Proximity: Unrequited
***
My pager went off just as I downed my fourth shot of rum; shuddering at the taste and laughing with my group, I was almost unaware of the loud beeping coming from the waist of my flares.
"Carol…" One of my friends pointed at my pager and swayed to the R & B beat that was covering the club; she turned away and continued to dance as I realized that it was probably CJ.
The club was packed for a weeknight, and as I maneuvered through the pulsing throng of people towards the bathroom—it was usually quieter in the bathroom—I prayed that I wouldn't need to go back to the White House. In the high fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, I read the numeric message: 252 911. She paged me like that all the time—spelling out her initials and something else, depending on the situation. I sucked in my breath and looked in the mirror, upset that I was dressed this way.
There was no time for me to go and change, so it would be off to the White House and CJ dressed in tight jeans and a black halter. My heels clicked on the hard floor as I rushed out of the bathroom, and I wondered absently if I could smudge off my black eyeliner in the back of a dark cab.
Waving my pager at my little crowd of friend and knowing they'd understand, I headed for the door and the street. The cold air hit my bare arms and back with a shock, and as I stumbled down off the curb, I realized that there was way too much alcohol in my system. I wasn't going to be able to help CJ and she was going to be annoyed.
As I fumbled around in my purse for my small cell phone, sickening distress ran through me. This was downright irresponsible; it was Thursday night.
As I dialed first the White House and then CJ's extension, I held my arms close to my body. It was freezing in the February night, and I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket. And for letting this get out of hand. Damn, I thought, it hadn't been out of hand until four minutes ago…
CJ had let me go around seven. It was early and when I'd arrived at my apartment fifteen minutes later, my friends were leaving for Clarita's. So I'd changed quickly and the six of us had piled into Leah's ten year old Celica. I promised myself not get too drunk, but as we battled the DC traffic Chelsea pulled me onto her lap and Keri pinned my hair up… I should have known better. Damn it, she was going to be upset…
"CJ?" I cried upon her answer, trying to control the pitch of my voice. The sound of her 'hello' sent a warm chill through my body, inducing reality.
"You got my page?" she asked, sounding less frantic than I would have expected for a ten pm emergency.
"CJ, I can get a cab up there but…" I trailed, my head slightly swimming as the breeze picked up.
"What's wrong, Carol?" CJ asked calmly. She was always calm, I rationalized, thinking that maybe she wouldn't be mad…Maybe she cared about what was wrong…
I snapped out of my fantasy, knowing it was hopeless. "I'm kinda drunk and I'm not dressed for work, and I don't know if…" I began, my voice choking. I wasn't afraid of her punishment, I was afraid of what she might think of me. I valued her opinion as much as I valued her.
"Where are you?" CJ asked. I couldn't tell if there was irritation in her voice, but I swallowed hard just the same.
"Clarita's…" I stammered out, biting my lip and knowing she was definitely going to want an answer for that one.
"Carol you can't get a cab to the White House from there," CJ stated, pausing for my response. I didn't quite understand that, but my teeth chattered and I pulled the phone closer to my ear. When I said nothing, I could hear CJ sigh over the line. "Stay there. I'll come get you."
With that, the line clicked dead and I stared long and hard at the phone, looking for the 'off' button. Hugging my body, I walked backward towards the building and tried to forget that the boss I dreamt about was coming to pick me up. The word 'awkward' flashed through my brain as it swam with so many other things.
***
I had to believe that CJ always knew. I'd never come out and told her that I was a lesbian, but having worked with her for four years at such a close level, I have a hard time thinking that she can't tell.
I try not to talk about my love life, and I thought I'd mastered the pronoun game. Still, there were been two times I've slipped talking to CJ and while I'm not sure she picked it up, I'm not entirely sure she didn't. CJ has a strange capacity for the minutiae.
Well, if she were wondering, there was really no question now. Assuming that she knew that Clarita's is an all women club, the proverbial cat was out of the bag. I bit my lip and shivered, wondering why it still unnerved me to come out to new people. I don't tell everyone I meet the first time I meet them that I'm a lesbian, but nor do I deny my sexuality. The way I look at it—I'm Carol first, a lesbian second. I certainly never had any reason to tell CJ, because doing that would change the way I was able to work around her. I can keep it professional as long as I can pretend I don't feel this way.
She's my one hang up. I can take or leave any other woman that comes my way, but CJ is something else. She's beautiful, stunning, sexy, and it takes my breath away to stand next to her podium and hear her smack down the reporters. I used to try and ignore the fact that I wanted her, and I still work very hard not to flirt with CJ, but there's no denying how much I hope. There's no point and I know it, and sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my life watching her through the blinds. It's high school all over again.
