Danielle Davis a San Diego native. She will be working on her BA in English with a concentration in Creative Writing at San Francisco State University in the fall. As a writer she enjoys molding and shaping time to serve the greater narrative. In her free time she likes Facebook, playing with her clit, and smashing the patriarchy.
my new normal
“You thought I cared. How cute. You were so loyal it was almost hard to be mean. I’m surprised that you hung on with me that long. Your loyalty and compassion were admirable, just like a little puppy. Sadly, Little girl, while my ego appreciated the boost, there’s no place here for puppies. Time to pack up and move on.”
That was the letter I found slid under my dorm room door yesterday after getting out of class. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Megyn, and she was right, I did think she cared. I thought we had the kind of relationship where it’s almost as if we were one continuous being, instead of two separate people. Her voice in the letter sounded so cold, miles away from the gregarious, silly, high energy, woman that I knew. That said, something between us felt off the past month, almost as if she was looking for something or someone better than me, a distraction.
My mind spun, what the hell happened? What had I done wrong? My nose started to burn, and by the time I got back to my room, I felt the tears that had risen in my chest, threatening to burst out. I slam my bedroom door shut and lock it before lying down on my bed. My gaze floats to the framed picture of us on my nightstand. It’s only a few months old, from the holiday festival we perform for every year.
The camera on Megyn’s phone flashes again and again, as we giggle and take pictures behind the giant wooden Christmas tree that we have to hide behind. I rest my head on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. Floral and heady, I recognize it as the perfume I had given her as a birthday present four months before. Yet, still intoxicating enough that I feel like I am smelling it for the first time. I don’t want to move, she feels so warm. I’m staring at the porcelain skin on her neck, when I realize, now’s my chance. I gently push the soft, red fabric of her scarf down and kiss her. Gentle and light as a feather.
She looks down at me, her sapphire eyes sparkling as she smiles. “That was nice, what’s that for?”
“I don’t know, cause you’re pretty,” I say, meeting her gaze.
“I am, huh?” She answers. “Silly girl,” she adds as she kisses me.
I love that I can taste her laughter in my mouth.
I return her kiss, deepening it, my tongue sliding over hers. I can taste the cotton candy that we shared earlier, as I pull her closer to me. The sound from the show choir performing on the stage seems to blend together with the joyful squeals from the ferris wheel and the midway behind the stage, while the lights blur, wrapping us in a soft yellow glow. When we come up for air, I stare at her. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, the blue of her eyes deepening as she leans her head back, unwrapping her scarf before tossing it down onto one of the wooden supports in the tree.
I tip my head and start trailing kisses down her now-exposed neck. She snakes her right arm around my waist while her left hand fingers the hem of my sweater, waiting for permission. “Keep going,” I whisper in her ear, my voice breathy and raw. I feel her slip her fingers inside and start crawling up my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. When she wiggled under my bra band, my breath caught in my throat, causing a stifled moan to escape my lips. Suddenly embarrassed, I bury my face in her shoulder, praying to whatever deity would listen that no one in the audience heard.
She smiles, full of playful mischief. Her finger grazes my nipple.
I struggle to draw in an even breath, stumbling slightly. Her grip tightens around my waist to steady me, pushing her body into mine in the process.
“Yep,” I say with a wink. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”
She kisses me, hard, almost taking my breath away as I slip my hand under the smooth fabric of her black top. Megyn’s thin bra gives way to the hot, almost insistent throbbing of her breasts, begging to be touched. I slip my hands inside, rolling her nipples between my fingers. She lets out a breathy moan into my ear, as she presses her fingers into my back, trying...failing...to regain control. “I need you inside me, now,” she says so quickly that it almost falls out of her. Her voice is full of a level of desire never heard before. Megyn rocks back on her heels allowing me access to the fly on her pants. I undo the clip and slide down the zipper just enough to fit my hand inside, slipping my fingers gently past the soft pink fabric of her underwear.
“You’re so wet,” I whisper into her ear as she buries her head in my neck to stifle another rising moan. The feeling of her hot, fast breath on my neck is enough for me to see stars. I find her clit with my thumb and start moving it in slow circles.
“Oh God, Lizzie, fuck me...fuck me, please!”
“As you wish,” I shoot her a flirty smile as my fingers crawl closer to her opening, pausing for a moment to slowly rub her lips, teasing. I gently plunge my fingers inside first one, then two. Curling them upward, I start to move them in a slow pattern. Up and in, out and down, again and again. Within a couple minutes, I feel Megyn’s muscles contract around my fingers. Her breathing quickens, panting.
“Mmm, I’m so fucking close, don’t stop,” she says, as she reaches for my waistband, shaking and clinging tighter to me in order to stay upright. “I wanna make you come,” she adds, breathless. I feel tension start to rise from below.
