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It’d been months since Shauna had gone out like this. Months since she’d had a little too much to drink at the bar that wasn’t technically a gay bar (but did happen to attract a lot of women who wanted to fuck other women). She didn’t come up with an excuse this time. No mom friend from Callie’s swimming lessons, no local author’s book signing that Jeff wouldn’t want to go to. Those excuses only ever lasted for the first few hours, anyway. Shauna heard Jeff yell from the kitchen, complaining that they didn’t have any food in the house—of course they had food in the house, of course Shauna always had food in the house, what Jeff meant to say was that there was nothing that he wanted to cook for himself—and she decided to go.
She snatched clothes and snagged makeup as though robbing herself. Her younger self, she thought, wondering if the black fabric of the dress she’d thrown over her shoulder would still fit, whether the only pushup bra she owned would still clasp on the loosest of the three rungs. She slipped on her shoes, threw her purse over her shoulder, and walked straight out the front door.
She got ready in her car, parked in the back corner of the lot, watching as women filed in and out through the double doors of the bar. She slipped into the dress with little grace, her knee bumping against the dash hard enough to bruise, coated her lashes with thick mascara, and smoothed some clear gloss onto her lips. She ran both hands through her hair, shaking volume into it at the roots.
And she left the bar a few hours later, buzzing with booze and anticipation, a giggling woman clinging to her arm.
Shauna rubbed a cheek against the woman’s thigh—cat-like, seeking heat. The woman whimpered, a little nothing of a sound, pitiful and high. Shauna shut her eyes against the wrongness of it, bit down hard on her lip, readjusted. Women’s cries often went lower when they were being fucked well. Raspier, if Shauna was lucky. She ran her tongue along the woman’s slit, testing her.
“Yes, baby,” the woman squeaked out, caressing Shauna’s hair.
No.
Fuck.
Shauna sucked the woman’s clit into her mouth and felt her thighs quake—once, twice, three times—before tearing her lips away. The woman groaned, staring down at her with wide eyes. Better. The groan was better. Shauna smiled for her, kissing under her navel, and slid a hand up her body to caress her throat gently. She knew not to grab. Not to get anywhere near squeezing. That scared them, and Shauna didn’t want them scared, she just wanted them to work with her.
Shauna barely touched the woman’s skin, her palm hovering over it, and her finger nudged under the woman’s jaw, until she tipped her head back obediently. The line of her neck was long. Dirty blonde hair and a thin frame was all that was visible from between her legs. Shauna circled her clit with her middle finger slowly.
The woman moaned. Deeper with her throat in that position. Better. Shauna settled on her stomach, one arm extended as far as she could reach, her hand resting on the woman’s chest, a reminder of where Shauna wanted her. The woman’s fingers found her hair, winding through it carefully and resting there. Shauna took to her inner thigh, sucking hard enough to leave pink marks that would later bloom to a pretty purple, one that Shauna would never get to see.
“Please.” The woman sounded pretty when she begged. She sounded like she knew she was going to get what she wanted.
“Say my name,” Shauna said, her lips brushing against salt and heat. “Do you remember my name?” She slipped her tongue inside the woman’s cunt, crooking it once. The woman groaned wordlessly, and Shauna pulled away. “Shauna,” she said, spreading the woman open with her finger and her thumb. “It’s Shauna.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She flicked her tongue against the woman’s exposed clit.
“Shauna,” the woman moaned, gripping her hair tighter. “Shauna.”
“Good girl,” Shauna murmured, her lips moving against the woman’s center, unsure if she could even hear her.
She went to work—licking, sucking, nudging with her nose, burying her face in the woman’s wetness until she was covered in slick heat. She listened to her chant her name, felt her own clit throb with every syllable. She glanced up occasionally, watching strands of honey brown sway as the woman twisted her head side to side, watching as she rolled her own rosy nipple between pinched fingers, watching until she turned into exactly who Shauna wanted her to be.
Shauna sank two fingers inside her, crooking hard. The woman bucked her hips, rocking against her hand.