I shook my head, biting my lip again and hard. I'm such an immature little thing, trying to act like I belong in a club like Clarita's. I'll smoke my cigarettes, drink the whiskey and rum and kiss women wearing too much makeup; but inside I'm lost as hell because the only one I really want to be with is CJ. I'm 26, but I look 30 and I act like 17. All ages that are old enough to love her from afar…I can't get away from it, and I can't get away from the fact that she's going to be here in a matter of seconds…. Looking at me with amusement and maybe a bit of shock, things that I should be able to handle but won't.
***
She made the joke after the State of the Union. "Get on the couch, I'm gonna do you right now…"
I knew she'd been talking to Sam, but when he'd agreed, she'd picked up her head and claimed she'd been talking to me. I think about that a lot, wondering if it meant anything. It didn't, I say again as I look up and down the trafficked street, watching for CJ's silver Lexus. Soon, I look away and hope she'll never come.
I didn't even see the car pull up. I was busy staring at the dirty concrete, watching as my vision got lost in tears. Why did I have to feel this way about her? Why did I tell her I was here? Why did I let this happen?
As a black drop of water hit the illuminated sidewalk, I felt a hand on my arm. Jerking my head up, I was staring right into the wide-eyed face of CJ Cregg.
"C'mon…" she said softly, her mouth frowning with concern. I forced my stomach to settle and my legs to move as she turned back towards the expensive silver coupe. I slid guiltily into the passenger seat, fingering the black leather carefully and randomly thinking that she must've had a great job before the White House.
When she started the engine the CD player turned on and the soft, slow rap of a familiar artist broke the silence. I liked the music and my inner torture was momentarily forgotten as I fought a laugh.
"Okay, for the course of this drive, please try to ignore the fact that I'm secretly a mainstream teenager," CJ said sarcastically, smiling in spite of herself. I let the short laugh out, hoping that her joking meant this situation was okay.
"I have this CD," I remembered aloud. I saw CJ grin as she looked over her shoulder. The traffic was impossibly heavy and we were unable to pull out.
"Yeah, Carol, this actually IS your CD…" she said, her voice smooth as she tried to see past the van parked behind her.
"You took my Jay-Z CD?" I cried, mock incredulous. She gave up trying to wedge the Lexus into traffic and quickly pulled the parking brake.
Turning towards me, CJ ignored my attempts at levity. "Carol, your make up is running. What's up?"
I'm in love with you and you just found out that I might. I didn't say the words; I didn't say anything. I tried not to look at CJ's eyes and instead lingered on her deep blue camisole, peeking out of her white blouse. No…I moved my eyes upwards, trying to ignore her question. But the car smelled like her perfume; it smelled like her office too only better and closer, and there was really nothing but CJ right now.
Her sigh was deep and sharp as she fought to read my mind. "Carol, I didn't mind having to come get you."
"I'm drunk and you paged me 911…" I said slowly, my stare latched to the tan skin of her collarbone now.
CJ snorted. "It was a joke, hon. I couldn't find the keys to your filing cabinet."
I met her gaze then. I wished that she wouldn't call me 'hon'; I could take it as so much more than an evil tease. The sick feeling perused through my stomach again, and I felt her eyes remain on me as I instantly found the hem of my halter fascinating.
Her voice was eerily soft as she hit pause on the CD system. "I can see straight into this, Carol. We don't have to talk about it if you can't, but…"
"But what?" I managed to croak out. Breathing in and out was taking considerable effort.
CJ didn't say anything then, and the stress that permeated the air was almost enough to blow away the beautiful perfume. I looked up and she was looking at the traffic.
"But what?" I said again, my voice finally regaining its strength.
"You could have told me, Carol. It would have been okay…" CJ mused, her eyes still watching the flow of headlights whizzing past us. Finally as an opening in the traffic appeared, CJ geared into drive and pulled out at a pace my car could never dream about.
***
She took me home in silence, though I struggled to come up with words. It would have been okay to tell her? What good could have come from that? Now that CJ knew, I was dizzied simply by her proximity. Inches away. She was too beautiful, and yet she was such a mysterious woman. CJ holds secrets—I know it. I've spent enough long hours just watching her to see that there is something intricately confusing about her. She doesn't know what she does to my heartbeat.
The temptation to invite her up to my apartment was strong, but the urge to go and cry was stronger still. I got out of the insanely expensive car, and before I could slam the door, CJ called my name.
"Your purse…" she held it out, a flicker of a smile crossing her lips. I giggled nervously, the loose ends of my dark hair falling into my face as I leaned back into the car to get it.
"Thanks…" I murmured, realizing how strange this would be tomorrow morning.
"You need anything, give me a call…" CJ offered, gesturing with her hands.
I forced a nice smile and closed the door, and as I walked slowly towards my building, I knew that I would only call CJ in dreams. It was unrequited and endless.
