Author: Andi Marquette
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/andi-marquette/page,16,481285-the_bureau_of_holiday_affairs.html
Robin relaxed, because cooking with Jill signaled the kind of intimacy she craved but didn’t want to engage in. Not now. “I’m down with that.”
“I thought you might be. Come on. I’ll show you my temporary abode.”
Robin followed her toward the back, disappointed again because Jill was wearing the flannel shirt untucked, and it covered her ass. She wrenched her gaze away, thoughts of Christmas Future knocking those ideas right out of her head.
“So here’s where all my art stuff is,” Jill said as they entered the back storage area. To the left was a metal industrial-looking staircase. “I’ll be putting some pieces up this evening with some help. They’ll be in around four or so.”
Robin glanced around at the paintings, encased in layers of bubble wrap and leaning against the opposite wall. “How many pieces are you displaying?”
“Fifteen large, fifteen mid-size, and a few smaller ones that I haven’t decided on yet. The gallery staff will have a say in that, too.” Jill started up the stairs, and Robin followed, careful to keep her gaze off Jill’s ass, which was slightly visible from this angle. She gripped the railing, more to keep herself concentrating on something else, and waited a couple steps below the landing as Jill pushed open the door to the apartment.
“It’s pretty nice,” Jill said as she entered. “There’re hooks by the door where you can hang your coat and stuff.”
Robin stepped inside, unbuttoned her pea coat, and hung it dutifully on the hooks as Jill suggested. She put her scarf and hat on an adjoining hook then turned and surveyed the apartment. “Not bad,” she said.
“This used to be a warehouse, and the woman who bought the gallery wanted to retain some of those elements up here.”
And she’d done pretty well at it, Robin thought. Wooden floors, lots of exposed brick, tall windows to her right that probably looked down onto the street, and a tin ceiling reminiscent of 1920s structures. If it wasn’t original, it was faithful to the era. The furnishings, however, were modern Scandinavian style. A black leather couch with smooth steel legs, matching chair, and coffee table occupied one of the corners near the front windows, resting on a thick maroon rug. To the left was a kitchenette. A rectangular table of some dark reddish wood sat a few feet away, surrounded by four chairs. In the back corner opposite the living room looked to be a bedroom of sorts, though she couldn’t be sure because plain Asian-style screens provided privacy.
“The bathroom is there,” Jill said, pointing at a door near the screens. Her phone rang, a Lady Gaga tune. “And that would be the food. Be right back.” She flashed Robin a smile and bounced out of the room. Robin heard her progress down the stairs, and she smiled. Jill lived in a place like this during college, and Robin had learned to recognize her footsteps on the stairs.
Strange, how she felt as if she was straddling past and present, but how familiar it felt, being here. She thought about the breakup, but it didn’t conjure the pain it used to. Instead, it left a little echo of sadness, a memory whose edges no longer cut. Even the last night with Jill no longer tightened her chest or sat like a weight in her stomach. There was a comfort to it now, because it was a connection they’d once shared, and Robin no longer wanted to run from it or bury it.
Jill’s steps sounded on the stairs again, and then she reappeared, carrying two full plastic bags.
Robin took one and set it on the counter next to the stove. Jill put her bag there, as well.
“Smells great.” Robin removed the Styrofoam containers while Jill took plates out of the cabinets and set them on the counter.
“Load up.” Jill opened the drawer next to Robin’s left hip, exposing various silverware. “Here.” She handed Robin a spoon, and her fingers brushed Robin’s. A fleeting, light touch that Robin felt all the way up her arm. She hurriedly shoved the spoon into the rice and dug a scoop out.
“I got a curry for that.” Jill opened one of the other containers and spooned the contents over the rice. “There’s a veggie noodle dish in that one. Grab a couple more spoons.” She motioned at a container closer to Robin, and Robin dutifully took another spoon out of the drawer and placed servings on both plates.
