A Benign Something

Diane looked at me for a moment, and then down to her hands.

"So... she and your brother?" I muttered.

She nodded slowly.

"They were married for less than a year," she said. Then she sighed, saying, "I don't know the exact reasons why they separated, but I have a pretty good idea."

Her eyes drifted to mine, and then her expression turned to one of warm sympathy.

"All I'm saying is..."

Then suddenly, the door to the office opened and in walked the principal. Diane and I stood upright a bit more, and she raised her hand and smiled at him, as did I. He replied with a friendly wave, and then stepped into his office and shut the door. Diane turned back to me and leaned closer, laying her hand flat out on the counter toward me, and whispered.

"Look, Jess, all I'm saying is, as your friend, just be careful, ok?"

I nodded quickly.

"I will," I whispered nervously.

Diane looked over her shoulder, and then turned me saying, "It's none of my business, but I sorta think maybe covering your back is, ok?"

I nodded again.

"I'm not saying she's a horrible, bad person. I'm sure she isn't. But she really broke his heart, when he found out she was, you know..."

And then Diane cleared her throat, as if embarrassed to say it. Her eyes darted to mine, and I slowly nodded. She took a step closer in my direction, whispering, "Jess, she has a tendency to sleep around, ok? At least, back then she did." Then she placed her hand against her chest, saying, "But that was, what, fifteen years ago maybe? Maybe a little longer. And I don't mean she did it with other men, ok? She had an affair with another woman. A married woman."

I fidgeted where I stood and glanced down at the envelope I held.

"Yeah," I replied. "She told me about it."

Diane's smile returned, and she stood up with her hands flat on the countertop.

"Like I said," she continued. "I'm just trying to give you some friendly info. It's none of my business, and, hey, maybe she's turned over a new leaf. Besides, I mean, I always thought she was a pretty nice person, and I was really surprised, when she left him. Honestly, I never woulda guessed she was..."

"Yeah," I said, cutting her off. "She's a lesbian."

Diane slid her hand to mine and patted it softly.

"That's all I wanted to tell you," she whispered with a smile.

I slowly bobbed my head and thanked her, and then asked if she knew anything else about Gayle.

"No," she replied, shaking her head ruefully. "Not really. I know she use to go to church a lot. Tried to get my brother to come with her, but he was a little too rowdy for that," she chuckled.

Outside the office, there was a sudden influx of students, chattering and laughing loudly, as they entered the building. The buses had begun to roll into the parking lot.

"I better get going," I said.

Diane gave my hand a gentle squeeze, as I went to walk away, but then I stopped and turned back to her.

"So... What's your general impression of her?" I asked.

Over the years, Diane and I had become something along the lines of work-friends. We hardly ever spoke outside of school, mostly because she lived rather far away, but during the day, she and I had a slightly closer friendship. She was definitely someone I could confide in and trusted, and she always seemed to be a good judge of character.

Diane was walking to her desk and raised her eyebrows, upon hearing my question. She came back to the counter, and I moved closer toward her.

"You know, like I said, that was a long time ago," she replied quietly. "I liked her, but you could tell something wasn't quite right about her." Then she shook her head, adding, "Not, like, mentally or anything. More like she was always depressed. I just never saw her smile much, you know? I guess I'd say she was a good, decent person. Kinda quiet, but, like I said, she just seemed really sad, to me."

"You think she recognized you?" I asked.

Diane chuckled, her heavy chest wobbling.

"Oh, I doubt it," she replied with a laugh. "I use to be really skinny back then, if you can believe that."

I smiled, trying to imagine Diane as anything but this large, happy person. Then she shook her head.

"Nah," she said. "I don't think she did. My hair was longer, my butt thinner... I looked a lot different. She didn't act like she knew me, when she stopped by this morning."

"How did she seem?" I asked anxiously.

Diane shrugged and curled her lip.

"Seemed ok," she replied.

Then she looked at me and seemed to sense I needed a more detailed answer. She stepped closer and leaned toward me against the counter, clasping her hands together.

"I think she was happy," she said. "She was smiling."

I grinned wide and so did Diane.

"Thanks," I replied, as I tapped my fingers on the counter and walked to the door.

"Hey, Jess."

