For Better or Worse

“What time are we supposed to be there?” I look at my watch.

“I think Anna said seven.”

“Are you sure it was seven? I think she might have said seven-thirty.”

“Gail.” Julie looks in the mirror at me. “Why do you always question my answers? If you don’t want to accept what I tell you then, for God’s sake, don’t ask me.”

Well, yeah, Julie’s right. She’s always right. Why do I question her answers? Habit, I guess. But I do like the look on her face when she gets annoyed with me. Her eyes flash, her shoulders straighten and she becomes peacock-like in her stature. All that lovely Taurus stubbornness turns her into a fiery goddess commanding my respect and attention.

And she’s got it, damn her; it’s not even worth trying to reply. I walk towards her dressing table where she sits putting on her make-up. She’s chosen a green satin shirt to wear to dinner, and it’s one of my favorites. I love the way satin hangs on her, hugging her shoulders and gently falling over her firm, round breasts. I stand behind her and meet her eyes in the mirror. “This shirt makes your eyes look like emeralds,” I tell her, wondering if I really want to go to this dinner party at all. I’d much rather stay home and admire Julie.

I stroke the back of her neck with my fingers and I can see the gooseflesh rise there as she gasps.

“That tickles!” She grins at me.

I bend over and press my lips to the very same spot and she sighs.

“Gail, what are you doing?”

I don’t answer her with words. I pull the collar of her shirt back and move my lips to the newly exposed skin.

“Gail, don’t. We have to leave soon.”

“Let’s not go.” I whisper, running my lips up the side of her neck to her earlobe.

“Gail! Anna is expecting us.” Julie pauses, make-up brush in hand.

“Let’s stay home.” I slide my hands under her arms and around to fondle her breasts, cupping them easily, one in each palm. She gasps lightly as I rub my thumbs over the place where I know her still-soft nipples lie beneath her bra and I try to coax more out of her, nipping gently at her ear.

“Gail…”

For all of her stubbornness, Julie is easily seduced. It takes little to win a sigh from her and little more before she moans for me. My fingers work their way down her shirt, unbuttoning it slowly as they go, then sliding back up the open lapels to slip the heavy fabric off her shoulders, exposing porcelain white skin covered in pale, red-brown freckles. I taste her skin with my tongue and teeth. I pull her arms back behind her and undo the buttons at her wrists so that her shirt can slide freely to the floor.

Julie moans. “Mm, Gail.” Her use of my name is no longer in protest but in encouragement.

Leaving her lacy black bra in place for the moment, I spend some time unfastening the clasp on her pants and lowering the delicate zipper. She turns her head to the side and we kiss. She tastes like her favorite lemon ginger tea. Her tongue is warm and yielding and I circle it with mine, feeling that luscious wetness seeping between my legs, warming and softening my labia.

I pull the clip out of her hair and it tumbles around her shoulders in thick unruly red curls. I give it a tug and she sighs. I slide my hands around her bare middle, down her thighs, and then back up again. Julie hums contentment at me. I slip my fingers under the gentle elastic of her panties and she leans back against my chest.

“Yes, Gail.”

I flick my eyes up to the mirror to watch her as my fingers slip over her vulva. She bites her lip. I press my middle finger past her labia until it encounters her deepest desire, wet and slippery, warm and inviting. I douse my fingers in it before sliding them up to stroke her clit.

Julie pants as I slide my fingers over and around the firm nob there. I’m watching her in the mirror still, taking in her furrowed brow, her open mouth framed in deep red lipstick, watching her abs expand and collapse as she pants with her arousal.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. She moans in response. “Turn around,” I tell her and she whimpers as I remove my fingers, but she turns her body to face me, her eyes watching me and begging me to touch her again. I reach behind her and release the clasp on her bra and she removes it, letting it slip from her fingers to the floor. I pull her pants and panties off, tossing them to one side. She sits on the vanity stool, looking down at me as I kneel before her. With a tug on her hips, I position her at the edge of the stool and lower my lips to her thighs.

Julie tangles the fingers of one hand in my hair and uses the other hand to brace herself on the stool. She’s almost vibrating with anticipation. She spreads her legs wider and rolls her hips up to give me better access. She smells wonderful; musky and dark and hot. The first taste with my tongue makes her gasp and shiver.

“Yes, yes. Oh, Gail.” She encourages me again, and I settle onto my knees and wrap my fingers around her ass to give it a squeeze. She loves long slow strokes around and over and between her labia. She tugs on my hair and moans. She whimpers when I flick at her clit with the tip of my tongue and wraps her feet around the legs of the vanity stool. I roll my tongue and dip it into her, and she groans low in her chest and pants.

“Feels so good Gail, feels so good.”

I thrust my tongue into her and she scoots even farther forward to make my access easier. I fuck her with my tongue until she is practically screaming in frustration. With both hands on the bench now, she lifts her hips slightly, rocking them against my mouth. I know it’s not enough for her, I know exactly what she wants and I wait until she whimpers again to give it to her. Flattening my tongue, I press it over her clitoris and then, with a good amount of pressure, I scrub her clit hungrily.

Julie groans loudly, her breath erratic and shallow. “Oh, oh God, oh God, oh yes!”

She’s close so I’m careful not to change a thing. I keep the motion repetitive and the pressure constant so as not to interrupt her urgent need. I feel her rise; her ass tightens in my fingers, her hips jerk against me, her thighs tighten around my ears. The tension reaches a fever pitch before it finally breaks; bursts but then flows, like water spilling over a levee. Julie trembles and pants and I pull myself away to watch the lovely astonishment on her face melt into relaxed satisfaction.

She slips from her stool to kneel between my legs and kiss me. She can taste herself on my lips, I know, which is so erotic that I find myself moaning softly into her mouth. I can’t imagine any greater turn-on than watching Julie come. I can’t imagine any sweeter taste than her kiss. And when Julie’s fingers cup and press and rub me through my jeans, my body tingles and longs for her to take me with her.

The phone rang sending Julie jumping out of bed.

“Phone!” she called out to me, as if I couldn’t hear it for myself.

“You know who that is, don’t you?” I warned her but she picked it up anyway, and waved a hand at me to be quiet. I slid out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts.

“Hello?” Julie said calmly into the receiver. “Oh, hello, Anna. I was planning on calling you but, hm? Oh, no actually it’s Gail, she’s, uh…” Julie looked at me. “She’s sick.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not sick, I’m just kinky.” I grinned at Julie, who gave me a lemon face and her ‘shut up’ look in return. I laughed softly and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“Yeah that was her, she’s… delirious,” I heard Julie say over the running water. “What? I beg your pardon, but no! No, we were not fucking!” I nearly swallowed the toothpaste. Julie was laughing in that embarrassed way that lets everyone know you’re lying. We were so busted. “Okay, okay, so we were fucking,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it was Gail’s idea!”

