Whiskey at Midnight, page 18
She flips the frame over to clean the back of it. There is something strange about it, like it’s not just the back of a picture frame. Something has been added somewhere. Emma doesn’t focus on it long and puts it back and forgets about it.
Cam recommends spending Valentine’s Day together since they’re both hopelessly single. The bar is out. The possibility of Wren and Steve being there is too high. Emma still goes with Cam for some karaoke nights and Wren is always there acting like nothing is wrong, nothing has happened.
Cam is supportive. She keeps Emma as entertained as she can when they go out, buys her at least one shot each time and nods sympathetically when Emma can’t bring it upon herself to go because Wren might be there.
It’s not fair the way Wren can go on with her life. She’s reverted back to her old ways, mostly talking to Steve or sitting at the bar and talking to the bartenders. Maybe that’s what’s most unfair, the way Reese and Taylor do the bare minimum for Emma now. They dutifully set her drinks in front of her and thank her when she tips them, but there is no small talk. She is just a customer to them now and that stings.
Steve is not the actor that Wren is, though Emma assumes that Wren isn’t acting like anything but herself. He talks to Cam and dances, but it takes him a few drinks before he can look at Emma. When he says something to Emma, his motions are jerky and awkward. Asking Emma if she wants another drink causes his arm to flex unnaturally when he points at the bar. And Wren sits there, not really talking, and looking at Emma like she can see through her.
The bar is out for Valentine’s Day, Cam and Emma conclude.
“Come to my apartment. I’ll buy chocolate and wine and we’ll watch chick flicks. I’ll even find one with lesbians in it for you,” Cam tells Emma.
Emma wears sweatpants and a t-shirt on Valentine’s Day because that’s the only thing that doesn’t feel weird on her skin. The decision seems foolish as soon as Cam opens her front door and she’s wearing a low cut blouse and jeans. At least Cam isn’t wearing shoes. And, of course, since they’re not going outside, Cam’s blouse has short sleeves.
Cam’s apartment screams put together. Red candles are lit on the coffee table and two wine glasses are already set out as well. The couch is black leather. A large painting of the beach hangs above the couch. It’s much nicer looking than the blank spot with the nail above Wren’s comfortable but ugly couch. The carpet in Cam’s apartment is so white Emma worries that she’ll spill her wine and cause a horrible stain.
“So we’ve got wine, cheese, chocolate. Anything else you think we might need?” Cam asks, ushering Emma toward the couch.
“No,” Emma says. The couch feels like it’s swallowing Emma up, wrapping her in a comfortable embrace that she’ll never want to leave. She closes her eyes and enjoys the sensation.
Cam has to poke Emma’s shoulder to get her attention. It causes Emma to blush. It’s been a growing problem, feeling like she’s underwater all the time and people having to repeat questions or touch her to bring her back to the present. There’s only so many times Emma can go through that embarrassment before she worries that she might be going mad. It’d be so silly, to go mad now. Wren used the excuse of mental illness to take a lighter load one semester. To go crazy because Wren broke things off would be ridiculous.
“I’m sorry, what?” Emma asks and picks up one of the glasses of wine. It’s red. Cam’s favorite. Emma has never been good with wine. She drinks it, she likes it, but that’s it. Cam probably knows which wines go best with which foods. It’s the kind of thing Emma would never think to learn.
“I said, to us. Fuck everyone else. It’s just you and me. Like it should be.” Cam raises her glass. A loud noise startles Emma as they’re clinking their glasses together. She manages not to spill her wine. It’s only the opening song of the movie Cam has started.
They end up not really watching the movie. Minutes of silence are spent with them staring at the TV until one of them says something, never about the film. Emma pops squares of cheese in her mouth and they separate the chocolate. Light chocolate for Emma, dark for Cam.
The random bursts of conversation are the reason why Emma isn’t surprised when Cam clears her throat toward the middle of the movie and speaks. “I never thought you and Wren would last, you know.”
Emma had never thought about forever with Wren. How could she? Wren is never tamed. Wren is nice, not loving. And Emma has been the one who’s known all along that it’s Cam she’s supposed to end up with. Cam who is applying lip gloss to her lips and it’s so distracting that Emma has to wait a moment to reply. “Why?” she asks.
