Four
I was right about Lacey getting the best room at the Violet Hill Inn. She’d even managed to get herself the suite that had its own entrance. They didn’t accept cats, so she’d left Murder at the studio.
“Pretty nice,” I said, as she let me in.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad. Much nicer than the last place I stayed. I kind of hate hotels, so I was glad there wasn’t one here.” Yeah, there wasn’t much around here. The closest chain hotel was probably forty minutes away.
The place was cozy and had new furniture since I’d been here last.
“Sorry about the mess.” It was a little cluttered with photography equipment, a couple suitcases and some clothes thrown here and there on chairs. No underwear though. I wasn’t sure who would be more embarrassed by that, her or me.
“It’s nice,” I said as she cleared off a little loveseat.
“Do you want anything? I have a microwave, a minifridge, and a coffeemaker. It’s a pretty nice setup.”
“Some tea would be great,” I said.
“I have that too.” She walked over and got out a mug to heat up some water for tea and I looked around the rest of the room. There were things everywhere and it felt intimate. Like I was seeing a side of her that I shouldn’t be seeing yet.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me my tea. “So, do you want to do the interview first or maybe do something else? And I don’t mean kissing.” I laughed a little.
“I’m trying not to kiss you right now, and talking about kissing just makes me think even more about it. So.” She sipped from her steaming mug.
“Yeah, I’m having some issues too. We probably should have done the interview before the kissing.” Yeah, probably. Oops.
“I’ve never been good at doing things in the right order.” Lacey smiled and I set my tea down.
“Sorry,” I said as I leaned over and kissed her again.
“Don’t be,” she said into my mouth. We kissed and kissed until I didn’t know why I hadn’t spent most my time kissing Lacey Cole. There were goosebumps all over my skin and I didn’t have any blood running to my brain anymore. I was so fucking turned on that I was nearly shaking.
“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling back and putting her hand on my cheek. God, her eyes were so beautiful.
“Yeah. I just . . . I want you. A lot.” I wasn’t going to lie. She was so damn sexy. Just . . . everything about her got to me.
“Mmm, I want you too,” she said, closing her eyes briefly and making a little sound of desire. Why did she have to do that? It just made things worse.
“Well,” I said. “What are you going to do about it?” I bit my bottom lip and she groaned and rested her forehead on my shoulder.
“Why are you doing this to me? It’s like you were thrown in my path to destroy all my focus and turn my brain into a lust monster.” I giggled a little bit at the use of “lust monster.” I’d never thought of it that way, but it was an apt description.
“I’m sorry?” I said, and she just raised her face and grinned at me.
“You’re not sorry. Not even a little bit.”
I giggled. “Not really. Because you’re doing the same thing to me.” Lacey put some space between us and leaned back.
“Yeah, I think we should do the interview. Maybe if I get myself in professional mode, I’ll stop thinking about taking your clothes off.” She was trying to kill me. Seriously.
But I nodded and moved to other end of the couch.
“Sure.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then another.
“Okay. Back to professional mode.”
I waited while she got out another laptop and came back over, folding her legs up on the couch and then setting the computer on them.
“So. If there’re any questions you feel uncomfortable with, just let me know and I’ll move on. You only tell me what you want to tell me, okay?” I nodded. I was pretty open about most of my shit, so I wasn’t particularly bothered about what she might ask. Sure, I did have people who, when I explained I was pansexual, asked me if I loved cookware.
“How about we start with how long you’re been working at the café.” Oh, right.
“Um, about two years, I think? Yeah, that seems about right.” Wow, it didn’t seem like it had been that long.
“And how did you get the job?” I went into the story of meeting Jen randomly at a rally for Planned Parenthood and realized that she was one of the owners of the café in town. We’d struck up a conversation about witty protest signs and she’d essentially given me a job on the spot. It had been perfect timing because I’d needed one desperately.
“What does it mean to you, as a part of the LGBTQ community to work at a place that celebrates you?” Lacey asked. I had to think about that one for a minute.
“It means that I can be myself. That I can talk about my life and not worry about hiding. That I can be a girl who dates girls, or a girl who dates someone of any or no gender, and it’s embraced and celebrated. It’s the most freeing, comfortable thing in the world. It’s my family.” I wiped at my cheeks and found tears. Wow.
“It felt like a safe place for you. Is your family supportive of you?” I snorted and wiped my eyes on my sleeve.
“That’s a no. I’m pretty sure my mom is just praying I’ll settle down and marry a nice boy and have babies and go to PTA meetings like a ‘regular’ person.” I put “regular” in air quotes.
“Hm, sounds familiar,” Lacey said as she typed. I knew so little about her and I wanted to know everything. Yet here I was, spilling my guts.
“She’s also horrified about my hair,” I said, pulling a strand in front of my eyes and studying it. “The first time I dyed it she grounded me for a week.” Ah, memories. I was a rebellious teenager and I didn’t give a fuck about my parent’s rules. Sure, I understood why they had some of them. But others were just made so that we could appear to be a nice, normal family. When we very much weren’t.