“Pull my hair,” Shauna panted, fucking her deep enough to feel her drip down her wrist. The woman nodded, dazed, and tugged gently. “Hard. I’m going to make you come. Pull it fucking hard when I do.”
The woman groaned at Shauna’s words, her legs shaking so violently her heels began to lift off the bed. Shauna drew her clit between her lips and sucked. She slipped a third finger inside her. And, when the woman came a few moments later, she kept her promise—yanking up on Shauna’s hair so intently that Shauna had to fight against it to keep her mouth on her, screaming Shauna’s name so loudly a disgruntled neighbor banged on the wall.
The woman was good. She let Shauna make her come over and over, biting into her own palm to stifle her cries. Eventually, when Shauna was tired enough from fucking her and dizzy enough from the lack of oxygen, she let them switch places. The woman was good there, too. Enthusiastic. Firm but gentle, and fucking determined. It worked for a while—one orgasm, then two, the head bobbing between Shauna’s legs close enough to let her ride out the fantasy. It worked until the woman slid up her body and laid against her chest, both of them sweaty and sticky and spent.
Shauna liked this part—holding women close in the dark of their bedrooms, closing her eyes and feeling them breathe against her. It was what they had done more of. The number of times Shauna had held her far outnumbered the times she’d tasted her or pushed her fingers into her. Shauna thought she probably just liked women more, anyway.
Men were simple. They fucked easy, and occasionally it felt decent. They bent to Shauna when she wanted them to, and they didn’t ask questions. They served a purpose. No different than a laundromat—quarter in, press the button, have a 50% shot it actually works. Low stakes, easy to cut your losses. Men were things you visited when you needed to, forgetting them when you left.
Women were different. They had depth. They were soft and sweet and supple. They pushed back. They were aware of how they looked, how they sounded, how the women they were touching felt. They seemed more real to Shauna. More solid, somehow, (even when she was using them to chase a ghost). Fucking a woman meant making a trade. Small sometimes, if they didn’t bother with last names or phone numbers, but always something. Women lingered, under Shauna’s skin, baby pink nails digging along her spine, lilting moans ringing in her ears. They took parts of her in turn, blood drawn from her lip and swallowed down, her brokenness staining them.
So, yes, Shauna liked this part with women—little snores and spots of drool on her chest and smooth legs tangling with her own—but Jackie often didn’t.
Jackie didn’t turn up when Shauna fucked men. She technically had a few times, but it’d always seemed accidental. She’d quickly turned around and walked back into nothing, a disgusted grimace twisting her features. But when Shauna fucked women, Jackie was usually interested. Sometimes she watched, laying next to the woman and staring at all the places Shauna touched her, or kneeling next to Shauna to whisper in her ear. Usually, though, she let Shauna have the sex to herself. Usually she came during the after.
“Well, she definitely looks like me.” Jackie appeared on Shauna’s other side, her head propped up in her hand. “I’ll give you that much.”
Shauna closed her eyes tight, swallowing down the lump in her throat. The woman smacked her lips in her sleep, burrowing closer to Shauna.
Shauna didn’t have to speak aloud for Jackie to hear her. She’d learned that a few years in. Jackie was her. Of course she didn’t need to say the words out loud. (She still did sometimes, when Jackie was in the mood to let her play house.)
What are you doing here?
“Wow, what a way to greet a lady,” Jackie giggled, scrunching her nose. “What are you doing here, Shauna?” She brushed Shauna’s hair away from her face, let her palm rest against her cheek when she was through. A gift. Jackie rarely touched her anymore. Shauna tried to lean closer, but the woman stirred, and she was forced to fall still. “What’s the matter?” Jackie asked. “I think you got Britney pretty fucking tired. We should be okay.”
Shauna frowned for half a second too long, long enough for Jackie to notice her confusion.
“Of course you forgot her name already,” Jackie teased, with a playful roll of her eyes. “You’ve always had the worst memory when you’re drunk.”
It’s fucked up. I know it is.
“No,” Jackie shook her head, smiling gently. “You’re just looking for something. You’re…hurting.”