Cam gives her a look that says Emma has asked a stupid question. She takes another sip of her wine, pours more in each of their glasses. “Because it wasn’t love, for one. You were both in it for the sex. That’s not your style. You could never stay in a relationship that was based on that. Companionship, maybe. But Wren isn’t good at that either. So the quicker you get over her, the better. I mean, she’s not really worth all the sad feelings, right?”
All things that Emma has thought at one point or another. All things that are probably true. It’s different when someone else says them. Wrong. Emma bristles, but stops herself from saying anything. Wren might be all of those things, but she also gave Emma more than she’s ever given anyone else. Wren never said it, but Emma would bet on it. Wren got her a fucking Christmas present, after all. She listened to Emma’s ramblings without complaining and let Emma fuck her however Emma wanted. Wren might be walking around like nothing happened, but it obviously had. And that was something no one could take from Emma.
Another reason to bite back the words: it’s Cam. Cam wasn’t there in the bedroom with her and Wren. She was barely at the bar during those months. She has no idea what things were like between her and Wren, only what Wren is like around most people. And besides, Cam is here now, trying to make Emma feel better, and Wren isn’t. That has to count for something.
“I guess you’re right,” Emma mumbles, because Cam won’t drop it until Emma agrees in some small way.
“I mean, you didn’t love her, right?” Cam says it with some uncertainty in her voice. It’s rare to hear Cam sounding unsure. It’s unnatural. Emma doesn’t like it.
“Right,” Emma says quickly. Whatever strong feeling she has for Wren, and there is some sort of strong feeling involved for her to feel so bad, it can’t be love. You don’t use someone you love. And love lasts forever. An intense bond between two people that can’t be broken by anything. No, she and Wren don’t fit Emma’s definition of love. And even though Emma reads as much as she can, and even spent one summer looking up random words in a dictionary, she has no term for what the feelings she has for Wren are.
That settles it for Cam. The world is black and white. If it’s not love, then Emma can get over Wren without permanent damage. And if Wren loved Emma in her own fucked up kind of way, she wouldn’t have walked away, taking the choice that Emma couldn’t make away. She would have waited. Cam doesn’t say what the choice was. They both know and saying it aloud is too much for two friends spending Valentine’s Day together.
Cam kisses Emma on the cheek at the end of the night. It’s friendly. Emma doesn’t stay up all night wondering what it might mean, doesn’t even think about the fact that Cam looked down at her feet when she said goodbye to Emma. In fact, Emma falls asleep faster than she has in days. The pink covers still bother her and her last coherent thought is to buy new ones soon.
She dreams of a leather couch and eyes that never look straight at her.
Ever since Emma has made a conscious effort to look more closely at the people around her, she has been able to read Cam better. When Cam is nervous, she runs her tongue along her lower lip. Anger makes Cam bite down hard until her jaw must ache. When the two of them hang out, sometimes for coffee, sometimes at karaoke, a lot of the time at Emma’s apartment, Cam runs her palms up and down her jeans like she’s wiping sweat off. Cam stares at Emma’s lips when Emma speaks. All of the signs say that Cam is interested yet again, but Emma doesn’t do anything about it.
In the dark, underneath her new red covers, Emma reminds herself to stay strong. She won’t fall into Cam’s web. If Cam wants something to happen, she’ll have to make the first move. Rejection would be too much for Emma. Her skin always feels raw and her brain is only starting to return back to it’s normal, not underwater, state. She can’t risk making it worse again.
The first move comes too fast. They’re sitting at a busy coffee shop halfway between their apartments. Every other table is full. Some customers are tapping away at their keyboards and others are laughing loudly with their friends. Cam talks about work while Emma drinks her coffee and lets her mind drift to the classroom. Emma imagines giving snotty Tony detention. A foot brushes along Emma’s calf. In the past, Emma would blush or stutter or spit out whatever she was drinking. She’s changed since then, thanks to Wren. Instead Emma keeps her face blank and continues to drink her coffee, nodding occasionally at whatever Cam is saying.
