Epilogue

Summer was slowly coming to an end. Once again, I found myself on the cusp of a new adventure. This time, I was moving out and going to college. Saying I was excited would’ve been an understatement. My bicurious adventure had been over for quite some time and no one in my town was as open or willing as in Renolds’ crazy world.

I was dying for someone – of any gender – to experiment with me.

As I sealed the last of my things away in boxes, a weird, techno song with pulsing beats started to play suspiciously loud. Going to investigate at my window, I found a bright splash of red hair and glowing green eyes.

“Open up!” she mouthed.

“Renolds!” I yelled, throwing open the window. She crawled in and mauled me in a bear hug.

“Oh, Bitch, I’ve missed you so! The apartment’s empty without you!”

“Not like you’re there most of the time anyways.”

“Because I don’t have an excuse anymore. Let me look at you! God, you look ghastly pale. Don’t you ever go outside? Never mind. Have you gotten any?”

I wasn’t even surprised that this was Renolds’ main concern.

“Not even a little.”

“What about that girl? Lika?”

“Turns out she went straight on us.”

“Fuck… I’m sorry… What’s with all the boxes?”

“I’m leaving,” I sighed, “Off to college… Yay…”

“You don’t sound thrilled,” Renolds flopped onto my bare bed.

“Not really. I mean, I want to meet people but I don’t really care to do the school work. Besides, what if I’m stuck in a town filled with prudes again?”

“This is a distinct possibility. Almost always is. Are you going far?”

“Not really.”

“How would you like having a partner there with you? Someone to arrange and find the best parties, meet the hottest – or sluttiest – people. Someone to explore with. It’d be another adventure.”

“You can’t just move…”

“I don’t have anything of interest back at my place. I’m ready to move on. What do you say?”

“Fuck, let’s go!”

“Fantastic! It’ll be another adventure. One of the scholastic nature.”

“Like you’ll do anything academic.”

“Well… I’ll be doing academic people,” Renolds winked and pulled me down onto the bed next to her. We laid side by side, talking and feeling at ease.

It wasn’t an adventure to find love or “the one”. It wasn’t even really an adventure to find the hottest people to fuck. It was an adventure to find the best times and share them together. Sure, we slept together now and then. We slept with other people quite often. But when it came down to it, the two of us were what mattered: the Drunken Duo, making everything more interesting a drink at a time.

And, fuck, our lives were pretty goddamn awesome. Especially when they were twisted together.

Hello, Goodbye

The moment I left the club, I decided it was time to leave Renolds and her world. I didn’t get to see Renolds, Astrid, Tedd, or any of their friends before I left town. However, there was one last strange occurrence.

With the bit of the stuff I had acquired in my stay, I started walking down the dark street. The alcohol was affecting my common sense so I still didn’t realize that I needed a ride back to my old house. About a block or two away, a car slowed down and pulled up next to me. Just as I was about to slip off the pumps and book it, the person stepped out of the car and I realized I wasn’t being mistaken for a prostitute.

“Well hello there.”

It was none other than Eva Darling.

“Hey.”

“You look like you’re going somewhere. Anywhere of interest?”

“I’m leaving. It’s time to go back to my own world.”

“I’m looking for a party so I’d love to go out of town. Would you like a ride?”

Sweet Jesus there is a God, I thought as I realized a twenty minute drive was a fuck-me long walk.

“Please.”

On the drive, we didn’t talk about much. In fact, I was dead asleep after a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, I began to recognize the streets.

“This is the right town, yes? I didn’t want to wake you to ask again.”

“This is right.”

“Fantastic! It looks like there’s a party for me to crash down the street. Mind if I drop you off there?”

“No. It’s about two blocks from my house.”

She smiled and pulled into a parking place. As I was about to say goodbye to my final connection to Renolds’ world, she looked at me over the hood of the car, grinning malevolently. “Kiss two girls at once yet?”

“No. And I’m not willing to try.”

