Chapter 8

Rhoda slept in her own bed that night until she heard the phone ringing in her apartment. She stumbled from her bed, bleary eyed, exhausted for sleep had not come so easily. Her hand landed clumsily on the device and she put it to her ear. In her foggy state she thought it might actually be some sort of an emergency. Had something happened to her dad? Her mother?

But no. It was just the person she'd been expecting.

"Rhoda, I…I know it's late. But I…"

"Couldn't sleep?" Rhoda offered.

"Yes."

"Me either, kid." Rhoda slumped onto her bed. She listened as she heard silence on the other end of the phone, the question hanging in the air between them, an apology at the tip of Mary's tongue. Yet neither really arrived. "Well, what are we going to do about it?" Rhoda daringly spoke, wanting, desperately, for Mary to acknowledge that she needed her beside her, wanted her there.

"Rhoda would you…" Mary sighed. This was apparently hard for her. Hard for the former cheerleader, homecoming queen, woman every woman wanted to be, yet hated all the same. She was perfect in every way, except when it came to allowing her true feelings to surface.

Rhoda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "I'll be down in a minute, okay?" She hung up, slid her feet into her slippers, wrapped herself in a robe, and moved deftly down the stairs – so as to not attract attention from any of the other apartments (who knew if Phyllis sat about spying on their comings and goings at night, it always felt so risky). The door was open. Rhoda slid inside, closing and locking it.

Mary was in the bed, laying on her back, the sheen of tears on her cheeks was obvious in the moonlit room.

Rhoda draped her robe over the chair, kicked off her slippers, and climbed into the bed. She kept her distance, still quite upset with Mary over everything that had happened. How she wanted, desperately, to know what Mary was thinking, yet knew she needed to hold her tongue because Mary had more than their kiss to think about. And Rhoda should not, could not, get in the way of Mary making plans for the baby.

The baby. This thing growing between them, potentially ruining what could, what might develop between them.

Mary turned on her side, looking to face Rhoda. "I'm scared." She whispered.

And Rhoda's heart caved, nearly collapsed in her chest. Sitting up on her elbow she looked down at Mary. Their eyes met, looking at one another. "Oh, Mare." Rhoda reached out and let her hand cup Mary's face, let her thumb wipe at wet cheeks. "It's all going to be okay."

"How?" Mary's lip quivered.

Rhoda shook her head. "I don't know." And she didn't. She had no idea, but she had the intuition, the sense to know that things always had a way of working out when it came to Mary.

Rhoda's eyes fell to Mary's lips. She wondered if they were allowed to kiss again, if it had been a one-time event that she might replay in her mind again and again until she died, or if it might happen again. Kissing Mary was unforgettable. Rhoda instantly hated every man that had ever kissed her before this very evening. Lucky bastards, all of them, that they had permission to kiss Mary in the light of day and Rhoda was left to kisses stolen in the night. If this was what might happen now.

"You should marry Peter." Rhoda whispered.

A tear slid down Mary's cheek. A protest.

Rhoda leaned forward and pressed her lips to Mary's forehead. A chaste move. A comforting gesture, innocent, what a caring mother might do for a troubled daughter.

When she felt Mary's hands at her waist, however, she realized this was not chaste, innocent, maternal. This was different. This was raw want, raw need for the other. Mary tugged at her, pulling her so that half her body draped over Mary's lithe frame. Mary felt solid beneath her, warm. Their faces were inches apart, Mary held her tightly, as if afraid she might run.

"What are we doing?" Rhoda dared to ask, needing to know that Mary wanted this, needing to hear her say the words out loud.

"I don't know," Mary's sweet breath ghosted against her cheek. "I don't know, but I know that I want this."