My hand was on the doorknob, and I turned to Diane, as she walked behind her desk to sit down.

"It's none of my business," she said, holding up her hand plaintively. "And no one else's... if you know what I mean."

I smiled again and thanked her, as I walked out into the hallway.

Students were everywhere, standing around the halls talking and laughing and crisscrossing my path, as they darted to their lockers, occasionally bumping into me. As I sped past, many would say hello and good morning, and I'd grin and nod or wave, but my body moved with singular purpose to my classroom. I had less than ten minutes to get there, before students would start their morning migration and a new school day began.

My heart beat faster with each step, and by the time I swung open the door and stepped into my room, I was nearly out of breath. Two students were sitting in the back of the room talking quietly and looked over at me. I grinned sheepishly and they smiled in return, and then resumed their conversation.

I made my way to my desk, pulled out the chair, and quickly sat down. I glanced at the clock on the wall: less than five minutes. With trembling hands, I plucked the envelope from my bag and held it in my lap out of view. I slowly turned it over and carefully opened the flap and gingerly reached inside with my fingers, pulling out the card within.

When I flipped it over, I slapped a hand over my mouth and giggled. There on the front was an Easter bunny, painted in watercolors and holding a bright Easter basket filled with an assortment of colorful eggs. Above him was captioned, "I thought about sending you a big, beautiful basket for Easter..." Then I slowly opened the card, and inside was a line drawing of a person holding out the empty pockets of their pants, saying, "Instead, I got you this card."

But there, on the inside cover, was a note hastily written by Gayle.

"Sorry!" it said. "This was all I could find this morning."

Further down, she wrote, "Thank you for the wonderful evening and beautiful company last night."

I felt my face turning read, as I continued reading.

"Please call me today, when you get the chance, and let me know when you'd like to meet for dinner."

And below that, as if an afterthought, she had written, "I need to hear your voice again."

My vision slowly blurred, as her words sank in. My heart raced and spine tingled, as I sat there in a daze.

"I need to hear your voice again."

I'm not sure how long I had been sitting there motionless, when someone coughing suddenly pulled me from my trance. I slowly raised my eyes and saw all the desks in the classroom filled, my students sitting and staring back at me, some smiling and others chuckling. I closed the card and carefully opened my desk drawer, slipping it inside.

During the noon hour, I called Gayle at work. But all throughout the morning, between classes, I would open my drawer and read her card over and over again.

I was scared to talk to her, nervous about what she would say, and becoming riddled with anxiety about how our relationship, ostensibly a mere friendship, was quickly becoming something more. So, all morning my thoughts dwelled on Gayle. She was kind and polite, intelligent and witty, quick to smile and share a laugh. And I also thought about what Diane had said, how she could detect a hint of peripheral sadness in Gayle. The more I thought about it, the more I saw it, as well. The evening of her dinner party, now several months past, I remembered how sad she seemed when I left to return home. And it didn't seem as though she was depressed that the party was over, though she did imply otherwise, rather her sullen mood seemed to be caused by my departure. As time went on, and Gayle and I became closer, this same sense of somberness at parting swept over me, too, leaving my heart feeling empty and alone.

Whenever I wasn't with her, I thought about her. I thought about how she brought so much joy to my life. And more recently, I began thinking about what a beautiful woman she was and not simply in terms of character, but physically, as well.

I tried ignoring it, but the truth of the matter is, I was falling in love with Gayle and had been for a very long time.

So, when I called her at noon, I was just as anxious to hear her voice.

"Did you get my card?" she asked.

I was sitting in the teacher's lounge on the couch, holding the phone close to my ear and nearly whispering. There were three other teachers there, but they sat at a table on the other side of the room.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Gayle laughed and asked why I was talking so softly.

"Someone's in here with me," I whispered.

She laughed again.

"So?" she said. "You afraid they might see you smiling or what?"

"No," I replied softly, turning to lean on the arm of the couch, away from the other teachers.

"Yeah, right," she replied with a snort. Then she added with a devilish voice, "Or maybe you're just scared they might figure out who it is seeing you."

I laughed, but quickly glanced over my shoulder. One of the trio turned to see what the commotion was about, but then smiled and turned away, when I grinned and waved.

"That's not true at all," I mumbled.