I fucking miss you. Tears pricked behind Shauna’s eyes. Her throat felt far too full, fit to burst. This isn’t…the way I miss you most. The…sex. I miss…I just miss it all, and this is the easiest thing to get. I—
“I know.” Jackie laid flat, her chin tucked on Shauna’s shoulder, and hugged Shauna’s arm against her body. She was almost as heavy as the other woman. Almost as warm. Almost as real. “I miss you, too. It’s all I do, actually. Sit around and miss you.”
Me too. Shauna twisted her face toward Jackie until their foreheads touched. That’s why I…why I do this shit. You know that, right?
Jackie nodded silently. They laid like that, perfectly still, for a long moment, Shauna noticing the depth of the woman’s breaths, the lack of Jackie’s.
“She’s close,” Jackie said softly. “She seems like a sweet girl. Her voice is way off, though.”
Shauna bit back a surprised chuckle. Jackie was being so fucking kind. Her sweet, funny, forgiving self. This was the Jackie that sometimes made Shauna believe. The Jackie that had occasionally landed her an inpatient stay, or a bottle of antipsychotics. (The ones that never worked, but did remind Shauna to pretend.)
Stay with me for a while, Shauna begged. Do you want me to get out of here? We could go—
“I can’t for long,” Jackie said. “You know I can’t.”
Please. Tears poured down Shauna’s cheeks. She squeezed her mouth shut to stifle her cries. I need you. I need a…a long stay. It’s been years. Stay with me.
“I can’t do that to you,” Jackie said, choking on her words. “It never works. When I stay too long you end up…you’ve got a daughter who needs you, now. I can’t.”
I don’t care. Shauna was dangerously close to waking the woman. Her chest ached and her lip trembled and she thought the thudding of her heart may be audible. I don’t. Please, Jackie. You’re killing me.
“Oh, my love.” Jackie nudged Shauna’s nose with her own. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Jackie had never called Shauna that, in life or in death. It was new. Something different, and Shauna wondered where she’d heard it to make it stick in her mind.
“I should go. I should’ve known better.” Jackie’s doe eyes filled with tears that spilled out over her cheeks. She propped herself up on her elbow, forcing distance. “You can’t handle—“
No. Shauna reached for her, clinging to her wrist. It felt half there, half real. No, no, no. Please.
The sobs shook her body. She couldn’t help it. The woman—Britney—made a small disgruntled noise, shifting.
“I love you so much.” Jackie took Shauna’s cheeks between her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Shauna wailed. The woman bolted upright. Jackie was gone.
Shauna managed to slip out quickly, flinching away from Britney’s touch and assuring her that she was fine through shuddering sobs. It was more difficult than Shauna had expected it to be; Jackie was right, she was sweet. She tried to talk Shauna into staying, tried to hold her while she cried, tried to offer her the bed, saying she could take the couch. She offered Shauna all sorts of kindness, with no real reason. Sometimes Shauna accepted their phone numbers before she left, allowing herself to see the same woman two or three times, but not this one. This one seemed risky.
Driving was even harder than her escape, her eyes swollen and her vision blurred. She was more wasted than she’d thought, her head spinning every time she so much as glanced in her rearview mirror. The yellow line danced to her left, curving even when the road didn’t.
Shauna was nearing the point where she had to make a decision: hang left and go back to the bar, or keep straight and crawl into bed with Jeff. Callie had a cold. She’d probably wake up and cry for Shauna, if she wasn’t awake already, Jeff bumbling around, trying to soothe her. Shauna flipped on her blinker and took the turn far too sharply. Headlights blinded her.
For a split second, time stopped. She knew that she should jerk her hands to the right. She more than likely had time to veer into the vacant, overgrown lot next to the road. But she could also just…not. She could stay frozen. She could even press down just a little harder on the gas.
Shauna wasn’t allowed to kill herself. It was one of her rules. She couldn’t end her own suffering, take the easy way out. Actions had consequences. But a car accident wasn’t exactly suicide. Nobody would call it that, at least. She might get called a drunk, sure. A selfish bitch who couldn’t be bothered to call a cab, maybe. But it wouldn’t be reported as a suicide.