“What are we, twelve, now?” I called out from the bathroom. I heard Julie apologizing to Anna and then she appeared at the bathroom door. “Our friends know us entirely too well.” She tried to look contrite, but the growing grin on her lips gave her away. Julie was very much one for doing the ‘right’ thing so I loved it when I could get her into to mischief.

Julie slid into the bathroom behind me and looked at me in the mirror. “Anna reminded me about the function tonight,” she said. “We’re going this time. You got me?”

I groaned. I had to learn to time my seductions better. I would rather have gone to Anna’s last night and skipped this afternoon’s ‘function’.

Cocktails. What a snore.

Could someone please find me a group of lesbians that don’t want the warm and fuzzy, traditional noose around their fingers, two and half kids and a dog? Or maybe a few dykes that don’t use recycled toilet paper and spend every Tuesday night in yoga class? Or one, just one woman who smokes?

If one more person asked me if Julie and I were planning a family I would have screamed. I actually considered stepping right into the middle of the damn cocktail party, raising my arms over my head and shouting, “No! We don’t want a family! Julie and I like drinking and dancing and staying out late! We like porn and cigarettes and swearing and we use squeezably-soft Charmin! We eat McDonalds! And le petit morte is the closest we’ve ever come to the dreaded bed-death, damn it!”

Is it so unimaginable to be committed in a relationship but still want to have fun? I swear, in our little lesbian community, the minute you hold hands with someone for more than two dates you’re no longer permitted around the single women. You’re labeled one of ‘them’, the couples, the women who showed up on someone’s doorstep with a U-haul.

For the record? It was a Ryder Truck. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Although with my luck, you probably don’t smoke, either.

I sighed, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Julie put a hand on my back. “You’re bored.”

“Oh my God, yes.” I said, turning and giving her a fake, plastered-on smile.

“I’m sorry, but I was invited and I couldn’t say no.”

“You’re too nice, Jules. You should have let me tell them no.”

Julie laughed. “How about another drink?”

“Mmm.” I smiled, that sounded like a great idea. “How about another drink?” I replied with a wiggle of my eyebrows, and accepted the fingers Julie slipped into my hand to drag me over to what passed for a bar.

She was looking good that afternoon. It was a Saturday so she didn’t have on one of her school outfits. She was wearing her red top, which made her red hair look less red and more auburn, and it had a lovely v-neck dip that showcased the cleft of her cleavage nicely. Her khakis were nothing to write home about except where they clung to her ass, right on the crest, round and lovely.

“I’ll have an amaretto sour and my girl here will have a cosmopolitan.” I said to our hostess. She gave me an uneasy smile in return and then looked to Julie for help.

“Two white wines, and ignore Gail, Sandy; she’s ornery today.”

White wine. God, how… grown up. Get me out of here.

“Julie!” Came a voice behind us. I cringed at the sound.

“Marion! Hi!” Julie smiled in her girlish way and gave the woman a politely platonic hug. “Marion, this is Gail. I’m so glad you finally are able to meet her!” Julie seemed genuinely pleased. “Gail, this is Marion, I’ve told you about her. Marion teaches English.”

“Hello, Gail,” Marion said, turning to me. “Julie has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh oh. That can’t be good,” I said, giving Marion a grin. I kept the hand that wasn’t holding my wine glass in my pocket.

As predicted, Marion laughed uproariously at one of the most overused icebreaking quips ever, and then she winked at me. “Oh, come now, Julie’s had nothing but good things to say.”

With a crooked grin, I leaned closer to Marion and whispered, “Well, I imagine the bruises and the leather aren’t good teachers’ lounge conversation.”

Marion’s face went white for a moment. When the moment went on just a hair too long I started to worry that Julie might have to explain that I was joking, but then Marion tried on a tentative smile. “Oh! Oh that was a joke, wasn’t it? How funny! Leather.” She looked at Julie. “Julie, she’s so funny!”

Judging by the look Julie gave me, she didn’t seem to think I was so funny. She did seem relieved, however, that Marion didn’t turn and run screaming for the hills.

“She’s a joker,” Julie said in that polite-yet-terse way of hers, and I knew I’d just firmly landed myself in the doghouse. I decided that I’d better shape up or I’d earn myself a short lead attached to a stake in the back yard to go with it. God, I hate sleeping on the couch.

“So, how do you like working at the high school?” There. That was an innocuous enough question, wasn’t it?

Have I mentioned that Julie is a science teacher? She teaches high school biology and chemistry to 10th and 11th graders. She has the patience of, well, a high school teacher. I’d kill the little bastards, myself. Either that, or I’d hang out behind the school and smoke with them. I think it’s pretty remarkable of her actually, because you know that for every one kid that can’t get enough of dissecting frogs, there are ten that are grumbling ‘fuck biology’ in the hallways.

“Oh, I enjoy it very much,” Marion replied, relaxing again. She gave me a far more genuine smile. “We have a great group of kids, don’t you think so, Julie?”

Julie was clearly happier with this line of conversation. “Oh yes, especially my juniors this year. They have a lot of energy.”

The cocktail party lasted another hour or so, during which time I was a good pup and remained mindful of every word I uttered. I did manage to have an intelligent discussion with Marion about Virginia Woolf (it was nice to have the subject come up and actually manage to get past the word “dolorous”), and otherwise I followed Julie around. As we were leaving, I helped Julie on with her jacket and I opened the door for her. By that time I thought I had pretty well made amends.

I took Julie’s hand as we made our way down the steps and she tugged it free again. Apparently, I was wrong. “Julie?”

“Fuck you, Gail.

“Oh, come on, Julie.”

She turned the corner and walked another half a block before she finally stopped and turned around. I’d been trailing a few steps behind, waiting for her to let me have it. “Damn you, Gail.”

Crap. And there it was. “Julie, I was only joking.”

“It wasn’t funny! She’s a co-worker and that was a nice party. I can’t take you anywhere!”

“Julie, baby,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “I’m not good at all that grin and pretend to be nice stuff; you know that.”

“Yes, Gail. Yes. I know that. I fucking know that.” Julie shook her head and turned away, heading down the sidewalk again. I might have been mistaken, but I thought maybe I saw tears in her eyes. God, I can’t take it when Julie cries. I really can’t take it when I make her cry, and it seems like I do it all the damn time.

“Julie, I’m sorry.” I meant it, I honestly meant it. “Baby?” I caught up to her and matched her angry walking pace. “I’m truly sorry, all right?”

“It might have been funny in a dyke bar, Gail, but not at a cocktail party, you know?” Julie kept walking at a good clip, making me work to keep up. “You have no sense of propriety.”