Rhoda's heart beat loudly in her chest. She leaned down and took what she wanted, her lips pressing against Mary's. Rhoda Morgenstern was a good kisser. She always had been. Practicing on boys and girls alike in elementary school, graduating to boys in the back of movie theatres on the weekends in the Bronx. She had lots of experience, but Mary Richards demanded a sort of art to kissing. A gentleness, a seductive, delicate, refined kiss. The fact that their bodies were against one another made Rhoda acutely aware of their doubled femininity. How soft Mary was, how her pert little breasts pressed against Rhoda's, how her hands rested against her back, fingers delightfully pressing into her flesh. She could not help the moan that escaped her lips when Mary bit at her bottom lip.

It was as if they had always been meant to kiss like this, had somehow needed the other to truly understand the definition of kissing. They rolled in one another's arms, unable to get enough of the other.

The sun crept into the room, painting it nearly as pink as Rhoda's apartment. They had come to rest beside one another, panting lightly, sheets tossed off, bodies warm, arms and legs still tangled up in one another. Though the barrier, the safety of clothes kept them together but separate still. Mary's finger traced up and down against Rhoda's arm, making her dizzy.

The mere suggestion of having to remove themselves from this spot seemed inconceivable. The thought that a whole other world waited for them outside these apartment walls felt an impossibility.

A fleeting thought crossed Rhoda's mind as they rested together in their early morning reverie.

"Mare?" Rhoda felt her heart speeding up.

"Mmm?" Mary sleepily hummed.

"What day is it?" Rhoda felt more awake than ever.

"Monday." Mary offered.

"What Monday?"

"The sixth."

"Oh, Mare."

Mary rolled to face Rhoda, tracing a finger down her cheek. "What?"

"I have a date tonight."

Mary's brow creased. "I thought you weren't…with whom?"

"Your mother."

The jealousy that had flared up in Mary's eyes instantly faded, eyes crinkling as laughter formed on Mary's lips. "You have a date with my mother?"

"Yeah," Rhoda felt her cheeks warm up. "We've been meeting once a month to see the latest film together. You know since she moved here and, well at first she didn't have friends so I went out with her, but now….now it's a standing date and I'm just not quite sure I should go because –"

"You should go." Mary spoke firmly.

"But, Mary." Rhoda looked up at her. "How am I supposed to…I mean we've…we're doing whatever this is and you're…"

"That's exactly why you have to go. Pretend like everything's normal." Mary rolled onto her back, hugging a pillow to her chest.

Rhoda turned to her, looked her over as she laid there. That scared look had taken over, as if Mary had just woken from a pleasant dream to find a nightmare in her waking state. "You know I'm a horrible liar."

"Yeah, well you're going to have to lie for me. Until I figure out what I…until I… Oh, Rhoda. I don't know what I'm doing." Mary broke down in tears.

Rhoda moved the pillow from her tight grasp, replacing it with her arms. "I'll keep the date and I won't speak a word." Mary nodded appreciatively against her neck. "But you're going to have to tell her eventually."

Mary's body shook as she cried into Rhoda's shoulder.

Rhoda felt the tension riding up in her shoulders only somewhat releasing as she found herself knocking lightly at Mary's door. Dinner and a movie had been a real chore with Dottie Richards. It was extremely hard for Rhoda to lie through her teeth. "Yes, Mary is on a date tonight. No, I don't know much about the guy. I'm not sure what happened to Peter. Yes, he was a real great guy." She was exhausted and done with the shtick. She needed to decompress, to unwind from the tense evening. Luckily, Dottie hadn't thought anything of her shoulders that were practically up to her ears.

"Come in, Rhoda!" Mary called from the other side of the door, as if nothing at all had changed. Her voice even sounded happier than it had in quite some time.

"Mare, that was a nightmare." Rhoda burst into the apartment to find Mary staring at herself in her full-length closet mirror. She was pulling and pinching at her well-fitted skirt. "What are you doing, kid?" Rhoda inquired.

"Imagining what I'll look like in a few months. I won't be able to wear any of this." Mary sighed, running her finger wistfully over her wardrobe.

