As deathly quiet as the house was at night, Catherine was certain that she could hear the other two women conversing together late into the early morning. Once dawn rolled around she was completely exhausted, but her envious hypervigilance kept her awake; she’d only managed maybe an hour or two of sleep before she’d been woken by the sounds of someone puttering around in the kitchen.
Bleary-eyed and somewhat sore, she dragged herself off the couch, searching for Xena’s leash so that she could take her fussy princess out for a morning stretch.
“Oh, I already saw to her,” April called pleasantly from across the little island that peeked into the kitchen. “Jeannie and I gave her a little trot about an hour ago while you were still sleeping.”
“Thanks,” she grumbled ungraciously, hoping that her bitter affect would come off as simple morning sleepiness. “I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Oh no, she’s a sweetheart,” April assured her as Catherine sat down at one of the bar stools that had been tucked underneath the tabletop.
“Xena, or Jeannie?” Catherine wondered drily.
“Both,” she asserted confidently, evidently in a much-better mood than her bestie. “They must’ve got on well during the drive, I suspect; Xena tried to get her to play as soon as we were out on the lawn, and Jeannie was happy to take her up on it.” Looking up from the beginnings of breakfast, she flashed Catherine a painfully-sweet smile. “You should’ve seen them! They both acted like goofy puppies.”
“It’s been a long while since Xena was a puppy,” Catherine mused, annoyed at Jeannie for getting along so well with both of the girls she cared so much about. “She turned fifteen last August.”
She left the sentiment unspoken, but they both understood what that meant. Larger dog breeds didn’t exactly have the longest lifespans, and her furry companion was already well into the upper-end of that bell curve; it wouldn’t be that long before the inevitable happened.
“I wish we had a lot more time left to spend with her,” April said quietly, following along the grim trail Catherine had laid out.
“‘We’?” she returned, covering her melancholy with a conspiratorial mischief; it was fine for her to be sad, but she didn’t want to bum out her bestie so early in the morning.
“Yes, ‘we’,” she snipped back with a mock pout, unable to hide the slight pink coloration that had crept onto her cheeks. “You know I’ve wanted a dog for ages. Is it wrong to want a few more chances to spoil her?”
“I guess not,” Catherine allowed, “but as much as I’d like to let you cuddle her for as long as you’d want, I really need to be heading back soon. I’ve got to go in and talk to the financial aid and enrollment offices as soon as I can.”
The university was always a stickler for dates and deadlines at the most inconvenient of times; while there was hardly any chance that meeting with either office would ultimately prove worth it in the end, her window to even attempt salvaging her tuition costs was rapidly closing. It wouldn’t matter what excuse she came up with either; once the cutoff date passed in another week, she wouldn’t be eligible for even a partial refund, most of which would have to go back to the government anyway.
“You could leave Xena with me,” April grinned, teasing her. “I’m sure she’d like it here.”
“I’m sure she would,” Catherine hedged, “but would Mark be okay with it?”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks, because the house isn’t in his name.” Despite the severity of her tone, a hint of doubt still lingered in it.
“Alright,” she said, not wanting to pull at any threads that might make her bestie upset. “I guess I could let you have her for a little while, but I’d have to come get her eventually.”
“And then you’d have an excuse for a return visit,” April added sheepishly.
“You’d really want to see my ugly mug more than once?” Catherine chuckled despite herself.
“I happen to think it’s a very nice ‘mug’,” she huffed, pushing back against the taller girl’s low self-esteem. “You’re quite attractive, as I’m sure you’re already aware.”
“Am I?” she quipped, pressing the point.
“Obviously,” April insisted. “I think you’re just hard on yourself, but no one would deny how handsome you are.”
A tense silence stretched out above the clatter of dishes, the shorter girl too focused on what she was doing to have noticed Catherine’s reaction. As the empty beat dragged on, however, she finally glanced up, catching the taller woman’s purposely-flat expression.
“Handsome, huh?” Catherine echoed, a strained note in her rough tenor.
“You know what I mean,” she replied, a hint of frustration undercutting her words. “A cute sort of roguish charm. You’re handsome like Xena.”
“But not like Jeannie,” the taller girl shot back.
“Please, sweet,” April sighed, “you know that comparison’s not fair to you.”
“Sure,” Catherine nodded, her teeth clenched. “Because she’s a real woman, and I’m not.”
“You’re twisting my words,” she protested, an exasperated frown creasing her lips. “I don’t like it when you behave like this; it makes me very cross whenever you insult one of my favourite people.”
“You’re right: I’m sure Jeannie would find it very insulting to be compared to me.”