That was actually Julie’s mother talking. ‘No sense of propriety.’ Julie was raised wealthy. She never left the house without her mother approving of what she was wearing, she went to the best private schools, and she was painstakingly taught manners and etiquette. Julie reflexively says please and thank you, she doesn’t pick up her fork until her hostess does, she even raises her pinky finger when she drinks from a tea cup. Her mother, the matriarch, cares very much what people think of the family and always has, and so Julie moved fifteen hundred miles away, where she could live with me in peace and not embarrass or shame anyone.

And that was what I was up against every time the argument went in this direction. I knew I couldn’t use that particular trump card, however, because Julie would never have forgiven me.

“You didn’t fall in love with me for my sense of propriety,” I ventured.

“Gail, you’re not the one who’s going to have to hear about it, you know? That kind of shit gets around. Imagine what people will think?”

I chewed my lip. I don’t give a damn what people think most of the time, and I suppose that was the real issue here, because, like her pretentious mother, Julie does. Oh, she doesn’t care if they know she’s gay, but she goes to great lengths to make us look ‘normal’; to make us fit in, as if she could turn me into a man and we’d be just another American yuppified couple. I understand why she does it, but it doesn’t stop us from arguing about it in some shape or form, time and again.

“I know, Julie, I tried to patch it up, I happen to think I saved it. We had a nice talk, Marion and I.”

Julie sighed and shook her head. “It’s not just that, Gail, it’s everything.”

Whoa.

“Everything?” I asked, as Julie turned off the sidewalk and marched angrily up the steps to our building. “What’s everything?”

“Everything is you, Gail.”

I felt more than heard those words. They struck me in my stomach, and I felt something twist inside. Not for the first time, Julie was the Beauty and I was her Beast. “Julie,” I said carefully, “I’m not going to apologize for being me.”

Julie stopped in the hall with one hand on the banister and finally turned to look at me. She sighed, and then made her way up the one flight to our second floor condo. “I’m not asking you to apologize for being you, I’m just asking…” She shook her head and unlocked the door to our place. “I don’t know what I’m asking. I’m asking you to have some respect for the circles I operate in.”

Okay, this time she asked for it. “Circles you operate in.” I repeated, emphasizing each word. I closed and locked the door behind me as we went inside. “I’m sorry I don’t make a six-figure salary, Julie, but that’s no reason to imply that I am trash, either.”

“You just don’t understand!” Julie barked at me and hurried into the bedroom, unable to hide her tears this time. I arrived at the bedroom door just in time to have it slammed in my face. Julie and I had had many arguments, but we didn’t slam doors; we didn’t walk away from each other. It was our rule. There was something more going on here. And by ‘something’ I didn’t mean hormones.

“What is this really about, Julie?”

“Nothing!” she sobbed from the other side of the door.

“Can I come in?”

“No!” Her voice was a little farther away from the door this time, and I heard her blow her nose.

“Please?”

Julie sniffled. “Go ‘way.”

I tried the doorknob. She hadn’t locked it, and so I started to turn the handle.

“My mother wants us for Christmas!” Julie shouted, and I froze.

I blinked at the door for a long moment, and then took a few steps backward, away from it. “On second thought, Julie, honey, I’m going to stay out here.”

“I hate my mother!” Julie shouted.

“No, you don’t.” She doesn’t. Julie is incapable of hate.

“I should!”

“You said no, right?” I asked tentatively and received no answer. “Julie? Tell me you said no?” Except that I already knew that she hadn’t, Julie never said no.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and Julie looked at me with red, watery eyes. “It’s not polite to turn down an invitation from one’s mother,” she said helplessly, as much a slave to her good manners as ever.

Of all the things I knew I’d have to endure when I decided to shack up with Julie full-time, I never expected to be spending Christmas with Mommy and Daddy at their mountain home in Vail.

I’d never seen anything like it. It looked like a palace. As we pulled up the driveway, the sun glinted off the slightly greenish tinted glass that covered one entire end of the house. Floor to ceiling windows on three floors allowed for an unspoiled view of the mountains from every room.

The limo that picked us up had custom plates that read “mumsey”; it was Mommy’s limo. When it stopped near the front entrance I reached for the door handle, but Julie put her hand on my arm. “Don’t. Ben will get it,” she said. She was completely serious.

“Ben will get it.” I repeated her words back to her as a statement, not a question, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice and failing miserably.

“Gail, you promised—”

“Not to be snarky,” I interrupted. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’m sorry.” Why did I promise her that when I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to keep that promise?

As forecast, Ben did open my door and I stepped out, reaching a hand back in to help Julie out as well. Ben closed the car door as Julie and I made our way up the white gravel path to the front steps. “Let me guess. Ben will get our bags, too.”

“Well, Ben will bring them into the house, Eileen will get them from there.”

Christ. “Eileen?”

“Don’t start, Gail.” Julie chided. “Best behavior, you promised.”

“If you don’t stop reminding me of my fucking promises…” I began just as the front door opened for us.

“Hello, Mother.” Julie said, right about the time that I used the f-word, loud enough to drown my voice out. I just stared at her. Never trust a woman whose children call her ‘Mother’.

“Julie, so good to see you!” Her mother pulled Julie into the house and gave her a fairly convincing hug. She and Julie looked nothing alike as far as I could tell; her mother’s hair was blonde and straight, and her face was long where Julie’s was rounder. “Look at you. You look… well, you look pretty Julie, but I wish you’d wear your hair—”

Julie cut her off. “Mother, this is Gail,” she interrupted before her mother could give her a makeover right there in the living room.

“Oh.” Julie’s mother turned to me, and I stepped into the house. She looked me over critically before introducing herself. “I’m Mrs. McHugh.”

Julie balked at that. “Mother.”

I watched the woman’s thoughts march along behind her eyes. Her lips twitched. I think it might actually have been painful for her. “Call me Kathleen,” she said tightly.

“Hello, Kathleen,” I replied, hands tucked neatly in my pockets. She hadn’t extended hers in greeting and so neither did I. I think Vail got even colder at that moment.

“You’re late.” The man that entered the room next could only have been Julie’s father, as I now saw a clear family resemblance.

“Hi, Daddy.” Julie smiled as he made his way over. I knew that smile and it was a genuine one. “Our plane landed late.”

Julie had always said nice things about her father. She’d also said he was a man of few words, which was evident in his next statement. He gave Julie a kiss on the cheek, then raised a hand to me and said, “Hello, call me Gareth,” before turning around and disappearing back the way he’d come. Julie didn’t seem at all fazed by his greeting, such as it was.

Most of our afternoon was spent in a lavish sitting room at the front of the house. Julie talked with her mother for a long while about school and the children in her classes, while I remained mostly silent, and took in the magnificent view through the enormous glass windows.

