Anne’s vision blurred. Her chest tightened. A small cry she couldn’t suppress flew out of her throat, and she sat back down next to Sadie, hard.
For some reason, an expression that looked like relief flashed over Sadie’s tense face. “You had no idea? You never guessed?”
“No! I didn’t—why didn’t youtellme?” Yet another critically important detail that Sadie had kept from her. What else was Anne in the dark about?
The strained smile that pulled at Sadie’s lips was nothing like her typical wide, sunny grin. “Oh, Anne,” she said, finally. “Oh, my dearest friend. Do you really have no idea why I might be scared to bring it up? What I might be risking?”
Anne stared at her, at Sadie’s big eyes, her gentle mouth, her graceful neck, her slumped shoulders, the different parts of Sadie she knew so well and might be seeing for the very first time.
All those compliments. All those small details about Anne that Sadie always remembered and pointed out. All those times Anne had caught Sadie looking at her.Salt would just slip right out of my food, she’d said,if you weren’t there with me.
Sadie’s hands were clasped tightly together like she needed something to hold onto. Like she couldn’t touch what she wanted to touch.
Sadie wanted to touch her.
“That’s right,” Sadie said flatly. “You see the truth now. And that look on your face—that’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. Because I’d rather keep the best friend I’ve ever had than do anything to risk losing you.”
“Did you—” Anne’s breath was coming fast and short now. “When did you realize?”
“Not until the last year or so.” Sadie lifted one shoulder in a gesture near a shrug. “The internet says I’m something called a ‘late-in-life sapphic.’ Probably some flavor of bisexual. Never too old to figure yourself out, I suppose.”
Was that true? “Sadie—”
“What?”
Anne could barely get the words out. “You said you didn’t tell me about the job because you needed to figure out why your feelings about leaving me were so strong. But youdidknow why, didn’t you?”
Sadie’s head bobbed in a small, hesitant nod.
Anne’s understanding opened like a creaking door. “You just couldn’t tell me what you felt. Because—because you thought I’d end our friendship.”
“When they asked me to apply,” Sadie said quietly, “my first thought was that it wasthedream job, the one a million poets would kill for. An endowed position with time to write. Nearly twice my current salary. One ten-person seminar per semester. But my next thought wasn’t that I didn’t want to leave Los Angeles, or that I couldn’t leave Hal or Talisha or the baby or my students. My next thought was that I couldn’t leave you.”
The room trembled. Anne, still breathing hard, had to close her eyes. She felt dizzy.
“I told myself that if I stayed, I’d lose you anyway because it would only be a matter of time before you’d realize how I felt. I’d let it slip, somehow. But even that certainty paled in the face of a life without my best friend. I couldn’t bear the thought ofleaving you. I couldn’t even stand the idea of telling you I might be moving. And I knew what that meant.”
What did it mean? If Sadie would tell her—then maybe Anne would know the meaning of her own wild and swelling desperation—
“I can’t help what I feel for you,” Sadie rasped. “I’ve tried so hard to help it. I can’t. But I would never—you know I would never ask that of you. Don’t you? I can be content with what we have. IpromiseI can.” Her voice cracked with desperation. “I promise I can be good.”
Behind Anne’s tightly closed lids, flashes of light burst like fireworks.
“You want it, though,” she said, and it sounded hoarse, like someone else. She was nearly panting. “You want me.”
“Oh no,” Sadie said miserably. “Please don’t push me away—!”
Anne opened her eyes. On the couch next to her, Sadie had her beautiful face in her hands. Her spine was gently arched, her lush body curved and calling.
“You need it.” Anne whispered. Something alien was rising inside her, new and sharp and staggering. “Don’t you? You need that from me.”
“I don’t need it!” Sadie lifted her head, face pale with distress. “I just told you—I can control myself—”
“You need it, Sadie,” Anne said again, roughly. “Youneedit.”
“No! I’m not—”
Anne kissed her.