Local woman finally kills herself in the dumbest fucking way possible after years of looking for a loophole wasn’t the headline they’d use. They probably wouldn’t even say anything bad about her. No, it would probably be some tragedy porn for the freaks who still cared about that one soccer team that crashed in the middle of fucking nowhere. Tragic car accident claims life of a Yellowjacket eleven years after her miraculous return to civilization. Something like that.
Shauna didn’t move, but someone did. A hand reached out from the passenger seat and landed between her own, cranking the wheel to the right, hard and fast. Shauna turned to find Jackie, horrified, her cheeks swollen like she’d been crying, her lip trembling.
The airbag hit Shauna hard. She woke up to flashes of red and blue.
“You blew a .19, Shauna!” Tai snapped under her breath, shooing her into the passenger side of her perfectly clean BMW. She was dressed for work—black slacks, an emerald blouse, and deep red lipstick. “I can’t just get you out of that.” Shauna slumped into the seat, wincing when Tai slammed the door shut. The moment Tai started the car, she rolled both their windows down. “And, God, you smell like jail. You can’t keep doing this. This is your second DUI, there’s going to be real fucking consequences now.”
Shauna squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Where were you coming from?” Tai pulled out onto the main road, surveying Shauna from the corner of her eye.
Shauna ran a hand through her hair. Sticky with something. She grimaced and wiped her fingers on her dress. “The bar.”
“No, you were turning toward the bar,” Tai insisted, “from the opposite direction of your fucking house. Try again.”
“Jesus, what are you?” Shauna rolled her eyes, turning to look out the window, to avoid Tai’s disappointed stare. “Fucking CSI?”
“I’m a lawyer, dumbass.” Tai said. She rolled their windows up, flipping the AC on instead, and
Shauna frowned. “Not a criminal one,” she said, flipping to turn her entire body toward Tai, crossing her legs and resting her cheek against the seat, “which you remind me of all the fucking time.”
“Shauna,” Tai said, glancing at her. Her eyeliner was smudged just a tiny bit at the outer corner. “What were you doing?”
Shauna reached out and wiped at the black with her thumb. Tai flinched, then adjusted into forced relaxation, but Shauna had already finished.
“You already know,” she said, placing her hand back in her lap carefully.
“You’ve got to stop,” Tai said. “I never should’ve taken you there in the first place.”
“What’s with the sudden morality?” Shauna asked, anger building in her, something fierce and uncontrollable and deadly. “What happened to gray areas? Jeff cheats on me all the time. I know he does.”
“That’s not why you need to stop,” Tai said, her tone softening as Shauna’s sharpened, “and you know it.”
They rode in silence for a long while, no noise between them aside from the low hum of the air pushing through the vents. Shauna snuck glances at her—perfect, pretty, put-together Taissa. She wished they were nineteen, so that she could curl up next to her, could drift lazily between crying and sleeping while she held Tai to her chest.
“She came last night,” she said suddenly, honesty spurred by nostalgia. “She…does sometimes. After.”
“Shauna…” Tai met her eyes, and her expression was all heartbreak
“Don’t do that,” Shauna said, sitting up straight. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Tai asked. She reached for Shauna’s arm and Shauna jerked away, throwing her body closer to the door.
“Like a fucking…sad little freak,” Shauna said.
Silence, again, heavier this time. Until Tai let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
“What did she say?” she asked, her tone unreadable.
“She was…really nice actually,” Shauna rubbed the back of her neck, sore from laying on the shitty metal bench overnight. “She…it was one of those times where she feels more like…her, than me.”
“But…you know it isn’t re—”
“Yes, Taissa,” Shauna said. “I am so very fucking aware that it isn’t real.”
“Shit,” Tai muttered under her breath, distracted.
She took a sudden turn, finally a little frazzled. A small fucking victory. Shauna braced herself against the movement.
“You’ve watched me talk to her before, right?” Shauna asked quietly. “When…I thought it was real.”
“Yeah.” Tai swallowed. “I have.”
