Unless it Happens to be Her

When their lips met, Brittney thought her heart was going to explode.

Synapses fired all through her body, blasting her with flames of heat and arctic frost at the same time. Her mind stopped telling her lungs to draw breath and her heart thumped faster than she ever recalled. Cal's kiss was gentle. She didn't attack with her tongue or teeth. Her lips were soft and warm and moist, and her touch was so tender, that in spite of herself, Brittney's body responded. A twinge of excitement rippled through her torso and her legs pressed together. Almost unconsciously, her hand twitched, rising to touch Cal's forearm.

She's kissing me.

Like a bucket of cold water thrown over a fire, the thought blasted Brittney's arousal from her thoughts. Her eyes flew open and she wrenched her head back.

Cal's eyes opened. "What?"

Her hands shot to Cal's arms—not pushing her away but preventing her from getting any closer. Brittney said, "Cal, please don't."

She blinked. "You ... don't want this?"

Brittney shook her head, wondering if she believed it herself. Her skin was flushed, her breathing was heavy, and her loins trembled.

A range of emotions flickered across Cal's face: shock, disbelief, embarrassment, and at last, sadness. She tore her eyes away. The pain in her voice made Brittney's stomach clench. "I-I'm sorry, Britt. I ... I thought after you touched me just now ... I ..." She choked back a sob. "I'm sorry." She ran out of the break room before Brittney could say another word.

Brittney stared after her. She touched her lips with one finger, then ran her tongue across them. She could still taste Cal's perfume and lipstick on her skin. Brittney shivered; as much as she hated to admit it, the shiver was partly born of desire.

I ... I can't lie. I liked her kissing me. I was turned on. But I'm not attracted to women. Am I? I mean, I never have been before. Or is it just Cal that makes me feel this way? I like her but ... Brittney groaned and rubbed her face with both hands. Jesus, what a mess.

The end of her lunch approached and Cal had not returned. Brittney wrapped up both their meals and returned them to the fridge before returning to her desk.

Cal was not at her desk and did return even after an hour. Concerned, Brittney clocked out on a five-minute break and sought out Jim. She found him in his office, where he sat staring at his computer screen. Her knuckles rapped on the frame of the open door. "Jim?"

"Ms. Garcia. What can I do for you?"

"Cal—I mean, Ms. Beatty—never came back to her desk."

"She requested an emergency leave for the remainder of her shift, citing 'personal issues.' " Jim fiddled with a pen. "Why? Is there some issue I need to know about?"

"No, nothing like that. Sorry to bother you."

Disheartened, Brittney trudged back to her desk, a sense of loss shrouding her soul.

#

Brittney gripped the phone. Her hopes perked when she heard the click of the phone being answered ... then plummeted again when she realized it was voice mail. The cheery recording of Cal's voice echoed across the connection. "Hey, this is Cal. Leave a message. Bye!"

"H-hi, Cal. It's Brittney." She felt rather foolish saying that since Cal knew both the number of her incoming call and her voice. However, she thought there had been enough misunderstandings already. "Call me, okay? Please?" She thumbed the button to disconnect, hoping her friend would return her call. She didn't think Cal would, though.

I mean, she hasn't returned any of the other three calls.

Brittney glanced at the clock and sighed. She had to go to work. She got dressed, went to the kitchen and assembled her meal, then sought out her parents to let them know she was leaving.

She found them in the family room. Brittney paused in the doorway. Her mom and dad had finished the day's events, cleaned up after dinner, and now lazed on the couch watching a movie together. Mario sat with his sock-clad feet on the wooden coffee table. Daphne had curled against him, her head on his chest. The sight brought a smile to Brittney's face. Even after over thirty years together, her folks were still in love as much as they had been the day they got married. Maybe more.

I wonder what it will take for me to find that level of love.

At thoughts of romance, she was prepared for a wistful memory of John. It was what usually happened when she considered her love life. Instead, all her mind's eye saw was Cal.

Brittney's skin flushed. Why do I keep doing that?

Her father caught sight of her at the entry. "Hey, kid. You off to work?"

She nodded.

"Be careful, sweetie." Daphne gave her a slight wave without lifting her head from her husband's chest.

