She’d crumpled to the ground right there next to the mailbox after she’d read that and sobbed uncontrollably. And the sobbing had continued for the rest of that day and the next, sometimes racking her body so hard she cried not only in emotional anguish, but in physical pain. She’d sobbed until she could sob no more. Until there was nothing left inside. Nothing but empty space. And that emptiness, surprisingly, felt fucking wonderful.
But now Maurine was intruding upon it, forcing shit back inside her and stirring it all up, chasing away the numbness that had so mercifully accompanied the emptiness.
Damn her. Hasn’t she done enough?
“Good, I told her to leave you alone. The last thing you need is her—”
Janice leaned toward her. “You did what?”
Maurine blinked at her. “I told her to leave you alone.”
“When?”
“When she came by on her way to the airport. She wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to, and I told her so. And I told her to leave you alone. That she’d done enough to upend your life and that if she cared about you at all, she’d leave you be.”
Janice pushed herself up and ran her nails through her scalp, trying, now extremely hard not to rage at her best friend. There had been times when Maurine had upset her growing up, times when she’d even hurt her feelings. But Janice had always kept her anger in check and eventually given her the benefit of the doubt and forgave. Lately, however, Maurine’s behavior had begun to bother her in a way she couldn’t brush off and forget about. Her immaturity and “icing out” of both her and Carla in recent weeks had gotten under her skin and festered like a splinter. Now, with her aggressive insertion into their relationship and her ignorant insistence that she knew what was best for her, that splinter might as well have been a log. A huge, jagged, bacteria-laden log, spreading its infection throughout her body from beneath her skin.
Janice couldn’t take it anymore.
This was going to end.
Now.
She was ready to cut off her own limb if need be to rid herself of the splinter.
“Anyway, she’s gone, back to Phoenix. So you can move on.” Maurine sat in silence, as if waiting for Janice to speak. When she didn’t, she slapped her thighs. “So, let’s get started. The first thing we need to do is get you in the shower and get you out of this house.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Janice said, her voice barely controlled and beginning to quiver.
“You’ve been holed up in here for days.”
“I’ve been out. I’ve driven around, gone to the store, spoken to people. And I don’t want to go out again.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s all still the same!” she said, unable to hold back any longer. “The landscape, the homes, the old buildings in town, the goddamned people who still think, say, and do the same goddamned things. It’s all the same and I’ve finally had my fill. I just can’t take it anymore.” It was how she’d been feeling for the past three years. It was why she’d taken such an interest in Arizona. It had also been the one other thing she hadn’t wanted to face. This was where she was born, where she grew up, where she lived and loved. So she didn’t understand why it no longer felt like home. Admitting that to herself caused so much guilt she’d fought it almost as much as she’d fought her feelings for Carla. Because to admit that this no longer felt like home, would mean somehow betraying the ones she loved.
Sitting there in her house, swallowed up in loneliness and depression, however, was no way to live. If she didn’t face the truth, that’s how things would continue. Because there was just no way she’d be getting over Carla and her dreams of Arizona by simply carrying on. She might be able to get up and eventually go to work every day when the time came, but every night she’d come back to this loneliness and depression. If she continued to do that, then Carla would be right. She’d keep wasting her life away, pretending everything was fine.
She tried to explain it to Maurine.
“It’s like waking up to the same painting hanging on your wall day after day. You loved the painting when you picked it out and hung it, and you love it now. But you’re ready for something different. You want to look at other paintings, see other landscapes. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find another painting that you love just as much, and you’ll want to wake up to it every morning instead. It doesn’t mean you love the old painting any less. You just want a different experience, a different view.”
“Okaay,” Maurine said softly. “So, what are you going to do? Stay in here and grow like a fungus on your couch? Or read your life away?” She reached for a book. “Getting lost in these?”
Janice didn’t even bother to worry about what she was holding in her hand. She was too busy trying to get her to understand without verbally tearing her apart.
“Maurine, you aren’t getting it. I’m saying the exact opposite.”
She didn’t seem to hear her. “Janice, what happened with Carla wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to feel guilty and beat yourself up about it. You don’t need to hide away in here.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“Carla, she—”
“Enough about Carla!”
Maurine’s eyes were wide with alarm.
“Okay, calm down.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Janice continued, unimpeded. “What happened…it wasn’t all her.”
“What do you mean? She—”
“I was there too.” She ran her hand through her hair, frustrated. “Damn it, Maurine. Stop blaming her for everything. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
Maurine stared at her.
“What—you mean—you’re saying—”
“That I liked it?” She stared right back into her. “That I wanted it? Wanted her?”
The color drained from Maurine’s face.
“Yes, Maurine, I did. I wanted it. I wanted her. I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And I’ll tell you something else. I didn’t just like it. I loved it. Making love with her surpasses everything. Everything. I couldn’t have even dreamed, imagined how incredible it was. And believe me I tried. I tried for the last three years.”
“You don’t mean that. You’re—”
“I’m not confused. I’m not vulnerable. I’m gay, Maurine.”
Maurine looked as though she’d been smacked. “But you—”
“Just because I was with a man doesn’t mean I’m not gay. I loved him, yes. But there was no passion. No desire. Only a friendship. An understanding of sorts. And that, I now know, is not a loving, romantic relationship. That is not happiness.”
“And Carla…is?”
“Yes. I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been this summer. And she’s the reason why.”
Maurine stared down at the table and then her gaze shifted to the back of the book in her hand. Her eyes widened again and then closed.
“This book is about two women. You’re reading…gay…”
“Lesbian romances. I’ve been reading them for a couple of years now.”