I managed to steal a few kisses while Julie and I unpacked and got ready for dinner. Julie whined at me a little and tried to make an excuse about not being able to “do it” in her parents’ house, but I could tell by the goose bumps I left her with on her arms and the way she bit her lips while she dressed that I could have her if I wanted her. I resolved to dishonor her under her parents’ roof that very evening.

Dinner was nothing short of interminable. Yet again, I had said nothing all evening, mostly out of disinterest in cousin Aly’s new boyfriend and the construction being done on their condo in New York City, when Kathleen’s change of subject finally caught my attention.

“So Julie, did you know that your cousin Mark is like you?”

“Like me?” Julie asked, sounding a little terse for the first time all evening.

“Yes, darling, you know, gay.” Kathleen whispered the offending word the way I’d heard my grandmother whisper cancer as a child, as if you could catch it by saying it too loudly.

“Actually, I’m lesbian, Mother.”

Kathleen looked shocked. “Julie! Must you use such words at the table?”

I laughed. I guess I ought to have been offended but I found her ignorance so ludicrous all I could do was laugh at her. Julie glared at me, though, and I quieted down quickly.

“So, Mark is gay, huh?” Julie asked, bringing the conversation back to its beginning.

“Oh, yes. Your Aunt Celia was shocked.”

Julie ground her teeth a moment before finally asking what was really on her mind. “Mother, if you can’t even say lesbian, why did you invite us?” Julie had told me she was going to ask, but I hadn’t expected she’d ask so soon, or ask with me in the room, let alone at dinner.

Oddly, Kathleen seemed prepared to answer that question, and smiled at Julie. “Honey, it’s not taboo anymore to have gays in the family.”

I nearly spit my wine across the table. ‘Is it still taboo to have an idiot in the family?’ I was thinking, but I kept my mouth firmly shut.

Julie turned a shade of red that I hadn’t seen on her since that ill-fated cocktail party. “What?” she asked incredulously, her voice pitched high.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s fashionable now, you know? Everyone knows someone who’s gay nowadays.” Kathleen seemed to truly believe she’d had some kind of revolutionary breakthrough. “Did you know that John, the Connolly’s gardener, is gay? And, oh! David Sykes, you remember him, I went to school with him and he’s now the Board Chairman for that,” she waved her fingers at Julie’s father, “that pharmaceutical company. What’s it called, Gareth?”

Julie’s father picked up his wine and replied in a bored tone, “Don’t drag me into this, Kathleen.”

Kathleen waved him off as if he were useless and continued on. “Anyway, some very famous people are gay, you know.”

I was starting to think that if Julie’s jaw dropped any further it would dislocate. Me, I’d been hiding a grin behind my hand for the last several minutes. Clearly Kathleen was uncomfortable with the ensuing silence because she started in again.

“But you’re the only gay woman I know, Julie, and all my bridge ladies say the same thing. How unique and—”

“Mother!” Julie stood abruptly, bracing her hand on the table edge. “Do not talk to me again until you can look me in the eye and say the word ‘lesbian’ three times in a row.” And with that, Julie turned around and left the table.

I froze, and flicked my eyes first to Kathleen, then to Gareth and back again before leaning back in my chair. That was definitely my exit cue as well, but I needed a reason to go. Kathleen helpfully supplied one.

“She’s always been such a moody girl.”

I stood. “You know, I think I’ll turn in,” I said and headed for the door. I know I promised Julie, but when I decided to turn around and take our wine glasses up with me, I looked at Kathleen and smiled. “If you can’t manage ‘lesbian’, I’m sure Jules would also accept ‘dyke’,” I said helpfully before leaving the room. I could hear Gareth’s laughter as I climbed the stairs in the hall.

I made my way up the long, extravagant staircase and down a lushly carpeted hall to our room. Julie was running a bath when I came in. “Baby?” I called as I pushed open the bathroom door with my toes.

Julie looked distraught, but she wasn’t crying. “I’m sorry, Gail, this was a stupid idea. I thought maybe Mother had changed or maybe she was trying to change and, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Julie.” I handed over her glass of wine.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ll tell Mother in the morning and then we’ll go.”

“Julie.”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me!” She snapped and swallowed back the remaining contents of the wine glass. I blinked at her. She lowered it again and held the empty glass out to me.

“Would you rather I call you ‘Ralph’?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. Julie burst into tears. I have an uncanny knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time, and I have never learned. It’s remarkable really. At least this time she didn’t say ‘you don’t love me’ like she has in her more hormonal moments, or told me to sleep on the couch. It occurs to me now that perhaps Kathleen was right. Julie was a little moody, but in a good way.

I sat beside her on the edge of the tub and put my arm around her shoulders. “You know, I’ve never met your mother before, Jules, but I think, in her own very odd way, she is trying.”

Julie sniffled, but her shoulders stopped shaking so I could tell I had her attention. I babbled on, hoping to say something right for a change. “I mean, to talk about your cousin, and to seem… sort of happy that it’s… you know,” I sighed.

“No longer taboo to have gays in the family?” Julie asked, with a hint of the sarcasm more often attributable to me in her voice.

Good point. “Well, okay, that was sort of…”

“Ignorant?”

I almost laughed, but I didn’t think Julie would appreciate it, so I stayed the course. “Are you even trying to give her the benefit of the doubt?”

“No.”

I could tell this line of conversation was going to get us nowhere. Julie didn’t want to forgive her mother yet. The tub was filling quickly and I leaned over to shut the taps off. When I stood and tugged off my boots, Julie stood as well. “Can I have the rest of your wine?” she asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah.”

We began to undress in that matter of fact, comfortable way that couples do, but I watched her all the same. I love to watch her. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing, she just does everything with a polished gracefulness that makes me look like a bull in a china shop. I admired the way she stepped out of her jeans with pointed toes as the denim slid to the floor, and the way her delicate fingers, always neatly manicured, unbuttoned her blouse. She smiled at me then, as we bared ourselves for each other, knowing that I was watching her and liking it, I think.

The water in the tub was hot. I hissed as I dipped my toes into it, but managed to ease myself in slowly. Julie did the same, but had to tell me how hot it was five times in the process, all the while refusing every offer I made to cool it off a little.

I pulled her back against me and we sat in silence for a while, Julie clearly lost in her own thoughts. I enjoyed just holding her, and scooping the warm water up over her shoulders with a washcloth to keep her warm.

It isn’t easy being Julie McHugh, especially not in Vail. My Julie, the stable, well-educated, thoughtful schoolteacher and one-drink-wonder, is actually the fuck-up in her family.

Her younger brother, Robert (and don’t you dare call him ‘Bobby’), recently earned a graduate degree in business from Stanford University and is working as an investment banker. He makes upwards of a hundred and twenty thousand a year and he has no life, no time, and no significant other to spend it on.

