God. That was a sign, too.
And now that I think of it, there was that time Kathy Pennebaker—God. It always goes back to Kathy Pennebaker, doesn’t it? — invited us over to a slumber party, then wanted to take a group bubble bath. I was like, “Um, aren’t we a little old for a group bubble bath—at sixteen?”
But Shari, if I recall correctly, actually joined Kathy in her parents’ bathroom, while I stayed downstairs to watch my then-crush, Tim Daly, on a Wings marathon.
God. I’d wondered what all that splashing had been about. I even yelled up the stairs for them to keep it down, because I couldn’t hear what Tim was saying to Crystal Bernard.
Jeez. How embarrassing.
So, okay. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.
And I guess, considering how much Shari has been talking about Pat, it isn’t that surprising. I mean, we all knew she liked her. We just didn’t know she LIKE liked her.
And what’s not to like? Because, after Shari dropped her little bomb, and I stood there on the curb with my mouth hanging open like an idiot, Shari grabbed my hand and said, “Come meet her.”
I was too stunned to resist. Not that I’d wanted to. I was completely curious to meet this person for whom Shari had dumped Chaz, the previous love of her life.
And, okay, Pat is no Portia de Rossi.
But she’s a slender, vibrant woman in her early thirties, with a cascade of bright red ringlets going down her back, and skin the color of milk, with a quick laugh and bright, twinkling blue eyes.
She shook my hand and said she’d heard a lot about me and that she supposed hearing about her and Shari was a shock, but that she loved Shari very much, and, more important, her dogs, Scooter and Jethro, seemed to love Shari very much.
To which I didn’t know what to say, except that I’d like to meet Scooter and Jethro someday.
So Shari and her new girlfriend invited me over to watch the Jets game next weekend.
I seriously don’t know which is more shocking to me: that my best friend is in love with a girl, or that she’s started watching professional football.
In any case, I said I’d be there. And then Shari walked me to the elevator.
“Are you sure you’re okay about this?” Shari wanted to know, as we waited for the rickety two-person lift to arrive. “Because you look kinda… well, the way you looked that day Andy showed up at Luke’s cousin’s wedding.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Because I don’t feel that way at all. I’m totally happy for you. That’s all. I just… how long have you known?”
“How long have I known what?”
“You know. That you like girls.”
“I don’t,” Shari said with a smile. “I like some girls. Just like I like some guys. Just like you like some guys.” Her smile faded, and she added seriously, “It’s about the person’s soul, Lizzie, not the parts they have on the outside. You know that.”
I’d nodded. Because that’s true. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.
“I don’t love Pat because she’s a woman,” Shari went on, “any more than I loved Chaz because he’s a man. I love them both for who they are on the inside. It’s just that I realized the one I’m most romantically interested in is Pat. Possibly because she doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.”
I stared at her until Shari nudged me. “That was a joke,” she said. “It’s okay for you to laugh.”
“Oh,” I said. And laughed. But then my laughter faded as I thought about something else.
“Shari,” I said. “What about your mom and dad? Have you told them yet?”
“No,” Shari said. “That’s a conversation best saved for the next time I see them in person. Christmas vacation, I think.”
“Are you going to take Pat to meet them?”
“She wants to go,” Shari says. “But I’m trying to spare her. Maybe after they’ve gotten used to the idea.”
“Right,” I said. I tried to push down the spurt of jealousy I felt that Shari’s girlfriend actually wants to meet her parents, whereas my boyfriend has expressed not the slightest iota of interest in meeting mine. There were much more important things to take under consideration, after all. Like, I couldn’t even imagine how Dr. and Mrs. Dennis were going to react to the news that their daughter is in a romantic relationship with a woman. Dr. Dennis will probably head straight to his liquor cabinet. Mrs. Dennis will head straight to the phone.
“Oh God!” I’d stared at Shari, wide-eyed. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? Your mom is going to call my mom. And then my mom is going to find out I’m not actually living with you anymore. And then she’ll know I’m living with Luke.”
“She’ll probably just be grateful,” Shari said, “that you and I aren’t a couple.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders sagged with relief. “You’re probably right about that. Hey—” I glanced at her in some alarm. “We’re not, are we? I mean… you never felt about me the way you feel about Pat, did you?”
Please say no, I was praying.Please say no, please say no. Because I value Shari’s friendship more than anything, and if it turned out she was in love with me, well, how could we be friends anymore? You can’t be friends with someone who’s in love with you if you don’t love that person back the same way…
Shari regarded me with an expression I might almost have called sarcastic.
“Yes, Lizzie,” she said. “I have been in love with you since the first grade when you showed me your Batgirl Underoos. The only reason I’m with Pat is because I know I can’t have you because you stub bornly refuse to love me and not Luke. Now come over here and kiss me, you little minx.”
I blinked at her. And she burst out laughing.
“No, you idiot,” she said. “Although I love you dearly as a friend, I have never been romantically interested in you. You’re actually not my type.”
I don’t want to sound pejorative, but her tone seemed to imply that she couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in me romantically.
I didn’t say so at the time, but I was kind of wondering the same thing. I mean, doesn’t Pat realize that Shari is an inveterate blanket hog (as I discovered to my disadvantage when we were forced to share a sleeping bag at camp that time those mean girls threw mine in the lake) and has, to my knowledge, never once returned a book she borrowed? It was a miracle that Chaz, a known bibliophile, even put up with her as long as he did. I purposely never loaned Shari my clothing, because I knew I’d never see it again.
Of course Shari never asked to borrow any of my clothing. My style is just a little too retro for her, I guess.
But, whatever.
“You have a type?” I asked her with a raised eyebrow. “Because you seem to cover a pretty wide range—”
“Primarily,” Shari interrupted, “I like people who can keep their mouths shut once in a while.”
“Well, then, it’s no wonder you and Chaz broke up,” I said, just as the elevator, groaning with the strain, finally arrived.
“Ha ha,” Shari said. Then, giving me a hug, she said, “Take care of him for me, will you? Don’t let him slide into one of his funks where he stays inside all day reading Heidegger and never ventures out except to buy booze. Promise?”
“Like you have to ask,” I said. “I love Chaz like the brother I never had. I’ll make sure to get Tiffany to invite him out with her and some of her model friends. That should cheer him up.”
“That ought to do it, all right,” Shari agreed.
And the elevator doors closed and she was gone.
And that was that.
Well, except for the part where now I can’t sleep a wink, because I keep replaying it all over and over in my head.
“Hey.” The word, spoken so softly beside me, causes me to jump. I turn my head. Luke is awake, and blinking at me sleepily.