I Kissed a Girl Ch. 12

Idgie tilted her head toward the coffee pot.

I nodded, watching how she stood and topped off our cups. Her movements were fluid. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. Her grace reminded me of Jenna.

"After I moved, I got a job welding in the Windy City. Met a lot of women over the next two years or so. Dated several of them. But I refused to get too attached." I doctored my coffee and took a tentative sip, remembering clearly those days despite the time that had passed. "I was frequenting a popular gay bar at the time. It's where I eventually met Jenna. She was a college student, brand new to being a lesbian. It was my turn to be the teacher. To protect her."

Idgie set her cup down and crossed her arms on the table. "What happened?"

My mouth twitched again. I stared into the steaming liquid in my cup between my hands. "When we first met, she told me about Kat, the girl she'd fallen in love with the last year in high school. Except Kat was straight, so there was no chance. She rarely brought her up, but I remembered that sparkle in Jenna's eyes when she did. And I'd see it whenever she would stare off into space. As time went on, though, that look turned into one of longing...regret. I could tell that Jenna still carried a torch for Kat no matter the improbability of being with her. It took me a while to realize I still carried one myself. For Lizzie. They were the girls that got away."

"So you ran."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. "I was afraid that Jenna would beg me to stay if I told her to her face we should break up. That I would relent only to ease the ache I knew she'd have written across her face. That wasn't fair or right for either of us. So I wrote her a note and left before she woke. Again."

We sipped our drinks in silence. Idgie didn't press me to continue. I could hear the faint sounds of the machines in Lizzie's room now that the storm had departed as quickly as it had arrived.

I smirked. "When all the planets seem to align."

"Hmm?"

I glanced up at Idgie, realizing I'd spoken aloud. "I ran into Jenna this afternoon when I was out."

She had lifted her cup but slowly set it down. Her back seemed to slump a little. She kept her eyes on the table when she said, "Oh?"

"Yeah, she was at Darla's drinking a beer. Turns out, she'd run into Kat years after I'd left. They're married now. Have two kids. They actually live here in town. I'm happy for her."

"Really? That crease on your forehead tells a different story."

"Just thinking that Jenna got her fairytale. But me..." I choked on my breath suddenly. "My princess is dying down the hall. And I never had the guts to tell her I love her like that!"

I didn't hear her move at all, but Idgie was suddenly by my side, her arms wrapped around my head as she held it against her. I gripped her arms and cried while she gently rocked me.

And then we were both sitting upright in our respective chairs again, our hands wrapped around the mugs of cooling coffee. Except she was sitting beside me instead of across from me. My eyes felt slightly puffy and my cheeks a little stiff from my dried tears. I ran the back of my hand under my nose and sighed.

"After I left Jenna, I came out here to Northampton. Figured it would be a good place to start over. Blend in with the locals and all. It was the best thing I could have ever done."

"But then you ran into Lizzie?"

I nodded. "We reconnected. Spent a lot of time together. It was great. Except she had a boyfriend and I always felt like a third wheel. Brian and I got to be good friends, though. So much so, that he asked me to help him propose. Do you have any idea how gut-wrenching that feels to help a guy ask the woman you love to marry him?"

Idgie cringed just as I lifted my gaze to hers.

I cringed as well. "It gets worse."

"I can't imagine..."

"Lizzie told him she had to think about it. Her mom, on the other hand, was already planning the reception before Lizzie had gotten off the phone with her. Lizzie told me she loved Brian, but they'd only been dating for two years. Wasn't that too soon for marriage? I hated having to share her, and I dreaded the thought of her mom showing up and thinking I was there to sabotage the wedding."

"So you ran."

I took several gulps of coffee. "Alabama this time. I gave Lizzie my best wishes in person, though. Told her I had a job lined up down south and couldn't stay around in Massachusetts. I hated lying to her, but I had freshly opened wounds. It wasn't safe for me to stay. I got a job welding down there and buried myself in my work. Tried to forget about Lizzie. About everything in my past."

"Oh, Susie..." Idgie clasped my free hand on the table.