When she finds my clit, I forget my own name.
When she’s inside me, my knees buckle. “Let’s come together, are you ready?”
We hold each other’s gaze as a final wave crashes over the both of us. Megyn looks as if she’s glowing as we come down.
“Don’t move yet,” I say as I refasten her pants and straighten her top. I wink at her as I pull my hair back, hoping that will hide the messiness. She kisses me and does the same.
I’m awakened by a knock on the door. I blink quickly fumbling in the dark for my glasses.
“Lizzie, are you okay? Can I come in?” Ava asks.
“I thought I heard you crying, I was worried.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I reply, trying to wipe any evidence from my face.
“Don’t apologize, what happened?” She says as she tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. I’m grateful for the gesture, sweet...nurturing.
“I can’t believe this letter, I just feel so stupid.”
“That letter is what makes Megyn trash, not you.”
“Is it though? I fell for her, so what does that say?”
“That you’re human, and just as vulnerable to a pretty woman’s lies as the rest of us,” Ava replies with a giggle, reaching out to hold my hands. “Don’t waste your tears, you’re much too wonderful of a person to be stressing out like this,” she adds.
“Thank you for putting up with me,” I say while blowing my nose.
“I brought back food for you, it’s in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Okay, thank you. Do you need anything?”
“Could you grab me a beer while you’re up? You don’t think it’s too early, do you?”
“No, not at all, I think I’ll join you, a beer sounds great,” I return a few minutes later with two bottles of beer and pizza from the fridge. The alcohol soon casts a warm buzz over the room, smoothing over the harsh edges of the day. Ava and I spend the rest of the night cuddling and watching movies. We fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The next morning, she wakes me with trailing kisses down my neck. The way she moves over my body, it’s as if I’m being worshipped. I give myself up to it. We make love soft and slow, orgasming together, and drifting off in a contented sleep.
Four hours later, I wake up and slip carefully out of bed so as to not wake her. Still racked with questions about Megyn, I almost feel guilty for sleeping with Ava. Alone in the dark stillness of the kitchen, I can’t keep my mind from racing. Why is she so quick to let me go? If she truly doesn’t care about me, why have sex in the first place? Should I try to talk to her? Is it wrong to seek comfort in someone else?
I need a different perspective. I need Max, my gay husband and voice of reason. He’s the only one who can knock sense into me or talk me down whenever I could feel myself spinning.
“I still can’t get Megyn’s letter out of my head,” I whine.
“Have you tried throwing it away?”
“Ha! You’re funny, do you think it’s really that easy?”
“I’m hilarious, but seriously, that wound is never going to heal if you keep picking at it. she obviously doesn’t want to talk, so why chase her?”
“I guess you’re right,” I say with a sigh. “But she has this hold over me, I can’t really even describe it, but I feel like I’ll always be drawn to her,” I add, reach for my lemonade, to steady myself. I hope the coldness of it hides the embarrassment in my face.
“I know that, but as your friend, can I tell you something?”
“Shoot,” my eyes flit around the restaurant, looking for something to anchor my gaze on to. Something that I can brace myself on, while I wait for what he’ll say next.
“Megyn never really cared about you,” Max began gently. “You were a conquest, someone to mark off her list,” he adds.
I didn’t say anything in return, choosing instead to stare at the butcher block table, using my finger to follow a knot in the top formed by the wood. A similar knot began to grow in the pit of my stomach, as I felt my voice get smaller and smaller.
“But why?, Max” I replied quietly. “After all these years, all of the meals shared, secrets kept, if she knew that is what she wanted the whole time, why even keep me around?”
“Why do you think? C’mon Lizzie, think about it, really think.”
“Maybe to pump up her ego, but no, that can’t be it. I’m not important enough. No, there’s no way.”
“Really? Because I think that’s the exactly why. She’ll never admit it, but your admiration of her combined with how loyal of a person you are must of made her feel like a rockstar. No one in their right mind would ever give that up.”
“I guess you’re right, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“I imagine it doesn’t, but falling for people and falling on your ass is a part of growing up, yes? Now, Ava, that woman worships you. I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on Megyn who couldn’t care less when you have a beautiful woman who practically thinks you hung the moon.”
“Why are you so much smarter than me?” I ask as I let what he’s saying sink in.
“Easy, I don’t make life-altering decisions with my vagina.”
“Asshole,” I reply with a laugh.
Back in my dorm, I tuck the picture of Megyn and I into my nightstand. I know she will always be a part of my life, but I realize now that doesn’t mean she has to play an active role in it. The warming smell of tomato sauce wafts into my bedroom from the kitchen. Ava’s making dinner. I stand in the doorway and watch her, excited for what the future will bring, my new normal.