A Perfect Life nd Other Stories (2 page)

“What about a picture frame?” Roz asked. We had moved on to a
camera shop and she was examining a pewter eight by ten.

“Too intimate. Then I suppose she’d want a picture of me for it.”

Roz put the frame back on the shelf. “Yeah, it’d be awkward to put
her ex in there.” She glared at me. “What do you mean too intimate? You two are
having sex, are you not?”

“That’s different.”

Roz howled. She made me buy one anyway and we resumed our trek, my
quest for the relationship holy grail.

At Williams-Sonoma, Roz spotted Abby’s cookbook. She grabbed it
off the shelf and held it up for the crowd of shoppers as though giving a
demonstration. “Hey, Becca,” she said, louder than necessary. “Here’s your
girlfriend’s cookbook!” She leafed through the pages. “My, these look like
yummy recipes,” she said in her best QVC voice.

I pretended I didn’t know her and made my way down the utensil
wall. Who knew spatulas came in so many shapes, sizes, and materials. Silicone?
Clearly not just for breasts anymore. I didn’t know what half the gewgaws were,
but recognized most of them from Abby’s drawers. She really had been outfitted
here. Coals to Newcastle came to mind.

Roz came up behind me. “There’s got to be something here for her,
right?”

“You saw her kitchen.” I swept my arm in an arc. “Hello! This is
Abby’s kitchen.”

It was time for a break. All those kitchen goodies had made me
hungry, so we headed for the food court. On the way, we passed a Rainforest
Café—dining as entertainment. Sensory overload to distract you from your
appointment with obesity. I stood transfixed, watching fish swim through a
tube-shaped aquarium that framed a doorway separating what looked like a gift
shop from what was probably the restaurant. Fog misted across fake wetland
displays and plastic vines covered the ceiling. An enormous painted plaster
mushroom marked the entrance.

Roz chuckled. “They’re either offering an LSD special or it’s an
homage to
Alice in Wonderland
.”

“Something for everyone,” I said.

When we arrived at the food court we discovered there were no
McDonald’s, no Burger King, but instead Japanese, Chinese, Thai, and, we noticed,
a currency exchange.

“Are you sure we’re still in America?” I asked.

I wasn’t convinced a mall could offer truly fine international
dining, so we settled for Dunkin’ Donuts. Once satiated, we resumed our
excursion, but passed the Yankee Candle shop without going in. Abby sold that
kind of stuff in her store, and besides, I started coughing at the entrance.
Did everything have to smell? The easiest purchase was a nice card at the
Hallmark shop. Roz suggested an ornament, and I perused them all carefully. But
Snoopy on a sled, as cute as he was, somehow didn’t fulfill my dream of The
Perfect Gift.

Back in the salmon stream, we latched onto a mall directory and
scoured it looking for a bookstore. The closest they had was a newsstand. We
made our way there, Roz shaking her head and muttering about “a bunch of
illiterates.” Then, every title I pulled off the meager display of mass market
paperbacks, Roz grabbed from me and put back. “You’re only picking books you
like.”

“So?”

“So, Patricia Cornwell is not an appropriate first big gift for
your girlfriend.”

“But I need to know what happens to Lucy!”

Roz threw up her hands in disgust and abandoned me. I found her by
the escalator sitting in a massage chair.

“It works better if you put money in it,” I said.

“I would, but then I’d feel like I’m in a sleazy Vegas motel.”

Just as I sat in the one next to her, she stood up. “C’mon. Time
to get serious.” I groaned.

The next shop we came to was Victoria’s Secret. Roz’s eyes lit up.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She headed straight in, but I couldn’t make it past the doorway,
as though a force field kept me out. She turned when she realized I hadn’t
followed. I shook my head. “I can’t go in there.”

She gave me a hopeless look as I retreated to a grouping of faux
leather couches across from the door, joining elderly men who were either
waiting while their wives shopped or ogling Victoria’s patrons, who, to be
frank, didn’t look anything like the scantily clad, stick-thin models on the
bigger-than-life posters in the windows. Thankfully, Abby didn’t look like
those models either, and I supposed lingerie was an entirely appropriate gift,
but still, I found that whole edible underwear thing kind of gross. Not that we
were prudes . . .

My thoughts were interrupted by Roz, who emerged from the store.
She wouldn’t look at me but headed to the next shop.

“Well?” I asked, jogging to catch up.

“Well, what?”

I noticed she carried a small bag. “What’s in the bag? Did you buy
something for me to give Abby?”