The drive was uneventful, like most evenings. Brittney drove the streets of Tempe with practiced ease, only half paying attention to the other cars and drivers. The rest of her mind dwelt on her mounting anxiety.

She hadn't wanted to see Cal again without hashing out what had happened. Confronting someone at the call center was bad for a number of reasons. For one, an argument or even a loud discussion would draw the wrong kind of attention. She had a good working relationship with her supervisor Jim and was loathe to damage that. Brittney also did not feel like airing her dirty laundry to the rest of the night crew. If she made a scene, even if she avoided getting fired, everyone there would know and Brittney herself would be the subject of endless gossip and ribbing.

More than those reasons, though, Brittney did not want to betray her friend's confidence. Cal had revealed her orientation to Brittney out of trust. An aggressive discussion would let that cat out of the bag.

Brittney also knew she could not sit across from Cal for their entire shift without talking about it. She was nervous but just wanted to make sure they understood each other, so they could go back to being friends. Just friends. Brittney loved Cal, thought she was great but as a friend. Her best friend. It was that simple.

I mean, it is ... isn't it?

She shivered at the memory of Cal's lips pressed against hers. The recollection wasn't repulsive. Nor did she consider it a violation. Instead, thinking of that moment brought heat to her cheeks, along with other parts of her body. It also brought a fair bit of alarm.

Brittney shook her head. No. I'm not attracted to girls. I'm just not. I ... No matter how much her conscious brain screamed it, her deeper brain refused to acknowledge the same, leaving her more confused than ever.

She wheeled her car into the parking lot and found a space. The late shift usually had good parking, close to the door, and that evening was no exception. Brittney glanced about for Cal's Acura but didn't see it. She went to the employee entrance, scanned her key card, and went in.

Cal wasn't at her desk, so Brittney set up her workstation, moving on autopilot, all the while constructing the phrases and sentences she wanted to say to her friend when she got there. A call came in as soon as logged herself available, so Brittney set Cal aside and plunged into her customer service routine. The call was from someone who was pleasant enough but seemed unable to follow simple instructions. Brittney imagined the customer would have, in an earlier time, been one of the apocryphal stories of someone who had broken off the "cup holder" on their computer. After an hour, Brittney was able to get off the line, groaning. Not only had the service call strained her last shred of patience but the length of the call had also thrown off her stats for the evening, which would catch Jim's notice and get her a talking-to.

The moment the CALL button went gray, she said, "God, Cal. Referring to that lady as an 'airhead' does a disservice to air.' The corners of her mouth turned up in appreciation of her own joke. It was the kind of humor she and Cal had come to share over the months.

There was no answer.

Brittney frowned. She couldn't hear Cal's voice, which meant she wasn't on a call. She stood and peered over the cubicle wall.

Cal's desk was empty. The light was off and the monitor dark.

An hour into our shift and she's not here?

Brittney logged herself on a five-minute break and all but sprinted to Jim's office. She forced herself to slow down, lest she trip into his office like a maniac. She knocked twice on the frame of the open door. "Jim?"

"Ms. Garcia. How are you doing tonight?"

"I'm fine. Did Cal—I mean, Ms. Beatty—call in sick or something? She's not at her desk."

Jim leaned back in his chair. His gaze was steady. "Ms. Beatty requested to be moved to an earlier shift. Since there was an opening on the second shift, I was able to get her transferred."

Brittney's mouth fell open. A thousand questions sprang to mind but she couldn't force any of them past her paralyzed lips.

Jim sat forward, laced his fingers together, and placed his hands on the desk. "Ms. Beatty referenced an interpersonal conflict in her request, stating that she did not feel comfortable around one of her coworkers. She refused to name that individual and said that if she was unable to move positions, she would be forced to resign. Because her record has been superb so far, I thought it best for Three Spark if we could accommodate her request and keep her." His eyes bored into hers. "You wouldn't know anything about her interpersonal conflict, would you?"

Her head swam but Brittney managed to mutter, "No ... no, of course not. Excuse me." She wandered back to her desk in a daze.

She ... she left me.

Brittney hurried into the restroom which was fortunately deserted. She plucked the phone from her pocket and with trembling fingers, punched Cal's contact information. She was immediately shunted to voice mail. "Cal, it's me. Jim told me you changed shifts. Was it to get away from me? Please ... please don't shut me out. You're my best friend." She didn't know what else to say so Brittney ended the call. Her eyes clouded with tears. She wiped them away and returned to her desk.

