Chapter 2

"Oh Mair! You look spectacular." Rhoda clasped her hands together as she did a once over of the tightly fitting sequined gown that Mary had found for a bargain at the department store. It was just the thing one wore to the symphony and Mary was right out of Hollywood in it. Rhoda nearly expected a limousine to pull out upside and whisk her away, as if she were the star of the entire evening. "Turn around, would you. Wow, look at how that fits you." Rhoda took in every last inch of the dress, the way it hugged Mary, smoothed over the surface of her body like a stocking. "It was certainly made for you, kid."

"Oh, Rhoda. You're too much." Mary blushed under Rhoda's intense scrutiny, waving it away.

"I'm just telling you the truth. Jesus, Mary." Rhoda fell down into the sofa as if struck dead by an arrow right to the heart.

"You're making me feel self-conscious. Stop looking at me like that." Mary playfully snapped, disappearing into the recesses of her closet.

Rhoda grinned to herself, pleased for some inexplicable reason. And just as she allowed herself to revel in the bliss of having Mary all dolled up, she heard the knock at the door. There he was, and right on time. Right at 7:30 on the dot. Rhoda could spit.

"I'll get it," Rhoda yelled into the room, knowing that Mary would be preoccupied locating a shawl for the evening or putting the finishing touches on her make-up. Uncurling herself from the couch she made her way to the door, tossing it open to find the handsome devil himself on the other side.

"Well hello there Rhoda. Nice, as always, to see you. Got a date to get off to?" He spoke coolly, confidently, that boyish grin never faltering. Rhoda wanted to slap that smile off his face.

"Oh no, not me. I've got another night in to prepare for." Rhoda slumped back to the couch as Peter made himself at home in Mary's apartment. As if he owned the very coat rack that he hung his coat on, as if he always walked in and took a seat on the chair. It was making Rhoda feel as if she no longer fit into the picture at all.

They sat staring at one another, daring the other to blink first. Of course he looked fantastic in his tux, his blonde hair all smoothed back, his teeth white as he smiled pleasantly in Rhoda's direction. Waiting. They were both waiting for Mary to emerge; the art of conversation was a lost to them – perhaps he sensed that she was not his biggest fan. She certainly wasn't doing a great job of hiding the fact.

"You'd better quiet down out here or else the neighbors might complain." Mary joked as she made her entrance again, the gown sparkling in the well-lit apartment, a black stole draped over her shoulders.

Peter's eyes went wide – Rhoda watched this – and he devoured her best friend in one gulp. She couldn't deny the love, the lust, the want in his gaze. The desire he had for Mary. It was both pure yet wanting and it made Rhoda's stomach twist and turn in disgust.

"Mary, kid. You look splendid. Just splendid." Peter was on his feet, moving to embrace Mary to pull her in for a kiss.

Rhoda should have had the common sense, the decency to turn away but she found her eyes betraying her, watching as Mary allowed him to sweep her into his arms, to press his lips to her waiting, wiling mouth. And her eyes, those eyes, closed in bliss as they met.

Rhoda swallowed, looking away. Her palms were sweaty, mouth dry. "Well, I guess this is my cue to skedaddle. See you two love birds some other time." She had to get out of the room, to get away from Mary wrapped up in him. Him, who also called Mary "kid". Rhoda really resented that he called her that. That was her term for Mary, hers alone. Or it should have been.

Now she was Peter's "kid", Peter's splendid little darling.

"Have a good night, Rhoda." Mary called after her, her voice held just the slightest hint of concern, but there would be no calling Rhoda back, no kissing, no hugging to make poor old, lonely, still-single Rhoda feel better. Now it was Peter's turn to take over Mary's attentions for the night.

Rhoda was in her apartment in a matter of seconds, the bright pink of the room overwhelming her. It was all together too cheerful a color for the moment. Rhoda was feeling blue. The room would look better in blue. Maybe she'd paint it tomorrow.

Rhoda fell to the bed and laid there, staring up at the ceiling absently. She listened, listened as muffled voices spoke beneath her. She could make out Peter as he spoke, his baritone strong and sturdy. Mary's voice followed, higher pitched, and then she laughed. That joyous, cheerful laugh. It broke Rhoda's heart that he was capable of making her laugh like that.

Then there was the door closing, footsteps on the stairs downwards, the backdoor opening and closing, the car engine humming, tires on pavement, screeching, halting away from Rhoda. They were gone, swallowed up in the night.

And Rhoda was left alone to her own devices, to the deadening sound of an empty home. Lars and Phyllis were away for the weekend, Bess at a friend's house. And Rhoda was alone. It was pathetic, wasn't it, that a nearly thirty-three-year-old couldn't find a date for the evening. What would happen when Mary got married and left her entirely? What would Rhoda do then?