“So…so when she’s doing things…when I see her doing something, but I also see myself not doing it…just…what’s going on there?” Shauna asked, struggling with the phrasing, cursing herself for even bringing it up. “I mean, do I move and just not even fucking know I’m doing it?”
Tai paused for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. She’d have lipstick on her front tooth from it. Shauna tried to remember to check before she got out of the car, unconvinced that the men at her stupid fucking office would bother to tell her if they noticed it.
“I don’t really know how I’d tell from watching,” Tai said. “I can’t exactly…see what you see, you know?”
“I didn’t turn the wheel. I, uh, froze,” Shauna half-lied, watching Taissa pale. “But I guess I must’ve turned the wheel. It’s just…I saw my hands not moving. And I saw hers move. So…I wondered what that looks like, y’know?”
“I know what you mean,” Tai said. She reached for Shauna’s hand and Shauna took it briefly, squeezing. “But I’m not sure.”
They fell silent again, for the length of two more turns. They were almost back to Shauna’s neighborhood, where Taissa would drop her off a block from her house, because Jeff didn’t know they were still in contact. Shauna closed her eyes, wondering if she could drift off for just a few minutes, before she had to—
“What’s your plan?” Tai asked briskly, all sudden business.
Shauna narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her chest. “What do you mean?”
“Your plan,” Tai said, exasperated, the pity Shauna had earned by talking about Jackie already spent. “I mean, you have another fucking DUI. Your car is totaled. It’s almost 8 o’clock, and your husband is probably freaking the fuck out. What’s your plan?”
Shauna shrugged, picking at her cuticles.
“I can’t keep fucking doing this. I can’t.” Tai shook her head. “You’ve got to…maybe you need some help again. I’ve got more money now, I could find somewhere nicer for—“
“No! What the fuck, Taissa?” Shauna shrieked. “You don’t even believe in therapy, and you want to send me to a fucking psych ward?”
“Not a psych ward. Rehab, Shauna,” Tai countered. “Fucking…I don’t know, some fancy fucking place, where you can deal with your shit. You’ve already got sympathy with the famous trauma situation. You could win a lot of points with a judge, just by showing that you’re taking steps to—”
“You think I can just up and leave?” Shauna laughed humorously, bitter and sharp. “What am I supposed to do with my kid, Tai?”
“How the hell is this taking care of your kid?” Tai set her jaw and gripped the steering wheel harder. “Going out all night to cruise for women who look remotely like Jackie? Crashing your drunk ass into a goddamn tree? You’re not exactly parenting’s finest as it is.”
“Fuck you,” Shauna spat.
“I’m trying to he—”
“Fuck,” Shauna said louder, enunciating every letter. “You.”
“You’ve got to let her go.” Tai’s eyes shone with tears, and her voice caught in her throat. “It’s been twelve ye—”
“I know exactly how long it’s been!” Shauna yelled, as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Tai slowed the car to a stop. “I also know that you still keep tabs on Van, so you can go ahead and get off that pedestal, you hypocritical fucking bitch.”
Tai threw the car into park in front of a far too cheery house—yellow paint and dahlias in the yard and one of those stupid garden flags with a watercolor butterfly against a blue sky. Shauna threw the door open and stepped out.
“God fucking damnit,” Tai said. “Get back in the car. We’re not doing this. I’m not letting you talk to me like this and then call me in a month with the same fucking shit. We need to figure out—”
Shauna leaned in, her forearms crossed over her head against the car to balance her weight. She was still dizzy. Still sick.
“I’ve got it all figured out, thanks.” She forced the words through gritted teeth, willing herself not to scream, not to cause a scene. “You don’t need to worry about me. I learned my lesson. I’ll never fucking call you again. Does that work?”
Tai exhaled sharply through her nose, her face twisted in equal parts disgust and pain. “You’re so nasty sometimes,” she said calmly. “Just fucking nasty, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know that.” Shauna grinned, her cheeks aching from it. “I’m a cunt. I’m pathetic. I’m obsessed. Whatever. But you know what, Tai?” Shauna leaned closer. “At least my ghost is actually fucking dead.”
Shauna pulled back before Tai could answer. She slammed the car door and walked, too afraid to look back.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jeff demanded.
