A Story of Now

They’re getting closer to Mia’s flat, and Claire grips the steering wheel a little harder and urges herself to speak into the deadening quiet that reigns between them since they got into the car. They’re both fully aware, she’s sure, that the unspoken words between them are still obstinately unspoken.

And Claire, for one, cannot—will not—let that go. She cannot finish this night, this charade of normality, and return to another prolonged silence from Mia. And she cannot go back to her own resulting insanity. And Claire knows it’s up to her to say something because she has no way to know just how willing Mia is to let another opportunity to address what has changed between them slip by.

She reaches over and slowly turns down the music. “Mia?”

“Mm?” Mia stares out the window as the night slides by outside the car, encased in her own thoughts, whatever they are.

“You know that thing, not that long ago, when we were naked and…stuff?” Claire tries to say it lightly, to throw it out like a joke. But the minute it’s out there and makes contact, she feels the slight stilling of the air and how Mia’s stare out the window shifts from relaxed to deliberate.

“Yeah?” Mia finally says in a small voice.

“What happened with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Quietly determined, Claire turns onto Mia’s street and stops the car across the road from her flat. She keeps her hands firmly on the steering wheel, looks straight out ahead of her, and takes in a deep breath. “I mean, I know you went to see your grandmother and maybe it’s just because of her being sick and everything, but that was before, and now you’ve been home for days, and I haven’t heard from you. And I don’t really know what’s going on with you, I guess…” She trails off, not sure how to say what she really wants to say. “Like, if you’re trying to avoid me, I’m sorry?” She suggests, helpless. “Maybe I’m just being too in your face? I don’t know.”

She feels completely stupid now but decides to turn off the ignition anyway. It’s an unspoken message that she doesn’t plan to leave until she’s less in the dark about all this, even if it’s just to hear Mia say she doesn’t want to do this anymore, that sleeping together was a mistake. She deserves to be told that, at least. She turns to face Mia, biting her lip.

Mia echoes the move and turns slightly. She keeps her face pointed downward, avoiding Claire’s eyes. Her fingers worry at a small worn spot on her jeans. She has that apprehensive, uncertain look again.

Claire sighs. Why is it so difficult to erase that look?

Mia finally shakes her head. “You’re not in my face. I mean, I want you to be. I was just giving you space. I didn’t know…if that was…” She pauses again, lifts her hands helplessly, and then drops them back down to her jeans. “You know, just a holiday thing, something that stays up at the lake, or—”

Claire smiles in spite of herself. “We went to the lake, Mia. Not Vegas. Or Tijuana.”

Mia gives her a small smile. “You know what I mean.” She draws in a deep breath. “And it was so weird, after your parents showed up. And we never really talked about it. Anyway, I didn’t want to assume you were into this being more than just—”

An overwhelming burst of exasperation makes Claire sigh loudly. She clenches her fists on her lap.

Mia looks slightly unnerved.

But Claire’s too frustrated and too tired of this weirdness. “Mia, for crap’s sake. It’s just…” She turns and stares out the window. “Yeah, I know it was weird when my parents came up, and I’m really sorry for that, but it’s not like I haven’t tried to talk to you since.”

Mia continues to stare at her lap. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t know how else I’m supposed to show you that I like you. I don’t.” Claire shakes her head, her gaze fixed on a lone man as he walks his dog down the dark street. “I really don’t. I got naked for you. I practically dragged you into my bed the next night even though you were being weird. And after we left, I called you. I messaged you, repeatedly—until my dignity wouldn’t let me any more. I stalked you at your work and made you come to dinner with me tonight.” She holds up her hands and raises her shoulders. “And I did it even though I have, like, zero idea what you’re thinking.” She pulls in another breath and grips the steering wheel. She feels much closer to tears than she wants to be. “And you know, I don’t do this. I don’t chase. And I don’t really even know how to have these kinds of conversations. I’ve never had to, but I’m doing it because you’re confusing the hell out of me.” She turns slowly back to Mia. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to—”

Mia leans forward and claps her hand against Claire’s mouth, halting the rush of words. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry.” She looks Claire in the eye. “And I’m really sorry I disappeared for a minute there.”

Claire grabs Mia’s wrist, pulls her hand away, and glares at her. “It wasn’t a minute, Mia. It was nearly a week.”

