"In a manner of speaking, I just want to say
That I could never forget the way
You told me everything by saying nothing
In a manner of speaking, I don't understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way that I feel about you is beyond words."
~Nouvelle Vague, "In a Manner of Speaking" (Cover)
December 1992-January 1993
It wasn't until she had time to think about their reunion at the bar, in the late-August heat and rain, that Grace realized that she absolutely loved playing dress-up.
Only for Karen. She never felt the desire to impress anyone else in that way—of course, she had her own methods of impression that might not be the norm, but they worked all the same—never thought to put too much time into the way she looked, never banked on looks being the deciding factor in her love life. It was never about the things that are skin deep with Karen, either. But the places they went were different, the things they did felt different. Somehow, it made Grace want to put on something outside of her normal wardrobe. Not always, but on certain nights, like tonight.
Especially tonight.
She took a look at herself in the mirror, a deep green dress to offset her red locks, and glanced at the clock that signaled ten minutes until Karen's arrival in the reflection. It was the first New Year's Eve she could truly get excited about, one that wouldn't be spent with a friend she had a past with (those awkward couple of celebrations with Will after she swore she got over everything), one that wouldn't be spent with a lover she wasn't particularly crazy about. This would be a New Year's Eve to be celebrated properly, not only with someone you could kiss at midnight, but with someone you could kiss at midnight that wouldn't over think it, or regret it in a few months.
She wanted it to be perfect.
Will had called her earlier in the day, inviting her to the fallback option she took every year that she didn't have a date for New Year's, and when she said she had plans, he shot a round of questions through the phone faster than she could ever possibly answer them. She could hear the smile in his voice as he pleaded for details, but all she gave him was, "It's fairly new,"—well, that wasn't completely a lie; the decision to change everything was, indeed, fairly new, although the existence of their connection was far from recent—"but it's nice, and it's going somewhere. That's all I'll tell you." She played it off as light-hearted. But in reality, she didn't want to tell him everything. And it made her nervous that she didn't want to tell him.
Grace tried to believe it when she told herself that the reason she didn't want to tell Will was because she wanted to keep Karen entirely to herself—as selfish as that sounded, it was a nicely wrapped explanation to the issue at hand. But deep down, she knew the truth. It wasn't the fact that she was involved with another woman that made her want to keep this a secret, but how they met in the first place. And of course Will would want to know how they met. What could she possibly say? "Oh, well, do you remember that Valentine's Day years ago when we ran into that woman at the restaurant? I slept with her after you broke up with me, and continued to sleep with her on and off for about six years before we decided that we wanted to take things further." Too much history, too much information that was so unlike what he knew her to be. It would never work.
But as soon as she looked at the clock one last time, and realized Karen was downstairs in a cab waiting for her, all of that faded away. She draped a coat over her bare shoulders and made her building, immediately spotting her yellow chariot. One look at the empty seat in the back, and Grace saw the red rose propped up against the grey. In one motion, she picked the flower up, slid in, and met Karen's lips as the cab took off.
"Just so you know," Grace said as she pulled away, "I've got a bottle of champagne in the fridge, in case you feel like sticking around tonight." She let a smile play on her face. "How did you get out of tonight?" She had figured that she would have to take Will up on his yearly offer this time around, that Karen would be obligated to spend the night with Stan. Because, after all, that was supposed to be the legitimate relationship, although it seemed to Grace that it was becoming more and more of a farce.
"He has to work late, gave an apology that didn't sound nearly as believable as he wanted it to sound. Not that it matters. This is where I want to be tonight, anyway." Karen turned to face Grace and put an arm around her shoulders. "You look gorgeous tonight," she said as Grace's smile began to grow wider. That was another reason Grace liked to play dress-up.
Karen noticed. Karen always noticed. And she always made it a point to vocalize that recognition. It was something that, if other lovers have done it, was not said as often as she heard it spill from Karen's lips.