Roz stopped. “No. If you want to give Abby something from that
store, you go in there and get it yourself.” She resumed walking.

“What did you get? Something for Zoey?” I asked, reaching for the
bag to get a peek.

She whipped it away from me. “Never you mind.”

Laughing, I followed her into Pottery Barn and immediately stopped
to admire a desk of dark, polished wood. It reminded me of the day I met Abby.
Just last August. A hot day, as I recalled. I’d only talked to my new customer
on the phone and had stopped by to walk the property and gather some ideas
before meeting with the couple that Saturday. I didn’t think anyone was home
until a pert young thing poked her head out the door and asked for my help. She
needed a desk moved. It was heavy, but she didn’t just stand there and watch
me, she helped.

“It’s antique, be careful,” she said after I’d pinched my hand
between it and the wall. Better to bust a hand than dent an antique, I mused.
Her diva tone kind of pissed me off. After we’d moved the behemoth, she noticed
my hand was swelling. It was while she was looking for ice in the freezer that
I realized she didn’t live there. If she did, she’d have known there wasn’t
any.

“You robbing the place?” I asked.

She laughed. Pure and crystalline. It pierced me with glory and
left me stunned. She ran a hand through her thick, brown curls. That’s when I
noticed how sexy she was. Her T-shirt was short enough and her slacks slung low
enough that when she raised her arm, a hint of midriff peeked out. Normally I
hate that look, but on her it transformed my own midsection to jelly.

“No,” she said, “I’m a decorator. Among other things.” She held
out her hand. “Abigail.”

I would have taken it but for the fact that my right hand held a
bag of frozen organic wild blueberries against my swollen left hand. She
laughed again, this time shy and self-conscious. “Sorry about that. The desk, I
mean. I made it sound like your hand was expendable.” She looked me up and
down, her gaze settling on my left breast, or maybe on the embroidery there.
“You’re a landscaper. You need your hands.” She glanced down at my hands then
up, meeting my eyes. “They are nice hands.” My heart melted along with the
berries.

“I’m Rebecca,” I managed to croak.

Dazed by the memory, I made my way to the
back of the store where I was drawn to a four-poster bed. “We have that
comforter,” I said, to no one in particular. Was it just last night that we
made love under that comforter? I sighed. “I miss her.”

“She’s at home, waiting for you.” Roz snapped her fingers in front
of my face, like I’d gone comatose. “It is the sex. That’s why you two are
together.” The glee in her voice was notable.

Maybe, I thought. Until Abby introduced me to Bag Balm, I was
afraid to touch her with my rough, calloused hands. “Tongues are soft,” she’d
said. She was right.

“She’s not at home,” I whined. “She’s working in her shop. I’ll be
lucky if I see her before Christmas morning.”

Roz wasn’t paying any attention to me. “Wow, she’s got money!”

I came to. Roz was holding up the price tag. “No. Some client gave
it to her when she decided she didn’t like it. Couldn’t return it because her
kid had thrown up on it.”

“Eww.”

“It washed out.”

Roz looked at me, and her shoulders slumped. Anticipating what
would come next, I raised my hands in defeat. “Don’t ask it, because I can’t
answer you.” I felt more tired than if I’d planted a dozen trees. “Can we go
home now?”

Eight days later, or maybe it only seemed that long, we emerged
from the mall, released, like prisoners on parole. The sky had cleared, and we
squinted into the bright, low solstice sun. If it wouldn’t have looked so damn
Pope-like, I’d have knelt and kissed the pavement.

We searched in vain for Roz’s car, discovered we’d come out the
wrong doorway, and walked around the building. I refused to go back inside and
cut through.

Roz opened her trunk, and I tossed in my packages. “You realize
you bought more stuff for yourself than for her,” she said, with more than a
hint of disgust.

“They’re all things she’d never think of. That I needed anyway.”

Roz heaved a sigh and unlocked the car. My feet throbbed, grateful
for me to sit, finally.

EACH EVENING, WHILE Abby went through paperwork from her store or
called clients or worked on her blog, I would retreat to the corner of the
basement she had cleared for my workshop. I’d put on some Enya—Abby said it
sparks creativity—and whittle. I was always bringing home interesting branches
or scraps left over from my job. Working with wood relaxed me. It was mindless
but natural, the wood pure and organic in my hands. No power tools, just a
sharp knife, some awls and chisels, and a variety of sandpaper grits. The hours
melted away.