Peter, Julie’s older brother and darling of the McHugh household, is a surgeon who got his pre-med undergrad degree from Harvard and his medical degree from Johns Hopkins. This guy doesn’t just have brains, he actually operates on them. You know how people say things like ‘this isn’t brain surgery’? Well Peter doesn’t find that saying funny at all. To him, everything is brain surgery. Including marriage. He very carefully dissected the dating scene, tossed aside prospective wives like he was selecting a tie, and finally plucked from the bowels of the female race a frighteningly perfect woman. Perfect looking, that is; the woman is a mannequin. After seeing a picture of her I had to ask Julie if she was actually smiling or if the perpetually stretched corners of her mouth were some kind of face-lift gone bad.

As for Julie, well, her mother had expected her to go to college, find a nice boy (preferably Catholic) who was majoring in business or medicine or law, and marry him. Then she was supposed to have a few kids named after various family members and maybe a Mercedes and a summer house in Palm Beach.

Instead of Norman Rockwell, Kathleen got Gloria Steinem. Julie shacked up with a woman who (even worse) was a bartender, and instead of being a rich man’s wife she followed her life long dream and became a schoolteacher. Her mother had such heart failure when Julie told her I was a bartender that Julie wasn’t able to get to the part about me being a woman in the same conversation. Julie sat on that for another two weeks until her mother’s Xanax had taken very, very firm hold.

I suppose that all of that sounds funny in retrospect, but at the time it sent Julie into quite a tailspin. She had moved fifteen hundred miles away from her family because she felt that she would never be able to be who she needed to be, a lesbian and a school teacher, if she remained in the shadow of the McHugh estate. So that phone call, the one that sent her mother crying hysterically to a psychiatrist about how wronged she was and how she wanted to kill herself, was the most difficult moment of Julie’s life.

For a solid week she and I argued about whether or not I should just back off. I’d never seen Julie so emotional.

“Don’t make any fucking self-righteous sacrifices on my account!” Julie shouted at me when I suggested that maybe we should slow down a little.

“Baby, I just don’t want to make things harder on you.”

“So you think walking out on me is going to make me feel better?!”

The tears were running down Julie’s face in sheets. I hadn’t ever seen anyone cry like that. Angry, hurt, confused tears that made me want to run to her and run away at the same time. I’d never had anyone put that kind of emotion on me, and here was Julie, saying here I am, for better or worse, and this is the ‘worse’ part so you better damn well fucking be there for me.

Right.

I tried, I really did. I think, looking back on it now, that Julie knew I was trying, but I was such a wreck about it. I’m just not equipped for tears and all the emotional drama. I’d only had a couple of girlfriends that I had dated for any length of time before Julie, and everyone else had been either weekend flings or pick-ups. And the fact is that, at the time, I had no respect for her family. I didn’t like their politics, I didn’t like their snobbery and I really did not like their money. So consoling Julie about her mother’s narrow-mindedness wasn’t easy. I’d say things like ‘Fuck your mother, who needs her?’ and, of course, Julie would cry. I’d say ‘I love you’ and she’d cry even more. I even tried ‘Would it make you feel better to hit me?’ which was also met with tears, although she punched me in the arm for good measure.

What made it all even more difficult was that we couldn’t even have sex after a couple of weeks. Julie grew self-conscious and self-doubting and it became increasingly difficult for me to touch her. Damn that Catholic guilt. One night I got so angry about it I got up out of bed and slept in the living room. Well, I didn’t sleep, I lay there in the dark staring at the ceiling and worked out what to do. Something had to give and by dawn I had a plan.

“Take off your clothes.”

The next night, after taking her out to dinner and plying her with a bottle of wine (of which she had her usual one glass and I finished the rest), I took her home with very specific intentions. She looked at me with an indulgent smile and shook her head.

“I’m tired,” she replied and maybe she was, but I had no intention of letting her get away with it anymore.

“Take your clothes off, Julie.”

“Gail, I appreciate what you’re doing, but…”

I narrowed my eyes and moved close to her. “No, no, you don’t.”

“What?” Her eyes told me she was taken aback by my comment. Good, I thought, keep her off guard.

“You don’t appreciate what I’m doing. If you did you’d be begging me not to stop.”

Julie gave me an exasperated look. “Gail, no games tonight, please?”

“I’m not playing games.” I told her, making sure there was a seductive tone in my voice as I leaned close to her ear.

I watched the goose bumps spread from her neck to her shoulders. I cupped her breasts through her clothes and I kissed her hard, pulling our bodies together. She protested some, putting her hands on my shoulders, but I knew if I pushed her just a little, if I could just get her out of her own skin for a few minutes, she’d feel better. This was the one thing I knew I could do for her, the one thing I was confident about when it came to relationships. I knew I could help her remember all the good things about being a woman in love with a woman. I knew I could make her scream.

“I’m getting pruny.”

“Wha…huh?” I stuttered. Julie shifted in my arms and mentally I was suddenly back in the reality of the tepid bath water with her.

“Wrinkly, you know?” Julie wiggled her fingers at me. “From the water.”

Oh yeah, Vail. I liked where I’d gone better. I made a half-hearted attempt to actually bathe us both, using a fragrant soap that had been left for us, but after I dropped the soap somewhere between Julie’s legs, I gave up looking for it and let my fingers search her body instead.

I lowered my lips to her neck as my fingers caressed her inner thigh. If she still had any reservations about fucking in this house, she didn’t let on at all. She raised her knee and let her head fall back on my shoulder with a sigh.

“You really think that maybe that was her way of making an effort?”

That was my Julie, intellectualizing when she should be turning her mind off. “You want to talk about this now?”

“Gail.”

I smiled and sighed. “Well, listen Jules, you know me, ‘Eat the Rich’ right?”

Julie chuckled. “Right. You wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt lightly.”

“She’s so obviously clueless about what it is to be gay, and I think in a way she was trying to speak from her own experience, maybe trying to show you she’d been thinking about you? I mean she did invite us here. Not just you, but us. Right?”

“She did. She did expressly invite you.” Julie conceded.

“I’m just saying think about it, I could be wrong, but your father seems fine and, I don’t know, I can see a lot of you in your mother. It’s possible.” It’s really not like me to be diplomatic, but I’ve always tried to be observant and I wouldn’t tell Julie something that I didn’t believe was true just to smooth things over.

“So you think I should give her a chance?”

“I think she’s giving us one.” I nodded.

“Kiss me?”

I’m not one to say no to the free and full offer of Julie’s mouth. She turned her head to face me and I pressed my lips to hers tightly before sliding my fingers over her clit. She moaned into my mouth and opened hers inviting my tongue in.

We made out for a while, making splashing sounds as we shifted and moaned until the water got cold. I pulled Julie from the bath and wrapped us each in a soft towel while I drained the tub. Julie reached into her toiletry bag on the bathroom counter and pulled out a toy with a coy smile.