All of the time Emma wasted by chasing after Cam feels like more of a waste when it becomes obvious that Cam wants Emma more for not reacting. Cam slides her foot along Emma’s leg with more pressure. By the time they’ve both finished their coffees, Cam’s foot is constantly touching Emma’s leg under the table and a look of frustration won’t leave Cam’s face. It feels like a victory.
Cam does little things like touching the small of Emma’s back when Emma walks through a door. She always hugs Emma or kisses her on the cheek when they’re greeting each other or saying goodbye.
She pulls Emma in close to dance when a slow song plays at karaoke. It’s strange at first, dancing to a slow song with Cam when Emma is so used to Wren’s small body moving against her own. The first few times, Emma looks around guiltily. Steve dances with Vicki, laughing like he always does. Sometimes Wren is sitting at the bar, facing away from Emma and Cam. Sometimes Steve is forcing her to dance with him. Once, Emma catches her standing off to the side and watching her and Cam dance. They make eye contact for a moment, neither of them seeming to want to break it, until Wren’s shoulders hunch a bit and she turns to go outside and smoke.
There are nights when Emma wakes up, her chest heaving and her thoughts confused. She never remembers what she’s been dreaming, only knows that she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t tell Cam about it and when Cam asks how she’s been sleeping, because there are bags under her eyes, Emma shrugs and says nothing is different. She starts bringing coffee with her in the mornings and by the time the students are starting to wake up, the coffee is gone.
Emma’s finally able to start helping out in the classroom. She speaks to Mrs. Everett about lesson plans and grading papers. Mrs. Everett picks at her long nails and smooths the hem of her skirt. She’s old, probably a few years from retiring even if she got into teaching late. Some days it seems inevitable that Mrs. Everett will teach until she dies mid-lesson. When Emma asks about finding time to get everything done, Mrs. Everett laughs. “The easiest way is to say goodbye to your social life,” she says.
Emma’s resolve to not show any reaction when Cam does little flirty things drives Cam up a wall. She sighs when Emma doesn’t respond and starts kissing Emma on the lips when they say goodnight to one another. Never at the bar, though. Emma wouldn’t allow it and Cam doesn’t try. Emma is still wounded enough that her defenses are down, and it’s pretty nice to have Cam’s attention, so Cam’s intentions, which are growing more clear every day, start to feel inevitable. Emma doesn’t feel as excited about it as she thought she would.
The way Wren treats everything, as if it doesn’t matter one way or the other, how something that she wants can be tainted so quickly that she tries not to want at all, is how Emma starts to feel about Cam. There’s been years of build-up, of them trying to get things going and then Cam getting scared, that Emma thinks Wren might be smart after all. Because there’s no way Cam can live up to Emma’s expectations. Another thing that’s not fair.
Cam invites Emma out for dinner and it takes a whole glass of wine for Emma to recognize the booth they’re in. It’s the same one as their date. She hadn’t thought of it when Cam specifically asked for the booth. But Emma is so used to straightforward actions, the way that Wren is about everything, that her heart doesn’t swell at the knowledge of what Cam has done.
Emma orders the same pasta that she had on their date and rolls her eyes because Cam is going to take it as a sign, assuming Cam remembers what Emma ordered, which she probably does if she remembers what booth they were in. Really, Emma just wants to fucking eat the pasta without all of the meaningful bullshit associated with it. Wren has broken her down well and good, Emma thinks.
“Mark says I look really happy now,” Cam says while she eats. It’s bait. Emma is supposed to ask how he’s doing or why Cam looks so happy so that Cam can continue on with whatever she wants to say to her. Emma takes another bite of her pasta. “And I guess I am,” Cam continues anyway. “He asked about you.”
“Why?” Emma asks despite herself.
Cam swallows and looks at Emma like she’s trying to figure out how she wants to word what she wants to say. She shrugs, shakes her head. “Because you’re the reason I couldn’t commit to him fully and he knows it.”