“What’s this?” Robin opened the third container.
“Some kind of spicy chicken. I hope you still eat stuff like that. If old age hasn’t stopped you,” Jill teased.
“Hell, no. Not yet.” Robin put a scoop next to the curry along with more rice. She did the same to Jill’s plate. “Okay, that’s enough to feed an invading army. Hope you still like leftovers.”
“Love them. And I even got Madison into the habit.”
“Good. It’ll serve her well in college.” Robin carried the two plates to the table, and Jill followed with silverware and a roll of paper towels.
“I’ve got water, Diet Sprite, and a pretty nice Pinot Grigio. If you feel like wine.”
“I think I do, actually. Water and wine.”
“How very biblical of you.” Jill grinned and took two small waters and a bottle of wine out of the fridge. After she set them on the table, she grabbed the wine glasses and corkscrew. Robin opened the bottle and poured as Jill sat next to her, back to the kitchen.
“To art.” She raised her glass in a toast. “And to you and your journey. May it become the one you want.”
Robin clinked her glass against Jill’s. “Thanks. And to you and yours.” She sipped. Jill was right. It was a nice wine, with smooth fruity notes that finished with a dry citrus flavor.
“This place reminds me of that one apartment I had in Eugene. Remember that?” Jill dug into her curry.
“Yeah. I was actually thinking that when you went to get the food.” The spicy chicken exploded on her tongue like a firecracker, and she reached for her water bottle.
“It occurs to me that this might be really strange.”
Robin looked over at her. “What? Seems to me that spicy Thai food is the most normal thing there is.”
Jill laughed and reached for her wine glass. “Okay, I get it. Let’s stay in the moment.”
Robin took another bite of the spicy chicken. This time, she didn’t take a water chaser. “I do think that the current moment is pretty good. But I also understand where you’re coming from. Yeah, this should be really strange, but it’s actually not. I think I’m getting past some old stuff, and I’m glad to be here.”
“I am, too. What do you think you’re getting past?”
“Fear and anger, I think. There’s a time and place for them. I have to figure out what works now, because it doesn’t seem that what I did in the past is good for the present.” Or the future, she silently finished. “Kind of deep, there.” She took a bite of curry. “And this is really good. Can I help pay for it?”
“Next time’s on you.”
“All right.”
Jill tried the chicken and immediately reached for her water. “Damn,” she said after she’d had a couple of swallows.
“Right? Spicy Thai. Who knew?” Robin drank some wine and smiled. Jill had already set the stage for another meal. She liked the idea of rebuilding some kind of connection, even if they didn’t see each other that much. Jill was in Seattle, after all, on the opposite coast.
“I think I agree with you,” Jill said after she’d put her water down.
“About the Thai?” Robin teased.
Jill looked at the ceiling, a give-me-strength expression on her face, but she was smiling.
“Okay. Seriously, now.” Robin set her fork down.
“Thank you. As I was saying, it should be strange, but it’s not. I’ve wondered over the years what it would be like to talk to you in the wake of what happened, and then here I am…It’s fine, and I still like you as a person.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve done some pretty crappy things, and I’ve been thinking a lot about them because they’re not pretty. They’re actually kind of ugl
y.”
“So try not to intentionally do ugly things from here on out.” Jill poured more wine into both glasses.
“I feel better when I don’t. I’m trying to figure out where I went off the rails. I don’t like thinking there might be a lot of my dad in me.” Robin finished the curry on her plate and moved on to the vegetables.
“He’s a product of circumstances, and he didn’t make the choice to change.” Jill picked up her wine glass. “What’s the deal with this off-the-rails thing?”
