The Love Sucks Club (19 page)

“Well, I think it sounds totally confusing. Like, if two butches
get together or two femmes, who is supposed to lead on the dance floor?”

“Oh Olivia,” Sam says, as we round the corner to the last hill.
“You couldn’t possibly hope to understand. You may be wearing a polo shirt, but
you’re no dyke.”

“Whatever, Sam!”
Affronted, she pulls ahead of
Sam and starts stalking up the last hill, pounding her walking stick into the
ground in front of her. “I’m down with the lesbians,” she calls over her
shoulder. “I’ve read Curious Wine. I listen to
Crys
Matthews!”

“Who’s
Crys
Matthews?” I ask.

“What’s Curious Wine?” Sam responds.

Sighing, Susannah glares at both of us. “You two are so ignorant
of lesbian culture.”

“You’re just cranky because you’re tired,” I say, patting her
shoulder. “You’ll feel better at the top.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, turning back to the path. “This is the hardest
one, but it will be over soon.”

She looks up the hill. “Olivia,” she calls. “You should stay with
us. This part is steep and you might need help.” She slams her walking stick
down on the ground in front of her and it shatters as she’s making her first
step. Before I can react, she tumbles to the ground and lands face first in the
dirt. Olivia hears the commotion and
comes
running
back to see if she’s okay. It’s a good thing she does, because I am laughing
too hard to be of any help. Holding on to the side of a tree, I lean over,
laughing until I can’t breathe as Sam pulls herself off the ground and kicks at
the broken pieces of her makeshift walking stick.

She turns to glare at me for a second before she starts laughing
as well. Olivia hands Sam’s walking stick to her. “Take this,” she says. “I
honestly don’t need it and you obviously do.”

Sam takes it begrudgingly and we all start off again. This section
really is terribly steep and I find myself leaning on my walking stick more
often than not. Olivia is in the lead now and she’s just traipsing lightly up
the hill without pausing to catch her breath.

“Let her go ahead,” Sam huffs. “It’s safe enough for her to wait
for us at the top.”

Susannah is breathing heavily and her face is beet red. I ask her
if she wants to stop, but she shakes her head.

“Are we almost to the top,” she manages to sputter.

“Yep,” Sam says.
“Less than five minutes.”

Just when I think I can’t possibly push my lungs any further;
there is a sharp increase in elevation. Susannah looks at it and says, “I can’t
possibly do that.”

“You can,” Sam says. “This part is the shortest yet. It’s the last
push.”

We all take deep breaths and bend into the last leg. Susannah
leans on her stick with one hand and grabs for a tree branch with the other.
From behind, I put my hand on her butt and push her up the last couple of
steps. The ground flattens out and we are looking at almost the entire island
from the highest point. Olivia is standing in the middle of the field, close to
the lighthouse, staring out to sea. Looking over her shoulder at us as we
stumble, panting and sweating into the open, she laughs. “This was so worth
it.”

Sam bends over for a second until she’s breathing normally again.
“Don’t sit down, Susannah. Walk around slowly a bit until you catch your
breath.”

“This is unbelievable,” Susannah says, after she can breathe
again. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen this before.”

“It’s kind of a pain to get here, that’s for sure,” I reply.

“We love it, though,” Sam says. “Dana and I used to make a point
of doing this hike twice a week. We need to get back into that.”

“Agreed,” I say. My breathing has returned to normal, so I spread
out on the ground in the sun. It’s windy up here, but it’s hot and sunny, so
the wind just serves to cool me off a bit. Susannah plops onto the ground next
to me and rummages in her bag for some trail mix. Olivia is still wandering
around, checking out the view. She actually looks kind of pretty right now.
With her cheeks a bit flushed from the climb and her hair hanging loose around
her shoulders instead of teased into a hair sprayed helmet, she doesn’t look as
phony as she usually looks. I like her face much better without the layers of
makeup. And the outfit, ridiculous though it is, looks cute on her petite frame.
Susannah catches me checking her out and elbows me. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Sam looks around, smiling. She loves it up here. I
think the only thing that would make it better would be if we could get some
kind of pulley hook up so we could load up on beer and food. She would never
want to leave.

“Dana is giving Olivia the eye,” Susannah says, smugly.

Shocked, Olivia turns around, raising her eyebrow at me.
“Really?”

“Well, you look really pretty today,” I say.

She makes a disbelieving noise and turns back to look at the
water.