The rest of her shift passed in a fog. Calls were steady but Brittney had trouble concentrating. Her thoughts were so jumbled that she completely forgot to log out for her dinner break, another faux pas that Jim was sure to scold her about. She finished her shift and headed home. As she pulled to the curb in front of her parents' house, Brittney realized she'd been so consumed with her distress she had no recollection of the drive home.

Her mom was in the kitchen when she entered. Daphne smiled when Brittney opened the door. "Morning, sweetie. How was—" As soon as her mom caught sight of Brittney's face, her smile vanished. "Honey? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Daphne said nothing as Brittney walked, zombie-like to her room. She ran through the shower before collapsing in bed. Her last thought before sleep took her was of Cal's smiling face. She wondered if she'd ever see that smile again.

Despite her exhaustion, Brittney was unable to sustain anything longer than a short doze. At one point, she thought she heard her mother in the other room talking to someone but faded out before she could be sure. After tossing and turning until about noon, and sleeping in snatches of no longer than twenty minutes, she kicked off the blankets, put on a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, and wandered out. She found a lukewarm half-pot of coffee, poured some in a mug, and placed it in the microwave.

"You're really going to microwave that, Britt?" Her mom appeared in the doorway.

"Sure, why not? Why waste it?"

"Because I'm sure it will taste awful. For Christ's sake, we can afford for you to make a fresh pot of coffee." She elbowed Brittney aside and set about making a new batch, gesturing at the microwave. "Don't even think about drinking that. Pour it out."

"Fine." She removed the cup, dumped it in the sink, and flopped in her chair at the kitchen table. In truth, Brittney agreed with her mother but lacked the energy to make anything.

Daphne set up the coffee maker for a fresh run. That done, she took her seat next to Brittney. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You were muttering in your sleep. Bad dreams?"

Brittney passed a weary hand in front of her face. Her eyes settled on the coffee maker. She knew she needed to rest but absent that, supercharging on caffeine would have to do. "Yeah, something like that."

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. From the corner of her eye, Brittney caught her mom's pensive gaze resting on her, which irked Brittney for some reason. Daphne's look was more thoughtful than concerned. When the maker beeped to announce it had finished, her mom rose, poured them each a cup, and placed the bowl of sweetener packets on the table. When she spoke, her voice was curious. "Is this about Cal?"

Irritated, she swirled the sugar substitute into her cup. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because I talked to Deborah and I know everything that happened between you two, including her kissing you Sunday night."

"Oh." Brittney stared at the surface of the table. She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. "Did Deborah say how she's doing?"

Her mom gave her a fresh smile, as if confirming something. "According to her mother, Cal is pretty broken up. She misses you."

"But I've tried to call her. And texted. I mean, she's my best friend. She's great." The tears came again; Brittney turned her head to hide them. "I don't want to lose her."

"What's so great about her?"

Brittney rubbed her hand across her eyes and glared at her mom, who sat with a neutral expression and crossed arms. "What's that mean?"

"It wasn't a trick question, sweetie. What makes her great?"

"What doesn't? She's sweet and kind. She's funny and we have the same sense of humor. Cal's intelligent and always seems to know what to say to make me feel better." Brittney smiled a bit wistfully. "We can talk for hours or just sit together. I really enjoy being around her."

"Is she pretty?"

Brittney blushed. "Yes, I suppose she is."

She left out that she just didn't find Cal pretty. She thought her friend was gorgeous and their touches often reminded her of how she felt when she touched a man she liked. No, she said to herself, I'm not attracted to her, I'm not, I'm ... Even in the vaults of her mind, the words felt hollow.

Her mom's words tore Brittney away from her own thoughts. Daphne said, "Everything you just said? Deborah told me Cal thinks all that and more about you."

"Then why won't she take my calls?"

"You do understand how Cal feels about you, don't you?"

She blinked. "What?"

"It's not a secret, Brittney, and it's not like she's hidden it. You should have seen the two of you at Thanksgiving. Cal couldn't take her eyes off you. She was looking at you like the sun rises and sets in your eyes."