"I touched base with my mom once. She forgave me for running away, but she thought it best I just continue to live my life without her. She must have kept my number though, because the hospital called me when she had a heart attack. I went back home to be with her until she passed only a week later. I'd just returned to Alabama when I got Lizzie's Email that she had breast cancer and her own mom had died recently after a stroke. Lizzie didn't want to continue treatment alone. That she needed her best friend to help her through this again. It wasn't until I'd gotten here that I found out Brian had divorced her after two years because she couldn't have kids. All the chemo she'd received when she was younger had made her sterile. So here I am. Here we are."

Idgie squeezed my hand and said sadly, "Yes, here we are."

"I suddenly feel so old," I sighed, on the verge of tears again. I just didn't have the energy to shed them.

"Mmm hmm. The process can take a lot out of the caregivers as well as the patients."

I didn't resist when Idgie gently pulled my head to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around me. My eyes closed automatically, and I dozed there in the kitchen under a dim lightbulb in the loose embrace of the hospice care nurse while my best friend lay dying down the hall.

###

The week crept by. The stormy weather only made the already sullen mood in the house worse.

Knowing Lizzie was in more and more pain—evident by the increase in meds Idgie brought with her—made me even wearier. If I could have given any physical part of me to save Lizzie, I would have. All I could offer was my time. But even that was limited.

I read to Lizzie. Watched TV with her. Just talked. Promised I'd be there when she woke. And then I prayed while she slept that she would actually wake up at least one more time.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Idgie had to force me to the kitchen to eat throughout the day or go up to the room I occupied to rest. Several times, I mentioned how I felt bad that she was taking care of two people instead of just the one we were paying her for. She just shushed me and told me it was part of caring for Lizzie. That I needed to keep up my strength to be there for my friend who seemed to be hanging on despite her odds.

On one such occasion, we were drinking coffee after Idgie had physically walked me to the kitchen to eat some breakfast.

I pushed away my empty plate and folded my arms on the table. "Your name...it's quite unique. Do you mind me asking if it's your real name?"

"Not at all. I'm an open book." Idgie smiled over the rim of her cup. "My mom was a huge fan of Imogen Stuart, the famous German-Irish sculptor. Mom had a copy of one of her statues that had been in the family. I was the first daughter, so I was given my mom's favorite name...and eventually, the statue."

"I was going to say, I think I've only heard of the name Idgie in 'Fried Green Tomatoes.' But you were about six when the book was written."

"Actually, that's when I got my nickname. Everyone started calling me 'Idgie' because of it. Even my parents. I liked it so much, I started using 'Idgie' instead of 'Imogen.' Then the movie came out, and I felt special to share the name with my favorite character in it. It's one of my favorite movies, too."

I grinned. "Same here."

I mentally compared her to Mary Stuart Masterson's portrayal of Imogene 'Idgie' Threadgoode in the movie. It wasn't hard to imagine the woman sitting across from me walking around barefoot in bib overalls, her hair haphazardly pulled back. Gambling with the men in town. Getting fresh honey for Ruth to impress her. Trying to convince a pestering lawyer that she had nothing to do with the disappearance of a certain abuser of women who also happened to be Ruth's husband.

Idgie sipped her drink, watching me watch her. She would raise her eyebrows slightly, tilting her head every now and then. Finally, she asked, "What are you thinking? You keep squinting."

I shrugged. "I like your name. It fits you."

Her smile softened, her eyes sparkling now. She leaned in conspiratorially. "I have more in common with the character than most people think."

I sat upright and blinked. I started to ask if she thought Ruth and Idgie were lovers, like so many presumed—myself included. But Idgie the nurse stood up and went to the sink, rinsing out her cup.

"Don't know about you, Susie, but I could go for some good ribs tonight." She glanced back with a wink.

We both said at the same time, "The secret's in the sauce!"

Over our laughter, I could hear Lizzie's bell.

Idgie paused at my chair and gently squeezed my shoulder. "I've got her. Just rest."

So I sat there pondering that she had been trying to tell me something more than where she'd gotten her nickname. That the reason she seemed to understand me so well was because my situations were similar to her own. She truly was Idgie. Did that make me Ruth?

***

It was Sunday, a week after my conversation with Idgie in the kitchen, when Lizzie seemed to perk up. She had a little more color in her cheeks. Maybe it was just the sun shining in her window. She waved her hand when I picked up the TV remote. I sat beside her instead and took her hand in mine.