“It’s true, though,” Sam says. “You do look pretty with your face
all natural and your hair down like that.”

“Well, anyway, I want to go climb into the lighthouse.”

“Give me a fucking break, we just got here,” Sam says, flopping down
on the grass on the other side of Susannah.

“Fine, I’ll wait.” Olivia walks over to the other side of Sam and
sits down next to her. “I didn’t realize you were still recovering from the
hard hike up here.”

“Your false pity and harsh sarcasm haven’t gone unnoticed,” Sam
replies.

Olivia laughs and again I’m struck by how pretty she is. Sam has
obviously seen it too, as she leans close to Olivia for a moment, and pulls a
leaf out of her hair.

“Olivia,” Susannah says. “How the hell are you in such great shape?
You don’t hike, you don’t swim, you don’t dive, and you work in an office all
day.”

“Yes, but I do Jillian Michaels videos every morning,” she
answers. “There’s not a single thing these two yahoos could have put me through
that can compete with that evil bitch.”

“Maybe I should start doing that,” Sam says.

“Maybe,” Olivia answers. “It would help you get rid of that beer
belly.”

“What beer belly?”

Laughing, I close my eyes, half-listening to their bickering. The
wind blows across me, keeping me cool at the same time that the sun is warming
my skin. I can’t believe how happy I feel at this moment. Susannah and Olivia
are both laughing at something Sam has said. Letting their voices flow across
me without actually picking up the words, I close my eyes and soak in the
warmth of the sun. If I could bottle this feeling from this moment, I could be
happy for the rest of my life.

Half-aware that the other three have gone to go check out the
lighthouse, I snuggle a little more comfortably into the grass. I once looked
into who owns this land. I thought, if I could buy it, I’d put a tiny little
hidden dirt road in for those times when I absolutely had to get supplies up
here. The rest of the time, anyone who wanted to come see me would have to take
the hike to get here. I’d put in a
zipline
down to
the clearing where people park, though, so they’d have the option of leaving
quickly if they want. I’m half-asleep when I hear the ladies come back from
exploring the lighthouse.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I
open my eyes just in time to see Susannah stumble and trip.
She
disappears over the cliff and my heart stops in my chest. Up in a flash, I take
a couple of running steps toward her when I see her sit up, laughing and
rubbing her knee. Sam reaches down to help her up and Olivia brushes off her
knees. I manage to stop running, but my hand is clutching my chest and I can’t
breathe.

“
Jeeze
, Dana.” Susannah is still
laughing as she realizes I’m standing there. “I just tripped.”

For a moment, I can’t speak. My body is frozen and I’m struggling
to get a word out. Finally, I
suck
in a breath and
advance on my sister, shaking my finger in her face. “Stay away from the edge,”
I shout. “Stay away from the fucking cliff!”

“I wasn’t anywhere near...”

Sam interrupts her with a shake of her head. She puts her hand on
my shoulder and gently guides me away from Susannah. “Come on, old buddy,” she
whispers. “Let’s take a walk.”

We wander off to a secondary path as Olivia and Susannah settle
down onto the grass again.

“Are you okay,
bud
?” Sam looks concerned.

“I’m actually fine,” I say, bending my head for a moment. Touching
my fingers to my forehead, I close my eyes for a few deep breaths. “It scared
me when she fell.”

“She’s fine, though.”

“I know.”

Sam gives me a quick one-arm hug. “You need to work through it, my
friend. It’s been a long time since she died.”

We walk quietly back to the ladies and stretch out beside them on
the grass again. Watching the clouds change shape, I bring myself back into a
more peaceful place. Susannah softly sings a song that I’ve never heard before.
Something about birds in migration.
The tune is easy
to pick up and within a few minutes, everyone is singing. After a while, Sam
stirs. “I think it is safe to say that Dana and I have never
sang
a song up here.”

Everyone laughs.

“See? We’re good for some things,” Susannah teases.

Sam reaches over to gently pull a lock of my sister’s hair.
“You’re good for a lot of things, my almost sister.”

Olivia stretches. “I think I’m ready to go.”

We gather up our belongings and head to the trailhead. “Going down
will be easier,” Sam calls over her shoulder. “But you’ll need the sticks to
help keep your balance.”

Susannah and Olivia follow us as we silently walk down the hill.
No one speaks until we get out of the woods and onto the last stretch before
the car. Then, Susannah approaches me cautiously. “Are you still mad at me?”