“I don’t like to think about my family,” I said. We might live in the same town, but I avoided them as much as I could. I was an expert at dodging my parents in the grocery store if I saw them.
“I’m sorry,” Lacey said, her fingers typing. I knew she was taking down my words, but she was also going to add other things.
“Would you . . . would you mind if I took your picture right now?” she asked, slowly setting down her laptop.
“I guess not,” I said. I wasn’t sure that I looked all that great, but she was a photographer and there was something about the way she asked me that made me say yes.
“Hold still,” she said, putting her hands out as if I was going to lunge away or do something.
“I will,” I said, trying not to move my lips and watching her as she scurried around the room, getting different things that she apparently needed.
At last, she came back over with a camera. It was definitely one of the fancy ones that she used for work. For some reason, having her take my picture here and not at the café was making me feel on display. Vulnerable. Or maybe it was because I was telling her all kinds of personal things about my past and my relationship with my family.
I expected her to tell me to look or feel a certain way, or maybe to even fix my hair, but she didn’t do that. She just snapped a few pictures. Silently. It was eerie, hearing the click of the lens. Lacey paused, as if she was waiting for something.
“Should I do anything?” I asked after a few moments of silence.
“No. I’m sorry. You’re just so beautiful.” I felt myself blushing.
“Thank you.” She was beautiful. I was so ordinary. I mean, my hair was unusual, but other than that I was pretty plain.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked me.
“How gorgeous you are,” I said and then shut my mouth. She clicked a few more times and then sat back on the couch.
“Look at you,” she said, showing me some of the digital images. I didn’t see anything remarkable, but I guess she did.
“You’re stunning,” she said, looking at them. “Just so beautiful.” I coughed and she shook her head a little, as if she was trying to clear it.
“Sorry. Got a little carried away. I get like that sometimes.” Setting the camera down, she picked up her laptop again and typed out a few words.
“Okay, so, moving on. Why do you think places like Violet Hill are important for people?” I turned that one over in my brain again.
“Because they’re a safe place for people to be. For queer teens. For adults who don’t feel that they can come out. For people who are so far in the closet they hate themselves. For people to see that, contrary to popular culture, you can be gay or trans or pansexual and happy. That there is a life for you, and a place for you. People who are like you. You’re not alone.” I felt like I was going to get emotional again, so I looked at the ceiling and tried to get it together.
“It’s okay. We can stop if you want,” she said softly. I definitely needed a breather. I picked up my tea with shaky hands and took a sip. It was barely warm, so I made a face.
“I can warm that up for you,” Lacey said, taking the cup from me.
“Thanks.” Now that I’d told her so much about myself, I wanted to know a little about her.
“Can I interview you?” I asked. She looked over at me from the microwave.
“You want to turn the tables, huh?”
“Yeah, just a little.”
“Okay, I’m game.” Cool. Now I got to pretend to be a journalist.
“So. You told me that you knew you were bi when you were young. Can you tell me a little about that?” Her eyes narrowed and I could tell she wasn’t super happy with me turning the microscope around.
“Sure. Basically I thought it would be really nice to kiss a girl. Which, since I was assigned male at birth, was expected. But then, I also thought it would be nice to kiss a boy. When we played Spin The Bottle, I never minded kissing anyone. I just liked people. I had so many crushes it was ridiculous.” I knew exactly what she meant.
“So, I just thought I was bi. A bi dude. And that was fine, but it never felt right. I didn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend.” She shrugged and the microwave dinged. Lacey brought my tea back and talked more about how she’d come to understand she was a trans woman and how that transition had gone with her family.
“I’m so much happier now. And it’s right. Everything feels right now.” She smiled and I finished my tea.
“And then I’ve just been bouncing around for a few years, trying to figure my shit out and find a place that feels like home. Haven’t found it yet.”
“Do you think that you will?” I said.
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I think I’m bound to just wander the earth aimlessly for the rest of my life. Rootless. It’s not the best way to live, but it’s what I know how to do. I guess that means I’m not good at commitment.” I snorted.
“Yeah, me neither. I mean, when it comes to relationships. It all kind of scares the shit out of me. How do you know that you can be with someone for your whole life? That’s a huge choice to make and I don’t know if I’m ready to make it.” I didn’t know if I would ever be able to make it, honestly. Some might thing that was sad, but I was okay with it. As long as it worked and I wasn’t miserable I figured it was the way to go.
“Agreed. I don’t know. I could see myself being with someone, but maybe not marriage? Some days I think I want that and then others I want to float around with nothing tying me down.” Neither of us could make up our minds it seemed.
“Looks like we’re in the same boat,” I said.
“Seems so.” Silence fell over us like a thick blanket. I wasn’t sure where we were supposed to go from here.
“Now that we’re not doing the interview, do you think I could kiss you again?” she asked, and it was so sweet. It was probably a bad idea, but I didn’t care.
“Yeah, you can.”