Page 137 of Whirlwind

She intended to keep things factual, just stick to the basics. But that wasn’t what came spilling out.

“I grew up on a farm,” she heard herself saying. “I was the oldest of five.” She hadn’t thought of them in a while. Her siblings mostly lived in different states and had their own lives. It had been a long time since she had family around her.

“What was it like growing up there?” Carla rubbed his thumb over her hand and Charlie soaked up the affection and support, her skin still tingling everywhere they touched.

“It was hard work, but I liked it. I loved my family. I knew I didn’t want a husband, but there were women there who lived alone. I thought I could do it.”

Carla nodded encouragingly, a gentle motion against her hair.

“And then… Lacey came. Her family bought the farm next door, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. She had me wrapped around her little finger, and when she asked me to run away with her, I did.”

A picture opened in her mind. Lacey posing in that yellow dress, sitting on the fence between their properties and knowing that Charlie was watching her. Lacey making up some excuse to draw Charlie closer. Charlie, helpless to do anything but obey. Befuddled and terrified and happier than she’d ever been in her life when Lacey stroked a hand down her cheek.

She hadn’t known it was possible for two women to like each other. She’d been shocked when Lacey had kissed her on the lips a few days later. When she’d taken off her shirt in the hay loft and placed Charlie’s calloused hands on her breasts, Charlie had almost fainted from the sheer pleasure and impossibility of the touch.

Every memory had that same tingling mixture of fear and delight. Charlie would have been happy with just that, just knowing that someone in the world wanted her touch on their body. But Lacey always wanted more.

Charlie breathed in the subtle scent of Carla’s skin and tried to pick up the story. “I was nineteen years old, fresh out of high school, and no skills to my name. We both worked shit jobs for years, but I was willing to put in the hours as long as she was happy.”

And they had been happy, those first few years. At least Charlie had thought so. She’d felt so confident and adult, like she had a family she could provide for. She’d been so proud the day they moved out of a tiny apartment into a two-bedroom house that was hardly bigger. Buying a washing machine was a sign that she had finally made it.

She’d come home every night looking forward to pulling Lacey into her arms, all soft skin and teased hair and pretty underthings. Even when Lacey was distracted and bored. Even when Lacey came home late and didn’t bother to tell her. Even when the spark slowly left Lacey’s eyes, Charlie had still looked forward to seeing her every day.

“We told people we were roommates,” she said bitterly. “Which was the safe thing to do at the time. When she was at work, she told everyone about her husband, Charles, and how he worked long hours and couldn’t meet them. I told everyone I was single. Ten years together and then she just… left me. Told me she needed a ‘real man’ and walked out the door.”

Carla didn’t speak, but he pressed another a kiss into her hair. She hadn’t realized how much she needed those casual touches. Even without words, she knew what he was thinking. He would never expect her to hide. He would never keep her hidden.

“We never even went out dancing.” Now that the words were flowing, they came out faster. “We didn’t have any friends in common. We used to drive two towns over just to go out for a beer. We even went to separate churches, when I bothered to go, because I didn’t want her to lose her job. She always wanted something better for herself, and I used to think that was something to admire, you know? Like she had goals and a vision. What she really wanted was a rich husband she could take to church.”

She’d seen them everywhere together after that. Lacey looking relaxed and satisfied with another man’s arms around her. Lacey pregnant and glowing. When they’d bumped into each other, Lacey told Charlie she’d found a “real man” to be the father of her children. Someone who could be a “real dad.”

“And give her babies,” Charlie finally added.

“Did you want children?”

“I… I didn’t even think of it.” It was true, at the time. Until she’d seen Lacey’s round belly and realized what she could never have.

Carla flipped her hand over and wove their fingers together. Charlie stared at their intertwined digits. This was how lovers touched each other. It felt warm and soothing, but also like so much more. She let the feeling seep into her skin. It was almost like a promise.

“I think you would be an amazing parent, by the way.” Carla spoke as if it were a given. Which, she supposed, it would be now. If she were younger. And less broken. “I’ve heard a lot of folks talk about you that way. They call you Papa Charlie sometimes.”

Charlie felt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t thought of herself that way. Some of her employees and regulars were really close to her heart, though. Even when they eventually moved away, she still called them. She couldn’t believe they called her that, and it was almost enough to float her through the next part.

“Is that why you opened Whirlwind?”

“Eventually. It took me years to get there. After Lacey, I went back to my parents and found out my father had passed on.” Heat stung her eyes. If she hadn’t planned to talk much about her ex, she hadn’t meant to mention this at all.

“My mother was still holding the farm together, and she… she said she’d already known about me and Lacey. That I didn’t have to run away.” She swallowed harshly before any other sound could escape her mouth.

She still wasn’t sure what had hurt most that week, Lacey’s abandonment or the knowledge that she’d done even worse to her family. Her siblings had all grown up without her. Three of them had moved away. The youngest two only barely remembered her, this stranger who was supposed to be related to them. She was irrelevant to their teenaged lives. Maybe she’d tell Carla about her family one day, but it was farther than she could go right now.

She’d already told Carla more than she’d told anyone else.

She didn’t want to sit with that thought, though, so she pushed on. “I lived back at home for a few years, working the farm and bartending at the one bar in town. It wasn’t so easy, though, going back to being single after a decade with a partner. I used to go to Little Rock or Memphis sometimes. It was maybe a four-hour drive, but there were queer spaces there if you knew where to look for them. People’s houses if you had an invitation. Bars, sometimes, with a separate room in the back or a special night of the week. They always closed down after a couple of years, but somewhere new would always open.

“I never picked anyone up,” she continued. “I would have been too scared of making the wrong assumption. I’d just sit there, looking like I always do, and if a woman noticed me, I’d go home with her.”

“So you always ended up dating femmes?”