They pulled up to a familiar building that at first Grace could not place in her mind. She looked at Karen with a smile of confusion on her face that made the dark-haired woman laugh. "You really don't remember?" she asked. "I ran into you here on Valentine's Day…god, almost six years ago."
Grace let out a laugh of recognition. "Back to one of the scenes of the crime, huh?" she said with a giggle in her voice. She looked out of the cab's window, knew that as soon as she walked into the place, it would come back to her in a second.
"I figured you deserved a less awkward dinner here," Karen said as they got out of the car. She took the hand of the red head as Grace put the rose to her nose, and as they walked in, they saw that nothing had changed about the inside of the restaurant. Walk straight ahead for a few steps, and you'd be at the booth Grace sat in with Will. A little further, and you'd come to the bar that Karen was waiting at. A few steps further, and you'd find where Grace decided to lie to Will so she would be able to leave.
They were taken to a table in a secluded corner, an area Grace didn't notice the first time around, although there wasn't any reason for her to notice it the first time around. She could hear a soft, smooth jazz fall from the ceiling speakers as they took their seats, and she couldn't help but look at Karen, the way she held the menu in her hands, the lock of hair falling in front of her eyes as she studied, and knew that this was what set her apart from everybody else that Grace knew. The way that she could say everything without speaking a word. Even now, this action of Karen's that really has nothing to do with Grace exudes a compassion that she had never seen before. All that she does in the red head's presence, she does for Grace. It was new. But Grace liked it.
The dinner could have been filled with silence, save for the music in the background, and Grace wouldn't have minded it; she would have been happy just to watch how Karen moved. But after the waiter brought their plates, Karen smiled and spoke to her softly. "I almost didn't walk over to you the first time. I knew it was you, it wasn't as if I was uncertain that you wouldn't be who you thought and I would look like an idiot. I just didn't know if it would shatter the good feeling I got every time I thought about that first night. Needless to say, it didn't."
"If we're being honest here, I almost didn't walk over to you, either. It was one flash of a moment, nervousness, really. I thought about how we met, how much it affected me. And I didn't know if I could go through that again."
"So why did you come back to me?"
Grace smiled. "The entire time between that first night and the encounter here, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And it turns out I felt some sort of pull towards you anyway, so why fight it?"
She heard Karen laugh. "You are something else," Karen said. Suddenly, she stood up, extended her hand towards Grace. "I just want to see," she said before Grace could ask what she was doing, "if that pull you mentioned still works." And as soon as Karen felt her touch, she helped Grace up and pulled her towards her body, began to sway in a dance that no one else saw but them.
Everything that Grace felt about Karen's actions had been perfectly exemplified in this moment. The way her body moved against Grace's, the spontaneity of it all, the fact that she could even make background music something to sway to, told her that she was safe in this relationship. She wished she had the ability to do the same. But because of this, everything became clear.
Because of this, she knew it even before she heard it slip from Karen's lips. "I love you," whispered into her ear.
She kissed Karen's cheek as she felt her arm wrap around her tighter. "I love you too, Karen."
When Karen got home in the morning, having had to reluctantly leave Grace's bed, Stan was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He looked at her and thought that her body language told him everything. He watched her give a quick glance and a half-hearted smile over at him before retreating upstairs. He could have interrogated her, asked her where she had been, and he could have listened to an answer that was most likely not the truth. But he saved his words, and saved her the unexpected effort of concocting a plausible lie. He saved her the embarrassment of what she didn't know.
She didn't know that he had come home from work earlier than he expected. She didn't know he had expected to see her when he walked through the door. She didn't know that he waited up for her. She didn't know that he eventually gave up and went to bed. She didn't know that he wanted to wake up early to catch her walking in, intending to play it off as not being able to sleep.
She didn't know that he had had his suspicions about her for a few months.
She didn't know that when she walked away without saying a word, he figured out what she was up to.