He had Callie in his arms. She was dressed in the pink pajamas that he always mistook for daytime clothes, no matter how many times Shauna corrected him. Her face was screwed up and bright red, tears rolling down her sticky cheeks so fast it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. He was a mess, too. Dark circles, mussed up hair, half-buttoned work shirt, un-ironed khakis.
“Out,” she said, dropping her purse on the floor and shutting the front door behind her.
“Out? Are you fucking kidding?” Jeff yelled over Callie’s cries. “She has a fever. She’s been asking for you all—”
“Mommy!” Callie screamed, reaching for her. Jeff walked closer, and Callie thrashed harder, trying to squirm out of his arms to get to Shauna. Callie took a deep breath, swallowing down air in that way only toddlers did, to gear up for another shout. “Mom—my!”
“I’m late for work, Shauna, you can’t just—” Jeff made to hand Callie off to Shauna. She kept her arms at her sides and walked straight past them. “Shauna!”
Callie wailed. Jeff kept talking. Shauna slipped into the bathroom and locked the door. She flipped on the fan, turned on both taps at the sink, and let the shower run to drown them out. Then she sat on the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and sobbed.
Jeff shook his head as he slipped his shows on. “I’m three hours late for work.”
Callie clung to Shauna, her legs wrapped around Shauna’s middle, her little arms a noose around Shauna’s neck. She was too warm. The first thing Shauna had done after finally leaving the bathroom—the filth of the night washed down the drain—was press the back of her hand to Callie’s forehead. She’d given her a dose of Tylenol, forcing her to drink the bright red liquid before she would pick her up.
“I said I’m sorry,” Shauna said. “I don’t know what else you want—”
“Bullshit, Shauna.” Jeff pointed at her chest. He looked truly angry, his cheeks as red as Callie’s had been, his throat bobbing. “You’re not sorry about this. You’re not sorry about Callie being sick and crying for her damn mother all night. You’re not sorry about scaring the fucking shit out of me.”
Callie wiggled—already feeling better, all Jeff needed to do was give her some fucking medication, what kind of idiot doesn’t treat a kid’s fever—and Shauna let her slide down to the floor. She picked up her knock-off barbie doll and lifted it over her head, dropping it mid-flight to let it crash to the ground. Jeff took another step toward Shauna. She crossed her arms against her chest and raised a brow at him.
“You’re sorry that your night of going out and being a fucking… whore got ruined.” Even as the word left Jeff’s mouth, he seemed to regret it. His voice shook, his jaw trembled, his eyes lost their fire.
Shauna tried to push past him, ready to head for the door again. Ready to take his fucking car. Ready to hop on a flight and never look back. She must’ve communicated that somehow, because Jeff gripped her upper arm and squeezed, pushing her back. Jeff had never once grabbed her. Never pushed her. Never pulled her. Never done anything remotely physical to her. It didn’t hurt. His fingers didn’t dig, his nails didn’t scrape. But he held her in place.
Callie’s doll dropped against the tile over and over, the clatter of it louder each time.
Shauna took Jeff’s wrist, digging her fingers in along his bones and twisting to break his grip. She put both of her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards as hard as she could, forcing him out of Callie’s view. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall.
Shauna forced an even tone, her eyes wide and her jaw set. “If you ever call me a whore again,” her finger was inches from his nose, shaking from how tightly she clenched her muscles, “if you ever put your fucking hands on me again,” her chest heaved with effort, “in front of our daughter?” Tears of rage filled her eyes. She blinked them back. Jeff tried to reach for her, a horrified apology already written across his face, his body, bubbling at his lips. Shauna smacked his hand away. “It’ll be the last fucking thing you ever do.”
The threat worked, just like Shauna knew it would. Jeff bought her a new car as soon as he could afford it. He didn’t ask questions about her court dates. He didn’t push her on anything. But what Shauna didn’t know, was that the next time she went out, looking for a woman who was just right—almost exactly her own height, hair not too blonde, not too brunette, frame thin and eyes as wide as she could find—Jeff slipped her journals out of the safe in their closet and started reading.