Page 50 of One More Weekend

Bending down, I shook his hand. “My name is Jenna. Thank you for standing up for us. We weren’t even here yet and you took care of us.”

The man clutched his chest, touched as he nodded. “But we knew you would be. Just do the same for the next generation and we’ll be alright.”

I tried to hold back the tears welling in my eyes as Sy introduced herself. “I’m Sylvia, thank you.”

Maybe Sy was right, coming here was part of Pride, even if it had been taken over by corporations. Meeting a hero like this was worth every second. But watching him enjoy the parade was arguably more valuable than anything else.

As the floats drifted by, our new friend was visited by dozens of parade walkers. Clearly, he was more recognizable than we knew. And I made it my mission to find out just who he was later on.

I struggled to keep my tears in for the majority of the parade, Sy wrapping a reassuring arm around my shoulders as the parade drew to a close.

As we took a train back downtown, I reached down to my side and grabbed Sy’s hand. I’d spent too many years pretending like I didn’t want to hold her hand. And that gentlemen did not fight for us to be timid.

No, he fought to make sure that we could do just this.

So I rested my head on Sy’s shoulder, clutching her fingers in mine as we rocketed down the tracks toward home.

Once we got home, Sy laid back on the couch, her shirt still open from airing it out during the parade. We would have a wild tan from these clothes for weeks, a reminder of Pride long after the weekend passed.

We had a few hours before we were supposed to go out to Brooklyn for Pride night.

But as I looked at Sy on the couch, I wasn’t sure we’d be going anywhere.

Instead, I straddled her lap and looked down at her. “Thank you for today, I needed it.”

Groaning at the warmth over her center, Sy nodded. “You’re welcome. Thanks for holding my hand.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from taking over my cheeks. “It’s a nice hand to hold.”

Leaning down, I kissed her firmly. I kissed her like someone had fought for it. And I started to wonder if I should start fighting too.

33

SY

I wipedsweat from my forehead as we walked down the long alley of shops under the Manhattan Bridge. The heat of the summer had really set in by the first weekend of July.

Still holding my hand, Jenna peeled off toward a furniture stall. We’d hardly been at the Brooklyn Flea Market for more than five minutes and she’d already spotted something she wanted to investigate,

I was running out of time for dates but Jenna was an avid thrifter and I knew the market in DUMBO would be a total hit with her.

“Oh, this nightstand is so pretty.” Jenna knelt down to get a better look at the piece. It was a mid-century modern design with walnut wood.

Putting my hands on my hips, I laughed. “Jen, do you really need a new nightstand?”

Jenna shot me a glare. “How dare you? Don’t say that in front of her.” Kissing her fingers, Jenna patted the top of it. “I’ll be back for you.”

Rejoining me, Jenna wrapped her arm in mine as we walked. Every few steps, she’d point to something interesting off to theside of the pathway. Occasionally, we’d stop in our tracks and take a closer look.

But it was odd to be shopping for our apartment – the one whose lease renewal was still sitting on our coffee table. Neither of us had the willpower to toss it or even email our management company about it.

Deep down, I'd hoped that the longer it sat there, the more likely it was that Jenna would just sign it.

Though, I could feel my hope slipping every day as she made plans to move back home. And she still hadn’t heard a single word from any of the jobs she’d applied to. So the reality was, in four weeks, we’d both have to move.

Even if it didn’t feel like the case as we strolled through the Flea Market like we had all the time in the world.

“Ugh, maybe you’re right about the nightstand. Do I really want to haul it across the country?” Jenna shook her head and me out of my haze.

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