“On account of how hot you are,” April countered, unwilling to entertain her bestie’s self-debasement.
“Oh come on,” Catherine scoffed, “I’m not going to believe an obvious line like that. You’re just saying that because it’s like … ⸻ I don’t know, polite or whatever.”
“I don’t say anything purely for the sake of it,” she rejoined, a wounded look on her face. “I wouldn’t tell you something that I don’t genuinely believe. Honestly, I wish you could see yourself the way I do; maybe then you’d stop being so hard on yourself.”
Of course Catherine knew that April was probably right, but the voice that lived deep-down inside of her wasn’t so easily silenced; a horrid, mocking thing, it gleefully recounted all her flaws and failures in exacting detail, torturing her with the endless litany. A creature of extremes, the only way she knew how to cope with it was depressed acceptance or furious reprisal, the only two emotions left to her by her mother and father, respectively.
Defaulting to caustic combativeness, she’d squared-off against the person she cared most about in the world ⸻ the one she’d been dying to see for years, only to continuously mess everything up the second she had the chance. Ruining her only shot at finally telling April how she truly felt, she instead ran herself in angry circles, lashing out at a woman that certainly didn’t deserve it.
I’m sure Mark did all the same shit, she sighed to herself, miserable understanding settling like a millstone dropped onto her shoulders. She’d be better off with Jeannie than with someone like me.
“I’m sorry,” Catherine muttered, fumbling for an apology. “It’s been a really long couple of days.”
“Even still,” April continued, her expression softening, “could you please try being a little nicer to my best mate?”
“If I must,” she grumbled, annoyed with how that particular word made her feel; obviously she understood the Britishism, but the association with wolves caught against her (rather warped) romantic sensibilities. “Speaking of Jeannie, though,” she deflected, “where’d she run off to?”
“She said she had to pop out for a bit,” April shrugged, a strangely-evasive note to her timbre. “I expect she’s grabbing a few toiletries and the like; the two of you showed up with hardly anything at all.”
“I wasn’t really expecting to stay,” she explained.
Still, that begged the question of why Jeannie hadn’t brought any of her effects. ‘Traveling light’ was fine and all, but it didn’t make sense for her to plan such a long trip without taking anything along with her. Did she intend to purchase everything after she’d already arrived … ⸻ or were most of her things already in the house?
It was a strange coincidence, one that she couldn’t let go. She’d read enough romance manga to know what an impact ‘childhood friends’ could have in a romantic context, and the sudden appearance and odd familiarity with Jeannie seemed to validate the uncharitable fantasies forming in her mind. Obviously she didn’t have solid facts to base her assumptions on, but the idea that the dark-haired amazon might be a ‘first love’ returned from overseas wasn’t entirely out of the question ⸻ and her timing was just too perfect, coinciding with the end of April’s marriage in an undeniably advantageous way.
“I’ve been wondering, though,” Catherine started slyly, envy burning under her tongue, “what’s up with you and Jeannie?”
“How do you mean?” she returned, a slight apprehension buried in her stilted cadence.
“I don’t ever remember you talking about her,” the taller girl accused.
“I don’t talk about most of my friends,” April deflected easily, “and neither of us particularly enjoy bringing up our childhoods.”
“Sure,” Catherine conceded, “but she can’t be one of the unhappy bits if she’s come all the way from England to see you.”
“Yes, well,” she stammered, searching for an explanation, “there were some extenuating circumstances, and the trip was an impulsive, last-minute decision.”
Hard to argue with that, she admitted to herself, frustrated that she didn’t have anything more concrete to present.
“I guess I should be grateful to her,” Catherine mused, changing tactics, “since I don’t think I’d’ve gotten to see you otherwise.”
“You’ve never had occasion to visit California, at least not as far as I’m aware,” April argued. “Hard to see me if you aren’t in the area, and I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have been that thrilled to meet Mark.”
“Surely you mean the other way around,” she protested.
“Not at all,” the shorter girl answered, shaking her head. “I know what you’re like.”
“I don’t hate all men,” Catherine objected, annoyed at the frank assessment of her character; sure, she was something of a misandrist to the point of almost being a lesbian caricature, but she at least had good reason to be. “I only loathe the ones that deserve it, which happens to be a large share of them ⸻ and a quite visible subset, too.”
“Tell me about it,” April commiserated. “They certainly seem to enjoy blathering on about all of their horrible thoughts whenever they get the chance, don’t they?”
“True,” she agreed readily, entirely too aware of the very vocal sentiment amplified through modern news media, “but we’re getting away from the point. I asked you about Jeannie, not conservative mouthpieces.”
