baby down and then took Ash to the store with him," Amelia said, pulling out another apron for Brenda. Sharon had one a matching one to Amelia's, a sturdy fabric in a fetching pale green. The one she handed to Brenda was plain black. "So it's just us girls."
Sharon was a natural and handled Amelia's questions gracefully. Sometimes the lawyer took over in her friend, so it felt like a trial - rapid fire questions about Sharon's family and past. Sharon said she had two children, Brenda turned her back to wash her hands in the sink.
"Your kids are little!" Amelia said when Sharon divulged their ages.
"They're with their father," Sharon said, her tone sounding clipped for the first time since arriving.
Brenda picked up the bottle of wine and topped off Sharon's glass, bumping her hip gently against Sharon's own. Sharon gave her a soft smile.
"Say no more," Amelia said. "My parents divorced when I was seven. It's not an easy situation."
"No," Sharon agreed.
"Not everyone comes from a picture perfect family like Brenda," Amelia said. "Have you had the pleasure of meeting the Johnsons?"
"Lord no," Brenda said. "Can you imagine them in Los Angeles?"
"I've spoken to your mother on the phone, once," Sharon said. "Briefly. She was very polite."
"That's southern for rude," Brenda said.
"No," Sharon said. "Concerned, maybe."
"I'm gonna be forty-years-old and they're still gonna treat me like a high schooler," Brenda said. "No matter what I've accomplished."
"You'd think leaving the company would buy you a little leeway," Amelia said. And then she tensed, glanced at Sharon. "I mean-"
"It's all right," Brenda said. "She knows about that."
In fact, Sharon probably knew more than Amelia, Brenda realized. She and Amelia had been close, the best of friends, but time and distance had changed things. Even now, Brenda didn't feel like she knew everything about this confident, polished mother of two, the same woman who'd eaten greasy fast food and done tequila shooters with Brenda on the Tuesday night before a huge final.
Sharon was easy to talk to and she asked and then listened and Brenda wasn't much for sharing, but something about Sharon always made her want to spill.
She hadn't told Sharon about Elena, obviously, or Yeva or the way her time in Belarus and Europe and the CIA had ended abruptly. She'd given Sharon the polished version that night through her tears. Recruited out of college. Trained and fast-tracked and thrown in the deep end. She still couldn't tell anyone what she'd done or why she'd done it. Some things were classified, some things too horrible to say out loud, to admit to another person.
Things like seducing a married woman with a small child and getting them both murdered. Probably the husband's blood was on Brenda's hands too.
"Honey?"
Sharon stood in front of her now, reached out and gripped her bicep.
"Huh?"
"You okay?" Sharon asked. "You were drifting."
"Oh," Brenda said laughing nervously. "Just tired, maybe?"
Amelia looked at her strangely, but the sound of the garage distracted her. "Oh, that's Al," she said. "We can have lunch!"
"Come on," Sharon said. "Come help me with this pie crust. It's easier with extra hands."
Even Brenda knew that was a lie, but she went along with what Sharon said, as was becoming her habit.
oooo
Once the girls went to bed, Al got out Rummikub, though had campaigned for the Dune board game and was vetoed by everyone else in the room.
"We used to play Risk," Brenda explained. "But I won too much and they banned me."
"She was Machiavellian," Amelia said laughing. "She was ruthless."
"She made Amelia cry!" Al snorted.
"That was once!" Brenda defended. "One time and banned for life! Talk about unfair!"
"Well, this is more my speed anyway," Sharon chuckled, setting up her game tray as Al mixed the tiles loudly on the glass table. Amelia's house was big and open, and it seemed like all the tables were big glass panels on black, metal frames. It gave the impression of everything being transparent, of objects floating. It wasn't Brenda's style, but it was impressive nonetheless and an improvement over the cinder block and plywood furniture of their college years.
"Sharon likes to pretend that she's a hundred-year-old grandma, not a badass cop," Brenda said.
"And professor," Sharon added primly, winking at Amelia.
"Oh yeah!" Brenda said excitedly. "I signed up for her class next semester."
"Kinky," Al said, pulling tiles for his and setting them up in his tray.
Brenda glared at him.