"Now you're sounding like me." Rhoda laughed. She moved to stand behind Mary, to untuck the shirt from her skirt and pull it in just the right way, adjusting Mary as if she were a mannequin at her store. "I just can't imagine you any bigger than you are. Maybe I can find some dresses at the store that would make it seem questionable, you know? Perhaps something a little over-sized." Rhoda glanced up and found Mary watching her in the mirror. Their eyes met. Mary smiled a little. Rhoda smiled a little. Her heart skipped a beat.

Rhoda's hands rested firmly against Mary's hips as Mary turned in her arms, ever so slightly, so as to press a kiss tentatively to Rhoda's lips. This was a new dance. Neither seemed certain, the kiss was left brief, but sweet.

"I figured you deserved that after valiantly taking my mother out this evening." Mary bowed her head, as if embarrassed by her actions.

"Yeah," Rhoda dropped her hands from Mary's person and moved into the sitting area, away from her friend who was beginning to feel like so much more. "She kept asking about you. About Peter, about why you haven't called her or stopped by all week. She's getting suspicious, Mare."

Mary reappeared from her closet in a nightgown, the really short pink one that Rhoda had always really liked. Those legs, God, those legs. "I know I'll have to talk to her, but I…" Mary faltered, coming to sit on the couch beside Rhoda.

"Mary, I think we should really discuss this." Rhoda sat forward, folding her hands together, resting her arms against her knees. "You've gotta start facing the facts, kid."

Mary sighed. "Well, there's always adoption."

"Adoption?" Rhoda looked at her incredulously. "Don't you want to have this child? I thought you would…but…"

"What would we do with a baby?" Mary frowned.

Rhoda's heart crashed into her ribcage at that one simple word.

We.

As if they were a unit. As if they already operated together, made life decisions together like whether or not to have a baby.

"Mare, what do you mean we?" Rhoda asked softly, hesitantly.

Mary stared apprehensively at Rhoda. "You know…well, I mean you're my friend and we…we do things together and I just feel like you would be a part of this child's life and I…I…"

"What about Peter, Mary? He would give this child an amazing life." That I couldn't. Rhoda looked back down at her hands. Ashamed. "Don't you want to be married?"

Mary was flustered. She was silent for several moments, needing to collect her thoughts. It was as if in that moment she grasped the true gravity of her situation and she needed the right answer. And nothing seemed right, nothing at all. "Oh, Rhoda. I wouldn't want to marry him just because I'm pregnant…not, when I'm not sure I actually even like him…let alone love him."

Rhoda felt a sense of relief wash over her. She hated herself a little for feeling content that her friend was not in love with the father of her future child, but she felt just the slightest glimmer of hope that Mary might actually feel for her what she felt for Mary. Certainly the kisses they had shared…even the simple way in which Mary had kissed her earlier that evening…

"Why are you crying?" Mary's voice startled her. Rhoda wiped at her cheeks, realizing that against her will she had been crying.

"I'm not." Rhoda brushed the tears from her cheeks, trying to play it off.

"You really want me to marry him?" Mary was searching for answers, searching to figure out just what had gotten into Rhoda.

Rhoda turned to face her, eyes wide. "Of course not, Mary."

Mary appeared to release a held in breath then. "Oh, good. I thought that you…but you…"

Rhoda stopped her mid-rambling by grabbing her hands. "I don't want you to be with anyone else, but it really scares me, kid."

"It scares me, too." Mary whispered, tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes, her lip quivering ever so slightly.

Rhoda leaned forward, daringly, and pressed her lips to Mary's, wanting, desperately, to take away her anguish, her pain, her fear.

"I think you need to tell your parents. About the baby." Rhoda whispered as they parted, finding that her hand had moved to rest against Mary's smooth upper thigh. Her skin was like silk. Her nightgown was so short that Rhoda's mind wandered upwards without her consent. What a horribly inappropriate thing to be focused on at a moment like this.

Mary looked down. "It's so embarrassing."

Rhoda squeezed the hand which she was still holding. "We're going to get through this."

"I like when you say we." Mary gave her a half-smile.

"It does sound nice, doesn't it?"