“She’s only a friend,” the shorter girl insisted. “If you absolutely must know, she’s staying here for a little while to … ⸻ to help me with some things, now that Mark and I have separated.”
“Uh-huh,” Catherine whinged petulantly. “And I assume you need some of that ‘help’ in the bedroom?”
Turning a bright red, April nevertheless remained remarkably in control of herself as she refused the other woman’s insinuation, sniping back with her own remark. “Why? Are you offering to lend a hand instead?”
Her own cheeks starting to glow a matching peach, the taller girl lamented how bafflingly difficult it was to fluster her bestie, and how readily she could turn things around on her. Part of it, she assumed, had to do with her massive and somewhat debilitating crush, but there was a level of passive immunity April seemed to possess simply on account of their relative age gap; the other woman had at least another ten years on her, and that difference was enough to inoculate her to a degree of salacious taunting. Whether that arose from experience or unkind self-perception was difficult to surmise, but as badly as Catherine wanted to rile-up her crush she yet found it nearly impossible to accomplish.
“I could be persuaded,” she answered guardedly, trying to pass off her very-real interest as playful dismissal.
If April ever let her, Catherine would happily bang her like a screen door in a hurricane, but admitting to that sentiment in-person was an entirely different thing to their mutual teasing conducted over texts, and the last thing she would ever want was to gross-out the other woman with her one-sided desires.
“You’d need to be convinced?” April laughed, goading her. “I thought you fancied older women.”
“Sure,” she smiled, playing along, “but you’re not a MILF just yet.”
She’d meant it as lighthearted banter, but Catherine wasn’t blind to the strangely-unreadable expression that settled on the other woman’s face.
“... Not yet, no,” she echoed. “But not for lack of trying, right? In fact, I almost wish ….”
For a moment, it looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she bit her lip and held her tongue, letting the charged silence hang between them. Steadily working up the courage to continue the lascivious jesting to see where it could lead, Catherine was frustrated by the sudden reappearance of Jeannie, the amazon wandering in from the other room to join her at the kitchen island.
“You ‘almost wish’ what?” the dark-haired woman prompted, inserting herself into the conversation.
“It’s nothing,” April answered, dodging the question. “Just a silly fantasy, that’s all.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Jeannie encouraged, a queer sincerity suffusing her tone.
Glancing meaningfully at Catherine, April shook her head. “I don’t think anyone wants to listen to me nattering on and playing make-believe.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Catherine countered, finding herself strongly invested in whatever it was the smaller girl was going to say. “We’re all friends here, right? No reason not to share a bit of idle chatter, no matter how ridiculous.”
“Precisely,” Jeannie agreed, a mischievous lift to the corner of her mouth. “I’m very interested in learning this wish.”
Pretending to busy herself with the pancakes in front of her, April spent a minute waffling over whether or not she should continue. Naturally Catherine had no idea what the other girl’s hesitation could be, but she doubted it would prove to be a new fact; the two had enjoyed several meandering conversations together regarding what they wanted out of life, and so the only reason she could see for April’s hesitation would be if she didn’t want Jeannie specifically to know. Perhaps that meant the two weren’t as close as she had believed, and that possibility buoyed her mood just long enough to send it crashing to rock-bottom once she realised that the smaller girl’s reticence might’ve been born out of a desire not to reveal her more-immediate and quite-real plans for her relationship with her childhood friend.
Seeing the falling mood of her taller mate, April relented in an attempt to clear the air.
“It’s a meaningless regret,” she said, chewing each word thoughtfully before she spoke, “but I’ve recently wondered if conception wouldn’t have been easier a dozen or so years ago, and whether I’ve sabotaged myself by waiting so long.”
“My mother had me when she was like forty-five or something,” Catherine piped up, immediately mortified that she’d blithely volunteered an unhelpful anecdote; if she’d considered her words for just a moment longer, she would’ve understood that another woman’s success would only magnify April’s own sense of failure. “I mean, like, that proves it’s possible, y’know? For lots of women, I think.”
Kicking herself for opening her stupid mouth uninvited, she let herself fall back into ignorant silence. What was she doing running her mouth anyway? She was entirely oblivious to this sort of thing, never having had any of the relevant parts herself ⸻ and her own theoretical involvement in the process had been demolished by years of estrogen, so she had no business being in the conversation in the first place. She should’ve kept her idiotic assertions to herself and stayed out of women’s business.