I was down there Christmas Eve. Through the ceiling, I could hear
Abby humming along with carols. Desperate and despondent, I opened the box with
my stash from the mall. It was time to make that final decision. What among
these boxes and wrappings and price tags adequately signified the material
representation of our relationship? Necklace, picture frame, books, nail
clippers . . . Huh? “Oh, right.” I ripped open the package and slipped them
into my pocket. None of these was good enough. Roz’s question echoed, why are
you two together? Abby was the most important person in my life, and this was
all I had to show for it? To show her how I felt? I just wanted to cry.

CHRISTMAS MORNING I held my breath as I handed Abby her present. I
had to start breathing again, however, or I would have suffocated by the time
she painstakingly peeled back the tape to not damage the paper. I rolled my
eyes. “We can reuse this,” she explained, flattening and folding it, and
carefully setting it aside before opening the box. She parted the tissue paper
and peered inside. This time my heart stopped.

“Oh, Becca! It’s beautiful.” She held up the delicate hummingbird
ornament, wings spread as though frozen in flight. “Where did you ever find
this?”

In the light of day, it didn’t look so great. The head wasn’t
right, and the bill was too short, though the speckled bird’s eye maple pattern
shined through the light oil polish. I liked the natural look, but it simply
wasn’t nice enough for a First Big Gift. Mortified, I let out a defeated
breath. “I didn’t buy it, Ab.”

She looked at me, brow furrowed, questioning.

“I made it.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked back at the bird then at me,
tears welling. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “I love it!” She cradled it as
though it was the live, fragile bird, turning it carefully, examining every
detail. “It’s you!”

My scalp tingled, and I grinned with relief. That’s why we’re
together.

Lily Gets a Flu Shot

THE LINE WOUND through the lobby of the college health center and
down a long hallway before circling back and disappearing around a corner. Lily
groaned in frustration. This will take forever, she thought. She checked her
cell phone. It was just after eleven. Her next class wasn’t until one, so she’d
probably be okay.

“Please take your coats off and read the
materials you were given,” a short woman called out.

Lily glanced at the sheet of paper she’d been handed when she
signed in. This year the shot covered H1N1 and seasonal flu. There was the
usual blah, blah, blah. Who should get the vaccine and why. Risks.
Life-threatening allergic reactions. Lily shoved the paper into her backpack.
She had no allergies, so this would be a no brainer. She wished she’d brought
something to read.

Kids in front of her joked with each other or texted. She thought
about checking her phone, if only to look like she had a social life, but she
knew the only messages would be from her mother. “Are you okay, honey?” “You’ll
make friends, dear, don’t worry.” Her mom thought she understood the stress
Lily was under, moving from rural Maine to a suburb of Boston. Small high
school to big college, only child to roommate. She’d even given Lily a special
“sex” talk. That was grueling. How to talk about “it” without ever mentioning
what “it” was. Not that “it” mattered to Lily. Any sex she would be interested
in didn’t involve boys and a risk of getting pregnant. But mom didn’t know
that, so she’d gone along. “Yes, Mom, I’ll use condoms.” She’d practically had
to fight her mother off of forcing her onto the pill.

The line crept forward. A series of small posters dotted the wall
to her left. They all played on the same theme—
End relationship violence
.
No means no. It’s never too late to say no. Prevent sexual assault
. Lily’s
eyes widened. Was this such a huge problem that they were the only messages the
health center put out? Not drug abuse? Or eating disorders? Not drinking—except
what led to sexual assault?
We’re here for you. Tell someone
. Kind of
creepy, she thought.

When she turned to look at the posters behind
her, she spotted her roommate, Snake, farther back in line. She spun forward
and pretended she hadn’t seen her, though she was hard to miss. Purple-streaked
spiked hair, leather jacket. Lily couldn’t see her roommate’s hands, but knew
her short nails were painted black. Her jeans would be ripped, her wallet stuck
in her back pocket and tethered by a chain. Doc Martens on her feet. The
quintessential punk urban butch. Or boi. She had trouble telling the
difference. If there was one. Lily sighed.

She had been able to fill out the roommate preference form online,
so her mother didn’t know that she’d requested a lesbian. Her parents hadn’t
really grasped that this was a gender-neutral college, with a dorm set aside
for trans kids. Lily didn’t think her parents knew such kids existed, but she
was hoping they’d find out so that when she came out as plain old vanilla
lesbian, they wouldn’t be so shocked. Maybe relieved even.

