“It’s totally OK to judge a lesbian by her overalls,” Janet reassured her. And paused. This was a moment, right? This was totally a moment. This was the time to make a plan. To meet for—well, nothing was open. And also, social distance. But like, they could text. Talk on the phone. Go for one of those awkward together-but-six-feet-apart walks. There was chemistry here, Janet was sure.
Deploy awkward flirting technique number four.
“So. I know your name is Freddie. I’m Janet…”
“Freddie!” Coming down the aisle was a very pretty man about Freddie’s age. Dressed in a red track suit, he was holding a bouquet.
Tulips.
An offering smaller than hers, but, for fuck’s sake, Janet thought.
“Gio.” Freddie turned toward her ex, the bouquet of flowers from the plumber pressed against her chest. Janet, her name was Janet, and it was a name Freddie had never really liked before, but now it was the most beautiful name in the world. Her name was Janet and she had brought Freddie flowers.
“I brought you flowers,” Gio said unceremoniously, thrusting a bunch of white tulips at her. “Here.” And he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “An apology. For yesterday.”
Freddie accepted the second offering of flowers awkwardly. Never, she thought, had Gio given her flowers. Ever. Never, she suddenly realized, had any lover given her flowers. Until today.
Janet had brought her flowers.
She buried her face in the daisies, hydrangeas, and freesias of the plumber’s bouquet.
They smelled of spring. Hope. Promise. All the things this spring hadn’t been. She raised her gaze up to Gio’s face.
“Chris, you know, Chris from work? They said I should give you flowers. That you’d be pissed because I left you to deal with that toilet thing,” he answered her unspoken question.
“Janet helped me deal with the toilet thing,” Freddie said, turning away from him back to the plumber.
But the plumber was gone.
She wasn’t going to cry—for fuck’s sake, she was thirty-six and not seventeen—but the tears came as soon as Janet was in the safety of her truck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why was she so stupid? What did she think was going to happen? Romance in the time of corona, pick up in the plumbing aisle—she was going to show up at Lowe’s flowers in hand, sweep Freddie off her feet—and get an employee discount on the U-Haul they’d rent to move Freddie’s things to Janet’s apartment from that shitty old house that probably needed to have all of its pipes redone?
Yes.
Sorta.
Stupid corona.
Stupid boyfriend. Of course, there was a boyfriend. What the hell was it with her falling for stupid straight girls shacked up with their stupid boyfriends?
He looked like a dick too. Was a dick. Leaving Freddie to deal with an exploding toilet on her own. Who did that?
She hated him on principle. Also, her.
Also, herself.
“Don’t hate me.” The text from Dark and Stormy made no sense. Neither did the buzzing sound her phone was making. What was that?
“Janet, pick up the damn phone. I mean, answer it. I. Am. Calling. You!”
“Why?” Janet said as she answered.
“I’ve sent you a present,” Dark and Stormy’s voice replied. Hushed.
Janet felt touched. And confused. Was she drunk? She looked at the empties on her coffee table, which Drip and Suck were investigating. Two. Not drunk. Not yet. Just very—very—very sad.
And now, confused.
“Why are you whispering?” she whispered into the phone.
“Because I’m in Hot Nursie’s bathroom.”
“She’s got another leak?” Janet felt annoyed.
“Noooo.” Dark and Stormy sounded weird. And then, Janet knew.
“OMG. You’re going to sleep with my hot nurse.”
“I’ve already slept with your hot nurse,” Dark and Stormy said. Whispered. “Hey. OK. That wasn’t so bad. Confession done. Sorry. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m fucking furious!”
“You won’t be. I sent you a present. Ok, I’ve got to go now, because…”
“Also, do you not know that there’s a global pandemic and she works in the ER and…”
“She just got her test results. It’s all good. Well, unless I’ve got the plague and I infected her. Look. Babelicious. I’ve just had sex for the first time in seventeen weeks—mind-blowing sex, mind you, Nursie is no starfish, also her name is Alya and we should really start calling her that and not Hot Nursie—and I’m now going to go have more sex and I just wanted to do it with a clear conscience.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
“You’ll be thanking me when your present arrives.”
“If you’ve sent me a drag queen show again, no, sorry, not enough, and I’m gonna kill you when I see you tomorrow.”
“Did I just hear your apartment buzzer? I think I did. I think I heard your apartment buzzer. Go let them in and open the apartment door. Do it, do it, do it, and, also, you’re welcome. I have to go have more sex.”
Janet hung up in disgust. She wasn’t sad anymore. She was pissed.
Hot Lowe’s girl had a boyfriend, and Hot Nursie fell for Dark and Stormy, and she was going to die alone and get eaten by her cats.
Her apartment buzzer squealed again. She sighed and padded over to the intercom—would be nice if the landlord joined the twenty-first century and connected the damn thing to her phone. She pressed the pound sign. “Second floor, apartment 213,” she yelled.
Opened the door.
Freddie saw her standing in the frame of the doorway, waiting. And almost turned back—coward. Then took one step, another. She had used up all her courage on the phone with the sing-song voice that answered, again, when she called Plumbers in Overall’s.
Her reward for that act of courage was an address. And now here she was, and there Janet was, and she had no idea what she was going to say.
Or do.
“Hi,” she said finally as she paused six feet from the doorway. “Um. Chocolate?” She thrust the chocolate bar she had been holding so tightly she was sure it was half-melted by now at the plumber.
“Thanks.” Janet reached for it. Freddie didn’t let go. They stood, six feet apart, connected by a chocolate bar.
Freddie thought her hand was on fire.
“Um. So, I wanted to thank you. For the flowers,” she mumbled.
Janet said nothing.
“And also. That the person, who brought me—that guy? That was Gio. My ex-boyfriend. Ex. We broke up just before the lockdown. But, you know, we’re still living together, because, you know. Pandemic. And…”
“So, you’re single?” Janet asked. Bluntly.
Freddie nodded.
“And, ah… not straight?”
Freddie shook her head. “As queer as they make them,” she said. “Bi. Pan. Whatever—labels...”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She felt Janet’s hand slide down the chocolate bar. Slowly. Until it was near hers. Then over hers. It was the most intimate, electrifying touch she had felt. Ever.