"You're saying—"

"Yes. It's way past friendship for her now. Cal is totally in love with you."

Brittney sat mute, unable to speak.

Her mom's smile became a bit sad. "And that's why she's distancing herself from you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It actually does." Daphne extended her arms and took Brittney's hands in hers. "Cal has very intense feelings for you—feelings she doesn't think you reciprocate. Seeing you every day—spending time with you, talking to you, hanging out with you—and being unable to act on those feelings is very distressing. It's torture, to have someone next to you that you want but that you can't have. The only way she can deal with it is to put some space between the two of you. I'm sorry, honey, but that's the truth."

Fresh tears clouded her eyes. "Mom, that's not fair."

Daphne withdrew her hands and shrugged. "Life never is."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know if there is anything you can do. Cal's doing what's best for her mental health. Don't you want that for her?"

"Uh ... I mean ..." Brittney searched for the words. She thought of never seeing Cal again, of never being the target of her husky voice or impish smile. The thought brought physical ache. Brittney's chest contracted and a sob escaped. "Of course I want her to be safe and healthy. But knowing that she wants to be away from me ... that's hard, Mom. It hurts to know she's in pain because of me."

"So you want what's best for her?"

"Of course I do."

"Why is that?"

Brittney's lip curled. "Mom, the rhetorical questions are getting old."

"Just bear with me. Why do you want what's best for her?"

"She's important to me. I think about her all the time and I want her to be happy."

"Oh?" Brittney's mom cocked her head. "So you have strong feelings for her? How strong?"

"Very."

"So you like her a lot?"

"I—" The words froze on her tongue. Brittney's eyes widened and her lower lip began to quiver.

Daphne stared at her, impassive.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind. I ... love her? How? I mean, I can't. It's not possible. She's a ... and I'm a ... I like her but— Brittney swallowed hard. I can't even say "like" without knowing it's a lie. I do love her. She stared at her mom. Her voice was just a whisper. "How? How can I?"

"How the hell should I know?" her mom scoffed. "I have no idea what draws two people together. But like I said, it was obvious even back at Thanksgiving. You two were sitting closer and touching each other more than a lot of married couples do. Remember everything I said about Cal watching you? You were doing the same thing. Every time I turned around, you were staring at her like she was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen. You should have seen the expression on your face when you were watching her hold Paul's son. I'm not sure I have ever seen someone look at another person with such adoration." She paused and chuckled. "Except how your dad looks at me, maybe."

Heat mounted her cheeks. "D-did everyone know?"

"No. When I said it was obvious, I meant to Deborah and me. We've known for a while. Monica, Haley, and Maya all figured it out that day. The guys were all too focused on football, and then on dinner." Daphne huffed, her tone taking a tone of fond exasperation. "Men! Oblivious!"

Brittney touched her still-shaking mouth with her fingers. "But she's a woman too."

"So what? Brittney, do you want Cal in your life?"

"Yes!"

"Can you admit to yourself that you love her—that you are in love with her?"

Brittney hesitated but realized she would only be lying to herself, since her mother clearly saw the truth. She nodded. "Y-yes."

"And do you think you are tripping over admitting that love because of this idea that you're straight?"

"Absolutely."

Her mother took Brittney's one hand in hers again and fixed Brittney with her gaze. "Then stop putting a label on it. Gay, straight ... who cares? Look at yourself. This isn't a case of infatuation or weird attraction. Love for Cal is practically oozing out of your pores. You confirmed it just now; the first words out of your mouth when we sat down were to ask about her and her well-being. If she were a guy, you'd already be planning the wedding. You're in love with her and want to be with her. Why are you holding onto this notion of what you 'are' when it's pretty clear you aren't? If you were, you wouldn't feel this level of romantic affection. Let it go, Britt. Let it go and be happy."

She stared at her mother. "It can't be that easy."

"It is. If you love her and want to be with her, then don't let these inconsequential things stop you. Like I said, who cares about a category? This seed, this potential to love a woman, was probably always deep inside you and just needed the right person to bring it to surface. Maybe you're really not attracted to women—unless that woman happens to be Cal. If I may ask, how did you feel when she kissed you? You don't have to answer me but be honest with yourself."