“Damn,” she said, waving to me as she followed the path of people into the crowded house.

Gathering myself, I began my walk home. Barely two steps away from the car, I heard someone familiar. “Well if it isn’t Ms. Kiss and Skip Town.”

“Lika?!”

Sure enough, that beautiful girl was grinning right at me. Damn… had she gotten hotter?

“Sure as hell is. Damn, Florence. What happened to you?”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, put on a newly assured smile, and said “Everything. Sometime, I’ll tell you. But right now, I have to finish that kiss.”

Dropping my bags, I took her face in my hands and kissed her with every ounce of confidence I had gained. Pulling back, Lika looked vaguely confused.

“Uh… Thanks, Flo. But sorry. My lesbian stage ended a week after you left.”

Fucking hell.

You

Dear Renolds,

I should first warn you that I’m entirely drunk right now. Well, not entirely. The walk home in the cold sobered me up a bit, but I’m still pretty damn tipsy. Huh… I called it home. That’s quite strange…

I should also thank you. You’ve been wonderful. You took me in, no matter how borderline creepy the pretenses. You were my lesbian goddess. You saw the poor, confused, puppy on the side of the road and you picked her up, gave her some alcohol, and showed her the joys of sex.

Because of you, I can admit that the world doesn’t fit into boxes. Not everyone has to be straight, perfect, mannerly, and prissy. It’s perfectly acceptable to walk out of the house in a skimpy dress and make out with a few people in the same night. Well, maybe that’s not entirely acceptable, but it’s not half bad.

Because of you, I know more about myself. I know that it’s okay for me to not like guys as much as I like girls. Am I straight? No. Am I gay? I can’t be sure. Am I bi? It’s something like that. Thank you for teaching me about myself.

Looking back, it seems a bit like you brainwashed me into being something other than the straight, sheltered girl my parents brought up. But I don’t think that’s true. Not at all. I just think you showed me the world and everything it had to offer. I know the dark corners of bondage. I know the bright streetlamps of Gayiversary’s. I know about living somewhere in the midst of a crazy mixed up world where anything goes. And that life’s pretty okay.

It’s time for me to go face the world on my own. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I think I’m ready to manage my own life from here. I woke up and I’m ready to kick some ass. My town could use someone like you. Since no one’s stepping up to the plate, the person’s going to have to be me.

To be completely honest, if I stayed too long I’d probably fall a little bit in love with you. You’re a heartbreaker, Renolds. And if I stayed any longer than I already have, I would have even more problems with Astrid. I saw her tonight – she’s done with me. Oh well.

As for what’s next, I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll find Lika and finish that kiss. Maybe I’ll find someone else. Maybe I’ll grab a bag and end up halfway across the country. I’m not too concerned, really. I’m just ready to go.

Thank you, once again. I found myself here. It’s been… strange, to say the least. And an honest to God bicurious adventure. Whatever comes next I’ll be able to handle thanks to your crazy crop of friends.

I hope you don’t forget me. I also hope you never do this to anyone again. You realize how many laws you probably broke? You pretty much kidnapped me. That’s neither here nor there. I’d just rather not have to visit you in jail. This isn’t goodbye forever. It’s only a farewell.

Stop scoffing at my cheesy line and know that it’s true. Someday we’ll be the best goddamn Drunken Duo this world has ever had.

I’ll never forget the Lesbian Goddess who gave me myself.

Love always,

Florence Lee

Her

When one of your favorite people is a complete asshole, it’s effortful to hate them. You have to fight the urge to walk over and talk to them like usual. You have to purposefully grimace and not smile. You have to avoid thinking nice things and replace them with pseudo-insults like “Her hair is a mess.” When in reality, her hair flowed in nice waves and looked absolutely perfect.

I had to not notice how gorgeous she looked. After only seeing her one, really awkward time in two and a half weeks, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She had a subtle beauty. She wasn’t all tits and ass with promiscuity in between. She looked… interesting. Like a seemingly plain painting that, when you look close enough, you notice the brush strokes and patterns that make it alluring.

