This occasion was the end of final exams for the fall term at Aldenmoor. Emmy had brought over two bottles of wine a few weeks earlier, both very fine and potent, and tonight they decided to enjoy the fruits of their own labor — and others'.
"So the story was true?" Emmy said.
"I suppose. It was a horrible lecture. I felt I needed to speak up on behalf of my fellow students," Juliet replied, "Mr. Halloran simply sat down and refused to speak the rest of the period."
"Jules, you were thirteen. He was ancient. What you did might be considered elder abuse."
"The wine is making you dramatic, dear," Juliet said with her own level of inner warmth rising.
"How did we get into you talking about taking apart our high school history teacher, brick by brick?" Emmy asked as she refilled her glass. The first bottle was gone, a distant memory, but the second bottle seemed to have stepped in admirably.
"You asked me what outrageous things I'd done in my life," Juliet replied.
"Ah yes, and disrespecting a dinosaur is outrageous in anyone's book," Emmy laughed.
"Fine, then you tell me - confess something you've done, and we'll compare."
"I'm not competing with you, Jules, but I suppose I could confess some stuff."
Juliet looked at her, and understood something — Emmy Calloway never apologized, because she seldom did anything wrong. But she did have a tendency to take liberties in life that, the majority of the time, ended in happy situations versus trauma, drama, or heartbreak. The ends were good, the means were… somewhat questionable.
"Confess, my darling, and be relieved of your guilt."
Emmy stuck her tongue out at Juliet, before taking another sip from her glass.
"OK… so… first confession. I have no idea how to play Truth or Dare."
"I gathered that a few months ago when you refused to take turns and asked me two truths in a row."
"You didn't call me out on it."
"I'm a philosopher, I like answering people's questions truthfully," Juliet replied.
"More than you like asking them?"
This threw Juliet off for a moment, which was the opening Emmy needed.
"Your turn, confess!"
Juliet found herself on the defensive, and decided to lean into her own observation and tell a truth.
"I was not as emotionally detached from my first menstrual period as I appeared. There was… rage mixed in there somewhere. I despised it keeping me from what I wanted to do that week."
"What did you want to do?"
"Not be in pain."
"Fair enough."
"Your turn again, I know you have more to confess."
Emmy sat there for a moment, looking like someone who knew the safe item to confess, but also was tempted by the unsafe one. The dangerous one. The one that might change things. Looking over at the wine, she found it nearly gone, so she poured the last into her glass and Juliet's, a final few sips for both of them. She set her glass down and moved to sit next to Juliet, close.
"Jules… you were my first."
First can mean a lot of things, the list running through Juliet's mind, cross-indexed with stories Emmy had told her and stories Emmy had told Julian. The years of friend intimacy left few secrets between them, save for those reserved for romantic intimacy. Mercifully Emmy saw the filing system spinning out.
"Several actually. Starting with love. I think you were the first person outside my family that I truly loved. Priya came in second, and no one I ever dated before you ever got on the list."
"You are the only person outside of my family that I love, and you have set an exceedingly high bar," Juliet said, "Shall we toast to first loves?"
"Not quite yet… you were also my first lover."
"And Jules… you were my first…", Emmy let the sentence trail as she reached over and guided Juliet's head near to hers for a kiss.
As they parted, Juliet tried to reconcile the history she knew of Emmy Calloway with the Emmy Calloway who had just told her all of this. Julian hadn't dated — that was known. But Emmy had always carried the implication of more. The casual mentions of Cara. The threesome musings.
"So Cara? And the others?"
"We never got that far. It was never anything more than just a goofy friendship or a date with someone on a different wavelength," Emmy said as she finished her wine.
Juliet sat there for a moment, before finishing her wine and channeling the little bit of sobriety she had left.
"Emerald, do you think it possible that you and I were always on the same wavelength, locked into something that our heads didn't recognize, but our hearts were insistent on?"
"That's not a philosophical argument, Ms. Hartwell," Emmy replied.
Juliet pulled Emmy close as they both looked at their reflection in the dark window — the lamplight behind them, December beyond.
"No, but philosophy can't explain everything."