Chapter 12
By Friday morning, Jane had had less than 15 hours sleep over three days, but somehow kept going, and going. Maura would have blamed it on the adrenaline, had she talked to her recently. She sat idly looking at the finished report on her computer screen while nursing her third cup of coffee since 5 am. Nothing major had happened at work for the past two days; all the action seemed reserved for when she went home and tried to sleep.
The new dreams had not been overtly sexual but the top-gear intensity had remained. Her first one found her gently cuddling a very naked Maura in her bed; she hated liking so much the feelings of that dream. Another one –the worst- took her back to Maura's house, where she had found her making out with Julia against the kitchen counter and them laughing at her as she stood sulking, unable to move.
The pattern was so obvious that her detective mind scoffed, even as her denial-prone brain screamed and protested. All the evidence was there, but she had barely managed to deal with Maura's new, sudden attraction to women. Dealing with the possibility of it also happening to her was just too much.
She wasn't gay. She just dreamt of being with Maura, nothing else. And yes, she loved her. With all her heart, even if she knew she would never say it in so many words. But she just couldn't be in love with her best friend, and discover that in a dream. It was too ridiculous, too far-fetched. One thing is to find someone attractive, especially if you share so much stuff with the other person -someone who happens to be a lesbian and likes you-, and another completely different thing was to suddenly want to jump your best friend of years.
Of course, above all, she couldn't forget the fact that her best friend was smitten with someone else -not her.
Even knowing all of this, something wasn't right, and not seeing much of Maura had a lot to do with that.
She had not purposefully avoided Maura, but she had not made the effort of going to see her for days. She knew -thought, assumed- that Maura was too busy with work and Julia, so she was not expecting an impromptu visit from her either. They'd be seeing each other soon anyway; Maura wanted tonight's Friday night to be at her place instead of the Dirty Robber. The thought of cancelling crossed her mind again, but nothing but work or a major emergency ever got in the way – and never their occasional boyfriends. Friday nights was their time to catch up and kick back, and even now that she was smack in the middle of the Perfect-Dreaming-Storm, she still looked forward to their time together. Beyond the dreams and whatever they meant or not, she missed her friend. She just wanted to go to Maura's, have some food, and not-process with her until the world got back on its feet.
Maybe she needed to tell Maura about the dreams, laugh about them, and then sit with a beer while Maura recited two or three studies that proved conclusively that something or other about the brain's chemistry and subconscious whatever.
Maur, you know... the funniest thing happened. I dreamt that we made out like two horny teenagers and then I stood there, swooning all mushy for you because I dreamt we were so in love, and then I saw us cuddling in bed and then you were making out with Julia and laughing at me.
Yeah.
Right.
She would go to Maura's because that's how grown-up best friends act, and keep on not dealing with it over a beer or something. They'd watch a movie, she'd work on being happy for Maura, and let time erase the dreams and put her head right.
.
.
Maura opened her door and saw Jane hiding her face behind a bottle of a wine. As Jane walked past, she saw the dark shadow under her eyes screaming a few sleepless nights, but decided it would be best to not to ask. Yet.
Jane strutted in but stopped dead on her tracks when she saw the table set for two, with lit candles and flowers and everything. She cautiously looked around Maura's apartment.
"It's just you and me, Jane."
The dizzying sense of relief amused her. As she approached the kitchen she recognized the smell coming from the pot simmering on the stove and she felt like Pavlov's dog.
"Is that your special pesto?"
Maura nodded smugly.
"And the candles and all that?" She pointed at the table. "What happened to our slob-by-law Friday nights?
"Don't you like it?"
"Yeah, of course I do like… all that." What's the occasion?"
"That, as you so eloquently put it, is also called eating well for a change, and in a pleasant environment. Studies indicate that good food and a nice ambiance are factors that help produce endorphins."
Jane went over to kitchen, strutting satisfied she had managed to hang the dream outside of Maura's entrance door, and tucked away a bag. "So, these endothingies make you relaxed, right? She took a beer out the fridge and leant on the other side of the island, watching Maura stir the pot.
"Endorphine, or rather, endogenous morphine, is a morphine-like substance produced by our bodies which-"
"Wait. Our body produces morphine?"