***
My pager went off just as I downed my fourth shot of rum; shuddering at the taste and laughing with my group, I was almost unaware of the loud beeping coming from the waist of my flares.
"Carol…" One of my friends pointed at my pager and swayed to the R & B beat that was covering the club; she turned away and continued to dance as I realized that it was probably CJ.
The club was packed for a weeknight, and as I maneuvered through the pulsing throng of people towards the bathroom—it was usually quieter in the bathroom—I prayed that I wouldn't need to go back to the White House. In the high fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, I read the numeric message: 252 911. She paged me like that all the time—spelling out her initials and something else, depending on the situation. I sucked in my breath and looked in the mirror, upset that I was dressed this way.
There was no time for me to go and change, so it would be off to the White House and CJ dressed in tight jeans and a black halter. My heels clicked on the hard floor as I rushed out of the bathroom, and I wondered absently if I could smudge off my black eyeliner in the back of a dark cab.
Waving my pager at my little crowd of friend and knowing they'd understand, I headed for the door and the street. The cold air hit my bare arms and back with a shock, and as I stumbled down off the curb, I realized that there was way too much alcohol in my system. I wasn't going to be able to help CJ and she was going to be annoyed.
As I fumbled around in my purse for my small cell phone, sickening distress ran through me. This was downright irresponsible; it was Thursday night.
As I dialed first the White House and then CJ's extension, I held my arms close to my body. It was freezing in the February night, and I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket. And for letting this get out of hand. Damn, I thought, it hadn't been out of hand until four minutes ago…
CJ had let me go around seven. It was early and when I'd arrived at my apartment fifteen minutes later, my friends were leaving for Clarita's. So I'd changed quickly and the six of us had piled into Leah's ten year old Celica. I promised myself not get too drunk, but as we battled the DC traffic Chelsea pulled me onto her lap and Keri pinned my hair up… I should have known better. Damn it, she was going to be upset…
"CJ?" I cried upon her answer, trying to control the pitch of my voice. The sound of her 'hello' sent a warm chill through my body, inducing reality.
"You got my page?" she asked, sounding less frantic than I would have expected for a ten pm emergency.
"CJ, I can get a cab up there but…" I trailed, my head slightly swimming as the breeze picked up.
"What's wrong, Carol?" CJ asked calmly. She was always calm, I rationalized, thinking that maybe she wouldn't be mad…Maybe she cared about what was wrong…
I snapped out of my fantasy, knowing it was hopeless. "I'm kinda drunk and I'm not dressed for work, and I don't know if…" I began, my voice choking. I wasn't afraid of her punishment, I was afraid of what she might think of me. I valued her opinion as much as I valued her.
"Where are you?" CJ asked. I couldn't tell if there was irritation in her voice, but I swallowed hard just the same.
"Clarita's…" I stammered out, biting my lip and knowing she was definitely going to want an answer for that one.
"Carol you can't get a cab to the White House from there," CJ stated, pausing for my response. I didn't quite understand that, but my teeth chattered and I pulled the phone closer to my ear. When I said nothing, I could hear CJ sigh over the line. "Stay there. I'll come get you."
With that, the line clicked dead and I stared long and hard at the phone, looking for the 'off' button. Hugging my body, I walked backward towards the building and tried to forget that the boss I dreamt about was coming to pick me up. The word 'awkward' flashed through my brain as it swam with so many other things.
***
I had to believe that CJ always knew. I'd never come out and told her that I was a lesbian, but having worked with her for four years at such a close level, I have a hard time thinking that she can't tell.
I try not to talk about my love life, and I thought I'd mastered the pronoun game. Still, there were been two times I've slipped talking to CJ and while I'm not sure she picked it up, I'm not entirely sure she didn't. CJ has a strange capacity for the minutiae.
Well, if she were wondering, there was really no question now. Assuming that she knew that Clarita's is an all women club, the proverbial cat was out of the bag. I bit my lip and shivered, wondering why it still unnerved me to come out to new people. I don't tell everyone I meet the first time I meet them that I'm a lesbian, but nor do I deny my sexuality. The way I look at it—I'm Carol first, a lesbian second. I certainly never had any reason to tell CJ, because doing that would change the way I was able to work around her. I can keep it professional as long as I can pretend I don't feel this way.
She's my one hang up. I can take or leave any other woman that comes my way, but CJ is something else. She's beautiful, stunning, sexy, and it takes my breath away to stand next to her podium and hear her smack down the reporters. I used to try and ignore the fact that I wanted her, and I still work very hard not to flirt with CJ, but there's no denying how much I hope. There's no point and I know it, and sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my life watching her through the blinds. It's high school all over again.
