Sapphic Voices Romance

Rachel In New York

Conclusion

Day 3

I fell asleep around five o’clock. I remember the digital display on my clock on the side table. I had been writing for some time and my hand was tired. My eyes were heavy. I thought about reading, but I just wanted sleep, so I closed the notebook and left it on the cushion beside me and pulled the blanket up around my waist and drifted off. The contents of my brain swirled and pocketed themselves and dreams that I don’t remember carried me away.

When I woke the clock read 8:49. I lay still and focused on the numbers. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept until that hour. My mind and my limbs were heavy. I roused myself and moved to stretch. The sun came through the windows and lit the room with soft, white light. It was so quiet. I wondered if Heather was still asleep. I could not hear anything. I willed my body to turn, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, stretching and yawning, guessing I had probably been in that same position since I fell asleep. My computer rested where I had left it. I stood and went to the window and opened the blinds. The colors were brilliant and bright. There were people milling about on the lawn and some were on the tennis courts. I was hungry.

I dressed quickly in a t-shirt and exercise pants and went into the bedroom area. The bed was made and Heather was definitely not there. She had probably gone out to let me sleep. I went downstairs and looked into the lobby, thinking maybe she was reading the newspaper, and in the dining room. My stomach rumbled as I smelled the warm food, but for some reason I wanted to find her first. I hoped we could eat together like we had the past two mornings. She was not on the terrace or anywhere visible on the grounds. I headed toward the shore. The walking was helping loosen my stiff muscles. I stopped when I could see the water, and looked out at the waves, remembering the sail the night before. I closed my eyes and let the images run over my mind like the water over the rough sand. I felt the breeze and the salt and the sun against my skin. Then I heard my name.

I opened my eyes and turned to the sound of her voice. I could see her some distance away, hidden in an opening in the rocks near the cliffs. I waved and she gestured wildly for me to come, and pointed down the beach. I looked and saw the figures of two men coming toward me and understood. I started to run toward her, climbing the rocks and getting whipped against the legs by wet weeds and flowers. I reached her hiding place, panting lightly as I greeted her.

“I didn’t want you to get caught talking to them,” she said, helping me up into the cave-like area where she was standing. I leaned against the wall and caught my breath.

“Do you really think they would talk to us again, after that display yesterday?” I said, smiling.

She smiled too. “Maybe not, but you never know.”

The opening in the rocks was small, and she was close to me.

“How long have you been up?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve been walking and looking at flowers. Maybe an hour.”

I looked out to see if the guys were still approaching. They were. I leaned back again and found her looking at me.

“Couldn’t sleep last night?” she asked.

I felt the blood rise to my face. “Not exactly,” I said. “I’m sorry. Did I keep you awake?”

She shook her head. “I heard you moving, and then I heard you get up and get your computer. And then I heard the typing for a while, but then I fell back asleep. Funny how that sound has sort of a lulling effect on me.”

“The keyboard?”

She nodded. “What were you writing?”

I swallowed. “About the sailing.”

“That was nice, wasn’t it?”

It was my turn to nod. I could smell her again—that morning smell she had, the stale, warm, active smell that wasn’t exactly disagreeable.

I looked into her face, which was something I had been avoiding. There was something wistful in her eyes. She had enjoyed the sail, and I had been wanting so much more that I had forgotten to enjoy it.

“You haven’t paid any attention to all of the hints I’ve been giving you,” she said softly.

“Yes I have,” I said. There was something caught in my throat.

“Why haven’t you done anything about it?”

Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the water and the birds.

There were so many reasons I had not done anything about it. There was so much I could tell her, and yet I wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her.

“Because I—wasn’t going to fall for any more straight girls again.”

I felt her fingers on my cold hand. I had been gripping the cool wall of the cave, and under her touch it relaxed.

“Rachel, it may be too soon for you to start something new,” she said. “But I—“

I could barely hear her. It seemed she was whispering and I found it infuriating that she would whisper in a place like that, smelling so good and dragging her thumb across my palm. I leaned closer to her to hear better. She leaned toward me too, and our mouths met. Hers was warm and wet. Whatever it was that I had been managing to control all of these days was let loose. I pulled her to me and I kissed her fiercely, like I had dreamed. Like I had imagined. And her response was surprising. I was vaguely aware that the men might be passing by down below us, unsuspecting that we were above them, hidden in the rocks, tangled in one another’s arms.

We broke and I looked at her and she smiled. My stomach growled again.

“I’m starving,” I said.

“Me too.”

I took her by the hand and led her down, out of the rocks and back toward the inn. No one was around. The men could have passed by hours ago for all I knew. We walked in silence back up the beach path, across the lawns and up the steps of the terrace. It all seemed so familiar to me now. Like home. We took the elevator. We looked at one another sometimes. My stomach was wretched and my heart was pounding. We came down the hall and I let us into the room. I went toward my suitcase, to get my clothes so I could shower and go to breakfast.

“Rachel,” she said.

I turned. She was standing still in front of the closed door, leaning against it, her hands behind her. We stared at each other. I was like a tangled net of emotion. I did not know what to say and I could not think of what needed to be said. A moment ago, down on the rocks, I had been so close to her and so overwhelmed with desire and I had desperately wanted to kiss her, but I did not want to deal with what happened afterward.

“Rachel,” she said again. “What were you writing last night?”

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s just what I do. It’s how I assimilate emotions and events. I spread them out so I can look at them and analyze and keep things making sense.”