I had to not notice the new stud gleaming from the side of her nose. It made her look that much more badass. In fact, it made me forget a little bit of what happened that night in the field…

I had to not notice the way her boots clicked on the floor as she walked away from me.

I had to not notice the fact that she was walking away from me.

After all, I hated her. I wasn’t supposed to care about any of this. But, good Jesus, did I want to walk over there and talk to her.

Did she see me? Did she want to talk to me? Did she care?

I downed another shot and conveniently lost Renolds in the sea of music. Paddling by people and deeper into the beat, I found myself directly in Astrid’s path. Her eyes fell on me and there was no mistaking that we both knew the other was there.

Would she run again? Would she talk to me? Would she expect me to make a move?

She turned around and downed the remainder of the amber liquid in her glass. After a few shots, I was confident! Well, I was tipsy and that often poses as confidence. So, I walked forward and sat myself right across from her.

“You’re not running away again,” I said. At the time I thought I sounded confident. In reality, my words were probably slurred and my voice probably shook.

Astrid sighed and waited for me to continue.

“What happened,” I asked.

She shrugged, “I got a little too tipsy and a little carried away. I lost my filter and I lost my better judgment. It’s better for us to part, Florence. You’re a wonderful person and I have an aversion to wonderful people.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave you alone if you just answer one more question, please,” that time, I was fully aware of my shaking voice. “Why did you keep running away?”

“Because,” she said with a little smile, “I always make an exit,” she stood up and left me sitting alone with a table and empty glasses.

Of King Al

Smoke drifted out of the club, a sweet nicotine haze. We let it welcome us, engulf us, feed on us. The music was liquid in the air, vibrating in waves and tides that lapped over the tables and grazed our ears. Well hello there, Modest Mouse, I’d love a dance.

I grabbed Renolds’ hand and pulled her into the island of people diving into the ocean of rhythm. We were soaked in notes, drowned in lyrics, sopping wet with bass.

It was exactly what I needed.

Renolds pulled me away from the warm lyrical waters and led me to the bar. Toasting to waking up, I watched Renolds face drop as she looked past me.

“Fuckinghell,” she mumbled. I debated the possibilities of what she just said.

Fucking Elle. If that was the case, I have no idea who Elle is. And by fucking Elle, did that mean she hated this Elle, or she wanted to fuck her.

Fuck Ingal. Once again, I wasn’t quite sure what or who Ingal might have been. But I thought there was a very real possibility that someone was named Ingal and they were an asshole. If my name was Ingal, I’d probably be an asshole too.

Fucking gelle. This just seemed like gibberish. What the hell was gelle? Was I missing a popular bilingual word that was going around? Or was it some slang that I never picked up on? Perhaps it was the drink she gave me. Or maybe it was an adjective to describe it.

Of King Al. Well, that made absolutely no sense. Yet, I liked to think that’s exactly what Renolds said. It could’ve been her way of saying “By God” or “By the King.” I realized how ridiculous it was, but I had a little too much alcohol to be sensical... sensible… sensual… I had too much alcohol to think like a normal human being.

Fucking hell. This probably should’ve been my first guess. It makes sense. But as I turned to see what Renolds was glaring at, I realized that was exactly what Renolds had said.

“Fucking hell,” I mumbled in agreement.

Who had just walked into the club? Astrid, of course.

Waking Up

Dreaming was such a wonderful thing. Especially when, in dreams, everyone was happy and there and Renolds wasn’t being a pain in the ass and Astrid was being human… Then someone decided it was a wonderful idea to pull on various limbs until you sit up, flailing and throwing covers around.

“What the fuck?!” I demanded, jutting an elbow into the nearest surface. Unfortunately, I missed my target of Renolds by a yard and rammed my bone into the bed post.

