As You Were (9 page)

“Can I have one of those?” Brittany inquired.

“How do you know whether you’re a Vaporist or not?”

“I don’t. But I want one,” she remarked evenly.

Tru pointed. “You have a few of them in the bottom drawer of the desk.”

Brit got up and found the black case, pulled out the eCig and took a drag of it. “Nothing is happening.”

“Oh—” Tru went to the desk and got the bottle of eJuice, refilled the filter in the mouthpiece again. “Your core was dry.”

Brittany tried again and produced a cloud of vanilla vapor.

“How’s that?”

Brittany took another drag, blowing the cloud upward in a quick stream. “It’s good. I like it.”

“You haven’t had nicotine for a few weeks, it might kick you a little.”

“Ain’t that a hoot,” Brittany grinned.

Tru smiled to herself. “You used to say that all the time, too.”

“I did?”

Tru nodded, warming her tea in the microwave. “Wonder why you can say things that you used to say, but you can’t remember me?”

Brittany stared at her, wondering about it, too. “Some questions overpower some answers.”

“Now, you never said that,” Tru smiled.

Brittany found her own smile, as well, but carefully concealed it from Tru. “What kind of tea is that?”

“Ginseng and spice.”

“Do I like it?”

Tru laughed. “You used to.”

“It smells good.”

“Help yourself,” Tru indicated the microwave.

Brittany had put the cup of water in the microwave, set the time and started it before she even considered reading the buttons. She leaned down to look through the front glass. “Now how did I know how to work this thing?”

Tru stood behind her. “It’s yours.”

Brittany craned her neck to look up at her, then stood, her eyes wide. “Really? I wonder what else is mine?” She studied the living room. “You’d tell me if something was mine, wouldn’t you?”

Tru smirked. “Depends on how you treat me.”

“Careful, Truly, your teeth are showing.”

Tru’s face went soft. “You called me
Truly
.”

Brittany shook her head slightly, lifting a puzzled eyebrow.

“...it was your pet name for me.”

The microwave beeped and stopped, and the room dropped to silence. Brittany retrieved the cup of water and put a teabag in it, returning to the living room. She looked down at her fresh cup of tea, the steam rising in curlicues and vanishing in the air. She thought about the photos in the darkroom; so many of them, Tru. “I must have loved you,” she said suddenly.

Tru caught her breath, and concentrated on slowing the pounding of her heart. When she found the strength to look up, Brittany blew on the tea, the steam framing her face like in the dream she’d had last night. “You like it with a...teaspoon of cream and one lump,” she revealed.

Brittany looked at the teacup and back at Tru. Convinced, she got up and went to the kitchen to add the ingredients, knowing that her words had impacted on Tru, but unable to decide whether there was anything she could do about it, or if she wanted to. When she came back into the room, Tru lingered at the front window, watching the snowfall.

From behind her, Brittany said, “It’s pretty.”

Tru nodded on a sniffle, lifting a hand to her nose and away again.

Brittany stepped closer, leaning around so she could see the young woman’s face. “Hey— I’m...
I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m being maudlin.”

“Look...
I know I’ve been a royal bitch to you. I’m... I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tru removed a traveling tear with the back of her hand. “It’s okay. Forget it. I know it can’t be a barrel of monkeys for you, either.”

Brittany swallowed, frowning, while something indefinable fluttered inside her. “Tru...
I’m trying to deal with this the only way I know how. It’s scary. I have a whole life history, and I can’t remember it...
I have these dreams at night and I don’t know what they mean. I don’t know if I’m remembering something or going crazy. I mean, I don’t have any memories, and you have too many.”

I have dreams, too
, Tru thought, watching Brit’s face intently as she spoke. The infinite blue of her eyes. They seemed even bluer than before the accident. She missed the way those eyes would catch hers and see all the way to her heart. How could she relate to this woman platonically when they had been lovers for so long? How could she stop wanting her—wanting to touch her again—wanting to show her the profound relief that she had not been killed in that

awful, nightmarish plunge into the icy river? How could she stop feeling like it was all her fault?
God! I want to put my arms around you, Brit—

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She averted her eyes, a fresh stab of remorse reminding her that things might never be the same. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I—how do you...feel about me?”

Now was her chance to say it. An open door. She met Brittany’s gaze. “I love you.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I always have and I always will.”

Brittany sighed. “I wish I could say that back to you and know I meant it. I can see that you need to hear it. But I don’t know who I am or what I feel.”

“I know.” Tru pressed her eyes with her fingers, and watched the snow fall onto the window sill outside.

Brittany moved back to the sofa. She sipped her tea and regarded the other young woman. She was attractive, she had to admit that.
I may have been gay, she reflected, but at least I had good taste.
Tru’s silky black hair, and somewhat cherubic face made her look younger than —”Tru, how old are you?”

At first, Tru turned to examine Brit’s face, unsure of the question; maybe she would berate her for the emotions she fought to control. But Brittany seemed perfectly sincere. “Thirty-one.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Even though I don’t look it.”

“Now the big question: How old am I?”

Tru blinked, smiling slightly. “They didn’t tell you that in the hospital?”

“They had no way of knowing.”

“You’re...twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three!? Jesus Christ, I don’t feel—” She looked at Tru carefully and caught the hint of mirth in her eyes. “Jerk. Tell me the truth.”

Tru was smiling. “This is great. You have the amnesia, and I have all the information.”