He jumped and said, "Ow! What?" He reached down to rub his shin, fully visible through the glass table. Amelia pulled her foot back.
"How do you like UCLA?" Amelia inquired.
"It's not Ole Miss," Brenda said. "But it's all right."
"She got an A in every class," Sharon said.
"That's supposed to be confidential," Brenda gaped. "Did Patty tell you?"
"No," Sharon said. "You left your report card in the kitchen."
"Oh," Brenda said. She believed it - she'd read the grades to her daddy over the phone. She must've left it there, distracted by something or someone.
"I hung it on the fridge," Sharon said and turned to Amelia. "Obviously, she hasn't noticed."
"If you kept the candy in the fridge…" Al said.
Brenda kicked him in the same spot on his other shin.
"Ow, I swear to god," he said.
"You were working a lot," Sharon said. "I know it's been a crazy time."
"Wait, you're working too?" Amelia said.
"Oh-" Brenda said.
"Studying, I mean," Sharon said smoothly. "Always at the library."
"Right," Brenda said. "You know how it is."
"I do," Amelia said. "I do."
Brenda didn't mind lying, but she wasn't used to having some be on her side. To lie for her and with her.
"I'm thirsty," Brenda said, standing. "Anyone want a drink?"
"What are we talking, water or…" Al waggled his eyebrows. Brenda grinned.
"Show me your booze and I'll make somethin' good," she promised.
oooo
Sharon drunk was a sight to behold. Brenda knew she could be a sloppy drunk, herself, and found that she was the least intoxicated of the quartet by the time they all broke for bed. Amelia was a tired drunk, the first to slink off toward a softer surface and doze off. Al was loud and Brenda had to keep shushing him, reminding him about the girls sleeping upstairs and how loud his voice was as it rose to fill the vaulted ceilings in the home.
She wasn't sober. She felt warm and happy and it was easy not to think about the things she didn't want to think about. Her daddy and his letters. The finals that still loomed between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Will Pope's lecherous handshakes, Agent Howard's doughy and hopeful smile. Minsk.
But Sharon… Sharon turned pink. She seemed to be glowing from within. It was the red wine, Brenda thought, that gave her such a thorough flush and then they started adding hard liquor on top and Sharon had shrugged out of her sweater, revealing bare arms that grew pink at the elbows and wrists. Everytime she laughed it was like she was adding sunlight to a dark room. Brenda couldn't help staring at her, couldn't help reaching out to lay her hand on Sharon's freckled, rosy arm. She realized that she was touching her over and over again, realized she needed to stop, but she couldn't. Al cracked a joke, they all burst into laughter, Brenda reached out to touch Sharon's arm.
Sharon put her hand on top of Brenda's and squeezed, her forehead against the table in an effort to pull herself together.
That's when Amelia had gotten up to go pee and had never come back. They all had to get up early, anyway, what with kids and guests and the cooking. Sharon had already proven herself invaluable with the pies and had jumped the line to head cook, Amelia thanking her for coming twice over. As if she were the guest and Brenda the stranger. But no matter. The right body for the right job.
Al had inquired if they needed anything and told them to make themselves at home and had walked his drunk, tired wife up the stairs.
"I can sleep down here," Brenda offered.
"Nonsense," Sharon had said.
And that had settled that.
Sharon had remained giggly as they crept through the upstairs hall.
Their room had a Jack-and-Jill bathroom that they shared with the other guest room, Kelly's room, but Kelly had gone out with friends after dinner and had yet to return, if the open bathroom door to her dark room was anything to go by.
"You go first," Brenda said, gesturing to the bathroom.
Sharon snorted, finding that inexplicably hilarious. "No, you."
She didn't want to fight so she grabbed her bag and locked herself in the little bathroom. Quickly changed into her flannel pants and a white t-shirt, brushing her teeth and then peeing. She should wash her face but she didn't have it in her. Buzzed Brenda was even less responsible than sober Brenda.
Sharon was already in her pajamas when Brenda came back into the room. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a black tank top - one of the straps was twisted in the back. Brenda reached out like she'd done at dinner, her brain not waiting for consent, and made the strip of fabric lie flat.