It’s a lot to put on another person all at once, though Emma had guessed as much when Cam announced their break up. Words can be dangerous, Emma thinks. No wonder Wren was so careful about them. Emma shakes her head. She’s got to stop comparing Cam and Wren, has to stop thinking of Wren at all. She can’t continue doing it if Cam is going to get what she wants, which appears to be Emma.
They spend the rest of their dinner talking about subjects that don’t mean much to either of them. Emma mentions her students toward the end of the meal and Cam goes on a tirade about how children have changed so much since they were kids. Emma can’t disagree. She’s heard at least three students whispering about sex and two more talking about drugs. Emma assumed that she had been unusually sheltered as a kid.
Cam drives Emma home and invites herself up. Her jacket is off and across the back of the couch as soon as she walks in, leaving her arms bare. At the beginning of the school year, Emma wouldn’t have been able to look away from Cam’s arms if her hair had been on fire and maybe Emma has changed since then, but not by much, because she’s staring at the arms now.
“Come here,” Cam says and hooks her fingers into Emma’s belt loops to pull her closer. Cam kisses her softly. She’s not demanding, just keeps kissing until Emma responds. She slides her hands up Emma until they tangle in Emma’s hair. All of the planning that Emma has done in the past and she’s not even wearing her lucky underwear. The thought is quickly forgotten when Cam asks if they can go into Emma’s bedroom.
Cam is thorough, as if mentally keeping track of a check list. Her hands shake when she undresses Emma and she doesn’t touch Emma at all until Emma vocally says that it’s okay. The passion that Emma loves about Cam when Cam is ranting about injustice is nowhere to be seen. Instead Cam is unsteady, unsure how to balance herself on her arms and still be everywhere at once. Finally, Emma forces Cam onto her back and positions herself on top. The relief on Cam’s face is obvious.
And really, Emma should have been on top from the start. Cam’s never been with a woman, excluding the time Emma tries not to think about, has probably never even thought about the mechanics of being with a woman in detail. It’s hard to call Emma experienced when it comes to sex. She spent her nights with her first girlfriend fumbling in the dark until they laughed and gave up, so sure that they had all the time in the world to figure it out. Her second girlfriend was much smoother and it’s her that Emma thinks of, trying to remember what she liked. Because what worked for Wren is bound to not work for Cam. Wren is all hard angles and bite marks and bruises. Cam isn’t fragile by any stretch of the imagination, but Emma is sure that Cam prefers a soft caress over a bite on her thigh.
Emma’s not as fluid in her motions as she normally might be. Despite everything, this is still wish fulfillment of a kind for Emma and she tries to get everything in at once, as if Cam might change her mind at any moment. And, really, experience says that she might.
Even though Emma wants to be able to kiss Cam throughout, with the thought that it might be the last time, she kisses down Cam’s body, paying attention to each rib and hip bone. Cam’s stomach is flat in the way Emma wishes her own stomach was. Her dark nipples are all Emma sees when she looks up Cam’s body, and she touches them with her palms. Emma kisses lower until she is face to face with Cam’s center. She places a kiss on each inner thigh and smiles when Cam lets out a low moan.
Cam tastes kind of sweet, which is a lot sweeter than Emma would have expected. It’s nice and after the first tentative lick, she closes her eyes and just enjoys pleasuring Cam. She hums as Cam begins to massage her scalp and gasps when she feels how wet she’s getting by focusing on Cam.
“God, you’re good,” Cam mumbles.
It’s different from any other time for Emma. As it should be, she thinks. Because finally, after all this time, Emma is actually making love to someone rather than just fucking.
She keeps pleasuring Cam with her lips and tongue until Cam orgasms, her legs flexing the whole time. Emma kisses her way back up Cam’s body and laughs at the slightly disgusted look on Cam’s face when Cam looks at Emma’s lips. Emma grabs the covers and wipes her mouth on them, laughs again at the look on Cam’s face and leans down to kiss her. Cam doesn’t respond at first as she tries to determine if Emma is doing something particularly gross. She must decide it’s okay because then she’s kissing Emma and it’s an almost perfect moment.
Cam’s hand snakes down between them, stops before she’s actually touching Emma. A look of indecision crosses her face and Emma kisses her all over again.