Turning abruptly, I put my arms around her and hug her. “I just
saw you fall,” I whisper. “I lost it.”

“You saw me fall and your mind took you someplace else,” she
responds. “But it didn’t really happen, so you need to let it go.”

“It’s just that I saw it.”

Sam touches my shoulder as she walks by. “It wasn’t a premonition,
Dana.”

“Come on,” Susannah says, guiding me to her jeep. “I’ll give you a
ride home.”

We toss our walking sticks into the back of Sam’s truck and walk
to the jeep. Olivia pauses, looking a little awkward. “I’m sure you two want
some private time to talk, so I’ll get a ride home with Sam.” Glancing at Sam,
she pauses again. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

“Uh, yeah.
I guess. I mean, I don’t see
why not.” Flustered, Sam waves goodbye to us, and gets into her truck with
Olivia. Susannah gives me a look and I grin at her before hopping into the
jeep.

“Well, that’s interesting,” she says, sliding behind the wheel.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say. “They hate each other.”

Despite Susannah’s attempts to engage me in conversation, I refuse
to talk about what happened at the lighthouse. Instead, I stare out the window
and think about
Esmé
and our meeting this evening.
It’s time for me to get some answers, and I’m betting on her being the one to
help me get them. Susannah drops me off at my doorstep and admonishes me not to
wear myself out. That’s not likely. The only thing on my agenda is to take a
shower, change my clothes, and work on my manuscript for a few hours before
dinner.

Thinking about
Esmé
, I toss some
vegetables into a marinade and season a couple of salmon filets. I actually
have no idea what she eats. If she doesn’t like this, I’ll make her a salad or
a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It doesn’t really matter what we eat, anyway. She’s not coming
here for my fine cooking and I haven’t invited her to experience her
scintillating company. As far as I know, we have one thing in common and that’s
Fran. If she can’t help me sort out my head, I don’t think there’s anyone who
can.

Chapter Seventeen

Esmé
shows up promptly at six. I
already have the coals going on the grill, so I offer her a drink and we step
out onto the deck. The sun is starting to do its brilliant show in the western
sky. My deck is the perfect place to watch it. It occurs to me that if I wasn’t
so fucked up, I would be a total chick magnet. I’m decent looking, I have a
decent income, I cook, and I have a phenomenal house. Of course, I don’t have a
car, I’m middle-aged, and I’m in the midst of some sort of weird psychic
meltdown. Other than that, I’m a great catch.

Perched on one of my patio chairs,
Esmé
is idly stroking Frank who has claimed her lap.
Traitor.
She smiles up at me. “So, Dana,” she says. “What do you want to talk about?”

I’m fully aware that she has dressed for this evening without
wanting to look as if she’s dressed for the evening. She’s wearing nicely
shaped jeans and a peasant blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage. Her hair
still has that dampish, fresh out of the shower look, and she smells amazing.
She isn’t wearing makeup, but her lips are shiny, like she put on lip-gloss
right before walking in my door. Despite myself, I feel the bit of stirring
from inside that comes from being close to a pretty woman who has made an
effort to make
herself
attractive to me.

Throwing the filets and the vegetables on the grill, I smile at
her, but don’t answer. We both know why she’s here, but I don’t want to address
it yet. We need to eat. Besides, I don’t think it’s going to be a pleasant
conversation and I haven’t completely decided if I’m ready to have it.
Esmé
has offered to help, but I don’t need it. I’m in my
element, flipping the fish and making sure the vegetables are done to a perfect
texture.

“If you want to refill that glass, now’s the time to do it,” I
tell her. She goes into the kitchen and mixes herself a drink. When she
returns, she hands me a glass of water and resumes her place on the chair, apologizing
to Frank for having disturbed him.

“He can’t sit on your lap while you’re eating dinner anyway,” I
say, sternly.

Frank turns his head, blinks at me, and then pointedly turns back
to
Esmé
, launching himself back onto her lap. She
laughs, delighted. “He is so obedient!”

“Cats are never obedient,” I growl. “I sometimes kid myself, but
we both know who’s in charge of this household.”

Laughing, she pets Frank until I can hear his motor across the
deck. The remaining sunlight is picking up the gold flecks in
Esmé’s
hazel eyes. When she smiles, my stomach flips a bit.
Shit. Forcing my mind back to the mundane, I finish cooking our meal and set
the plates on the outdoor table. There’s no sense in going inside when it’s
still eighty degrees.
Esmé
divests herself of the
furball
and joins me at the table. She closes her eyes at
the first bite of fish and makes a soft, almost inaudible moaning noise under
her breath.