"I know, Susie," she rasped, smiling in her gentle way.

I caressed her forehead with my free hand. "You know what, love?"

"You love me."

The corners of my mouth turned up more. "You're my best friend, Lizzie. Of course I love you."

Her gaze met mine. For a moment, the brilliance of the wild spirit inside of her—never crushed by her mother's overbearing nature—flashed at me. "No. You love me, love me."

I swallowed hard but couldn't make any sounds when I opened my mouth.

"I know here." She pulled my hand toward her heart. "Always have."

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't know how to respond to that truth. All these years?

"I'm sorry..." She closed her eyes and swallowed slowly, licking her lips several times.

"Shh." I slipped an ice chip into her mouth, barely hearing her sigh of gratitude. I silently begged her to open her eyes again so I could see that spirit I loved, but she didn't.

"I was selfish. Couldn't tell you the truth. I needed my friend and was afraid you'd leave. Then you did."

"It's okay, love. I'm here now." My words were barely a whisper, but I know she heard them by the twitch of her lips in an attempt to smile again. I brought her hand up to my lips and kissed it softly, barely succeeding in holding back my tears.

She licked her lips and said, "More please."

I spent the next several minutes alternating between feeding her ice chips and listening to her talk. Every time she paused, her breathing seemed even more labored, like sandpaper on a piece of wood.

"When Mom died...she said she made you leave. Didn't want me to be gay. She since realized she was wrong. I'd always thought you'd left because you knew I couldn't love you that way. I'd wished so many times you'd taken me with you anyway. I was so glad to see you that summer. I never told her you were there ...that you helped Brian propose. She was sorry it was too late to mend my friendship with you."

"No, love, you weren't too late. Thank you for writing to me. It has been my honor to be with you."

"Promise to find love."

"Lizzie, my love dies with you. You're the only one—"

"You still have a chance." She pressed her lips together and faintly shook her head when I tried to give her another piece of ice.

"I've tried. It's why I run. I can't get over you. Besides, who would want a rough and tired old woman? Butch dykes like me are better off alone."

"Why do you always have to do things the hard way?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm dying, not blind." Lizzie coughed and loosely gripped my hand. "Idgie is a wonderful woman."

I nodded. "She's been excellent with you."

Lizzie finally cracked an eye open. "She'll be excellent with you, too, Susie."

"I don't need her to take care of me," I scoffed.

Lizzie hummed softly. "Idgie and I...we talked a lot before you came. She's had her share of girlfriends. Was engaged, once, too, but her fiancée broke it off. Idgie's married to her job, now."

"Lizzie—"

She tugged on my hand. "All I'm saying is, it hasn't been easy for her, either. She gets you."

I opened my mouth to protest more, but she continued with both eyes open now, her voice more strained than ever.

"Give her a chance. Let someone love you. I couldn't be that person you needed. Idgie can."

"I-I..."

Her grip tightened, or at least I think it did. "Promise you'll try."

I gulped, feeling a tear finally trickle down my cheek. "I promise."

"I love you, Susannah."

Oh, God, no. I choked, struggling to find my voice. "I love you, too, Elizabeth."

Her eyes drifted closed again. Her hand eventually relaxed then fell off of mine.

For the longest time, I just stared at her slightly furrowed brow. At her shaking chest as it struggled to rise and fall under the blanket with each raspy breath. I knew her body had been working overtime for so long to keep her alive. She'd fought a good fight. It wouldn't be much longer now.

Idgie must have known, too, because she left us alone.

The sun slowly shifted across the room. As it finally touched Lizzie's face, the crease in her forehead relaxed and her lips parted. There was the softest hiss of a breath. Then a sense of peace seemed to settle on her...on the room.

As tears rolled down my cheeks, I lifted her limp hand to my lips, kissing it. "Goodbye, my love."

###

All of my strength seemed to have gone with Lizzie. The next two weeks left me dazed and confused. I had trouble concentrating when people asked me questions. Especially when I had to deal with the legalities of Lizzie's estate. She'd left me her house and a small monetary inheritance from her mother. I'd never felt so honored, and yet at the same time, so unworthy. I'd gone from being a nomad of sorts—traveling wherever life took me—to being a homeowner. That both excited and scared me.

