We were drunk, my best friend Liz and I. No, we were beyond drunk. We were completely shit-faced, to use the vernacular. We sprawled side by side on the sofa in my apartment giggling at nothing.
âDo you remember that little pinch faced girl that wanted you so bad our last semester?â Liz asked me. He face was flushed and tears leaked from her eyes as she laughed harder. âThe one who looked like she had just sucked a green persimmon?â
I tried to think through the liquor haze and came up with a name.
âYou mean Bessie?!â I tried to act indignant as she giggled harder. âHey, I couldâve married that girl!!â
âGetâem up Bessie.â She called out in a fake Southwest accent. âYehaww!â
I couldnât help but laugh too. Bessie Mason, that had been her name. She had followed me around like a stray puppy trying to get my attention. I tried everything I could think of to get her to understand that she just wasnât my type. That was when Liz had come up with the perfect plan. We would pretend to be a couple. She had been dating another in a long line of total losers who took her for granted. She thought it would be fun to make him think she had âturned lesbianâ, as she put it.
So we spent the rest of our senior year in college as a âcoupleâ. We shared an apartment then, so it was perfect. We went on âdatesâ, did our shopping together, held hands in public and even gave a few fairly passable imitations of passionate kisses in public places. Word gets around in a small college town and soon my persistent suitor moved on to greener pastures. Liz's loser never even seemed to notice she had a new âlove interest.â She really could pick them, my Liz. Users, losers and abusers. That was her dating repertoire.
It seemed that her plan had no flaws, and we had carried it off well. There was only one small problem. My heart didnât receive the memo that we were faking it. That last semester of our senior year I fell completely and irrevocably in love with my best friend, a straight girl.
I hid it well. We graduated and set off into the wide world to make our fortunes. She went her way and I went mine. She just didnât know that she took my heart with her. I landed a great job in Portland, my home town, and I began living the lesbian dream. I had a nice car, a lovely apartment with a great view of the city lights at night. I went out and mingled in the local âsceneâ and began to date. I dated a lot. Iâm not saying that to brag, itâs a rather sad thing really. I rarely dated the same woman more than twice and I had my fair share of one night stands. My heart just wasnât in it. My heart was in L.A. where Liz had gone after graduation.
We kept in touch over the next two years, through long phone calls, emails, chats on instant messenger. She called me to tell me about her engagement and impending marriage, at which she wanted me to be the maid of honor. I agreed enthusiastically, as any good friend would, then went out and got myself so drunk I donât remember how I got home or why there was a woman in my bed who vaguely reminded me of Liz. Then I went out and celebrated when the whole thing was called off because she caught the intended groom in a compromising position with his office assistant.
When she had called in tears over her last romantic fiasco and asked if she could visit for a few days I hadnât even hesitated. Thatâs what friends do, even when one is in love with the other and she doesnât know it.
Now here she sat in the flesh, and she was as beautiful as I remembered. Her dark hair was longer, falling in a jumble of curls around her shoulders, and her figure had gotten just a bit curvier. Her blue eyes twinkled with the same mischief as always, and my heart did drunken flip flops of delight.
âWhat about that guy you dated...what was his name?â I waved my hand in a circle trying to conjure the answer to my question. Liz giggled madly.
âWhich one?!?! I dated a lot of guys!â
âYes you did! Slut!â We fell against each other in a fresh burst of laughter. âI know! Michael, not Mike, not MickâŠâMy name is Michaelâ.â
Liz laughed hysterically in recognition of my pitifully nasal imitation of one of her conquests during her âI need to catch a rich husbandâ phase. That had ended badly for her as well.
A silence fell between us. One of those comfortable kinds that happens between good friends. I let my head fall back on the sofa and closed my eyes. It was good to have Liz here, just like old times. I felt her hand close over mine and turned my head to look at her through bleary eyes.
âYou know, youâre a great catch, why donât you have someone?â She said softly. She had turned sideways to face me and laid her head on the back of the sofa close to mine. I could barely breathe, but I knew this phase. We were entering the phase of the philosophical drunk, best to be avoided to spare embarrassment upon sobering up. Of course the curse of the philosophical drunk phase is lack of the ability to keep oneâs mouth shut.
âBecause Iâm in love with someone I canât have.â
âOh.â Liz nodded sagely, âIs she married?â
âNot unless you forgot to invite me to your wedding.â I watched my answer swirl around Lizâs mind as she drunkenly contemplated it.
âMe?? But weâre best friends!â
And I had thought this was an intelligent woman. From somewhere anger bubbled up in me. Anger that she couldnât see me as more than a friend, anger that my heart couldnât let her go so I could get on with my life. I reached over and cupped her face in my hands holding her tight when she squirmed and giggled. Then I kissed her.
I kissed her with all the repressed passion I had felt for over two years. I crushed her lips under mine until they parted. My tongue slid into the warmth of her mouth and I thought I would cry at her sweetness. When I felt her tongue dart shyly against my own I drew back and stared at her in surprise. She had her eyes closed and she was breathing heavily. Her eyes fluttered open and the hunger I saw there was nearly more than I could take.
âDonât stop.â She whispered. Her hands reached for me but I jumped to my feet and stepped back. âJen, pleaseâŠIâŠI want you.â
âYouâre drunk, Liz.â I shook my head trying to clear it. âHell, weâre both drunk. You donât know what youâre saying and I have said too much as it is.â
I turned and stumbled off toward my bedroom. I waved an unsteady hand toward the guest room.
âGo to bed, LizâŠjustâŠ.go to bed.â My heart was breaking and my body demanded that I go back to her, but I couldnât. She was the best friend I ever had; I wasnât going to mess that up over some liquor inspired hormone trip. I somehow managed to strip out of my clothes and fall naked into bed to sleep the blissful sleep of the totally inebriated until morning.
Mornings always come too early and I was not a morning person on the best of days. When I felt the bed dip to one side I groaned and tugged my quilt up over my head. It being the morning after the night before made it even worse. I sniffed and smelled the tantalizing aroma of coffee. My nerves screamed for it. I peeked out and opened one eye.
Liz sat on the side of my bed with a perky smile on her face. She used to do this to me when we partied in college. The woman just did not have bad mornings.
âCome on lazy butt, you promised to show me around today.â She set a steaming mug of coffee on my nightstand and lifted the edge of the quilt to slip underneath. I closed my eyes again feeling close to panic. Maybe she didnât remember last night but I did. Now here she was dressed in some short, thin kind of nightie that left little to the imagination, and she was climbing in bed with me.
In college we had often gotten in bed with each other on a weekend morning, it shouldnât have been a big deal this time, but it was. For me at least. I took a deep breath and tried to act normal.
âWhat..â My voice squeaked and I cleared my throat to try again. âWhat do you have planned?â
She bounced a little as she scooted down farther in the bed and snuggled closer to me. I felt the panic again.
âI want to see this Saturday Market youâve told me about for starters. Then Waterfront Park, I have a list in my room.â She reached out her hand and brushed my hair from my forehead. âThen tonight you are going to take me dancing.â
âDancing?â I groaned and struggled to sit up. Thatâs when I was reminded that I had slept naked. Liz looked at my bare breasts and a strange gleam came into her eyes. I tugged the quilt up and looked anywhere but at her. âYou arenât going to make me go out and play straight again are you? I havenât danced with a man sinceâŠforever!â
âNope.â She leaned closer and kissed my lips softly. âThis time I am going to play in your world, Iâm going to âplay lesbianâ.â
I sat in shock as she slipped from my bed and sashayed out of the room.
âOh this is going to be bad.â I thought to myself and headed for the shower.