The thought depressed her.

Dragging herself up, she made a pot of coffee. She decided to settle in for the night with a little something she'd happened upon at the local bookstore. As she curled up in her bed with the book and cup of steaming coffee, she felt a bit nervous. Somehow the cover had caught her attention, she felt herself drawn like a magnet to the book. The Desert of the Heart. It felt naughty to pick it up, to have even stumbled across it, but the cashier had scarcely noticed or cared what she was purchasing. Now she sat tucked away with her little find, falling deep into the pages filled with Evelyn and Ann. Their love story playing out before her. She could imagine it so vividly.

Her heart was heavy, wanting for something intangible by the time she glanced up from near the end of the novel. She was so lost in its pages that she hadn't realized the time, hadn't realized that nearly three hours had passed. She was wide awake from the coffee she'd kept pouring.

But she realized, glancing out the window briefly, that Mary had not yet returned. There had been no noise downstairs, no movement, no sound. The concert had to have ended by now, certainly Mary would be back at any moment.

Rhoda finished her novel, her heart heavy at the thought of two women living together. Two women loving one another as a man and a woman might. How ridiculous it sounded, at least for Rhoda Morgenstern whom dated men, loved men, enjoyed the throws of passion with many men. Men had been Rhoda's life.

Up until Mary. Until Mary had taken her apartment, had made her mad, but made her love her from the very beginning. And they were close, thick as thieves, more so than any other gal Rhoda had ever met.

Rhoda had despised the girls in her neighborhood as a child. She'd preferred the boy's company, racing around playing cowboys and robbers, baseball at the park, bocce ball in the streets. She had ignored the girls entirely. The girls with their silly princess games and baby dolls. No, none of that had been for Rhoda Morgenstern.

Did that make her so abnormal? Now that she craved the closeness of a woman, the closeness of little Ms. Perfect Richards, did that make her one of those ladies?

Glancing out the window again, Rhoda allowed herself to imagine it. The thought of her and Mary getting a place of their own played out in her mind. A little house with two or three bedrooms, how they would make breakfast together every morning, share a ride to work, their clothes taking up a shared closet, a shared dresser, a real bed that they would sleep in. Together.

There had been several nights together. The nights when they were in Mexico and the other time when they'd gone to see Rhoda's family in New York, when they'd had to share the little bed in the cramped spare bedroom of her parent's apartment. The way that Mary had reached for her in the night, had pulled them close. And Rhoda wondered why she hadn't thought it then in that moment. That she should want more than to just have Mary's arm about her, that she might have wanted to grasp onto more than just Mary's waist. Their bodies had felt so natural pressed up together like that. The thought that they had been so close made Rhoda's arms ache. What if she had leaned in then, what if she had pressed her lips to Mary's cheek? Would Mary have pushed her away? Called her some name in disgust? Would Mary find her repulsive then?

Rhoda buried her face in her pillow, groaning in frustration.

Her senses were on overdrive, her hearing supersonic for she could detect every little creak and crack the empty house made in the night. The wind had picked up, knocking that annoying branch against the window. Rhoda listened for a car on the street outside, but heard nothing.

What time was it anyway?

Rhoda turned, looking at her alarm clock. 2:00 am! Two in the morning and Mary Richards wasn't home?

Rhoda stood from the bed, pacing back and forth. Mary always got home eventually, didn't she? Usually Peter delivered her back promptly by 1 at the latest. But now…now it was nearing 2.

Where was she?

Rhoda sat back on the bed again, pulling her legs up against her chest. She willed the worried thoughts from her mind. Mary would be just fine, she was certain of that, with a man like Peter. But where were they? Had they been in a car accident? The thought was too ridiculous. Rhoda felt certain they were safe.

It was just…Mary wasn't home.

Rhoda felt herself drifting in and out of sleep, drained from her mentally exhausting evening. Her want for Mary was all consuming and fruitless. Mary could never love her, not in the way she so desperately was hoping and longing for.

Her eyes shot open when she heard the door open and close beneath her. A wave of relief washed over her. She was fully awake now, aware of the one pair of feet beneath her, walking to her closet, to her bathroom, the shower kicked on, shut off, feet moving to the kitchen, to the table.

But what time was it?

8:00. It was 8:00 am and Mary had just gotten home? That meant that she…had she? But hadn't she just said that she didn't want that? No, she couldn't have.

Rhoda hugged her pillow to her chest.

It muffled the sobs that came out of nowhere, surprising her. Sobs that wracked her body until she fell back asleep again.