“This is unacceptable! We are going to be normal, mostly sober people who get the fuck out of bed!” Renolds stood there, pushily and stern.

“No thank you.” What day is it? When was the last time I woke up? When was the last time I showered? By the feel of it, not in a few days… Ew.

“I refuse to accept that answer. You’ve been sleeping for the majority of two and a half weeks. And why? Because some bitch won’t talk to you after she said that she loves you. I’m not complaining, I mean, you spent a good deal of those nights in bed with me. Unfortunately, I need out of bed too. Tonight, we’re going out and finding other people!”

“So you need to sleep with someone other than me?”

“Life lesson one,” she pushed my comment aside with a flip of her hair, “Don’t let the flaws of humanity get in the way of your happiness. Life lesson two: happiness is never found at the bottom of a bottle. Life lesson three: happiness can be found at the bottom of a shot or two.”

Renolds started digging through the closet, pulling out little-mini this and I-have-no-fear that. I, on the other hand, piled the covers back around me in my little nest.

“Four: dance. Always. Five, six, and seven: dance with every intention you’re holding back. If you want to friend-zone the person, dance like the nerdy white girl you are. If you want to take the person back to yours for a little co-mingling, show them you’re worth it. Eight: you’re only a whore if you’ve slept with everyone in the room – and the room is fairly filled. Nine: lose the inhibitions. And ten: get your goddamn ass out of bed before I flip the mattress. And don’t think I can’t! I may be small but I’m 100% kickass.”

So, I got up. I rediscovered the sun, felt its burning rays, and cried just a little bit. How much longer until it was acceptable to sleep again?

“Find clothing. Unless, of course, you’d rather not wear something. It’d be wonderfully innovative of you. I don’t think it’ll be taken too well, however…”

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever fate takes us! And, of course, somewhere with music louder than our heartbeats and alcohol stronger than our common sense.”

Well, I thought, I may as well do something with my life. The sun was beginning to crash into the horizon. The moon already peaking up over its perch. If the moon could wake up, I suppose I could as well.

Two Weeks Later

Waking up exactly 14 days after Astrid’s confession, I realized key details in my life were missing. I remembered counting the days and waiting for Astrid. Day after day, she ignored me. I believe I went to her apartment at one point. There’s also a very good chance I called her ten times that first day… I’m fairly certain Renolds kept me pretty drunk.

At some point along the way, Renolds wrapped an arm around my shoulder. She kissed my cheek and told me I was beautiful.

Well… she whispered it and simultaneously kissed my neck.

That pretty much explains why I woke up in Renolds’ bed that morning, frighteningly sober.

“What the hell has happened?” I ask as Renolds walks into the room, dressed for work.

Sighing, she shrugs. “There were too many drinks for me to remember… We shouldn’t be upset together. We support the other’s drinking habits. We’re like the Drunken Duo: designated driver not included. That’s probably why we stayed in most nights. Also probably why this happened…”

“Has Astrid called?”

She conveniently did not hear that.

“Renolds.”

Once again, she’s too focused on her sock drawer to listen to me.

“Renolds!”

“She hasn’t. I have to work. Will you be okay alone?”

“I’ll survive.”

“I invested in coffee if you can’t make it through the day,” she turned on her heels and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

What the hell is going on?

I spent the majority of the afternoon dozing in and out of sleep, trying to figure out how to spend my day. When I was debating how dangerously low my caffeine levels were, someone knocked.

Opening the door, I found Astrid shivering and biting her lip.

“Renolds here?”

“Uh… No. Why?”

She shrugged, looked around, and took off running down the hallway.

I was fairly certain my life events weren’t even real. In fact, I must have been hallucinating. Lack of coffee has that effect on people. Well, probably not, but it’s a nice excuse.

I decided it was time to go back to bed for awhile. When I wake up in another two weeks, maybe I’ll finally be ready to deal with life. Then again, maybe not.