“This is ridiculously good,” she says, smiling. “Maybe the best
fish I’ve ever had.”

Chatting lightly throughout the
meal reveals next to nothing about her.
She has an amazing ability to entertain without
telling me a single thing about her. But two can play at that game and I can
keep my cards close to my chest when I need to do so. Consequently, we spend
the meal laughing and casually flirting without addressing the real reason
we’re together tonight. After dinner, she offers to do the dishes, so we clean
up together. Coming up behind her where she’s standing at the sink, I wrap an
apron around her and tie it in the back. Turning her head slightly puts us eye
to eye.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I didn’t want you to get your beautiful shirt wet,” I answer.

Smiling, she turns back to the sink and resumes washing dishes. I
put the leftovers away and go back out to the deck to clean up the grill area.
Esmé
is just finishing the dishes when I come back in to
check on her.

“Shall we put these away?”

“No,” I say. “They can air dry.”

“Good,” she says. “Then maybe we should talk about why I’m really
here.”

“I thought you were here for my cooking,” I grin.

“Or your rugged good looks and lively conversation.”

“I am pretty good looking,” I grin. “But I haven’t really been
much of a lively conversationalist with you.”

“You didn’t trust me,” she says. “I get that.”

“To be honest,
Esmé
, I still don’t trust
you.”

Bowing her head, she walks away from me. Maybe I shouldn’t have
said that. I have a habit of saying shitty things to women. It isn’t so much
that I’m a jerk. It’s just that I’m stupid. It’s different when I’m hanging
with Sam. If I say something stupid to her, she smacks me on the head and we
move on. Of course, she says stupid shit all of the time too, so maybe it’s
easier for her to be forgiving. The thing is
,
I don’t
trust
Esmé
yet. I like her, and my body is definitely
telling me that she’s an attractive woman, but my body can’t always be trusted
to do what’s best for me. She’s out on the deck now, petting Frank and I know
that I’ve hurt her feelings.

“Look,” I say, walking out to the deck and sitting beside her. “It
isn’t that I don’t like you. I do. I think you’re very sweet and charming. It’s
just that I don’t really know what your motivations are and it makes me feel a
little uncomfortable.”

“My motivation is that I want to know what happened to Fran. I
want to know why she died. I came here with the intention of hating you. Do you
know that?”

“I can understand it. I hated myself for a long time.”

“Sounds like you kind of still do.”

Turning away, I reach across her to pet Frank. He responds by
chirping his little meow and rubbing his head against my hand. For a big man,
he has such a tiny little sound. Leaning against
Esmé
feels so nice. It’s a hot night and our skin feels warm where we’re touching.
Part of me thinks that if I tried to kiss her right now, she would respond.
Maybe we’d go to bed together and we could forget about having this
conversation. Moving my mouth close to her ear, I hesitate for a few beats. Her
body is responding to my breath on her ear and she leans a little closer.
Pulling back a bit, I rest my forehead against the side of her face.

“Okay, so what do you want to do?”

She’s dead silent for a few seconds and it occurs to me that she’s
having the same struggle I am. Finally, she shifts. “Let me walk you into a
meditation. We can go into your mind and go to the night that Fran died.”

“Look,
Esmé
. I don’t need to delve into
my subconscious to tell you what happened to Fran.”

“I want to know it from Fran’s side.”

“You can’t. You can only know what I saw and I can tell you that
without any help.”

“Just humor me,” she says. “I know you have these visions. I know
you’ve seen things that others can’t see. I know you predicted Fran’s death.”

“
Esmé
,
Annabelle Lies
was a work
of fiction. It drew from my real life, but it isn’t a diary. You can’t believe
everything you read.”

“If it wasn’t for that book, I wouldn’t be here on this island.
All I knew of you is that you were the woman Fran was dating when she killed
herself.”

“That’s still true. I could have saved her.”

“Let’s just try, Dana. That’s all I’m asking. I just want to try.”

She guides me to the outdoor love seat and puts a pillow under my
head. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the pillow. It feels as if my
whole body is sinking into the love seat. It’s too short for me, so I drape my
legs over the wicker arms. Why am I so tired all of a sudden?

Esmé’s
voice is soft and sweet and for
another moment, I think that I can end this by pulling her down here with me.
The next thing I know, I’m drifting. I can feel her hands on my head, and I’m
aware that it feels good, but before I can say anything about it, I’m in the
other world.