Snake’s first care package from her mom had included dental dams.
Lily had stared at them in wonder as Snake tossed them on the bed beside her
and dug deeper into the box for a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

“Are you out to your parents?” Lily had asked quietly, trying to
sound confident.

“Yeah, sure. They’re cool. Even said I could take a girl to my
prom. I just didn’t want to go, you know? All that prancing and preening.”
Snake shuddered. “Want a cookie?”

There wasn’t anything in particular to
dis
like about Snake,
except maybe her name. She was frustratingly well adjusted, from New York City,
with understanding parents who were both teachers. Lily hadn’t been sure how to
answer Snake’s question, What do your parents do? Right now, her mom worked as
a waitress, but until Lily went to school, she’d run a daycare. Her dad moved
from job to job, depending on the season and economy. Winters he worked as a
logger, summers mostly in construction. Weekends he took on handyman jobs or
fixed cars. Her parents never had the time to send care packages.

Lily was a little jealous because Snake was an art major and that
helped her fit in. Lily majored in chemistry. The lab wasn’t known for its gay
scene. She never knew what to talk to her roommate about and hoped by next year
she might make one new friend she could room with.

The line had rounded a corner and begun descending stairs. “How
come no one’s coming back out this way?” a tall boy with greasy hair commented.
That led to laughter and jokes about them all lined up to face their doom.
“Pigs to slaughter,” someone else called out.

The metal stairs angled downward. Lily couldn’t see ahead more
than a few people, the lower level was dark. The other kids grew quiet. She was
tempted to turn around and make her way back up and out, away from this uneasy
feeling that crept over her, but that meant passing Snake, and she didn’t feel
like having to explain her anxiety. She’d never felt so alone surrounded by so
many people. She took a deep breath and turned a corner. The hallway
brightened. A couple of doctors stood to the side, chatting and smiling. Lily
relaxed. Imagination can be a dangerous thing, she thought.

The next series of posters caught her eye. Lily did a double take.
Was that Snake? A face alarmingly like her roommate’s glared from the photo,
brown eyes boring into Lily.
Lesbians get AIDS, too, you know
, the
caption read. Lily flushed and glanced around quickly to see if anyone noticed
her staring at the poster. The boy behind her was texting madly, the girl in
front chatting to her friend. The line crept forward to another poster of a
naked woman, her legs spread, head thrown back, a grimace on her face. Ecstasy
or pain? Lily wasn’t sure. She couldn’t tell if the person going down on her
was male or female, but with purple-streaked, short-cropped hair and a leather
jacket, that could be Snake, too, she thought miserably.
Sex kills
, read
the caption on this one. Lily looked around, alarmed. What kind of messages was
this place giving out?

Her only sexual experience so far had been some kissing and
groping with Amanda, her field hockey teammate in high school. She’d thought
about going to a meeting at the LGBT center, but lab work consumed her
afternoons. For all she knew, Snake was the only other lesbian on campus,
though probably not, since she spent any number of nights away from their room,
only coming in at dawn and flopping onto her bed fully clothed and sleeping
till noon. It was hard to complain about a roommate who was rarely in the room.

A fluorescent bulb overhead buzzed and flickered. It sent a
strobe-like effect onto more posters, each more ominous than the last.
Get
the shot. Homosexuality can be cured
.

Lily felt sick to her stomach. Someone laughed toward the front of
the line, which had turned another corner. The laugh turned into a cry. She
glanced back. Snake hadn’t rounded the last corner yet. She wished she knew
just one other person here.

“Roll up your sleeve. Keep moving.” Lily looked toward the voice.
A grim-faced woman with a clipboard motioned the single line to split. Lily
could see into a large room where four tables were set up as stations with kids
moving toward a nurse at each. Quickly, a nurse wiped a spot on their arm and
stabbed in a needle. “Next,” the woman said.

Lily pushed up her sleeve and stepped over to
the nurse. She looked away as the needle poked her.

“Next.”

It was over. All that time wasted for a two-second shot. Relief
flooded her as she pulled her sleeve back down and followed the kids who had
just been inoculated through a doorway. A woman at a table handed her a paper
to sign. Another motioned to a door for her to leave through. Not the way she
came in. She pushed through. A dimly lit hallway led to another door. The noise
and chatter of the flu shot queue faded. She made her way down the hall then
paused and looked back. No one else came through the door. Had she gone the
wrong way? There had been only the one door. She pushed through the second door
and stepped into blackness. Before she could go back, the door slammed shut
behind her. She groped but found no handle to open it. How could she have made
a wrong turn? There had been no other way to go.