Running Away

A pair of worn converses came into sight along with tattered jeans, a holy sweater, and the small smile Renolds often had in her most honest moments. There was nothing eccentric about her that morning. She was simply Renolds – not trying, not impressing, not extraordinary. She was human, and that was strangely beautiful.

“I heard there was some tragic looking mess in the field. I figured it was you,” she said.

“Thanks,” I replied, partly sarcastic and partly out of honest gratitude. Knowing she was running towards something was a nice change from the perpetual running away.

Renolds sat next to me and curled her knees in.

“What happened,” she asked.

“You look… mundane,” I dodged the question.

“You look manic.”

“Why?”

“I can ask you the same,” pause, “I’m tired.”

“I slept in a field. The feeling’s mutual.”

“No… I’m tired of facades. Pretending gets exhausting.”

“What are you pretending to be?”

“An answer for an answer. What happened?”

“Astrid…” What? How should I have continued that statement? We were drunk and stupid. The mixed emotions that ran through my mind were unnecessary. It was nothing. Yet, as I kept telling myself that, I still felt like a train wreck.

“That explains it.”

“What?”

“The way you looked at her whenever she walked in the door. The way your face is practically translucent with every emotion exposed when you say her name. You’re falling for her. That’s a dangerous thing to do.”

A swelling pause spit our words.

“I loved someone once,” She said this like a passing comment, one not to be explored. But she continued. “She… well I don’t know where she stood. There was a guy…”

“Can things still change?”

“She died. Five years ago.”

There was no response. The silence was a comfortable break from reality. In our thoughts, we resided, dodging the facts we didn’t want to encounter.

“That explains this,” she sighed, making a sweeping motion over her outfit. “That’s why I’m tired of facades. Because, no matter who I’m trying to be, that’s still my past. And that’s why love’s dangerous. It hurts. Often, it hurts like hell.”

“I don’t love her.” My voice was weak and my words seemed shallow next to her confession.

“Let’s go,” Renolds declared, standing up. She held out a hand and pulled me to my feet.

“We’ll be okay,” she smiled reassuringly and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. As we walked, we fell into each other, tired of running away from our problems.

Things Left Unsaid

It wasn’t until the sky was a murky pink that Astrid’s eyes finally opened. After hours of debating what to say, all I had was a headache and more confusion.

She opened her eyes, looked at me, and then dazedly glanced around. I watched the memories of the night crash over her as she settled back into her makeshift bed.

There was an almost unnerving silence as the pinks turned to blues.

“So… I’ve been trying to think about a response to what you said last night…”

Astrid gave me a confused look, but slowly the realization dawned on her.

“I have to go,” she scrambled for her things, but left me behind – confused and alone.

What the hell was that?

Without anywhere else to go, I laid back down in hopes that she’d return. I rolled over the different things I could have said.

“I love you too.”

The obvious option. Yet, it’d be a blatant lie. What was love? Was it really more than a word? Was it all that Astrid said it to be? I couldn’t possibly decipher the word, much less say it. It would be wrong and cause more problems. Hell, Astrid probably would have ran away without her flask; that’s how scary those words can be.

“Oh.”

A simple declaration of indifference. This would pose many more questions than answers, for both parties involved. Oh is a deadly word as much as a hopeful one. A slip of the tone and it sends one spiraling into a pit of wondering and waiting for the rest of the verbal punishment. Yet, oh can also be one of surprise and elation. So many words fill in the space of the simple sound but all of them are assumed.

“You’re drunk.”

This was undeniably true. However, saying it would make the whole situation seem like a joke. With the way Astrid ran off, I was fairly certain we both would have been left wondering if those three words were sincere.

 “Fuck you.”

Somewhere inside, an anger was boiling inside of me. All night I was waiting for her to wake up but dreading it all the same. I knew she’d leave or get pissed off. Astrid was wonderful when she was tipsy and things were progressing. But after the progression and alcohol wore off, she was impossible. She didn’t dwell on the past, she went on with life. She wasn’t one to contemplate, she just did. There was no way in hell she was going to stick around and discuss exactly what her confession meant. So, the fact that she decided to say those words angered me beyond belief. There she was, playing with my head and my feelings. She put worries and thoughts in my head just to twist them around and make me untangle the knots. In that sense, she was a conniving bitch and she deserved to be told to fuck off.

