Homecoming (Lesbian)

CHAPTER 23

"Are you sure you want us to talk about what happened that night?" the woman on the desk asks.

I take a deep breath thinking about it. I don't really want to, but I know I must. There are certain things I need to come to grips with and what happened that night was one of them. "Yeah, I'm sure."

We entered the motel room in silence. I closed the door behind me as Faye walked into the bathroom. I heard water running. She must've been washing her face or her hands. I didn't know why, maybe she just wanted to give me a moment alone. I was still upset from my visit to Mindy Quilter. I sat by the bed and took a deep breath. Minutes later, she came out with her hands wet and her face had been dried out with a towel. She sat next to me, wrapper her arms around me and made me lay my head on her shoulder.

She held me because she knew I needed firm ground to support myself, a rock in the middle of quicksand, a shelter in the rain, and that's Faye for me. She's safe; home.

I wasn't really in the mood for anything, and by that I mean I was giving Faye a really bad time. She asked if I was hungry, I said no. She asked if I wanted to watch TV, I said no. She asked if I wanted to go for a walk, I said no. She asked if I wanted to be left to myself, I said no. She asked if I wanted anything in this world, I said no.

"Really?" she questioned. "Not a thing? Come on, name it and I'll go and get it for you."

I thought she was joking, so I went with it. "Really? Anything in the whole world?"

She smirked. "Absolutely."

I gave her a sad smile and replied, "Alright. I want a brownie, covered in caramel sauce, with ice-cream, raspberries, whipped cream, charred marshmallows and a cherry on top."

I didn't actually think she would do it. Like I said, I thought she was joking. Instead, Faye stood up, grabbed her purse and burst out the door. I was left there thinking 'She can't possibly be crazy enough to get me that monstrosity, can she?' As you can imagine, I was hell wrong. An hour later she walked into our motel room with a plastic container. She seemed was breathing rapidly and her forehead was sticky with sweat.

"Here," she said handing me the container. "There is no store that actually sells something like that, but I found one crazy enough to make it for me for a reasonable price."

"You're screwing with me," I said taking it from her hands. She shrugged and I stared at the container repeating to myself that she couldn't be crazy enough. But when I lifted the lid there it was. My brownie covered in caramel sauce, with ice-cream, raspberries, whipped cream, charred marshmallows and a cherry on top.

The only thing that was more impressive than her stupid idea of getting me something that was clearly a joke, was that she remembered every single topping I asked. Or perhaps she didn't, perhaps over time, I forgot the ones she didn't managed to get. It didn't really matter.

"Jesus, Faye!" I said closing the container and staring up at her. "I was joking!"

She laughed, "Yeah. I know."

I gazed at the container again, then at her, and then it happened. The one thing that should never happen when it comes to your ex. You start remembering why you fell in love with them in the first place.

There she was. Tired, sweaty, and smiling. She had run for God knows how long to get me something she herself knew I didn't want.

Faye sat by my side and asked, "Aren't you gonna eat it?" knowing eating something like that was diabetic coma on the spot. And I liked to eat, I still do, but Jesus, that thing could kill me.