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Twenty years. Twenty years of laughter and tears. Twenty years of a promised future ahead. All gone. Everything she ever knew and loved was gone. And saying it aloud finally allowed the realization to settle into her skin, to fully shatter the little piece of herself she was still holding together.
She didn’t know how long she cried. Erin didn’t budge an inch, only moving to slightly rub her back, letting her know she was still there. She wasn’t aware when she actually stopped, only realizing after feeling her tear soaked cheeks burn red from the relentless wind.
She stood there, face buried into Erin’s skin as they swayed with each gust. Even on that foreign street–her back pressed against a dirty car and her front smooshed into another’s body–it was the most comfort she felt in a long time.
“I am so sorry.” Julia finally pulled away, only as far as the space between the car and Erin’s body would allow her. Erin’s scent was deliciously overwhelming from the heat they held between them. She wiped her eyes with a tissue from her pocket. “I’ve never–”
“Don’t you dare,” she interrupted, forcing Julia to avert her embarrassed eyes away.
Their bodies were now just inches apart; not as close as they were, but even more intimate as they looked each other in the face. Erin lifted her cold hand and placed it gently on Julia’s warm cheek, holding it there.
“Don’t you ever apologize for crying,” Erin’s shaking voice demanded. “Don’t you ever apologize for how you cope with the remains that someone else left you.”
Julia just looked at her, completely stunned. How was she so spectacular, knowing just what to say and how to touch her? How did she look at her like that and make her think that before her, before that very moment she hadn’t truly been seen until those springtime eyes locked onto her for the first time? Julia leaned her head on Erin’s shoulder again, breathing in that vanilla scent.
“How do you do that?” she whispered.
“Do what?” Erin asked, her hand gently running through Julia’s long blond hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“Hold me and make everything okay.” The words slipped past Julia’s icy lips, and then she froze, realizing the weight of what she just said.
Erin didn’t say anything. She wrapped her arms tighter around Julia as they leaned against that car. Julia allowed her shoulders to slump into Erin as she closed her eyes with a glimmer of peace she lost years ago.
Peace was funny like that. Sometimes it was steady, a constant that welcomed one home. Sometimes it was a flash of hope passing like time within the night. It was the first sip of coffee in the early morning,the sunshine on her face as she stepped outside on a Tuesday afternoon in August. It was throwing out a chipped mug even though Marin’s hands were the last to warm its ceramic handle. It was sitting in the living room reading a book and getting lost in its pages rather than the expanding emptiness around her.
They stood there, arms entangled around the other, with noses sunk deep into the scents of their necks for what seemed like seconds but could’ve been minutes. The ‘open’ light of the shop behind them flickered briefly and then went dark. They both stood a little straighter, afraid to pull away as the streetlight reflected off the car’s red paint.
“You should get home,” Erin breathed into Julia’s neck almost as if she was taking in her natural, earthy scent, “and get some rest.”
“Right, rest.”
She didn’t mean to ruin the moment. It just was that she didn’t know what rest was anymore. Was it when she would finally allow her body to sink into sleep, only to be woken in sweat-soaked sheets an hour later? Was it lying in bed for twelve hours on a Saturday because no matter how much sleep she did get, her bones ached with a longing of the nothingness that only sleep could bring? Was it sitting down with a book and feeling guilty because there was something else she should be doing?
Julia finally leaned back more towards the car, pulling just slightly away from Erin. Erin took the hint. She stepped back onto the sidewalk, straightening her coat as she brushed the dried white dirt off.
“Thank you for dinner.” Erin’s soft, watery filled eyes lifted.
“Thank you for,” Julia trailed off, unsure of what part to thank her for. “Thank you.”
“I guess I’ll see you Monday?”
“Yeah,” Julia said with a nod. “Get home safe.”
She wanted to reach for that familiar hug again, but what did strangers do when they said goodbye? It’s most definitely not a cuddly embrace, but a handshake felt inappropriate for the moment they just shared. Instead, Julia smiled at her just a little too long. Erin did the same.
She got into her car, prepared to drive away, but Julia couldn’t help but steal one last glance at Erin standing on the sidewalk. The world seemed a little less daunting, a little more hopeful as she started the engine and drove off into the night.
When she got home, for the first time in more days than she could keep track, she walked into that house and didn’t think of Marin. She didn’t see her in the office, picture her in the kitchen fixing her tea, or feel her in the cold sheets when she crawled in. For once, she didn’t feel sorry for what was or was no longer. She just was. Everything just was, and at the very back of it, she saw Erin’s smile as she drifted away to the hum of the fan twirling above her.
Chapter Eight
Julia didn’t realize the sun began to set until her legs cramped from being in the same position for almost twelve hours. She finalized twenty-two teacher evaluations and planned out the activities for the next faculty meeting still two and a half weeks out. Forced to get up, she admired the papers scattered around her in disarray. Organized chaos, she reminded herself.
She knew sitting on the couch promoted bad posture, knew there was a perfectly empty desk just several paces away. But she liked the way she sunk into the cushions with her laptop perched on her legs. It always brought her back to when things were simpler, easier.
***
Twenty years ago, she met Marin at a charity event. Julia attended because ticket sales supported the expansion of after-school programs for underprivileged communities. She wore a formal yellow gown with a daring thigh slit. She could wear things like that back then. The dress hugged her curves and the neckline fell just below her shoulders, tracing her chest in a sweetheart cut. It was stunning.