And of course, there was silence.

As much as my silence was killing me, it was probably the best option. By not saying anything, there were no false assumptions or misplaced answers. Instead, there was an absence of reaction. One that I could hopefully fill at a later date when all of my knotted thoughts are untangled.

Valentine's Day: Part II

I learned five things about Astrid that night.

First of all, Alcohol was her means of fixing silence and racing thoughts.

I half listened to the movie playing in the background and half focused on her hand in my own. Her fingers were terribly tiny and long: piano fingers. I wanted to ask if she played, but I knew better than to do so. Looking over, Astrid’s eyes were closed but she wasn’t asleep. Her face was pinched, as if she was fighting away the memories she wanted to leave behind. My mind traveled to her lips, and it was all I could do not to lean down and kiss her… The alcohol was pushing me to take a risk but the cold kept me sober enough to resist.
“It’s too quiet,” Astrid shot up and immediately grabbed for her flask that was flung aside.
Once she was safely tipsy, I found her intense hatred for romance.

“So, if it’s Valentine’s Day, or some special day, or whatever tonight is, shouldn’t there be some celebration besides champagne?”

Astrid looked at me, confused. “You mean like… gin? I already said I don’t like wine, we have vodka, and I’m sorry but I’m not into weed…”

“No! Like chocolate and flowers and candles and other unnecessary cliché items.”

“You were totally the kid who walked around on Valentine’s Day with a giant teddy bear from your boyfriend, weren’t you?”

I scoffed, refusing to answer with an obvious no.

“Your silence is a confirmation of that fact. But, those things are a waste of space. Why spend money on flowers? The smell terrible and die. Chocolate? That’s what you buy for a break up, not a romantic gesture. Candles? Well that’s just not feasible here.”

“Then how are we celebrating?”

She smiled, leading me to the third fact: Astrid is a bit of an exhibitionist.

"Like this,” she answered, taking my face in her hands.

Her lips tasted like peppermint chapstick doused in alcohol. Oddly, I didn’t mind it. Her kisses were fervent, as if she had no intentions of stopping; this was confirmed by her wondering hands.

“Um…” I pulled away and gestured toward the crowd of people… children… grandparents… preachers…

“Oh, like they care!”

I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help but fall back into her kiss.

When Astrid finally pulled away, I was met with the fourth fact: she was a very happy drunk.

“It really is turning out to be a wonderful kind of special night,” she said nestling onto my shoulder.

“Did you plan for this night to be special?”

“You can’t plan special. That’s why it’s, you know, special and all. But tonight seemed like a Valentine’s Day kind of night. You know, all lovey and gushy and that sort of shit. Maybe I was just influenced by the movie.”

“Astrid, you know this is a zombie movie, right?”

“Oh,” a champagne giggle bubbled up from her lips in an intoxicating manner. I leaned in once again and fell victim to her touch.

Perhaps I was a bit tipsy and a bit promiscuous. Regardless of my blood alcohol level, resisting Astrid was near impossible.

The final thing I learned that night came in the form of a confession.

People were filing out of the field as the end credits began to play. Astrid and I, however, didn’t budge. With a blink, I found the sun threatening to rise over the deserted field. Dead asleep, I kissed Astrid on the forehead. Slowly, she began to stir. Looking up at me with hazy eyes, she smiled in a way so pure and simple that it seemed we would be trapped in that moment for ages. I wouldn’t complain, though, I found something calming about the way we were strung together.

“I have to admit something…” her voice was tired but hopeful.

“Yes?”

“I think I might possibly love you,” she smiled that simple smile again, turned around, and fell back to sleep.