"Thanks," Sharon said. Brenda looked at her own fingers in horror. Sharon wasn't long in the bathroom - Brenda heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on and off a few times. She busied herself turning on the lamp on the nightstand and turning off the bright overhead light. She pulled the decorative pillows off the bed and tossed them to the floor. She pulled the blankets back - the sheets were covered with a pastel, geometric print.
"Left or right?" Sharon said.
Brenda spun around - she hadn't heard Sharon open the door. Her face was still flushed but she'd pulled all that dark hair up with a scrunchie and her face was damp and clean. Brenda felt suddenly self-conscious about her own smudged eyeliner and head full of curls.
"What?"
"What side of the bed do you prefer?" Sharon asked with a smile.
"I went from a cot to a twin," Brenda said. "Side hasn't really been an option, lately."
Sharon laughed and pointed to the side Brenda was standing on. "You," and then she pointed to the opposite side. "Me."
"Sold," Brenda said. She sat on the edge and then looked around the little room. "I'm tired, but I don't know how sleepy I am."
"You'll be sleepy when you have to wake up at six am to chop onions," Sharon said with a grin. "You'll be sorry."
"You're the one who got yourself suckered into cooking practically the whole meal," Brenda said, sliding her legs under the blankets. She didn't recline, however. Just sat upright and Sharon did the same thing, mirroring her pose. She looked younger than her nearly forty years with her hair up and her face clean, but Brenda could see little lines, too, at her eyes and the top of her lips. Laugh lines, her mama called them. Brenda found them intolerably attractive in the low lamp light.
What a mistake this whole trip was.
"I love cooking," Sharon said. "I find it soothing and satisfying."
"Really?"
"Yeah," she said with a dreamy expression. "There's something about creating something complex out of simple parts. I can't paint and I'm not much of a writer, but I feel like an artist when I make an elaborate meal. Especially if I get to watch people enjoy it."
"I've never thought of it like that," Brenda said. "Well I know Amelia's gonna be grateful."
"Thank you," Sharon said suddenly. "For bringing me here. I like your friends and I get to have a holiday when I expected to be alone."
"It's not big deal-"
"Thank you for moving into my garage," Sharon said. "Will you stay? I don't want you to move out. You should stay."
Brenda reminded herself that Sharon was still buzzed, that maybe they both were, but she found herself nodding. "Yeah. Of course. Anything. I'll do anything you want, Sharon."
Sharon smiled, leaned in and put her arms around Brenda in a sloppy, awkward hug.
She wanted to be able to say she wasn't sure who gave in first, but while it was Sharon who pulled her in for a hug, it was Brenda who tilted her face, who closed the gap, who pressed her warm, slightly numb lips to the pale stretch of skin between Sharon's chin and ear. It was those little lines in Sharon's skin that undid Brenda. And all the blood just beneath the surface. She was weak and impulsive.
She'd ignored it the first time she met Sharon, struggling with a colicky baby, desperate to hold on to a job she couldn't afford to keep, she'd ignored it the first time she rode in Sharon's car with her, when they'd eaten tacos in that hole in the wall Mexican food restaurant. She'd ignored it when Sharon cried and when she laughed and when she sat across from Brenda, their knees brushing, so Brenda could admit whatever was wrong that day.
She ignored it and she saw Sharon ignoring it too, talking to Sal or watching Brenda come and go at all hours or the expression of serenity that Sharon got whenever she saw Brenda holding the baby or talking to Emily or helping Ricky with his subtraction worksheet on ditto paper.
But Brenda just wasn't sure she could ignore Sharon like that anymore.
She pulled back, embarrassed and ashamed but Sharon's grip on her tightened.
"It's okay," Sharon whispered, tucking her face into Brenda's muscle, the stiff one between her bony shoulder and long neck. She felt Sharon take a deep breath in, felt her fingers find the ends of Brenda's hair where the curls were tightest. She tugged on one, lifted her head, nuzzled Brenda's neck.
Brenda wondered for a moment if she was drunker than she thought she was. She felt a little light headed, felt a little giddy. Felt more than a little reckless. She put her hand on Sharon's thigh, warm through the material of her sweats. Dug her fingers in, heard Sharon breathe in fast in response.