"A substance like morphine but-"
"Great. I'm a drug-addict with a factory in-house and you are supplying the raw material." Jane stuck her thumb out towards the table, her mischievous grin morphing into a soft, apologetic, tentative smile.
Maura smiled back, disarmed by Jane's gesture, until she felt in her stomach the effects of a clear epinephrine discharge, overstimulating her sympathetic nervous system. The cramps turned the smile into tight lips and forced her eyes away.
A Polaroid from one of the dreams flashed in Jane's eyes when she saw Maura odd reaction, making her shiver. She forced her eyes down, hoping that the flush would not reach her skin.
Maura saw the odd, sudden change in Jane's face, but opted to side step it and distract her instead. "I think the food is ready. Why don't you open the wine while I serve?"
"Oops." Jane looked at her beer, pressed her lips and raised her eyebrows.
"You can have your beer with dinner if you want, but I still need that wine bottle opened."
"Clever. Hey, that smells yummy…" Jane opened the wine and headed for the table.
"Thanks. Speaking of smells, I see have you finally used the hair mask I gave you three month ago?"
"No way. You can smell my hair from 3 feet away with pesto cooking next to you?"
"Of course! Your hair looks lovely -and it smells wonderful, by the way."
Girly Jane grinned; at least something good had come out of all those blank hours in the middle of the night.
"I prefer the smell of that sauce… It's driving me crazy." She sat holding fork and spoon upright on the table. "Ok. Do I have to beg?"
She tucked in with gusto as Maura led the conversation with anecdotes from her latest cases, to which Jane added a few of her own. The conversation was innocuous enough, and yet, Maura still felt jittery. Every now and then, memories of her evenings with Julia rushed back. With them, came the memories of their lovemaking and the panic afterwards. She sought refuge in the fact that Julia had not suspected anything.
"Aren't you eating?" Jane waved her fork at Maura's still half-full plate.
"Yes, yes. I was just watching how much you are enjoying the meal."
"What? I like it."
"There is still some left in the pot."
Jane left the fork on her now empty plate, leaned back and rubbed her full but still flat tummy.
"Tempting, but I need space for dessert. I think this dinner deserves something special. I'll go get it, if you make coffee."
"Oh, no, don't go out now! I bought chocolate-chip cookie ice cream. You never say no to that."
Jane trotted to the kitchen counter grinning. She retrieved the bag she had brought with her and fished from the bottom a box of Moochie's macaroons.
"Ta-da!"
"Oh, Jane! You went all the way to Render Café to get macarons?" The French pronunciation amused Jane, and she smiled looking at a delighted Maura.
"Thanks, Jane! Maura clapped cheerfully before giving Jane a hug.
Jane stiffened, holding her breath and almost dropping the box. The awkwardness would have killed the joy of giving and sharing, had not it been for Maura's quick reaction. Instead of jumping back, apologizing or questioning Jane, she chose to get the box from Jane as if nothing had happened.
"Hmm, these are so good, Jane. Possibly as good as Angelina's in Rue de Rivoli, the absolutely best macarons in Paris." With a careful pinch of thumb and index finger, she picked from the box a white macaroon and took a small bite, closing her eyes as it dissolved in her mouth.
"Oh… wonderful! Love the crunchiness of the shell in contrast to the softness of the filling. You must have a caramel one; they are exquisite."
Jane's ears were still buzzing, even if her heart rate was down to normal. She realized that Maura was completely oblivious to her nonsense, and that gave her the time and strength to fade out the memories of the dream-version of Maura kissing her as if her life depended on it. She focused instead on the Maura of flesh-and-blood standing outside her dream, overjoyed over a pastry, and found refuge in a teasing comment.
"So, is it allowed to have coffee with these things?"
"Oh, hm, of course…" She placed the last bit of the macaroon in her mouth. "Oh, this is so good, Jane, thank you! Let me get the coffee now. You just sit."
"I'm housebroken, you know." Jane went over to the dinner table and began to clear it.
With coffee ready and the table clean, they finally settled on the couch –a bit further away from each other than usual. The extra three inches felt to Jane's trained detective-eye like they were sitting in different worlds.
.
A/N: Before you throw sharp pointy things at me for this fairly short chapter, think that -at least- I'm publishing daily... :D