“I would like to read what you were analyzing.”

I smiled because she looked coy and curious.

“Maybe someday I’ll let you read it.” I couldn’t help saying what came next. “What just happened down there?”

She came toward me a step or two, shyly approaching. “What we’ve been waiting for.”

It was amazing to me that this was happening. That she was interested, and not only interested, but inviting me. I wanted to feel her again, to taste what I had tasted, to feel that intoxicating feeling of her body against mine. She waited for me to come to her, to take her waist and kiss her.

Somehow we ended up in the shower. Somehow laughing erupted and all of my frustrations ran down the drain with the water.


I woke with a headache. I was beside her on the bed, but she was not asleep. She was propped up with her pillow double-folded under her neck and she was reading. I felt heavy and tired and desperately hungry, but somehow satisfied and calm. My movement caused her to look at me, and she slipped her bookmark into the pages and set it down.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said. “I’m ordering food. You probably haven’t eaten anything today.”

I blinked. “Have you?”

“Nothing other than a power bar this morning.” She picked up the phone from the bedside table and began rattling off the names of dishes, while I sat up and moved the damp hair from my eyes. Flashes of the past few hours went before my consciousness. I closed my eyes and looked at them, unbelieving, trying desperately to figure out if they were real. And yet they had to be. Last night I was dreaming, and writing, of being in bed beside her, and now I was. I was not wearing any clothes and I was sitting beside her where she slept, warm and exhausted and wondering what was going to happen next.

I felt her cool hand on my back. It moved gently back and forth across my skin. She had hung up the phone and was asking me if I was all right. I felt like I had a small hangover. I asked her what time it was and was told it was close to 1:30 in the afternoon, which meant we had two hours to check out of the hotel and meet the plane that would take us back to the city. I was filled with so many emotions I didn’t know which one to address first.

I got up and went to the bathroom and got into the shower again, alone where I could think. I went through the routine of washing myself and let my memory play with the images of the beauty of her body, with the lines of her profile, her shoulders, her arms. I remembered her wet fingers along my spine and the soft arch of her shoulders under my palms. The kisses came back to me, the gentle bend of her neck and the force of her body against mine. What had just happened had changed everything, and I wasn’t sure if I welcomed this change. Was I in love with her? I thought this maybe should have been a question I might have asked myself before I kissed her. But all this time I had suppressed the thought. Of course I was in love with her. I had been for some time, but I hadn’t allowed myself to express it, with words or with affection, for obvious reasons. What was going to happen now? This was a woman with a family and a home. Was she prepared for what came next? Had she thought about what came next?

When I came out of the bathroom I smelled the food. I went to the table where she had arranged things and I sat down opposite her. She apologized for starting to eat without me and I assured her it was fine. I devoured an entire roll before I could look at her. When I looked up, her face was concerned, and I felt my shoulders relax and I felt the food in my system and I smiled at her. She touched my hand.

“I’m okay,” I said. “We just need to talk about this.”

She nodded, her face calm.

“There’s a lot to consider,” I said.

She nodded again, thoughtfully.

“Just eat,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”

So I ate, and eating made me feel better.

“I don’t just—do this,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Invite people away for the weekend and hope for what happened between us to happen.”

“I don’t imagine you make a practice of it. You don’t seem like the type.”

I played with what remained on my plate with the edge of the fork.

“Are you apologizing?” she asked. “Because I don’t think you need to. I wanted what happened. I loved it. Isn’t it what you wanted?”

I nodded. “Yes, I wanted it. I wanted you. I just—I don’t know if you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Why, do you have some dual personality I don’t know about?”

“No, I mean, you’re—you’re getting involved with a woman.”

“I am involved with a woman, and you think I haven’t thought about that?”

“And you want to do that? You want to deal with that?”

She looked at me squarely, her chin raised. “Well, I can’t say that I know from experience all that accompanies a relationship like this. All I know is that I love being with you, and I want to continue to be with you.”

I smiled at that, because I loved hearing it. Then I decided to ask the question that was harassing me.

“What will you tell your children?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know yet. As this point, I don’t think I need to tell them anything. I went away for the weekend with a friend. Even if I had gone with a friend who happened to be a man, I wouldn’t tell them anything. They might suspect more if you were a man, but I wouldn’t feel obligated to tell them.”

"Even if you had decided to start dating him?”

She hesitated. “Even then. At this point, I don’t think I would.”

“What if they asked?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head again. “Rachel, if I continue to see you and spend time with you, then they will eventually need to know. I don’t have a problem talking to my boys. When this conversation takes place, it won’t be an easy one to have, but if I love you and I love them, I’ll need to have it. And I’ll be honest with them. I always have been and they expect that from me.”

It still bothered me. “Well,” I said. “There’s time, I guess.” I set the fork down and looked at her steadily.

“In a little more than an hour we’re getting back on that plane and it will take us back to New York. I need to know that what you’re saying is that once we’re back, in our own individual lives, we’re going to keep spending time together. Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Is that what you want?”

“I can’t imagine going back and not seeing you again.”

She smiled. “Okay then.”

I leaned over and took her hands and kissed her. I felt some measure of calm about the situation. There was comfort in knowing we felt the same way, at least about what was to happen next, but still I did not want to go home. I had to concentrate on getting this article written and work my way back into my routine. Even though we had only been here a few days, it felt like so much longer.

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