And Mia puts her hand right back over Claire’s mouth and leans in closer, eyes insistent. “I know, and I am really sorry. I was just…” She bites her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I did that. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if this was just…if this was something that was, I don’t know, real.”

Claire goes to say something, but Mia’s hand is still over her mouth. She holds up her hands again and raises her eyebrows at her.

Mia smiles and drops her hand. “Sorry.”

“Thank you. May I speak, Mia?” she asks, imperious.

Mia smiles repentantly. “Yes, you may.”

And now Mia’s eyes are shining again, and Claire isn’t even sure what it is she was going to say. She isn’t sure she cares either. “Actually, fuck it, I don’t want to speak.” Suddenly sick of the inexact, frustratingly impossible art of finding the right words to say about all this, she gently clasps Mia’s neck between both her hands and kisses her. Because if that doesn’t tell Mia this is real for her, she doesn’t know what will.

Mia instantly reciprocates. She leans into her, holding them in the kiss. Relief rushes through Claire as she wonders who the hell this version of herself is lately, this girl who keeps finding it in herself to do these incredibly bold things. She shocks herself with her willingness to put herself on the line for this girl, this beautiful but frustrating girl who sits across from her.

But Claire also knows there’s only so many more times she’s going to be brave enough to put herself out there. But now, maybe, she might not have to.

Mia suddenly breaks from the kiss but only to pull back and stare at Claire for a moment. She gives her an affectionate little smile, places a hand on either side of her face, leans in, and gently meets Claire’s lips with her own again.

Claire closes her eyes and lets her other senses do the work. When she kisses Mia, it’s as if a rush of warmth—a thrill—starts in her stomach and radiates outward through her whole body. It’s not just lust. It’s more than that. But she has no idea what to call it either.

Finally, they break the kiss. And then they sit there for a long, silent time, foreheads pressed together, hand on necks, in hair, on faces, as they re-acquaint themselves with this proximity.

A small burst of tentative happiness wells up in Claire at finding this place with Mia again—with finding that Mia wants to be in this place with her. She seriously started to doubt if Mia wanted this at all. She sits back a little and watches as Mia rests her head against the headrest. She runs her fingers in a lingering trail along Claire’s neck and smiles shyly at her.

“You are such a dumb ass,” Claire tells her witheringly as she reaches out and affectionately pulls at a strand of Mia’s dark hair.

Mia laughs quietly and looks contrite again. She takes a hold of Claire’s hand and kisses it. “I know.” She stares at her, her eyes wide. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I really missed you.” Mia tenderly presses Claire’s hand between her palms.

Claire takes back the hand and crosses her arms, still stinging a little. “Well, that’s your own stupid fault. I was right here.” She stares out at the quiet street as tears loom again.

“I know,” Mia whispers. She wraps her fingers around Claire’s forearm and pulls her arm back. She takes Claire’s hand again and holds it firmly in her own lap. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I really, really didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just being an idiot. A freaked-out idiot.”

Claire doesn’t say anything, but she turns to face her.

Mia gives her a small, hopeful smile. “Why is it you’re even more beautiful when you’re mad?” she teases. “That’s not fair.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes. Claire’s done.

She gives Mia an eye-narrowed glare that slowly dissolves into a smile like she knew it would. Because she’s done making Mia feel bad for now. Because Mia’s cradling her hand between both of hers once more. Because she’s staring at Claire with that diffuse, cinnamon warmth in her eyes. Because she’s calling her beautiful again. That’s enough for now.

She knows all she needs to know, for now. But she wants more too. “Are your parents home?” she asks, hopeful.

Mia ducks her head and looks through the window into the darkness. “Yeah.” She turns back to Claire and frowns.

Claire lifts her free hand and smooths her finger over the dip where Mia’s collarbones meet. “That’s annoying.”

“It is.”

“Have you told them anything yet?”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t the right time with Rosa sick.”

Claire nods. Of course not.

“You know what I wish right now?” Mia asks her as she leans in.

“What?”

“That one of us had our own place.”

“Me too.” Claire sighs and rests her forehead against Mia’s. “God, me too.”

And it’s not just about sex even though that concept is taking up a lot of real estate in her mind too. She’d also just like somewhere quiet, somewhere private to just be with Mia alone, somewhere that’s not a car or a pantry or a room surrounded by people threatening to invade at any moment. Somewhere they could just take a minute with each other. Somewhere they could actually have some precious alone time to figure out the nature of this thing between them and what it means.