“It’s not just that,” April added, graciously ignoring her bestie’s impropriety. “It’s the generational divide, I mean, which is exacerbated by my … advanced age, if you will. I feel like it would be so much more difficult to connect with my children, and I’ll have less time to spend with them overall than a youthful mum might.”
“A valid point,” Jeannie agreed. “So then, what’s your wish?”
Worrying at her bottom lip, April glanced at Catherine then, as though there was some connection between her and whatever it is she wanted to say. “I suppose I wish I could be a much younger mum,” she finally said, the volume of her voice dropping substantially. “Theoretically speaking, I mean. If it were possible.”
Perplexing Catherine even further, Jeannie turned to her as if to confirm the taller girl’s opinion on the matter.
“What, like early twenties or whatever?” Catherine asked, unprepared for the bizarre questioning.
Shuffling back and forth on her feet, April inclined her head, perhaps feeling too guilty about the thought to directly admit to it.
“Sure, I can see the benefit in that,” the taller girl acquiesced; her foremost concern was, as always, supporting the woman who was so very dear to her heart. “Assuming we’re just spitballing ‘what-ifs’ here.”
“You don’t think it’s irresponsible?” April inquired apprehensively, still behaving as if she were seeking permission for something.
“Not really?” she hedged, struggling to figure out what it was that the two women seemed to require of her. “We’ve talked before about my concerns for raising kids in general, but I don’t see how a young mom would be any worse than a more mature one ⸻ as long as either of them had a partner they could count on, anyway.”
“And which concerns would those be?” Jeannie challenged, increasing the intensity of the queer interrogation.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Catherine countered, bewildered by such direct questioning. “Like, it’s not exactly the safest world out there, so I worry about any kid growing up in this political climate, especially children who won’t fit the … ‘typical’ societal mould.”
“An understandable fear,” the dark-haired woman allowed, her expression darkening as though she too grappled with the same threat, though perhaps in a more-immediate way than the taller girl. “But it’s a fear that you believe is insurmountable.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Catherine argued, feeling compelled by a sort of nervous energy to expound on her thesis, “I would love to believe the necessary kind of partner could exist, one that was strong enough to fight off all the evils of the world and keep everyone that she loves safe, but that’s a monumentally tall order for anyone to achieve.”
“And is that the kind of partner you wish to be?” Jeannie asked, a solemn cast to the mask of her face. “Theoretically speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” she mumbled, returning the woman’s harsh gaze with a hard stare of her own. “I mean I wish I could even have children in the first place, but if so then that’s the type of mom I wish I could be ⸻ that I would do my absolute best to be.”
Whatever answer it was that Jeannie had been hoping to hear, the taller girl’s assertion must have met the criteria she was looking for. Relaxing again, the corners of her mouth turned up into an easy smile, regarding Catherine with a look of approval; if the conversation had been some kind of test, then it was clear that she’d passed it, but she couldn’t help the lingering feeling that she’d lost whatever game it was that they’d been playing.
“That’s an awful lot of wishing all at once,” April observed, the anxious quality to her timbre still evident.
“Hardly that many at all,” Jeannie said, dismissing the other woman’s concern with a wave of her hand. “And one or two were fairly small.”
“Pardon?” Catherine tried, losing the thread of the conversation entirely after already having been quite confused.
Whatever the aside had been about, the two moved past it without clueing her in to the details. It stung a little bit not to be included ⸻ especially considering that she was still torturing herself over the imagined details of April’s relationship to Jeannie ⸻ but Xena had decided that she would like to become the focus of Catherine’s attention, and breakfast was finally ready to be plated anyway.
Forced to give up on scrounging for any details, she instead decided to enjoy the dish in front of her. For some reason, she felt ravenously hungry, but she chalked it up to the boring, restricted diet she’d been forced into lately. The allure of bacon being simply too difficult to ignore, she let the weird ‘wish’ talk pass beyond her without further complaint.
Most of what Catherine had brought along on the trip were various medications, either for herself or for Xena; the latter she left with April along with directions for their use.
“There’s nothing wrong with her heart for now,” she explained, going over the importance of each of the little tablets, “but these are to help keep it that way. Other than that, make sure not to let her keep trying to play after she tires herself out; she thinks she’s still a lot younger than she is.”
Nodding along as she memorized the instructions, April’s concern was as much for the human as for her furry companion. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” she asked for what must’ve been the third time that morning. “For another day if nothing else, so that you can get a bit more rest.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, politely dismissing the shorter girl’s worrying. “I’ve got too many things to take care of back in Seattle, and I’d hate to overstay my welcome.”