I was glad we'd already discussed plans for her burial. I hadn't even tried to dissuade her. Lizzie would get whatever she wanted. It was the least I could do to carry out her final wishes.

The instructions had been brief and explicit. She was to be cremated with no ceremony, as there was no one left she cared about except me. I was to purchase one of those necklaces that could hold ashes in a pendant so I could always have her close to my heart. Then I was to take a trip to Italy—someplace Lizzie had talked about extensively in the long, intimate hours we'd finally gotten to spend together—where I would scatter the rest of her ashes over the countryside.

Accomplishing the first part had been easier than I'd anticipated. I'd cried something awful as the funeral home took her body, but I knew Lizzie was no longer in the shell that had deteriorated before my eyes over the course of too many weeks. That her soul was free of the restrictions this world had placed on it. I'd gotten a chain with a rectangular urn pendant, both black-plated stainless steel. Sleek and sophisticated, yet not too feminine because that's not who I was. I wore it constantly with the white-and-brown beaded necklace I'd picked up on my arrival in Nebraska so long ago. That one had been a symbol of starting over—true independence—and I'd rarely removed it.

I kept the Harley scarf under my pillow, too. I'd never been one to trade an article of clothing or jewelry with my partners, as I knew many couples did. Not that the relationships hadn't been meaningful, but I'd not placed any significance on objects before. Maybe because of my nomadic lifestyle and not having many possessions. Or just wanting to be able to let go of my memories once I'd moved on. But Lizzie's scarf was different. She was different.

Her last request...that was the hardest. Not because I didn't have the money now to travel overseas, but because a part of me was too afraid to let the physical embodiment of her go completely. I needed more time to grieve.

I'd had my share of nightmares and restless nights through the years after all the heartache I'd caused others. But the night Lizzie passed away? I wished I'd died right along with her. There was this deep-seated feeling as though I could have prevented her death. If I'd stayed behind all those years ago... If I'd stood up to her mom... If she'd only contacted me sooner... If, if, if. I knew none of it was true, but that didn't stop the thoughts from popping up in my already addled brain, especially during the silences.

The worst was every time I fell asleep. I startled awake with a scream from one dream or another where her mother was trying to prevent me from getting to Lizzie. From saving her. I could never get to her no matter how hard I tried. But each time, Idgie was right there in the darkness to comfort me, rubbing my back until I drifted off once more.

She had returned to sleeping in the bedroom she'd been accustomed to for the last couple of months. It was down the hall from mine, connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom of which we kept the doors open unless occupied. She'd been staying upstairs until Lizzie had gotten worse. Then Idgie and I had taken turns sleeping on a cot by Lizzie's side.

Idgie treated me with the same care as she had Lizzie. Making sure I was eating and bathing. Getting up each morning instead of staying in bed all day. She encouraged me to go to the gym again, something I'd told her I'd done every evening after work wherever I'd called my home. I found it helped relieve the tension I'd built up in my shoulders...both then and now.

Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we just sat in front of the TV together. There were even a few days where we sat out on the porch and drank a beer in the silence.

Whatever the situation, she never chastised me when I cried. Which I did often. She either held my hand or wrapped an arm or two around me and waited out the episode in her professional way.

Funny, I'd never been so emotional in all my life.

###

It was three weeks without Lizzie when they finally came to take away the hospital bed and medical equipment. I took a shower since I'd worked out and had helped dispose of what couldn't be used. Then I crawled into bed and crashed. It was one of the first silent nights. No dreams. No tossing and turning or jolting upright, screaming. Just pure, unadulterated sleep. It was fucking amazing.

The next morning, I wandered into the bathroom to pee. It took me a moment to realize I'd pushed the door open from my room. Once I saw the reason for the closed door, I stood blinking in the doorway, my fingers halfway buried in my hair.

Idgie was opening the shower door, naked as the day she was born. Her black hair hung in long, wet strands, grazing her shoulders.

I gulped, letting my eyes wander down her revealed body. At four years my junior, she was my height and my stocky build, though in a feminine way. I'd always known that. But the scrubs—and even her casual clothes lately—had hidden just how soft her curves were. How very beautiful she was.