Nobody kissed first. They kissed each other, met right smack dab in the middle.
oooo
Brenda heard the footsteps on the stairs and realized that it was Kelly. Realized that both doors to the bathroom were open and that the little lamp on the nightstand was still glowing cheerfully.
"Shh," Brenda breathed, yanking her hand out of Sharon's shirt and reaching across her to snap off the lamp, just as Kelly's light came on. "Shh," Brenda breathed again. Sharon nodded against the pillow, though she did make a high pitched noise when Brenda pulled the covers up over them, feigning sleep.
They heard Kelly drop her bag on the floor, humming to herself and then say, "Oh, shit," when she realized that the door was open. Kelly walked quickly through the narrow bathroom and pulled the door closed.
Brenda breathed out, giggled nervously. They'd been lazy about the whole encounter, actually. Long, slow kisses, fingers creeping under clothes.
She didn't really know what she was doing and she didn't want to do anything Sharon didn't like and she was just nervous and turned on and anxious. She wanted to pick up where they'd left off, but Sharon sighed and said, "It's very late."
"Yeah," Brenda said, a sharp stab of disappointment a familiar enough sensation.
"We should sleep," Sharon said. Brenda was about to agree, to roll over over and fret the rest of the night away but Sharon surprised her by finding her hand in the bed and pulling it back to her breast.
Brenda kissed her again, enthusiastically, relieved. The bed sheets gasped around them. Sharon hooked her long leg over Brenda's hip, pulled her mouth away and said, "I need… I… Brenda Leigh, I want…"
She couldn't manage more than that.
"Shh," Brenda said one more time. "You'll have to be quiet."
Sharon nodded against her in the dark. "I promise."
Brenda had only slept with men since returning from Minsk. It hadn't been a conscious thing, necessarily. It had just been… easier. Certainly faster and less emotional, like scratching an itch. Like taking an aspirin for a headache.
She already knew this wasn't that. She squeezed Sharon's breast, slid her hand down her soft belly. The sweats were loose, easy to infiltrate. Sharon held her breath until she couldn't, exhaling in little bursts. Sucking in again as Brenda cupped her, pushed the fabric of her panties aside to test the waters.
She could feel Sharon force herself silent, her hot mouth moving against whatever skin of Brenda's she could find. Her neck, her shoulder where her t-shirt had been pulled aside, her cheek and her mouth. As much as Brenda wanted to drag this out, she was nervous with Amelia's little sister next door so she dipped her fingers in so they were nice and slippery and moved them up until Sharon groaned into Brenda's mouth.
Sharon grasped for Brenda's other hand and held onto it hard for a moment and then dragged it down between Brenda's legs.
"Come with me," Sharon whispered.
She made it seem so easy. So natural to rhythmically move both hands instead of just one, to focus on herself as much as she's focused on Sharon, to feel the heat so intense on both sets of fingers. So hot that it should burn her, but it didn't.
Brenda tipped first, but it was a close thing.
She listened to Sharon's heavy breathing taper out into sleep and then, with some difficulty, drifted off herself.
oooo
Brenda woke up alone, stretched across the small bed. She liked sleeping alone, she liked stretching out all her limbs at once. This bed wasn't larger, but it was more than she was used to and she was sprawled across it. Still, despite her overall preferences, she knew finding herself alone this morning was not a good sign.
She could tell from the amount of light streaming in through the window that she'd overslept. Still, finding the shared bathroom empty was a blessing and she shut and locked both doors and turned on the shower. She left her clothes in a heap on the floor and stood under the hot spray for several minutes before realizing she'd not brought any of her own toiletry items in with her so she was reduced to using the bottle of 2-in-1 Head and Shoulders and hoping for the best. She lathered up with the bar of white soap and ran her hands over her body, gently between her legs where it still felt a little swollen, and then her face.
She'd brought a brown dress to wear today and she put it on. She'd bought it because she thought it made her look her age, but then undermined herself by plaiting her hair down both sides of her head in an effort to stave off dry, frizzy curls.
She went downstairs barefoot and makeup free, not ready but determined to face the music all the same.