Lily leaned against the door. A hot wind made it hard to breathe.
As her eyes adjusted, forms began to take shape. Women. In pairs. Naked. The
air filled with moans and grunts, and everywhere women were coupled, grinding
into each other.

From the shadows, a woman approached, also
naked, with long, dark hair and large breasts. Lily’s gaze drifted down to a
leather harness and large, blood-red dildo. She sucked in a hot breath.

“So glad you came out,” the woman said in a sultry voice. Her skin
was coated with a sheen of sweat or oil, Lily couldn’t tell which. She gripped
Lily’s arm where the shot had been given, causing her to flinch in pain.

Twisting away from the naked woman, Lily saw her parents, watching
as though through a window, shaking their heads. “Oh, Lily,” her mother
mouthed.

“Time for your orientation,” the woman said. Lily struggled to get
away but felt her hands bound behind her and other hands pulling on her
clothing, ripping cloth, popping buttons. She tried to scream, but nothing
happened.

“Relax,” the woman said. “All first years go through this. We
won’t hurt you.” She laughed, low and husky. “Much.”

Another woman approached, dressed only in leather chaps and
holding a whip. “Lights!”

Lily blinked in pain as klieg lights came on. When she could look,
she saw her own nakedness and also bleachers filled with students on either
side. The other women were gone, leaving the one holding her and the other with
the whip. They were outside, she recognized the parking lot next to the health
center and the lawn behind the president’s residence. The crowd cheered. She
struggled to get free, but she was pushed forward onto a bed.

The students began stamping their feet and chanting, “Vir-gin!
Vir-gin! Vir-gin!”

Lily closed her eyes and screamed into the mattress.

A BRIGHT LIGHT stabbed her eyes. “Lily?” The voice sounded far
away.
Mom?
She tried to respond, but nothing happened. The sound of her
name grew louder, more insistent. “Lily.” The voice sounded familiar. Not Mom.
She peeked through heavy eyelids and made out a blurred face, then two. The
light shifted. She squinted.

“Whah?” she managed to mutter. The blurred face sharpened into
brown curls, glasses, a white coat, a woman’s features. Something cold pressed
against her forehead. She reached to touch the source.

“Don’t move.”

Lily took a deep breath. Air reached into her lungs, cool, not
scalding. She was on her back and could move her hands. She wasn’t bound or
naked. The other face resolved into Snake’s familiar features. She was smiling
hesitantly, her brows knit in concern.

Lily tried to rise. The woman in the white coat laid a hand gently
on her shoulder. “Lie still, you’ll be fine.”

She looked from Snake to the woman, her badge coming into focus.
Jean Mitchell, M.D.

“You gave us a bit of a scare. Lily, is it?”

She nodded.

“Good thing your friend was here.” The doctor
nodded toward Snake, who broke into a relieved grin.

“What happened?”

“You fainted. It’s not uncommon. When did you last eat?”

Lily thought back to the start of what was becoming a very long
day. “Um, well, I had a cup of coffee before my first class this morning.”

“I thought as much.” The doctor leaned back.
“We’ll get you something from the vending machine, but then I want you to go
straight to the dining center for a real meal. Then you can come back and get
your shot.” She stood. “Don’t move.”

Lily watched her leave.
No shot?
She felt her arm, but it
didn’t hurt.

Snake pulled her chair closer. “Hey,” she said.

Lily looked at her. Snake seemed real enough. “I fainted?”

“So it seems.” Snake fidgeted. “When the line split, I wound up
right behind you. You took one look at the needle and keeled over. I caught
you, though. I didn’t want you to hit your head.”

Lily put her hands to her face. “God, how embarrassing.”

Snake touched her arm tenderly. “No, don’t
worry. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She cleared her throat.

“Did anyone take pictures?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll probably end up on Facebook or YouTube. Shit.”

Snake stiffened, her leather jacket creaking. “They’ll have to
deal with me if you do.”

Before Lily could respond, a nurse entered with a bag of chips and
a bottle of orange juice. “Doctor’s orders—once you’ve had these, I’ll come
back and check you out.”

Lily sat up, took the food, and thanked her. She swung her legs
over the side of the bed. Snake remained in the chair. “You don’t have to wait
for me, Snake, you can go.”

“Sandy.”

“Hmmm?” Lily asked as she put a handful of chips in her mouth.