“I thought you said you couldn’t ‘do it’ in your parents’ house!” I teased, relieving her of the towel and tugging her into the bedroom.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out all week,” she laughed.

I backed her up to the bed and she pulled herself up onto it. I crawled after her, my eyes on hers until she brandished her vibrator between our noses. I grinned and took it, turning it on. There’s another old joke about lesbians being able to come at the mere sound of a vibrator, and sometimes I wonder if it’s not true. There is something hot, though whether it’s a conditioned response or a natural one I don’t know, about the growl and hum of a favorite vibe that can make one wet of its own accord.

I held the instrument between my palms for a bit to warm it and favored Julie with a smile. Then I slipped the humming handful of silicone between us and gently pressed it flat against her clit. Gently at first, and then slowly adding pressure. She gasped and shivered, like she always does at the first touch of a vibe.

I left it there and pressed my hips to hers, pinning the narrow, flexible toy between our bodies. An experimental downward thrust of my hips caused the vibe to press firmly to my clit as well, making me gasp and moan. After a moment I tried an upward thrust and rubbed the now-slick vibe against Julie’s clit. She sighed softly and started moving her hips in a circular motion, lifting them slightly from the bed. Any need for thrusting on my part was forgotten as the vibe rolled effectively between us with little effort on my part at all.

My eyes were on Julie’s grimace, her brow was furrowed and her eyes closed tightly. Her wet lips formed varying shapes of nearly silent O’s through which the barest hint of breath escaped as she worked the vibe with her hips and dug her fingers into my ass. I arched my shoulders upward, pressing my body more firmly against Julie’s and groaned as the vibe was pinned in just the right spot.

Julie was panting under me and I lowered my shoulders again and kissed her, claiming her mouth with a decisive thrust of my tongue. She tasted like merlot and smelled like soap and her own dizzying musk and I rocked my clit against the vibe, my hips now moving in opposition to hers.

She tore her mouth from mine and cupped one of my breasts in both her hands, bathing my stiff nipple with her tongue. It set off lightening strikes deep inside my body and I clenched practiced muscles around nothing but it still made me shiver. Julie opened her legs wider and wrapped them around my thighs with a straining groan and I knew she was close. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my own climax, which I knew was right there for me, if I could reach far enough. Then Julie shuddered and bucked, her gasps more like screams. I opened my eyes and watched as her pale skin blushed pink. She continued to move even after she’d had her fill locking those stubborn, Irish, hazel eyes on me. She arched her hips and I gasped.

“Gail, so fucking hot, take what you want, baby, come for me.”

I could have died right then, on the verge of orgasm with Julie, beautiful, sweet, soft Julie, talking dirty in my ear. What took me then didn’t feel like death at all but just the opposite as every muscle in my body tensed, and every nerve was set on fire in radiant waves. I shouted something, probably her name, and I gasped and ground my hips into the vibe and otherwise made a spectacle of myself. When my ears stopped ringing and my body relaxed, Julie started to laugh triumphantly.

I joined her.

Christmas Day wasn’t a complete disaster, but it wasn’t what I would call “Merry” either.

Julie’s brothers arrived early in the morning. Peter was first, and I was surprised by him. He was taller than I’d expected and very handsome, too; he didn’t fit my image of a brain surgeon at all. Peter introduced me to Ellen, his wife, and to their kids; eleven-year old Andrew, who was cute as could be, and four-year old Allison who walked right passed me and into Kathleen’s arms. Ellen was attractive, but just as vapid as Julie had led me to believe.

Robert barreled in next, wearing nothing more than knee-length gym shorts and a ratty-looking t-shirt despite the cold, and carrying three duffel bags and a lap top computer bag as well. Eileen, the maid, whisked two of the three duffels away instantly as they were apparently laundry, and Robert dumped the third at the foot of the stairs. After a brief hello to everyone, he announced that he had to check his email and disappeared into his father’s study with his laptop.

Breakfast was chaotic, and Julie’s family stepped all over each other in the kitchen. The kids took their food and disappeared to watch TV, so just the adults were left behind to make small talk, drink coffee and choke down eggs. Peter and I had a halting conversation about the weather and about their flight out from the East Coast. He didn’t seem uncomfortable around me as much as just generally uncomfortable around so many people at once. In my eyes, he solidly maintained his geek status while gaining a few points for trying to be friendly.

Robert joined us after a half an hour or so. He came into the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. “There are eggs on the counter and some of that multigrain bread that you like by the toaster honey,” Kathleen shouted to him over the general din of conversation. Robert grunted back at her and pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge from which he drank directly while frying up a couple of eggs. Kathleen looked positively mortified. I looked at Julie and she ginned at me. Julie had once told me that Robert was a very talented potter, but that he chose banking because it paid the bills better. She and Robert were close, I knew that, and now I could see why.

After about an hour it was decided that we should move into the living room, where the Christmas tree had been erected by the house staff the day before, to open presents. The kids were summoned and they immediately began tearing into gifts.

Julie and I had promised not to spend a lot on each other, so she gave me toasty slippers from L.L. Bean, a pair of cozy-looking mittens that she had knitted herself, and Katherine Hepburn’s biography. I gave her toe socks, an organic perfume, and a gift certificate to her favorite spa for a day. She got upset that I’d spent more on her than she had on me, so with a grin, I whispered into her ear the numerous ways in which she could make it up to me.

Julie’s parents exchanged gifts as well. Kathleen got Gareth a fancy humidor for his cigars and Gareth gave her sapphire earrings and a matching sapphire and diamond bracelet. Kathleen gave Julie a fat American Express Gift Check, and I thought it was sad that she didn’t know Julie well enough to realize that Julie would rather have a ten dollar gift that her mother had picked out with Julie in mind, than a thousand dollar check. Julie frowned at Kathleen, but quickly covered it with a smile, thanked her politely, and put the check away.

“Hang on Julie, sweetie, I’ve got something for you, too.” Gareth stood up and retrieved a box from next to the tree. He nodded seriously to Julie as he handed it over. “These are for those kids of yours, the ones you said couldn’t afford them,” he told her, looking uneasy with the whole process of gift-giving, but hopeful. The box was full of scientific calculators for Julie’s students. He hadn’t wrapped it, but it didn’t matter; apparently Gareth actually listened when Julie spoke to him on the phone. I knew I’d liked him.

While waiting nervously for a response from Julie, Gareth said, “Education is the most important thing we can give our children.”

Julie stared at her father with wide eyes and I realized that Gareth was telling her a great deal more with those words than ‘every kid should have a calculator’. Julie was a teacher by choice, by calling, and apparently Gareth shared her convictions and didn’t think she was a fuck-up after all. Julie burst into grateful tears and threw her arms around his neck, and he gave her a thousand-watt smile.