Robin shrugged. “I’m not sure when specifically it happened. I know when my mom died I was a train wreck, and then you leaving after that added to my armor and my attempts to protect myself—and I’m not saying that to cast blame,” she said, in case Jill wanted to address that. “You had your reasons,” Robin continued. “And who knows? Maybe had you stayed, I would’ve driven you away anyway because I couldn’t deal with losing my mom. But sometime after that was when I went in this other direction, and for whatever reasons, it suited me in some ways but not in others. Hence the not-so-pretty stuff. I feel like I have a lot of amends to make, but I don’t even know where to start.”
Jill didn’t respond for a while, and Robin continued to eat. This setting with Jill—far more intimate than a restaurant, though it wasn’t even her house—made her comfortable talking to her like they used to.
Often, after one of their sounding board sessions when they first got together, they’d go looking for found objects for art projects and end up making out in whatever private places they could find. Jill had been reserved then, and not effusive in showing physical affection, but she must have felt safe with Robin, because she was always touching her after they’d started dating. A hand on her arm or the back of her neck. Lots of touches, as if she was assuring herself that Robin was real or maybe she’d just repressed that and Robin made her feel comfortable enough to do it. And hugs, Robin thought. Jill really liked hugs after they’d been together a couple of months. Robin must’ve taken those things for granted, because she missed them now.
“We all do things we’re not proud of,” Jill finally said. “And all we can do is forgive ourselves so we can do better.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Do I? It’s not.”
Robin heard what might have been old wounds in her voice, and she knew what that was like, carrying those around. But Jill had managed to come to terms with hers. Had forgiving herself allowed her to do that? “Yeah. And that’s where I’m kind of hung up.”
Jill set her wine down and squeezed Robin’s arm, and though it was a gesture meant to commiserate and comfort, it made Robin’s skin tingle even through her shirt. “I think you’ll be okay,” Jill said. “You just have to remember that you can’t do everything by yourself. And that requires that you take some of that armor off.” She pulled her hand away, and Robin picked up her fork right away so that she wouldn’t do anything stupid like try to grab Jill’s hand.
“Glad you think so.”
“So catch me up on life. Leave out the stuff you want.” Jill smiled, and Robin got tangled up in that and in Jill’s eyes, and she quickly took the last bite of spicy chicken, which helped burn any wayward ideas out of her head.
“This I can do,” Robin said after she took a gulp of water. “But only if you do the same.”
“Good trade.”
And Robin relaxed a little more and filled in some of the intervening years. She did share a couple of things she’d done that she wasn’t proud of, but not necessarily to drive Jill away. Rather, she wanted to be honest about the kind of person she’d let herself become. Somehow, it made her feel as if she was trying to do things differently, because she was owning parts of her past.
“And that about sums it up,” Robin said after she’d talked for a few minutes. “I can’t say I’m totally thrilled with how I’ve handled some things, looking back on them. So I’m trying to figure out how not to be that way. At least not intentionally.” She’d opted not to talk about the latest developments at work since those were still in motion and she didn’t want to throw everything out on the table.
Jill poured their glasses full again. “I’ve told you, everybody screws up. It’s what you do in the aftermath that can come to define you.”
“I might be a little slow on the uptake.”
“But you’re working on it. And that’s more than a lot of people can say.” Jill took a sip of wine. “My turn. I’ll just put this out there, though I know you’re not really into dissecting our past. Regardless, I really screwed up when I left you.”
Hearing it should have made her feel vindicated, but instead, Robin only felt sad. “I don’t hold that against you anymore. I did, but that’s changed.”
“Clearly. Because you’re sitting here eating Thai food with me.”
Robin smiled. “Well, it’s really good.”
“Smart-ass. Moving along. I screwed up again when I let my family dictate not only that, but my initial career choice. Marrying a man was not the best decision, either.”
“Hey, you got an awesome daughter out of it, and you obviously picked a good guy, because he’s a good father.” Robin almost reached over to squeeze Jill’s hand again but fought the urge and kept her hand on the stem of her wine glass.
“True, but I put him and her, actually, through a lot of unnecessary pain. I hadn’t accepted myself—who I am—and it took me a while to get to that point.”
