“Whatisit?” Finally, James broke the silence. “You’re starting to frighten me. That look on your face—”
She opened her trembling mouth, unsure what would come out of it, and felt the cliff’s edge crumbling beneath her feet.I’m in love with Sadie.
“Anne, please—just say it, whatever it is, tell me—”
“I’m a lesbian!” Anne gasped.
Then her legs trembled, and she nearly lost her balance as the weight of what she’d just done landed.
Dear God.
She hadn’t known she was going to say it. Hadn’t known she was ready. Hadn’t known what it would feel like: a life suddenly locking into place for the first time.
“I’m a lesbian,” she said again, more slowly, and this time she was speaking to herself.
James stared at her. He couldn’t have looked more shocked if he’d seen her levitate. The door swayed a little in his hand.
Anne placed a shaking palm over her chest and pressed it against the fabric of her shirt. She wondered wildly what he was thinking. Had he convinced himself he couldn’t have heard hercorrectly? Did he think she was playing some sort of prank on him? Was he too stunned to even respond?
“James?” The question was very small.
“Well,” James said very slowly, “I don’t really know how to put this, but—would you be angry if I—?”
“Just say it!”
“Oh, kid. This explains so much.”
Anne began to cry.
It was loud, sudden, the weight of today and yesterday and every other day she’d ever had abruptly collapsing in on her, and then she was in James’s arms.
She sobbed into the cotton of his polo shirt, soaking his shoulder, unable to stop herself. Somewhere above her head, she could hear his voice, this new James.
“It’s all right, you’re all right, you’ll be all right,” he whispered, and his hand gently stroked the back of her head.
He didn’t know what was making her cry uncontrollably. For thirty years, Anne had worked side by side with this man to create a performance they’d agreed to call living. This seismic awakening she’d just had—it made sense to James, too. No questions. No challenges. Just immediate understanding.
For the very first time, he’d seen her.
They held each other for a while, together in a way their marriage hadn’t accomplished. Eventually, reluctantly, Anne pulled back, sniffling, and wiped at her wet cheeks with both hands.
“Thank you,” she got out.
From the way he smiled at her, he might’ve even understood why she was grateful. “Now that you’ve come out,” James said gently, and gestured behind him, “would you like to come in?”
It was a terrible joke. One of the worst ones she’d ever heard him make. Anne laughed a little anyway, still sniffling through her tears. “I would.”
He stood back and let her push the door open a little wider, so she could walk through first.
Chapter 14
“So,” James began, closing the front door. He gestured awkwardly around the foyer of his house with arms spread, hands open. “Welcome.”
Anne was about one second away from asking “What, to homosexuality?” before she realized just in time that he was trying to be nice.
So she closed her mouth on her absurd question and fished a couple of tissues out of her purse instead. Not letting herself think about the awful sight she made, she dabbed carefully at the tender skin under her eyes.
The tissue came away streaked with mascara, not the only place she’d left her makeup. On the pale salmon shoulder of James’s polo shirt, black smudges stood out in a large wet patch. James hated stains. Hated any physical blemish or imperfection. They’d shared that once.