Anne exhaled, dizzy with wonder, relief, and a brimming, boiling happiness. It couldn’t be possible to withstand the crush of this much pleasure without bursting into light. She felt as though Sadie had reached through the screen and stroked her cheeks, held her face, delivered her into a new world where Anne could want desperately, then have.
She pulled off her reading glasses and grabbed her nearby phone, haste making her clumsy.
Sadie answered on the second ring. “Anne?”
At the sound of Sadie’s voice, euphoria, pure and pointed, shocked right through Anne’s body with a strength that seemed impossible. She’d do her best to speak like a person who wasn’t clinging to normalcy with one slipping hand. “You, uh, you said I could call?”
“Yes! That’s a small word to hold such a big feeling.” Faint hesitation laced Sadie’s excitement. “So you’ve already read my email. Do you—was it all right?”
“That wasn’t an email.” Anne couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice. “It was a love letter, Sadie. And it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I’ll remember every word of it for the rest of my life. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
I love you, too.It was on her tongue. But she wouldn’t say it for the first time on a phone call, not when she couldn’t see Sadie, touch her, show Sadie the depths of what it meant. Anne wasn’t like Sadie; she couldn’t bend language to make flowers. She needed Sadie to see her eyes.
“I’ll wait until tomorrow to say more about the letter,” she continued. “What I want to tell you—it needs to be in person. But please know that what you wrote means everything to me.”
Sadie exhaled loudly. “Well,” she said, and Anne could hear the wobble of relief. “It’s an awful understatement to say I’m glad. But I am. I’m so, so glad.”
The phone was already hot in Anne’s hand, or maybe the heat was from her own skin. “What you wrote about risk and picking happiness—I just need to be sure. You’re saying that you’re ready to commit to me? To be with me?”
“I’m all in,” Sadie said firmly. “For as long as you want me, beloved, I’m yours.”
Anne trembled a little. Here it was, in reach at long last: her life.
“What about you? Are you ready?”
The meaning was clear. Sadie didn’t meanreadyin the sense that Anne had been ready last Monday, so desperate for the thing she’d always denied herself. She was asking if Anne understood that choosing Sadie meant choosing herself, too.
“I’ve started to make some changes. To be healthier. No, that’s not the word I want. To be happier.” Despite Anne’s delight, she still felt a trickle of embarrassment. Maybe one day it wouldn’t feel so vulnerable to talk about these things. “Taking a break from drinking, but you know that already. And—and I’m trying to let myself enjoy food, too. Last night’s dinner was a bowl of macaroni and cheese.”
“Tremendous.” Sadie sounded far more enthusiastic than a simple meal deserved. “Please tell me you used a box of Kraft.”
“Are you kidding? Have you met me? Aged cheddar cheese, Gruyère, fontina, shichimi-seasoned broccolini, and organic cavatappi noodles.” Anne leaned back in her chair, discomfort receding somewhat. She’d only been able to bring herself to eat half the bowl, but it still felt like progress. “If I’m going to branch out beyond my current palate, you’d better bet it’ll be quality.”
“Don’t knock Kraft mac until you’ve tried it. I remember a certain someone who changed her tune about fast food a quarter second after she bit into a Burger Bliss cheeseburger.”
That hadn’t been the only thing in Anne’s mouth at Burger Bliss. Her face heated with the memory. “If you make it for me when you come home, then we’ve got a deal.”
“It hasn’t been too—awful, everything you’ve started doing? The wine, the food, the coming-out?”
Not horrific, but not pain-free, either. There’d been reminders that the journey she’d started wouldn’t be linear or easy; you couldn’t erase a lifetime in a week. Several times, she’d fantasized about driving down to Malibu Liquor and even grabbed her car keys one afternoon before she’d abruptly thrown them across the living room. And yesterday, after a dressing-soaked bite of her salad, Anne had felt self-revulsion crawl over her; it echoed exactly the sudden surge of shame she’d felt the other night when she’d noticed the shine of arousal and lube on the insides of her upper thighs. Both times, she’d thought:Who said you could have all that?
“It hasn’t been easy,” she said, not elaborating. “But I’m managing. Brooke and Claire are adjusting pretty quickly. And—oh, I haven’t told you yet—I went down to the Santa Monica LGBTQ Community Center yesterday. You know, that place where Arthur goes? I’m going to volunteer for them, too.”
“Oh, sunshine.” If words could smile, Sadie’s did. “You never do anything halfway, do you? I can’t wait to hear all the details.”
“When you come home to me,” Anne said in a rush of heat.
“When I come home to you.” It was soft with promise.
“Speaking of figuring things out.” Anne wished she had a phone cord to twirl around her finger to calm her nerves, like she’d done as a teenager. “Barnard. New York. Should we talk about it now? Or wait until tomorrow for that, too?”
Sadie didn’t hesitate. “Doyouwant to go? Not for me, I don’t mean that. If you took my preference out of the equation, what would you decide?”
It was impossible to remove Sadie from consideration completely, but Anne understood the difference. She wanted to be with Sadie, of course she did, but did she want to move to New York City?
A week ago, she might’ve given an enthusiastic yes. Besides Sadie, there hadn’t been much for Anne in LA. Her daughters were grown. She barely knew her grandchildren. James had his own life. Genevieve could easily take over chairing Conserve Malibu’s board of directors; after a while, they wouldn’t miss Anne.
But now—