“And now?”
“I got to that point, though it hasn’t been easy.”
“Your family?” Robin asked, though she knew what the answer would be.
Jill took a swallow of wine. “They’re a large part of it. There are some things about traditional Chinese culture that haven’t translated across the diaspora. I was born in this country, and I speak English as a first language. My parents wanted me to be American, because they wanted me to succeed here. What they didn’t count on was the whole lesbian thing. They blame America for it because, apparently, there are no Chinese gay people ever.” She laughed wryly, but Robin heard the weight Jill still carried in the statement.
“I don’t think I grasped that when we were together. You talked about it, but I don’t think I really understood how hard that was for you, to navigate being gay with your family.”
“I don’t think I really grasped it, either. Things got a little better after Madison, since I’d done my womanly duty and produced a child. But when I went lesbian again—not that I had ever left—things got a bit strained.”
“Has that changed?”
“A little. I’m not seeing anyone seriously, so my parents don’t have to deal with the reality.”
Robin finished her water and reached for her wine. “What about your sister?”
“She married a Chinese man, and they have two kids.”
“And congrats to her, but is she supportive of you?”
Jill smiled at Robin’s editorializing. “More so than my parents, but she tries to keep the peace if I get a little too rebellious.” Jill shrugged. “They have been to a couple of my art showings, but for the most part, I think they see me as this odd foreign exchange student they ended up with.”
Robin thought about all the things she’d put Frank through, and how he continued to defend her, even in the future she hoped wouldn’t come to pass. And here Jill was, without that kind of support, and yet she’d made her way through. “How about Madison?”
“She’s wonderful.”
“I have no doubt. But does she know about you?”
“The whole lesbian thing?”
“Yeah. That.” Robin set her wine glass down.
“Yes. And again, I’m very, very fortunate that Drew is the man he is, because he’s been supportive of me even when we were divorcing. He knew deep down, as I did, but both of us opted to be in denial.”
“He sounds cool
.”
“He is. I hope you get to meet him and Madison.”
“Same here,” Robin said, wondering if saying that created expectations that Jill shouldn’t have. “So how are you now, overall?” she asked, to deflect from her previous statement.
“Pretty good.” She smiled again. “I’ve worked on things, and had an epiphany or two along the way.” Her voice trailed off, and she moved her hand, swirling the wine in her glass.
A lot of those going around. Robin sipped, noting Jill’s choice of word to describe her revelation. Agent Tolson had said the same thing. So had Krampus. Maybe some day she’d broach the Bureau with Jill. She caught herself. That was a long-term kind of thought, and maybe not entirely appropriate.
“Point being, making mistakes is part of the human condition,” Jill said. “It’s what you do with them that matters.”
Robin nodded slowly and stared at her wine glass for a while. “So why am I here?” she finally asked.
“Is this an existential or situational question?”
Robin laughed, because Jill had always been droll. “Both, but for this context, situational.”
“I invited you.”
“I get that part, but I guess I’m wondering why you did.”
“I had a lot of fun the last time we had lunch. And I’ve enjoyed our conversations since then.”
Robin held Jill’s gaze. “I’m actually having a really good time.”
“Good. Because I am, too. Seemed stupid not to have you over for Thai after you almost fell on me after however many years. I’ve learned to take advantage of an opportunity, because it may not come around again.”
“Opportunity, sugar. Don’t leave her on the porch,” Magnolia had said, and it sounded as if she were right next to her. Robin glanced to her right and was relieved to see nothing there. She looked at Jill, who was frowning.
“You okay?” Robin asked.
“Thought I heard something.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure. Probably somebody on the street.” Jill’s phone sounded with a little whistle. She pulled it out of her back pocket and swiped her thumb over its screen. “The helpers will be here a little early to work on the setup for the show.” Jill set the phone down. “Sorry. I have to cut the afternoon a little short,” she said, and she sounded genuinely disappointed.