Page 26 of Any Girl But You
Something in her softens, and a pink sweeps her cheeks. I think she needed to hear this. My arms are twitchy. I have this urge to lean over and give her a hug, but thankfully, a knock rapping against my door stops me from any uninvited touching.
“Oh, pizza, yes! I’m so hungry.” My foot might be achy, but I practically sprint to the door. When I return with the pizza box and a pile of napkins, I dig in with total abandon and crunch into the chewy dough. I spy the anchovies and giggle at the anticipation on Quinn’s face. “Am I really doing this?”
Her red curls bounce as she vigorously nods. “Yes, you are.”
Okay, here it goes. I give it a quick sniff test. Not…terrible. Saliva grows in the back of my throat. Fish on pizza. First meal with Quinn and she’s already getting me to try things I didn’t think I would ever do. Here we go. One…two…three. I take a hefty bite of the chewy salty fish and nearly gag. “Nope. Oh my gosh, heck no. Gross! How do you like that?”
Quinn laughs and sprinkles anchovies on her slice. “No way, really? I’ll gladly double up. If you see my veins start to pop or anything from the salt intake, will you let the paramedics know?” She swallows a bite and glances up at me with a playful grin. “Does this mean I have to Cusack you now?”
“Yes, you do. A bet’s a bet.” I swipe the napkin across my mouth. “But you’ll have to come up with the song yourself. Which is a ton of pressure because how do you beat ‘In Your Eyes’?”
Quinn chuckles and shrugs. As we polish off the pizza, we talk about what it is like owning a business, especially the first year, and all the things that no one ever talks about like workers’ comp insurance, licenses, and permits. By the time we’re done eating, we’ve settled into the couch. Comfortable. So comfortable that I’m almost uncomfortable. Quinn has this way about her, something unique and freeing. Almost like I could say anything, and she wouldn’t even bat one of her beautiful eyes. Very quickly, the shock of having anyone up to my place besides Josie fades, and morphs into feeling like Quinn has been here a hundred times before.
We crack open more sodas, I tease her about polishing off the entire side of anchovies (still so gross), and we fall into talking about our different experiences growing up here. Sure, it’s a small town, and it feels like everyone knows everyone, but I didn’t know Quinn as a kid, and I’m consumed by figuring out all the details.
“Did you ever hear about what happened at the grocery store I worked at?” I ask.
“No, not really,” Quinn says, leaning her elbow against the back of the couch. “Something about stealing recipes, maybe?”
“Grr. That’s so annoying. I didn’tstealany recipes. At my old place we had chocolate, vanilla, and marble cakes. That was it. At my bakery now we have lavender macaroons and salted caramel croissants, and pistachio cupcakes with a Kahlúa drizzle.” I really don’t want to be a snob, but my stuff is simply better and more creative than the grocery store’s. “The owners were sort of skeezy, you know? Not nearly as bad as what happened to you in New York, but they didn’t treat us fairly, refused to honor time-and-a-half wages for overtime, fostered an overall unkind atmosphere. So, what did they do to get back at me after I left to start my bakery? They started aprayer chainfor me.”
Quinn nearly spits out her drink. “What? What are you talking about?”
“The owner’s wife is in a prayer circle at the church with a bunch of ladies. So she had them pray for me to absolve me from lying and stealing. And it became a whole thing. And of course, this got back to my mom, who then told me.” I roll my eyes. Sure, the story is amusing now, but at the time I wanted to move away to a foreign town where no one knew me. “But yes, quick heads-up. The easiest way to gossip about someone is to pray for them.”
Quinn has her hand over her mouth covering her extra-wide smile, but I wish she’d drop it. Her smile is so easy, so full, one that lights up a room. And it stirs something in me, something warm and gooey, but the feeling quickly dissipates. I think I’m tired and emotional. It’s been a heck of a day.
I keep going back to our conversation at the Christmas vendor event, where Quinn said she doesn’t date. How can someone like Quinn, who’s so magnetic, so easy to talk to, so funny and energetic, not date? Did someone break her heart? Has she just not met the right one?
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, reaching for a napkin to take off the grease from my fingers.
Quinn nods. “Of course.”
I continue staring at my napkin, now wiping phantom grease. “When we were at the vendor fair, and you said you were a single-serving kind of person, did you mean that? I mean, is that just your preference, or do you really not date. Like ever.”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifts into a quiet grin. “I’ve never had a relationship in my life. It’s just, I don’t know, not something for me. I don’t long for it, or yearn for it, or feel sad that I don’t have it.”
I’m quiet, watching her facial expressions, seeing if there’s something underneath there that she’s hiding. But so far,nothing. She’s not shifty, not looking down, not looking like she’s avoiding.
“You know how there are some women who want to be moms, and some that don’t? And the ones that don’t try to explain to the ones that do that they really, really don’t want to be a mother. But the other women just can’t understand it because it’s so imbedded into their biology to be a mom. That’s me when I explain this to people.” She taps her rings against the side of the soda can, with a gentletink. “Sex to me is a means to an end. A release. A way to get off so I can just get back to my life.”
Oh. Wow. And, ouch. She probably doesn’t mean for it to sound callous, but it kind of does. Although, I need to keep remembering that I’m framing my reaction to my wants and needs, not hers.
“I’ve never once cared about any of the women I’ve been with. I know that’s really harsh to say, but it’s true. And the women I’m with, they’re the same. We know nothing exists between us. We’re both in it for the same thing, so it’s uncomplicated and easy. Unlike relationships.”
I don’t know why all of this hurts me. She’s opening up, she’s being kind, and yet, I can feel this murky pang blooming inside of me and I wish it would go away. “Wow. Thank you for sharing that with me.” What else am I supposed to say? Congratulations for being free and sexually open and everything I’m not? Congratulations on your robust sex life when I haven’t slept with anyone for years?
Quinn sets the can down on a coaster and leans back into the couch. “So, same question back to you. Are you really an emperor penguin, or have you ever just let loose and spent a weekend doing naughty things with someone you weren’t dating.”
“I really am a penguin, I guess.” I ball up the napkin and toss it on the table. “I’ve slept with two women in my life, and I proposed to one of them.”
Quinn’s mouth drops open. “No. Freaking. Way.”
Her reaction makes me chuckle. It’s like I said I have a closet full of lifelike dolls that I tuck in at night. “What can I say? I’m a one-woman woman. You can tattooboringright on my forehead.”
“No, don’t do that,” Quinn says. “You’re not boring and I’m not a ho and that’s that.”
There’s a finality in her tone, one that lifts me, one I think I needed to hear.
