Page 2 of February

“Thanks,” Jill replied as she sat up slowly.

The blanket fell to her waist, and Bridgette noticed that Jill was wearing one of her old T-shirts.

“Can I give this back to you later?” Jill asked, tugging on it.

“Sure. Did you steal it from my drawer?”

“Yes. And those other things you have in there don’t usually go under your shirts. Everyone knows that, Bridge. Sock or underwear drawer or bedside table, not in the top drawer, where anyone could reach for a shirt and be surprised.”

Bridgette laughed and said, “I’ll make a note of that.”

“And the blue one you have in there… You need to tell me where you got that,” Jill noted and went to stand up and stretch.

Bridgette noticed then that Jill was only wearing that old T-shirt and white boy shorts. She had always liked the woman enough, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t at all attracted to her. Still, seeing a beautiful woman in only her underwear and a borrowed T-shirt was enough to make any lesbian realize how horny and lonely she was, and Bridgette was no exception.

She watched Jill put on her jeans from the previous night and then stare down at her heels, so she asked, “Do you want to borrow a pair of flip-flops?”

“God, yes,” Jill replied.

???

“Honey, you look like hell,” her mom said when Bridgette walked into the small, local office for the family greeting card company.

“Gee. Thanks, Mom.”

“What happened?”

“I drank a little too much hanging out with Jill last night,” she replied.

“You’re really getting too old to be partying in the Quarter,” her mom noted.

“I am not too old. I’m twenty-seven,” she reminded. “That’s not even thirty.”

“It’s a workday, Bridge,” her mom said.

“And I’m here with my gallon of coffee and my headache.”

“We need you at one hundred percent, honey,” her mom replied.

“I’m at, like, eighty-two. If you can give me an hour, I’ll get up to ninety. That’s about all I can promise today.”

“Can you even drive to restock?”

Bridgette placed her bag and coffee cup onto her desk, which was in the middle of the large room where four other people worked. Her mother wasn’t always here, but when either one or both of her parents were in town, they used the single private office in the space or the conference room, leaving Bridgette in the bullpen until they left and she could take the office.

“Yes, Mom. I’m not drunk. I’m just hungover.”

“I’ve got the list for you,” her mom said and dropped a piece of paper onto Bridgette’s desk. “And the stock is organized and ready to go.”

“Thanks,” Bridgette replied.

She sat down and took a long drink of her coffee before she risked looking up at her mother.

“I’m not judging, honey, but… Are you okay?”

“Mom, Jill had a promising date situation that ended up not being promising, so she asked me to go out and commiserate with her. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t really dated anyone since–”

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