The hordes arrived around four, along with caterers and waiters in black and white, all ready to serve the McHugh family their holiday dinner. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, a gaggle of kids and even a couple of dogs. There was also a great deal of wine and so I don’t recall anyone’s name.

Julie got swept away by family and dinner wasn’t until seven so I went exploring. The house was huge, and I didn’t care much for Kathleen’s taste, but the view was still breathtaking. I sipped my wine and ducked my head into bedroom after bedroom before giving up on the third floor. The second was the main floor where everyone was congregating and I wanted to avoid crowds so I headed down to the first. Gareth’s study was on this floor and I found Robert there talking on his cell phone and punching keys on his computer. I hope I never have to work so hard that I can’t take a holiday off.

Down the hall was a very masculine looking game room with a pool table and darts. It smelled faintly of cigars. Next door I discovered Andrew. He was hanging out alone and playing video game. I leaned in the door and watched for a bit, then got a bit bolder and flopped on the couch beside him.

“All the other kids are upstairs,” I offered.

“Uh huh. That’s why I’m down here.”

“Ah, I see. Too much?”

Andrew nodded. “Too crazy.”

I watched him play for a while. “You’re good at this game, huh?”

“I have it at home. I play it all the time. My friend Jim is better, he’s at like the fifth level.”

“Wow.” I had no idea what the fifth level meant, but Andrew was impressed so I decided I should be. We didn’t say anything more for a long while. I guess I was tired because I nearly dozed off watching him play. Finally, I was startled awake again by his voice.

“When did you figure out you liked girls?” Andrew asked me.

“Uh,” I sat up, blinking myself awake. “What?”

“You like girls right? You’re Aunt Julie’s girlfriend?”

“Well, yes. I am Julie’s girlfriend.” I prefer lover, or even partner, but I wasn’t going to get into all of that with an eleven-year old. Frankly, I didn’t want to get into any of it at all. I looked around to see if by any chance there was someone who was actually related to this kid that could rescue me, but we were still alone.

“Yeah, so when did you figure out you like girls?”

“Um…” Fuckityfuckfuckfuck. I started searching my arsenal of avoidance tactics. Excuse myself the bathroom, point at something shiny… ah! Answer a question with a question. “Well, when did you figure out that you liked girls?”

“I’ve always liked girls,” Andrew said, trying to sound smooth. He was still playing his video game.

“Oh?”

“Girls have boobies. Like Angelina Jolie.”

Ms. Jolie does indeed have nice boobies. I felt as I’d just entered the Twilight Zone, but I couldn’t argue with the kid. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, they do have boobies.”

And with as little as that, we were bonded. Andrew handed me the controller and showed me how to play. Huzzah for boobies.

Eventually Ellen came looking for Andrew to tell him that dinner was ready. She smiled at me and told me with a chuckle that of course I was invited, too. I think she was trying to make a joke, but it was hard to tell above the hollow sound her pea brain was making as it rattled around in her skull.

The food was amazing, and there was so much of it that I envisioned myself, with some dismay, eating nothing but turkey for the remainder of our visit. Gareth and I exchanged a few pleasant words, but Julie and her mother didn’t speak at all. In fact apart from the gift-giving, they hadn’t spoken all day.

A lot of things came up over dinner. People wanted to know how Julie and I met, they wanted to know what I did for a living, and they wanted to know… wait for it… whether or not we were planning a family. Julie chimed in quickly, probably to prevent me from answering.

“Well,” Julie began to explain slowly, but Kathleen interrupted her.

“Of course not,” she said dismissively, and I dreaded what was going to come out next. “Children need a mother and a father, isn’t that right, Julie?”

“Do they?” I noticed that Julie’s sour lemon face looked just like her mother’s. It was scary. “It’s a wonder I survived, then.”

Andrew’s voice chimed in. “You’re going to have a baby Aunt Julie?”

The table went silent. Julie stared at Andrew. I stared at Julie. Kathleen stared at Gareth and finally, Gareth said, “Could someone please pass the mashed potatoes?” and that, thank God, ended the conversation.

Several courses later, Julie and I excused ourselves and went for a walk to rest our stomachs and take in some of the beautiful, crisp, clean, Vail air. It really was beautiful there, I can’t seem to say it enough. The most beautiful place I’d ever been. Too bad I don’t ski.

In lieu of skiing, we spent the remainder of our evening in bed and I let Julie give me the rest of my Christmas gift. She tied my wrists to the bed frame with her new toe socks.

Early the following morning, the McHugh house was quiet. The cousins and other extended family had all gone home the night before. Julie was still asleep, as were her parents as far as I could tell. Slowly, I made my way down the wide bending stairway and across the slated foyer. The morning sun pierced through the windows aggressively, but somehow failed to warm the chilly, stone floor as sunshine should. I wiggled my toes in my new slippers, grateful for their protection from the cold slate. I made my way through the large dining room and into the kitchen in search of coffee.

The kitchen was magnificent. It was stainless steel and blues and greys with a ceramic tiled floor. One end enjoyed an amazing view, though the windows weren’t as tall as at the other end of the house. I peered out at the mountains. Someone must have been awake because the small Bose radio was on.

“Carmen,” I said aloud, though to no one in particular, as the kitchen appeared empty.

A voice from the pantry replied, however, and I jumped a little. “Julie? Is that you, sweetie-pie? I’m glad you came down, I wanted to talk to you.”

Shit. Kathleen. I was alone with the Mother-In-Law. “Um no, it’s—”

“Gail,” Kathleen stated coolly, cutting me off as she returned from the pantry. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some coffee.”

“Coffee doesn’t help you sleep.”

That was such a mother comment. “Well, no, Kathleen, I’d given up on sleeping.”

Kathleen tilted her head at me and asked, “You know Carmen?”

“I love opera.”

“I never would have guessed.”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking there’s a lot about me you would never guess.”

“I don’t know many bartenders who enjoy the opera.” She chuckled slightly and poured herself a cup of coffee, too.

“And how many bartenders do you know, Kathleen?”

She looked at me. “Oh, all right, Gail, very few.”

I looked at her.

“Fine. None. Well, you, that’s one,” she said with an exasperated tone. Her lips went flat. “But you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Kathleen, I know what you mean.” Bartenders are uneducated idiots. I heard her loud and clear. The air went still and quiet and the tension could have fried the eggs she’d left sitting on the counter. Finally I joined in with the radio, singing softly just to break the silence. “L’amour est enfant de bohéme, il n’a jamias connu de loi.”

“That’s French,” Kathleen informed me.

“Love is a gypsy child, he has never heard of law.” I translated, just to make a point, before I realized with no small irony how relevant that phrase was. It wasn’t lost on Kathleen, either.

