“Just perfect,” Jolene said. As Jolene was staring at an attractive woman seated at the end of the bar, it seemed more a commentary on the view than a response to Carol's question. Carol had asked Jolene, “How's your birthday so far?”
Carol had arranged this get-together (too low-key to be called a party) to celebrate Jolene turning forty. The big four oh. It was the sort of non-party that Carol knew Jolene would love: a few friends in her favorite bar; just booze, buddies and playing pool with people slightly worse at it than she was. Carol and Jolene hadn't always been just buddies but Time had proven them better friends than lovers –although sometimes when the moon was just right, and the alcohol was flowing, they might choose to forget what they learned and fall into bed together for a) old times' sake, b) a second/third/fourth chance, or c) the helluvit. Carol had hoped that tonight might be one of those nights. And given the way that old friends were often also old lovers in circles of lesbian acquaintance, Carol was probably not the only old buddy thinking that tonight. But none of them were in luck (or getting lucky with Jolene) tonight. For the last few hours, whenever Jolene's eyes wandered they appeared to be in search of the beautiful stranger who was now seated alone at the bar.
“Just perfect.”
“She's pretty, but perfect?” Carol appraised the interloper, begrudgingly admiring her.
The woman had tight, black curls just long enough to caress her bare brown shoulders. She was pretty and knew it. Over-dressed for a dyke sports bar, she was wearing a strapless, blue dress that hugged her curves. The dress wasn't formal but the fabric had a shimmer to it that drew your eye when it moved in the light, which told Carol the wearer both liked how she looked in the dress and liked to be looked at. The dress and the woman wearing it were eye-catching. Jolene wasn't the only one who noticed. In a bar filled with women in denim, the stranger stood out. Like a bluejay among sparrows. Watching her (and watching Jolene watch her) Carol felt a little drab and sad and horny. That's jealousy for you.
“Well,” Jolene laughed, nervous to have been caught looking. “She seems perfect from here. Maybe I need to make a closer inspection.”
“Go on then,” Carol nodded encouragingly; ignoring the pang the suggestion gave her.
Jolene rubbed the side of her head self-consciously. She always did that when she was nervous. The feel of her buzz cut under her hands seem to reassure her. Carol could understand that; she had once loved rubbing the short fuzz of it herself. Especially fresh from the barber. The memory of it under her hands (or against Carol's cheek or breast when Jolene kissed her) was a pleasant one. Carol dug her hands into her pockets to resist the urge to touch it now. Silently Carol reminded herself of all the reasons she and Jolene weren't together now and wouldn't be in the future. There were many good unsexy reasons. Carol listed them to herself (tardiness, bad housekeeper, hypochondria) but still couldn't help noticing how irresistibly Jolene ran her well-trimmed nails through her so-tactile haircut and along her oh-so-kissable neck. Not irresistible, Carol chided herself. Totally resistible.
Carol was grateful when another friend, Tangren, squeezed in between them. Carol gave her a hello hug. The touch of the other woman's body against hers broke nostalgia's spell.
“Nice loot,” Tangren gestured to the open boxes and wrapping paper; birthday present remnants cluttered the small table behind them.
“I told everyone no gifts,” Jolene growled.
“And from this treasure trove, I can see how seriously everyone took that advice.”
