Chapter 21: The Blue Jay of Uncertainty

The pale early-morning sunshine of a cloudy November first hovered around the anatomical heart stranded amongst thoroughly-squeezed paint tubes and a toppled paper coffee cup that was only leaking slightly. Daria propped herself up with one elbow as she fumbled for her glasses with her free hand. Seeing the bedroom door was still closed, she flopped back onto a more-decorative-than-comfortable throw pillow bearing the cryptic cross-stitched phrase "When the Aliens Come, My VCR Will Be Broken." The old woman who made it had given them a knowing look as she slowly slid it across the flea market table.

It had been three o' clock in the morning when Jane quietly slipped in the door, noticed Daria waiting up with a book on the couch, and muttered that she wasn't ready to talk on her way to the bedroom. Daria spent the next hour lying in the dark under a scratchy afghan as she revisited the events of the night, trying to figure out whether it was her lack of Halloween effort or Boys Are Guys comment that had pissed off Jane the most.

Now it was ten o'clock on a Sunday morning and Daria wished her legs were entangled with her girlfriend's under the comforter, Jane's face cradled in the curve of her neck as they slowly came to consciousness.

Thump.

That was Jane's phone hitting the floor as she stirred and bumped it off the edge of the bed (like she did most mornings). Roused from her reverie, Daria considered her situation and decided the best course of action was to approach with an abundance of caution and hot coffee.

Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the bedroom with a mug in each hand as a non-plussed looking Jane cracked open the door and held Daria in a steady (if wintry) gaze. Daria would have ridden the chilly Atlantic waves of Jane's eyes a bit longer, but the mugs were starting to burn the backs of her curled fingers. She began with, "Is this the support group for Lesbians Who Fail at Communication in Defiance of Bullshit Stereotypes?" Jane arched an eyebrow, stepped back, and let Daria pass.

They had just settled onto the gray comforter with their carefully-balanced coffees when Jane sighed audibly and said, "Look, Daria. I thought about this all night at the diner, and I just…" She stared into the distance for a few moments and then continued, "I can't convince myself you would do anything with that girl, no matter what it looked like."

Daria was vaguely aware of her head tilting into a cocker spaniel position as her mind took a sharp left turn. "You mean…the ridiculous vampire who was utterly in love with herself?" There was just a ghost of a smile on Jane's lips as she nodded. Daria set her coffee on the bedside table and took Jane's hand, then deadpanned, "She should have dressed up as cheese in a can."

"Hah!" Now there was a good-natured twinkle in her eyes.

"She did try to kiss me, though." The twinkle became a laser-focused squint, so Daria quickly added, "And it had all the appeal of an asbestos skinny-dip."

Jane gently brushed an errant lock of hair out of Daria's eyes, then suddenly leaned forward and kissed her. She sat back, the morning sun a nimbus around her dark hair, and began with, "So. You may not have fallen prey to a sapphic Nosferatu, but last night we got out-relationshipped by Upchuck."

Daria replied with a rueful half-smile, "I think we get the opposite of a trophy for that."

"You mean like a bouquet of dead birds or repeated slapping with flip-flops?"

Daria snorted laughter. "My so-called costume was lackluster at best and criminally lazy at worst."

"And I truly don't know how I managed to cover every surface in the apartment with art supplies. That day you found the taxidermied blue jay in the fridge? You would have been within your rights to launch it at me the minute I walked through the door."

Daria reached for her coffee cup and raised it. "To better communication skills?"

"Yup." She paused. "By the way, what do you make of my brother's adoption predicament?"

"Well, it's great that they want to adopt."

"But?"

Daria furrowed her brow and went on, "But seven years is a long time to wait on a baby that may never…"

"Yeah," Jane murmured, peering at Daria out of the corner of her eye. "And then there's the fact that Tom's parents have Rockefeller money."

Daria nodded. "Some might say they have surrogate money."

They sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments. Suddenly Jane blurted out, "But who the hell would that be?"