“One day is hardly anything,” April replied exasperatedly, “and I’m … quite fond of your company.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting lonely with the house all to yourself,” Catherine chuckled, playing off the semi-affectionate comment as though it were a joke between friends.
“Not exactly,” she admitted, “but it’s not not that either.”
“You’ll have Xena and Jeannie with you,” the taller girl reminded her, tamping down on the mildly-bitter envy she felt so that it wouldn’t leak into her voice. “Surely they’ll keep you plenty entertained.”
“True,” April allowed, her serious expression concealing a hint of melancholy, “but neither of them are you. Are you sure you don’t want to spend a little time entertaining me yourself?”
“Well, yeah, obviously,” Catherine muttered, “but I don’t want to be in the way of anything, either. Jeannie came all this way so that the two of you could catch-up, right? I don’t want to play third wheel.”
Nervously wringing her hands together, April looked strangely shy, more so than normal. “Our relationship ⸻ if you can even call it that ⸻ isn’t really like that. We’re not that close.”
“But you want to be,” she accused knowingly. “I’m not blind, okay? I can see the two of you eyeing each other, and it’s obvious that Jeannie is exactly your type.”
“And?” April demanded, pressing a point that Catherine wasn’t sure she was privy to. “Doesn’t that make you jealous?”
“Envious,” the taller girl corrected. “We’d already have to have something together for it to be jealousy ⸻ and no, it’s fine. I didn’t offer to give her a lift so that I could get in the way of your reunion or hookup or whatever this is; I’m not that petty.”
A minor lie, of course; she absolutely was that petty, and the desire to interfere with any sort of budding romance was almost too powerful for her to ignore.
“So you don’t see you and I like that,” April remarked, still apparently grousing for something while yet keeping her guard up.
“Of course not,” she lied again. “I’m not so tactless that I’d creep on my bestie. We’re just really good friends.”
Friends that share everything, and flirt all the time, and play pretend, she sighed inwardly, frustrated with herself for having such selfish thoughts, knowing that April never took their banter as seriously as she did. As much fun as it is to fuck around, I know how the finding-out would go down, and I don’t think I could survive another defeat so soon after losing everything else.
“Friends,” April echoed, turning her gaze down and away. “Right. Of course.”
There was an ache there, one that Catherine had trouble understanding. Perhaps, if she were willing to engage in a little wishful thinking, she might believe that her bestie was looking for some kind of rebound fling, but if that were true then she’d rather it be Jeannie than herself. That kind of temporary connection was doomed to burn out as soon as it enflamed, and her affection for April ran much deeper than any momentary tryst could satisfy.
Besides, that kind of back-and-forth was a younger woman’s game anyway. April had spent a considerable chunk of her life in a serious relationship that she’d heavily invested in; as badly as she wanted to ‘start a family,’ as it were, she likely wouldn’t be willing to consider Catherine as a partner in that capacity. Sure, neither of them were apparently properly equipped for the process, but there was simply no way that she’d look at a woman so much her junior to be her next meaningful relationship.
Well, not that she could really tell how old Jeannie was at a glance, either, but the aura radiating off the dark-haired amazon had a sort of timeless maturity to it; probably she was a lot older than she seemed, and was just one of those people with good genetics and a strict fitness regimen that kept her years in check. Either way, she seemed like a solid match for April, and likely she’d thought so too if she went out of her way to show up as soon as Mark left the picture.
Whatever ‘special’ quality Catherine had assumed she’d shared with her bestie was just that: an assumption. It existed purely inside her own head.
“Anyway,” she said awkwardly, making to leave.
April caught her around the middle, stealing a hug. Too wrapped-up in herself to return it properly, Catherine put one arm around her shoulders, entirely too conscious of such casual touch.
“Be safe,” the shorter girl told her.
“I’m a careful driver,” Catherine assured her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, yes,” April allowed, “but I mean in more than just the auto. Jeannie and I were talking last night, and she mentioned there were some … ⸻ concerning things happening.”
“Yeah, obviously,” she chuckled. “Did she take a look outside? There’s concerning things everywhere.”
“True, but she meant more specifically than that.”
“And did she give you any details?” Catherine asked, bemused.
“Not very many,” April admitted, “but the ones she did sounded very serious.” Noticing the taller girl’s skeptical look, she added what little she could. “Jeannie couldn’t really talk about it either, but she’s got a strong sense for this sort of thing.”
“Sure,” she nodded, understanding nothing. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Pouting slightly, she looked like she wanted to say more but then thought better of it at the last moment. Having nothing more to say to each other, the two parted awkwardly, both more than a little unsatisfied.