I shook my head, biting my lip again and hard. I'm such an immature little thing, trying to act like I belong in a club like Clarita's. I'll smoke my cigarettes, drink the whiskey and rum and kiss women wearing too much makeup; but inside I'm lost as hell because the only one I really want to be with is CJ. I'm 26, but I look 30 and I act like 17. All ages that are old enough to love her from afar…I can't get away from it, and I can't get away from the fact that she's going to be here in a matter of seconds…. Looking at me with amusement and maybe a bit of shock, things that I should be able to handle but won't.
***
She made the joke after the State of the Union. "Get on the couch, I'm gonna do you right now…"
I knew she'd been talking to Sam, but when he'd agreed, she'd picked up her head and claimed she'd been talking to me. I think about that a lot, wondering if it meant anything. It didn't, I say again as I look up and down the trafficked street, watching for CJ's silver Lexus. Soon, I look away and hope she'll never come.
I didn't even see the car pull up. I was busy staring at the dirty concrete, watching as my vision got lost in tears. Why did I have to feel this way about her? Why did I tell her I was here? Why did I let this happen?
As a black drop of water hit the illuminated sidewalk, I felt a hand on my arm. Jerking my head up, I was staring right into the wide-eyed face of CJ Cregg.
"C'mon…" she said softly, her mouth frowning with concern. I forced my stomach to settle and my legs to move as she turned back towards the expensive silver coupe. I slid guiltily into the passenger seat, fingering the black leather carefully and randomly thinking that she must've had a great job before the White House.
When she started the engine the CD player turned on and the soft, slow rap of a familiar artist broke the silence. I liked the music and my inner torture was momentarily forgotten as I fought a laugh.
"Okay, for the course of this drive, please try to ignore the fact that I'm secretly a mainstream teenager," CJ said sarcastically, smiling in spite of herself. I let the short laugh out, hoping that her joking meant this situation was okay.
"I have this CD," I remembered aloud. I saw CJ grin as she looked over her shoulder. The traffic was impossibly heavy and we were unable to pull out.
"Yeah, Carol, this actually IS your CD…" she said, her voice smooth as she tried to see past the van parked behind her.
"You took my Jay-Z CD?" I cried, mock incredulous. She gave up trying to wedge the Lexus into traffic and quickly pulled the parking brake.
Turning towards me, CJ ignored my attempts at levity. "Carol, your make up is running. What's up?"
I'm in love with you and you just found out that I might. I didn't say the words; I didn't say anything. I tried not to look at CJ's eyes and instead lingered on her deep blue camisole, peeking out of her white blouse. No…I moved my eyes upwards, trying to ignore her question. But the car smelled like her perfume; it smelled like her office too only better and closer, and there was really nothing but CJ right now.
Her sigh was deep and sharp as she fought to read my mind. "Carol, I didn't mind having to come get you."
"I'm drunk and you paged me 911…" I said slowly, my stare latched to the tan skin of her collarbone now.
CJ snorted. "It was a joke, hon. I couldn't find the keys to your filing cabinet."
I met her gaze then. I wished that she wouldn't call me 'hon'; I could take it as so much more than an evil tease. The sick feeling perused through my stomach again, and I felt her eyes remain on me as I instantly found the hem of my halter fascinating.
Her voice was eerily soft as she hit pause on the CD system. "I can see straight into this, Carol. We don't have to talk about it if you can't, but…"
"But what?" I managed to croak out. Breathing in and out was taking considerable effort.
CJ didn't say anything then, and the stress that permeated the air was almost enough to blow away the beautiful perfume. I looked up and she was looking at the traffic.
"But what?" I said again, my voice finally regaining its strength.
"You could have told me, Carol. It would have been okay…" CJ mused, her eyes still watching the flow of headlights whizzing past us. Finally as an opening in the traffic appeared, CJ geared into drive and pulled out at a pace my car could never dream about.
***
She took me home in silence, though I struggled to come up with words. It would have been okay to tell her? What good could have come from that? Now that CJ knew, I was dizzied simply by her proximity. Inches away. She was too beautiful, and yet she was such a mysterious woman. CJ holds secrets—I know it. I've spent enough long hours just watching her to see that there is something intricately confusing about her. She doesn't know what she does to my heartbeat.
The temptation to invite her up to my apartment was strong, but the urge to go and cry was stronger still. I got out of the insanely expensive car, and before I could slam the door, CJ called my name.
"Your purse…" she held it out, a flicker of a smile crossing her lips. I giggled nervously, the loose ends of my dark hair falling into my face as I leaned back into the car to get it.
"Thanks…" I murmured, realizing how strange this would be tomorrow morning.
"You need anything, give me a call…" CJ offered, gesturing with her hands.
I forced a nice smile and closed the door, and as I walked slowly towards my building, I knew that I would only call CJ in dreams. It was unrequited and endless.