“Indeed,” she said, looking at me from the other side of the counter with an unreadable expression. I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that I had made that point on purpose. “Do you love Julie, Gail?” Kathleen asked suddenly, as if she’d been looking for that opening since we’d arrived and had finally found it.

On its face, it was a fair enough question for a mother to ask of her daughter’s lover, so I decided to treat it as if it had been asked fairly. I set my mug down on the counter and looked at Kathleen. “Yes,” I said simply. Kathleen’s eyes seemed to be searching mine for something and I started to wonder in the moment of silence that followed if I’d missed something about her. “Julie is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, Kathleen,” I went on, in case she had any lingering doubts. “She’s my best friend, my crutch, my reality check. She’s my sunshine.”

Kathleen studied me a moment longer and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were hazel like Julie’s, and the same shape. “I believe you,” she said softly, and turned away, reaching into a low cabinet to pull out a frying pan. “Omelet?”

“I’m lesbian not a liar, Kathleen.”

She turned on me and I saw a flash in her eyes that was reminiscent of Julie’s temper. “I’d have asked a man the same question,” she snapped and turned back to the stove, setting the frying pan on it.

I dropped my head with a sigh and nodded, staring at the counter. Damn. I looked up again and blinked at Kathleen’s back before clearing my throat. “Sorry. Of course you would have. It was a fair question.”

“I think it was.”

“It was. Really. I’m just feeling defensive.”

To her credit, Kathleen seemed to get it. “Me too.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. I think it was the first genuine smile I’d seen since we’d arrived. I smiled back and the tension was diffused by our embarrassed laughter.

“I’d love an omelet,” I said finally. “You got mushrooms?”

“In the refrigerator in the little drawer on the left,” Kathleen said, picking up eggs and cracking them into a glass measuring cup. I wasn’t sure what exactly just happened but suddenly I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in days. Kathleen and I didn’t say much more after that, but we whipped up breakfast quite amiably, and by the time Gareth, Julie and her brothers came down to join us we had eggs, muffins, fresh coffee and a plate of fruit on the table.

Julie was wearing sweats and a soft cotton T-shirt and looked sleep-softened and so beautiful that I kissed her before she sat down at the table without thinking about it. She stiffened a little and then pulled away, and I realized with some discomfort that she wasn’t ready to be kissed in front of her parents.

“Relax, baby,” I whispered.

“You’ve been down here with my mother all morning?” she whispered back.

“Yes, it’s fine, we made breakfast,” I assured her, but Julie looked doubtful. “Relax.”

“All right you two, no whispering at the breakfast table,” Kathleen chimed in cheerfully. Julie glanced over at her mother and then back at me, her expression full of questions. I just smiled and winked at her.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” I said, giving Julie’s arm a squeeze and then went to fetch the pot. I wish I hadn’t had my back turned for what happened next.

I heard Kathleen clear her throat. “Lesbianlesbianlesbian,” she said clearly, if just a little bit rushed. I whirled around in time to see everyone at the table momentarily frozen, their expressions caught between shock and amusement. I watched as Kathleen set half a grapefruit down in front of Julie.

“So we’re all speaking finally?” Gareth asked from the head of the table.

Kathleen gave her husband a swat on his balding head and the table erupted in laughter. “Gareth McHugh, don’t borrow trouble,” Kathleen chided in a teasing tone. “Eat your breakfast.” She set a plate of eggs down in front of him.

It was cold the day we were to fly home. Actually, it was cold every day we were in Vail, but the wind that morning was particularly bitter despite the brilliant sunshine. Julie and I had packed the night before, so while she busied herself with farewells to her various family members, I played anti-social in favor of sipping some coffee and looking out the enormous windows one more time at the magnificent view.

Andrew was sitting with me, playing some handheld video game; an X-2 or a Gamebox or something. Ever since we’d bonded over our love of ‘boobies’ on Christmas Day, he’d been spending most of his time wherever I was in the house. I guess he felt more comfortable with us than with his grandparents. Every so often he would talk back to the game, but he hadn’t said a word to me in close to an hour, so when he finally spoke up he startled me.

“So, Aunt Gail…”

I blinked. “Aunt?” God, that made me sound so fucking old. “Oh God, Andrew, just ‘Gail’. Please.”

“Mother said—”

I was sure he was going to leap into a long admonishment from his mother about respect for one’s elders that was going to make me feel ancient instead of just old so I interrupted him. “Just Gail. Okay?”

Andrew’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, as if he was a having a hard time fitting my request in with his upbringing, and then he finally spoke again. “Gail,” he repeated. “Gail, are you seriously in love with Aunt Julie?”

“Yeah,” I answered easily. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.”

“Aunt Julie is seriously in love with Aunt Gail, too.”

Julie’s voice startled the hell out of me and I jumped off the couch, nearly sending my coffee cup flying. My heart was pounding. “Christ, Julie, you need to make more noise when you’re eavesdropping.”

“She said just ‘Gail’,” Andrew chimed in, apparently not nearly as startled by Julie’s sudden entrance as I had been.

“Well, ‘just Gail’, come out and say goodbye to my parents.”

The whole goodbye scene was not something I’d been looking forward to. Shaking hands, being polite, smiling, thank you’s, none of it was my thing. I decided to play it cool. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“What?”

“You know, my buddy Andrew and I were just having a little guy talk.”

Julie arched one fine eyebrow. “Gail.”

“Oooh. Fight!” Andrew climbed up to sit on the back of his chair and left his electronic widget on the table. It beeped and chattered annoyingly.

I bristled. “We’re not fighting.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and flashed mock-threatening eyes at me. “Gail Anne Pietrowski, if you—”

“Pietrowski?” Andrew parroted.

“Shh!” I waved a hand at Andrew. “For Christ’s sake Julie, let’s not let your mother find out I’m a Polack, too, she might burst something.”

Julie stepped into the room so it was harder to ignore her. Then she came around in front of me and sat beside me on the couch and there was no escaping those green eyes. “If you’re going to make them wait, let’s at least have a good excuse. How about you start with the part where you are seriously in love with ‘Aunt Julie’?”

I looked at her and smiled. I thought about throwing back something sarcastic, but there was no point in trying to deny her anything. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.” I repeated, holding her gaze. Julie was so beautiful with the sunlight in her hair. I licked my lips as my mouth went dry.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes,” I answered with the slight correction. Julie was always complaining that I sounded like one of her teenagers. “Yes, I am.”

“Are you guys gonna kiss, because I’m so outta here if you are.” Andrew demanded from his perch across the room.

Julie nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off me. “I think we are.”

“Ew!” Andrew shouted and hopped off of his chair. “Gross.”

“Bye, kid. Tell your grandparents we’ll be a minute.” I said, pulling Julie into my arms.

Andrew had to have the last word. “Lesbiablesbianlesbian!” he taunted as he ran from the room.