Then her words suddenly struck home: "...who it is seeing you."

Seeing... That word seemed to carry a certain inference, one that could just as easily be conveyed by the word "dating". And, in a very real sense, it really did feel as though Gayle and I were dating. All the necessary ingredients were there: a few commonalities in terms of interests, likes and dislikes; we enjoyed each other's company and spent a great deal of time together. And sometimes the level by which we communicated went beyond what mere friends would normally traverse, by way of body language and tone. When we sat together, although mainly whenever we were alone, it was side-by-side, our bodies touching. There were also times when she'd lay a hand on me, giving a gentle squeeze or soft rub.

All of this pointed in one direction, and, in my heart, I knew Gayle was attracted to me, as I was to her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she suddenly asked.

I blinked a few times and sat up straight. "Pardon?"

Gayle chuckled, as I mumbled an apology.

"You're too cute," she said.

I smiled, and then closed my eyes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said. "Gotta make it quick, though. I should get back to work here."

"Ok," I whispered.

There was a brief pause, and then Gayle asked what it was I wanted to ask her.

I was just about to speak, when she said, "What'd you think of the card?"

I glanced down at the floor and smiled, telling her I liked it. Then she explained how she had bought it for her niece, but never sent it, opting instead to actually buy her a big Easter basket filled with candy and toys. And the more she talked, the more I began to wonder if she was trying to stall for time, trying to prevent me from asking my question. I sighed into the phone, but she cut me off again, before I could say anything.

"What time you want me to come over?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes, as it was obvious she didn't want me to ask my question, hoping I'd probably forget, what with her constantly changing the subject. I suppose, judging by the tone of my voice, she assumed it to be of a serious nature, but I wanted to ask it all the same.

"Six o'clock," I replied. And before she could get another word in edgewise, I asked if she liked me.

My heart began pounding, as I awaited her answer.

"Yeah," she whispered softly. "Of course I do. You know that... don't you?"

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach fluttered.

"Ok," I replied. "That's all I wanted to know."

"Do you like me?" she asked quickly.

I nodded slowly, saying, "Yeah."

We were both silent for a few seconds, and I could hear her breathing into the phone.

"Jess..."

"Yeah?"

There was a pause.

"I don't wanna replace him," she said.

I closed my eyes and gripped the arm of the couch.

"I know," I replied tensely. "Thank you."

"But I still wanna be there... Is that ok?"

I curled my toes tightly and took a deep breath.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I'd like that."

Then my senses were jarred, when Gayle suddenly spoke in a louder tone, more pedestrian and breaking the otherwise sedate mood.

"So, six o'clock?" she said. "Want me to stop by the store and pick up anything?"

I closed my eyes again, slowly shaking my head and rubbing my fingers against my temple.

"Sure," I chuckled.

"Ok," she piped. "What should I get?"

I dropped my hand and sighed, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, I dunno," I moaned. "Whatever you want."

"Chips? Dip? Pretzels? Pop? Marshmallows? Apples? Oranges? A pineapple? Some of those, uh, whaddya-call-'em fruits... you know, they're red and hard on the outside, but squishy on the inside?"

I laughed, replying, "Pomegranates?"

"Yeah, that's it," she said. "Want some of those?"

"You're a goof," I said with a giggle.

"Ok, then," she said. "I'll grab us some wine, maybe some chips, and... a movie? Wanna rent a movie?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Whatcha want me to get?"

"Eh, I don't care. You pick."

"All righty," she replied.

There was another pause of silence, and then the bell rang out in the hallway.

"I better get going," I said. "I'll see you around six."

"Jessie?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it ok if I think about you the rest of the day?"

My stomach fluttered again, and I felt myself become weak at the knees.

"If... Sure, I mean, if you want," I stammered.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I'd like that."

"Can... Can I think about you, too?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Oh, sure," she replied very nonchalantly. "Yeah, knock yourself out. See ya at six?"

"Ok," I giggled. "Bye... I'll be thinking of you."

"Bye, sweetie."

That may have qualified as the best phone conversation of my life.

That afternoon when I got home, I rushed about, cleaning the house, vacuuming and dusting, and then started preparing dinner. I kept glancing at the clock, and the closer the hands got to six, the more quickly I moved. So by the time it six arrived, I was breathing hard. Then the ringing of the doorbell sent a jolt through me.