“Stop screwin’ around. How old am I?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“No shit?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Do I want to know anything else about myself?”

“Doesn’t matter. What could be more horrible than being gay?”
Hah!

“Don’t be snotty.” Brittany gathered her hair behind her neck and pulled on it, then let it drop down to lie between her shoulder blades.

Tru watched her fuss with her hair, noticing that at least that hadn’t changed. She still had many of the same mannerisms. “I could tell you the good stuff.”

Brittany drank the last of her tea. “I think I’m over this tea jag. Got anything stronger?

“Beer.”

Brittany nodded enthusiastically, and Tru went to get them two bottles.

Brittany twisted off the cap to the Bud Light. “Okay, the good stuff...but one thing: Would you lie about it?”

“Do you feel like you like being lied to?” Tru took a long drink.

“No. I think I’d hate it.”

“Well, we’ve been together for five years; if I were a liar, would you have stayed that long?”

“Good point.”

She crossed to the window again. “Then believe that what I tell you is real, okay? We’ll use the five-second rule.” Tru wiped some dust from the sill, and cleaned her hand on her jeans.

Brittany tuned the TV to an ambient music channel and lowered the volume. Tru noticed that Brittany had always done this right before she was about to become amorous.

“What’s the five-second rule?”

Too much to hope for. She knew Brit had no intention of getting fresh. “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting you keep forgetting...it’s a little agreement we had. We could be sarcastic or lie, but we had to admit it after five seconds, so there would be no misunderstandings.”

“Well you just broke your own rule. You held onto that lie about my age for a good 15 seconds.”

“I’m rusty. What do you want to know?”

Brittany muted the television and took a deep breath and released it. “Where did we meet?”

“In the Army.”

“Me? In the Army?”

“I was surprised to find you there, too.”

Brittany remembered the BDU jacket Tru wore out to the shed, and wondered why hers was nowhere to be seen. Had she been wearing it the night of the accident? Maybe it was in that river....

Tru spoke toward the window pane, still watching the snow fall like bleached confetti. “You were mad at the world the day you went to the recruiter. I guess you weren’t thinking clearly.”

Brittany puffed on the eCig and took a drink of beer. “Were you thinking clearly when you joined?”

“Yeah. I wanted the changes I was about to go through.”

“How did we end up together?”

“That’s a long story. But if it eases your mind any, you were straight when you met me. You had never been with a woman.”

Brittany pushed herself up and joined Tru at the window. “So you brought me over to the dark side.”

“Dark side? I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Whatever. So, I came back after training to live with you?”

“Not exactly. You signed on for two years. You spent a year in Germany, and started seeing this soldier-boy at the base.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, considering I’m supposed to be gay.”

One corner of Tru’s mouth shot upward in amusement. “You were confused.”

Brittany put both hands on the window sill and leaned her face close to the glass, fogging it with her breath. “So, how did I end up with you?”

“You stopped being confused.”

Brittany swatted her on the arm.

“You wrote me a letter saying how miserable things were. Two months later, you got yourself kicked out, and you showed up on my doorstep with all your worldly possessions and a severe case of jet lag.”

“And you took me in, and we lived happily ever after?” Brittany pressed the side of her fist into the fogged glass to form the imprint of a tiny foot, and began to add toes with the tip of her pinky.

“Not exactly. At first you insisted that our relationship be platonic.”

“When did it change?”

“When you stopped kidding yourself.”

Brittany fogged the window again, and made another imprint beside the first, adding toes. “Was I happy...I mean...being...with you?”

“You stayed five years before this accident.”

Brittany considered this as she made six toes, counted, and then erased the moist artwork with a sweep of her hand.

The phone rang and Tru went to the mounted console on the wall outside the kitchen. She covered the phone to catch Brittany’s attention. She mouthed silently, “It’s Max.”

Brittany pursed her lips thoughtfully, but made no move toward the phone, only wiped absently at the cold condensation on her hand.

Tru whispered, “Isn’t this the guy that took you to the hospital?” Brittany only nodded, breathing more fog onto the window pane to replace what she had wiped away. “Well?” Tru whispered urgently.

“Tell him I’m not here.”

Tru gave her a comical, disapproving look and uncovered the mouthpiece again. “She said she’s not here—”

Brittany slapped her own leg, flustered. “Tru! You are such a dork!” She rubbed her palm dry against her jeans on the way to the phone, snatching the receiver from Tru rudely and lifting it to her face, her expression changing abruptly to exaggerated courtesy. “Max? Oh, she was being silly. How are you?”

Tru snickered and dropped into the sofa to eavesdrop, audience to Brittany’s ghastly facial contortions while she spoke with Max in an utterly gracious tone. “Oh, I’m not sure. I’m still settling in, and getting to know my...my sister again.”

Tru cast a sardonic expression her direction and put a finger down her throat to demonstrate her opinion of the display.

“Well, really, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll have to take a rain check...okay...thanks for calling... b’-bye.” She replaced the receiver and turned purposefully toward Tru. “You—” she pointed a long-nailed finger. “—are in need of a swift kick.”

“How did he get our number?”

“He said Nurse Sturgis gave it to him.”

“Why didn’t you make a date with him?” Tru giggled.

Brittany came over and swiped a sofa pillow to swat Tru’s head, hitting her twice in succession for good measure. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“Why not?” Tru smoothed the damage to her hair.