The stroke of Mia’s finger across Claire’s cheek draws her away from her thoughts “I had better go,” she whispers. “I start at six tomorrow morning.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, ouch.”

Claire sits up and draws in a deep breath. She has one more thing to say before she lets this girl get away from her again and she returns to whatever it is that happens to her ideas about the two of them when Claire isn’t right in front of her. Something that might make the next time they see each other less confusing, less about having to tentatively find their way back to each other. Something that might mean Claire doesn’t have to work quite so hard to convince Mia of what she wants this to be.

She reaches out and grabs Mia by the scruff of her T-shirt. “Okay, but before you go.”

“What?” Mia looks nervous.

“Stop looking like that!” Claire growls and shakes her and laughs. “I just need you to know that when I see you again, which will hopefully be very, very soon, I’m going to want to kiss you again. I’m going to want to kiss you still. So know that, okay?”

Mia’s smile is radiant. She nods slowly.

Claire lets her go and sits back against the door of the car. “And you know, I don’t know…” Claire says in a small voice. “Maybe you could call me?” She shrugs, trying to look more relaxed than she feels. “You know, whenever, if you want to.”

Mia stares at her for a long moment. Then she suddenly sits up and nods. She unbuckles her seatbelt and she leans forward. “I have to go.”

“Um, okay.”

“See you.” Mia drops another light kiss on Claire, then abruptly turns, and climbs out of the car.

Claire takes a breath and re-buckles her belt. What was that? Then, unable to stop herself, she turns and watches Mia bound up the steps to her apartment, open the front door, and disappear inside. She sighs. Why does she feel as if she never quite knows what’s going on with Mia?

She drives home without even turning on the radio as she mulls over the night. A least now she knows Mia is still into her. That’s a start. But Mia’s shyness? Her reticence with this? Claire still doesn’t completely get it. It feels as though whenever they part she seems to find some kind of misgiving, an uncertainty she hasn’t wanted to—or been able to—explain to Claire. Hopefully she will. And soon.

Claire remembers Mia on the night of her birthday, how even just after that day, she’d somehow retreated a little. As if she was unsure of what they should be together despite everything that happened the night before, everything Mia instigated. And Claire gets the feeling it’s not because she wants to, but for some reason Mia seems to think she should.

Claire pulls up outside her place and parks out on the street. Just as she pulls the keys out of the ignition her phone buzzes on the dash. She picks it up, wondering who is calling this late. It’s Mia. Claire frowns. Why is she calling now? “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. You told me I should call you.”

There’s a smile in her voice. Claire smiles right back, relieved. “I didn’t mean straight away, stupid.”

“No, actually, you told me to call you whenever I wanted to,” Mia corrects her. “And I got inside and I wanted to talk to you.”

“And why do you need to talk to me now, Mia?” Claire asks. She doesn’t really care though. She just wants to keep her talking, glad to hear that gentle smart-ass tone of Mia’s has returned and that it seems to be alive and well. It’s Mia. She leans her head against the seat, smiling, and wishes Mia were still in this car with her.

“You didn’t say I had to have anything to say either,” Mia reminds her. “Just when I wanted to call you. I missed you. You’re very missable.”

“Oh okay. Sorry.”

“Yeah, so I’ve got nothing unless the fact that I’m sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea is of the slightest bit of interest to you?”

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Neither, actually. It’s mint. Fascinating stuff, hey?”

“Truly.”

They sit there in a protracted but comfortable silence.

“So, when can I see you?”

There’s a slight turbulence in Claire’s stomach, a surge of pleasure at Mia’s sudden forwardness. But that doesn’t stop her wanting to torment her, either. “Well, might I remind you that you could have seen me any time already?”

“I know,” Mia says in a small voice. “I wa—”

Claire interrupts her, over the need to torment. She just wants to see her. “When are you working?”

“Every day but Friday.” Mia sounds relieved. “You?”

“Every night until Sunday.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you on Friday? During the day?”

“Okay.”

“But you know what?”

“What?” Claire asks.

“I’m probably going to call you before then. At least once, but maybe even twice.”

“Good. You owe me. Night,” Claire sasses. But she hangs up smiling.