The city dissolved away outside the train window, giving way to the suburbs Dani knew by heart, the route back to her townhouse feeling somehow longer tonight. It was as if she was returning from somewhere much farther away.
She hoped, as always, that her roommate Kayla would be up for talking. This weight, this confusion--it was starting to feel like it was too much without Kayla's support. Maybe it already was.
Dani leaned her forehead against the cool window glass, and her thoughts looped back to Celina. It had been a risk telling her. She'd hoped it might clear the air, ease the tightness that had coiled in her chest for months. Dani had known for a while now that her work performance was starting to slip. The moment she realized she was attracted to women--and had always been--the ground shifted beneath her, tilting her world in ways she wasn't prepared for.
The person who had brought this out in her was Celina.
A crush was supposed to be a source of joy, but this one had brought grief. And the grief had been slow at first--a dull ache. But over time, it had grown into something more consuming: a vacuum that sucked at her focus, her energy, her sense of self. She'd felt it in her work--in the little things: missed deadlines, lackluster presentations, her attention splintering. She'd noticed Kayla fussing over her in ways that hadn't been there before, too.
When the psychologist's office had told her it would be 6-9 months before she could get an appointment, Dani had spent the day in bed, overwhelmed. She had no idea how to carry the weight alone. The thought of waiting so long to talk to someone--anyone--had felt impossible. She'd thought about telling Kayla, but given her beliefs, the ones they used to share, Dani wasn't sure how she'd react. She couldn't risk losing her friendship and potentially her home right now.
So, out of desperation, she'd told Celina.
"I have a crush on you," she'd said, before she could talk herself out of it. It had come out in a rush, a confession she hadn't planned to make. Maybe, she thought, it would release some of the pressure building inside of her. Maybe Celina would brush it off, uncomfortably laugh, maybe offer some empathy or advice, and they could move on. And at first, it appeared that Celina had done just that--brushed it off.
But then today, she returned to it. Her hand had come down, firmly, on Dani's body. Her voice, low and controlled, had told Dani to count.
It had been Dani's first sexual encounter with a woman. She'd always imagined it would be soft, careful, maybe a little awkward. But Celina hadn't been any of those things. And Dani? She had felt more alive in that moment than she had in months. Every nerve snapped into place as she focused solely on Celina's voice and touch. It wasn't just the pressure releasing; it was discovering something she didn't realize she craved.
And after that "meeting" today, Dani worked harder, pushed through her tasks with an intensity she hadn't felt in months. She couldn't explain why, but she had a theory. Maybe it was because, for the first time in ages, she didn't feel invisible anymore. Celina had heard her confession and responded. Maybe that's all Dani needed--to be seen.
She exhaled slowly, pressing her forehead against the cool window. Buildings blurred by, their rooftops sloping downwards, becoming shorter in front of her. It could be too early to tell, but maybe she'd solved the problem of her work performance. Kayla would be stoked to hear that part, if disappointed by the rest.
The phone buzzed in her hand. A message from Kayla: "Home. Leftover curry in the fridge if you're hungry." That made Dani smile. Kayla was thoughtful in the simplest, most practical ways. She lifted her head up, imagining Kayla mentioning how much bacteria was probably on the window, and watched the patchwork of houses unfold below until it gave way to Fyldon, the suburb she and her best friend called home.
The train rumbled to a stop at the station. Dani stood up with the others, stepping out onto the platform, the crisp evening air biting against her pale skin. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and quickly made her way through the dimly lit underpass. As she emerged on the other side, the streetlights flickered overhead, casting pools of yellow light on the cracked pavement as she walked. The uneven lines stretched across the sidewalk like old scars. They reminded her of ninth grade, the day when Clem had dropped her lunch money down the crack of a drain. She had sworn, half-laughing and half-frustrated as she peered through the narrow slit where her crumpled bills had vanished. Kayla, Dani, and Noah had laughed at her before Kayla unzipped her bag and pulled out a pair of pliers. "Don't stress yet, Clem," she'd said, and crouched down beside Clem. Noah stood by, offering useless advice. "Maybe shake the drain like a vending machine." Clem had shot him an exasperated look. Dani didn't know Kayla had brought pliers to school, but she was sure glad she had. Kayla positioned the pliers on the bolts holding the grate in place and began to undo them, her movements precise, like she'd done it before. After a few moments of work, the grate was loose, and Kayla lifted it carefully, revealing the lunch money resting beneath the drain. Clem's face lit up with relief, and she laughed as she scooped the bills up and hugged them to her chest.
Dani turned down her street, a cement sidewalk guiding her past the other condominiums. At the end of the block, a narrow driveway ran alongside the townhouse she and Kayla had been renting for the last three years. Dani's eyes landed on Kayla's old red Kia with roof racks parked in its usual spot. The small porch light was on.
The front door stuck like it usually did, swollen slightly in the frame from lazy, quick property developers. Dani nudged it and it gave way with a soft creak that should not have been heard in a house so new.
Inside, the faint smell of leftover curry filled the air. Dani let the door shut behind her with a soft click and stood for a moment in the entryway. The walls were eggshell white, still smooth but scuffed in places from grocery bags and winter boots. From down the hallway, she heard the muffled sound of a sitcom--Kayla's evening routine, same as always.
"Hey," Dani called out, not too loud. The TV volume dropped. A pause. "Hey," Kayla answered. Dani bent to unlace her shoes, tugging them off one at a time. She lined them up by the door--half out of habit, half out of respect for Kayla's no-shoes-inside rule. She put her bag down and slung her jacket over a hook. She headed into the kitchen, flicking on the light as she passed. It was clean and compact, with countertops that looked like marble if you didn't look too closely.
The stainless steel fridge gave a soft click as Dani opened it. A container sat on the middle shelf, labelled "Have a great day, Dani!" in Kayla's unmistakable cursive handwriting. Dani smiled to herself--Kayla was gifting this food to her for lunch if she didn't eat it tonight. Dani pulled it out, setting it on the counter and peeling back the lid.
As she punched in the microwave time, Dani heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, and then Kayla appeared in the doorway. Tall and barefoot, her hands in the pockets of her grey trackpants, she had an easy, unbothered presence. On her top half, she wore an old, retired hiking shirt that looked like it had snagged on more than a few twigs. Her mousy brown hair, loosely braided, draped over her left shoulder. Dani often thought Kayla looked like she belonged in a cabin off the grid--not in the kind of thriller film where bad things happen, but in a peaceful retreat, living simply off the land, surrounded by nature, far from the noise of the world.
"You made it," Kayla said with a warmth that immediately eased the tension in Dani's shoulders.
"Barely," Dani replied with a tired grin. Kayla's smile softened, but she didn't push. Instead, she just stepped in and grabbed a cloth, wiping down a countertop that didn't really need it. She always needed something to keep her hands busy.
"How was work today?" she asked, her eyes remaining on the counter.
Dani hesitated, the words swirling in her head. She knew the concept of what she wanted to say but didn't know how to say it. "Weird," she finally answered.
"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good." Kayla gave her a sidelong-glance but still didn't press. "Want rice with that?"
Dani softly laughed. "Yeah. Please."