I’m in Fran’s apartment. Looking around, I see the thrift store
furniture and the mattress on the floor. This place is depressing. I asked Fran
to move in with me several times, but she said it wasn’t time. I know she was
right, but I hated that she lived here. The only homey touches in the places
are Fran’s little pieces of art. Wire sculptures, ceramics, small paintings,
framed photos cover every surface in the place. She never stuck to one medium
and she never mastered any of them. She was just so full of creative energy
that she couldn’t contain it. Picking up one of the little sculptures, I turn
it in my hand. There’s dust on it. I blow at the dust and it flies up into the
air, making me sneeze. “Bless you,”
Esmé
says. I turn
to face her, somehow not surprised to see her. She leans forward and kisses me
lightly on the lips. When she takes my hand, I look down at our entwined
fingers and I realize that I’m not myself. I’m Fran. I’d recognize those long,
slim fingers and those freckled hands anywhere. “You’re not really here,” I
whisper to
Esmé
.

“I’m not really here,” she whispers back.

We move around the apartment together. It looks empty and it
smells moldy and unclean. I don’t know how long it’s been like this. Why hasn’t
someone cleaned everything out? She picks up a picture of me, of Dana, and
holds it out to me. Like the sculpture, it’s covered with dust. Taking the
picture in my hands, I blow on it, again throwing up a big cloud into the
air
.“
She
saw me die,” I say. “She
saw me jump over the side of a cliff.”

“But you’re not going to die,” she replies.

“I’m already dead,” I whisper.

I release her hand and walk away from her. In a moment, I’m on the
cliff. I look back and see Dana sitting on the blanket. She has already told me
not to get so close to the cliff, but I haven’t listened. She’s been
over-protective since she had the vision that night in the car. Besides, the
orbs are here and they want me to stay with them. They spin around me in little
balls of light and heat. Dancing along the side of the cliff, I glance back at
Dana again. Her face looks so tense that I relent a little and come back a few
more feet from the edge. The orbs follow me gleefully. The wind lifts my skirt
and my hair and suddenly I’m laughing and the whole world is filled with a
brilliant gold light. The air smells delicious. Looking back at Dana again, I
see that she has relaxed. “The orbs,” I shout, but she shakes her head. Over the
wind, I think she says that there are no orbs. She looks worried again. She
worries too much. Sometimes, I push up the corners of her mouth with my fingers
to force a smile. Once, when she was frowning, I bit her nose and she laughed
until she cried. My heart swells when she laughs. I love her. I am filled with
such a radiant love for her that sometimes it’s unbearable. But my love isn’t
just for her. My love has to spread and grow and fill all of the dark places in
the world until there is no room left for any war or violence or hunger.

Dancing in the wind, I can feel the minds and emotions of everyone
in the world. If I just reach out with my mind, I can pluck the feelings of
anyone and everyone. I can be the joy of the mother holding her newborn child.
I can be the fear of the man sitting on death row the night before his
execution. I am all of these things. I realize all at once that I can feel them
all and the weight of them is pressing me down. Still spinning, I cry out for
relief, but all of the feelings of everyone in the world are slamming into me
and I can’t escape them. I’m the horror of a police officer at the sight of a
brutal murder and I’m the terror of a woman being raped and I’m the loneliness
of the teenager cringing alone in his room. Whirling, I pull the feelings in
faster and faster. The orbs start dancing around me, telling me to keep
spinning, to keep twirling. Their light heats my face and I know they’re here
to rescue me. Moving closer to the dancing orbs, I reach out for one but it skips
away from me, playfully. The orbs are changing me. They’re turning me into
light. And I suddenly know why I feel so awkward in this world. Now, I realize
why I’ve never fit, why I could never find my place. I’ve always known I was
different. I’ve always known I didn’t belong here. And I always knew that
someday, my people would come to take me home.

One of the orbs, floating just on the other side of the edge of
the cliff, bounces toward me. It circles my entire body, filling me with
it’s
brilliant light. I’m not in
the light anymore. I am the light. The orb moves back out over the water and
starts to change again. It’s becoming bigger and bigger. It’s a doorway – a
doorway of light. When it’s bigger than I am, I turn back to look at Dana once
more. She has half risen, and her face looks terrified.

“It isn’t scary,” I call happily over my shoulder before launching
myself off the cliff and toward the door of light.