Chapter 18: Confusions

Teri

Between sleeping in after a late night return from Laramie (which turned out to be a hoot to visit with someone who is All In for the Tacky Wild West Experience even while knowing it’s a total fraud) and writing together for a couple hours once we were up, Zoe and I weren’t ready to leave the house Wednesday till almost noon. The plan had been a hike in the mountains. Since we didn’t think we’d get very far anyway, we decided to make this a ski-lift afternoon.

The last time my family dragged me to the top of the slopes outside of snow season, I’d been like nine years old and had actually enjoyed myself. I mean, yeah, my siblings had been total pills, but not nearly as bad as they later got. This would have been, I realized, right before they’d really hit puberty. Hmm—imagine that.

As I pulled a sock onto my right foot, the chain around my left ankle touched my wrist. My stomach fluttered, and not in a good way. Its two tags were engraved D and M, marking my steadies’ commitment to me—to us. I gnawed my lip a moment. It’d be awkward to wear, under my hiking socks. But while I had successfully put off meeting them, I wasn’t ready to give up entirely—not until they told me we were through. I carefully rolled my sock over it before tugging my study walking shoes on.

It took a few moments to put it and them out of my mind. Mostly out.

Sam came downstairs as we were rustling up some lunch. Zoe, as usual, greeted her friendly-like. I managed polite.

Well, polite and puzzled. What was up with these two? My puzzlement grew as we made our sandwiches—curry chicken salad in pita pockets.

As we sat down at the kitchen table, Zoe looked at me. “Okay, Teri, spill.”

I didn’t want to get into it with Sam there, but Zoe just raised her eyebrows. Both of them.

Fine, if she was going to insist. “You don’t, yanno, feel awkward around,” and I gestured between the two of them with my pita.

Sam sat down across from me with one of her own. “What, because we hooked up?”

“It was just a hook-up, Teri,” Zoe agreed.

As if there’s anything ‘just’ about something as intimate as sex.

“Nothing more’s going to happen between us,” Sam added, “and we both know it. For one thing, I need to figure out—to carefully figure out my sexuality.”

“For another,” Zoe said with a grin, “Sam’s too bloody tall to kiss all the time.”

(As if Dana and I, with an even greater height difference, didn’t kiss all the time. Or used to.)

Sam stuck out her tongue at Zoe.

Maybe nothing more would happen, but their flirting made me nauseous. To head off any more of that, I reached for the first distraction I could find. “Have you considered—” I broke off, realizing I was voluntarily talking to Sam.

She made a curious sound around her mouthful.

I resumed, “Considered going on a date with a couple interested in exploring a threesome? That way, you can compare who you’re attracted to, side-by-side.”

Sam pondered that for a moment, then made a non-committal sound. “That’s a thought.”

Zoe beamed at me, as if I’d done something particularly good. What the fuck?

I stood up with my crumb-covered plate. “Come on,” I told her, “time to boogie.”

“Hiking today?” Sam asked. She was looking at our feet—Zoe had borrowed a pair of Mother’s trail shoes (they wore exactly the same size).

“Up the mountain,” Zoe confirmed. “It sounds wonderful up there.”

“Should be nice,” Sam agreed. Then to me, “Where’s Dana? I haven’t seen her around.”

Why the fuck would she care? Her new-found interest in girlfriends? “Hanging with Mike, I expect.”

She gave me a dubious look—no idea why. Then with a nod, she headed back to the kitchen. The fuck?

Zoe raised a skeptical eyebrow at me, which I ignored. “Come on,” I told her.

Father and Ricky were doing something with lumber, sawhorses, and a circular saw on the front lawn—some project by way of trying to make our house habitable for Mother. Father nodded to us, then watched my brother buzz off the end of a board. I wondered whether he should be standing like that, even on crutches.

We skedaddled to Baby before I was put to work myself. Father had been remarkably flexible about my chores during Zoe’s visit, but better safe than drafted.

We headed first to Bart’s Sports for supplies, where I could use Mother’s employee discount. It took ridonkulous long to get there, what with twice getting stopped by construction truck traffic at new housing developments. The gal behind the register knew my name, though I didn’t recognize her. I did know the sales associate who rolled up to greet us.

“Hello, ladies,” Mike said with a smile.

I stopped dead. What the fuck? “What are you doing here?” Which has to be the dumbest question to ask someone at their workplace. The name badge pinned to his shirt was marked Trainee—another guy, a Bill, watched us from a few meters away, presumably training him. I covered with, “You don’t start till next week.”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I started early.”

Zoe looked at me sharply. “You didn’t know?”

Mike’s small smile had just a touch of meanness—and it sliced through my stomach like a cold knife. Quietly, but not softly, he said, “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you stop talking with your friends.” Then more conversationally, “You look like you’re going hiking.”

How did he—? He gestured at our feet. Same how as Sam. Who also, I realized, must have known he was working here—thus her being skeptical about Dana being with him. Well, fuck.

“We are indeed,” Zoe said, “and I have been firmly informed that I need a wide-brimmed hat and sunscreen.”

“We can help you with that—sunscreen’s right here, hats are over there. Walking sticks?” All as if we were perfectly normal customers.

I shook my head, as much to clear it as to say no.

“Foothills trailhead or up the ski lift?”

“Up,” Zoe said. “All the better to see the world.”

“Then you’ll want a trail map.” Mike spun around to the checkout counter and plucked a pamphlet off a display. “Here’s a recreational map of the National Forest—it has descriptions of a couple easy trails at the top.”

“Perfect,” Zoe said.

Okay, bad enough I hadn’t known, but this acting like just normal friends was—it just made me feel worse and worse. I didn’t know whether to be mad at him or myself. Which to be madder at. I stuffed that feeling inside me, along with my hurt and shame, and tried on a couple floppy sun hats.

Fifteen minutes later, Mike saw us out the store with a chipper, “Have a good time!”

Talk about twisting the knife.