I grabbed a dishtowel and wiped my hands, tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Before going to the door, I stopped by a mirror in the living room to check myself. Satisfied everything was in order, I stepped over to the door and opened it.

Gayle stood there, wearing sunglasses, light blue blouse, and khaki pants. He teeth shone brightly, as she grinned.

"Hey there," she said, holding a plastic grocery bag in one hand and bottle of wine in the other.

I stepped back and invited her in, smiling from ear to ear. And when I closed the door behind her, the first words to nearly leap from my lips were, "You look pretty." Instead, I quickly checked myself, managing to merely stutter hello. Gayle smiled and handed the bag to me. Then she removed her sunglasses, hanging them from the open collar of her blouse.

My heart was thumping, as she continued to stare at me with that wonderful smile.

"You look pretty," I mumbled softly, letting my eyes fall down to the floor, too embarrassed to let her see me blush.

Gayle only chuckled.

"You, too," she replied. "Now let's eat. I'm starving."

We walked into the kitchen and finished preparing dinner and sat side-by-side at the kitchen table, eating and chatting about this and that and whatever was on our minds. After we stuffed ourselves, we cleaned up and put the leftovers away. Then we took our glasses of wine and walked out into the living room. As Gayle sat on the couch, I went over to the television and started the movie. Then I stepped over and sat next to her, once again, side-by-side, our thighs rubbing together.

A short while into the movie, Gayle set her glass on the end table and leaned back. I glanced at her, seeing her relax, and decided it wasn't a bad idea. I handed her my glass, and she placed it alongside hers, and then I leaned back to join her.

We sat there with our hands in our laps, a little awkwardly it seemed, and then Gayle, perhaps sensing this, wiggled around and pulled her from between us, draping it behind me onto the back of the couch.

It seemed an almost instinctual reaction on my part, but when that body contact was lost, I scooted closer to reclaim it, and when I leaned back, I felt her hand behind me come to rest on my shoulder. As we watched the movie, every now and then I'd feel her fingers gently stroke my shoulder until finally she was hugging me. I leaned against her and placed one hand just above her knee, and then took a deep breath and smiled, reveling in the modest intimacy we were sharing.

Although the position we were in was fine for a short period of time, after a while the discomfort was starting to set in for both of us. Every few minutes, one of us would squirm and wiggle, trying to find a position more conducive to the long-term. I finally sat upright and reached to the far end of the sofa, grabbing a pillow. Then I turned to Gayle and dropped it in her lap, pulled my feet up, and laid my head down on the pillow, resting on my side. She only chuckled.

"Sorta wondered what you were doing," she said softly, resting her hand on me just below my breasts.

I brought my lower hand up to hold the pillow and let the other rest along the upper side of my body.

"You're too squirmy," I giggled.

"Ah," she replied. "Of course... my fault."

Then I chuckled again and pulled her hand up to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on her fingers.

"You're still a good person," I laughed, returning her hand to my chest.

As we continued watching the movie, Gayle would sometimes rub her hand on my abdomen, until eventually, the tips of her fingers were making contact with the underside of my breast. But it didn't bother me. The truth is, I enjoyed the physical contact, and knowing it was from her made it all the more desired.

But being mere mortals, eventually nature steps in and momentarily throws a wrench your way.

Gayle's fingers were now overtly touching my breast, though gingerly, but my bladder began causing me grief.

I quickly sat up and excused myself, and, as I stood, Gayle asked if I wanted her to pause the movie. When I glanced down at her, the expression on her face seemed almost apologetic, as if she were sorry for crossing some sort of physical boundary with me. But, I smiled, relieving her of any such superfluous concerns.

"Sure," I replied. "Just gotta run to the bathroom."

She grinned, and her face relaxed.

"Ok," she said, with a nod.

A few minutes later I returned, and Gayle was sipping from her glass of wine. As I sat down next to her, I waited, as she clicked the remote control and started the movie once more. Then I resumed my previous prone position.

When I laid my head down in her lap, her hand didn't return to its previous place, and I began wondering, if indeed she thought she had gone too far with her tactile contact. So, to alleviate her concerns, I lifted my head and glanced over my shoulder.