#anyways where was i going with this. OH yeah she kisses women (and ESPECIALLY reagan ridley btw)

[tenpixelsusie]

toriel undertale practiced lesbianism. in her youth btw

[h0ldthiscat]

arable

once @agentdanascully and I were like “the americans AU where everything is the same except Elizabeth’s season 5 honeytrap in Kansas in a lesbian”. 

so that’s what this is. enjoy!

_______________________________ She could be wrong, but it seems like she’s the oldest person in here by about ten years. It’s always hard to tell with these dark lenses on. She blinks and makes her way to the bar. The bartender is a tall woman in a denim vest who slides her a beer after checking her ID.

“I’m flattered,” Elizabeth tries, sliding the Illinois license issued to Brenda Neal back into her pocket. “Haven’t been ID’d in years.”

“Don’t be,” the bartender drawls. “I ID everybody.”

A twangy tune jingles through the bar, coming from a folksy three-piece band in the corner, cramped on a small, triangular stage, backlit by a neon beer sign. They’re nothing to write home about but a small crowd has gathered to listen and they sway back and forth lazily. Elizabeth spots her target in the group, hanging near the back. She’s shorter, small; Elizabeth doesn’t know why that surprises her. She wears a faded shirt tucked into jeans and holds a beer in each hand.

As she crosses the bar toward her, weaving in and out of women in denim, women in leather, women in tight blouses and short skirts, tall women, short women, Elizabeth is more nervous than she’s been since she first came to the US. She’d trained for it, of course. They all had. But she’d never actually--

“Oh god!” she yelps, intentionally bumping into the target and sloshing her beer all over her arm.

“Hey--” the woman turns, brow furrowed. She’s pretty, Elizabeth thinks. The picture Gabriel had provided didn’t do her justice.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth says, reaching for napkins on a nearby hightop table and mopping futilely at the girl’s arm. “God, I’m such a klutz.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s okay.”

For just a moment, the woman’s fingers are on the inside of her wrist. They squeeze, just barely, and then she pulls away. Elizabeth knows that move. She’s used that move.

“I thought, you’re only here one night, you should go out, see what Topeka has to offer,” she rambles, pushing her glasses up her nose. “How bad can you screw it up?”

“Not at all,” the girl assures her, a bright smile reaching up to her hazel eyes. “You haven’t screwed anything up.”

Elizabeth gives a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re too kind.”

“So you’re only in Topeka for the night, huh?”

Elizabeth nods and the woman says, “That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

The woman shrugs; her dark ponytail bobs. “Because you’re cute. Like, really cute.” She takes a sip of one of her beers.

“Drinking for two?” Elizabeth asks, pointing.

“Oh.” The girl’s face twists in anger, maybe annoyance. “Kind of? I’m friends with…” She gestures toward the stage, Elizabeth can’t quite see to whom. “Well, she’s my ex.”

“Her loss,” Elizabeth says confidently, taking a sip of her own beer.

The younger woman smiles, looking down at the floor. She’s wearing a pair of cowboy boots and Elizabeth is thankful; she was worried hers would be too over the top.

“Anyway,” the girl sighs. “I came here tonight ready to make a peace offering and… she shows up with some other girl.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Ugh. What a jerk. I know the feeling.”

“You?” the younger woman quirks a dark eyebrow, her eyes dancing. She’s one of those people with whom you feel instantly familiar. “What girl was stupid enough to break your heart?”

“Um… actually, I…” Elizabeth swallows. “I’m a little… new to all this stuff.”

“Oh, oh, of course.”

“I just, um, I just came out earlier this year and it’s…” The words tumble out. “It’s like this weight has finally been lifted off, you know? I feel like myself, for the first time since…” She stops, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” the woman says, nodding, and Elizabeth is surprised to see that her eyes are wet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Elizabeth reaches out and holds her elbow.

“No, it’s just--” She laughs, loud and clear. “I never get tired of hearing people’s stories. How good they feel once they finally realize they’re allowed to be themselves.”

Elizabeth nods, not really sure what to say. She’s never met anyone quite like this woman before.

“I’m Suzanne, by the way,” the woman says, tucking one of her beers under her arm to extend a hand.

“Brenda,” Elizabeth says. “Brenda Neal.” They shake.

“So Brenda. Tell me about you.”

Elizabeth almost laughs at her forthrightness. Men have been open with her in this way, but they always want something. Well, most of them. But Suzanne is earnest and without artifice. At face value, she’s a good person.

“Well. Um, I work in fashion. I promise we’re not all as vapid as we seem.”

“You don’t seem vapid.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Elizabeth says. “But I’m here for--”

“No, I mean it,” Suzanne interrupts. “There’s nothing vapid about you, Brenda. You’re… real.”

Elizabeth laughs. “That’s a pretty quick assessment.”

“I can tell about these things.”

“Do you want to show her something real?” Elizabeth asks, canting her chin towards the woman onstage, washed out in the red-orange light.

“Maybe...” Suzanne says, glancing over her shoulder.

Elizabeth smirks. “Come here.”

She’s never had to lean down to kiss someone before. Her hand instinctively slips to the back of Suzanne’s neck, tilting the younger woman’s head up so their lips meet. Suzanne molds to her instantly, her arms encircling Elizabeth’s waist. She feels a beer on top of each hipbone; the chilly bottles make her shiver. Suzanne’s lips are soft and salty, and when they part for air, her eyes are sparkling.

“Brenda Neal,” she whispers, nodding.

Elizabeth smiles and feels herself turning red. “That’s me!”

__________________________

They share a cigarette on the bench in front of the bar, their two different shades of lipstick staining the filter. It’s such a commonplace action but with Suzanne it’s surprisingly intimate. Elizabeth feigns surprise when Suzanne tells her she works at AgriCorp.

“Growing up out here, farming, crops--they’re all I’ve ever known,” she says, exhaling and passing the cigarette to Elizabeth. “But I didn’t want to be a farmer like everyone else in my family.”

“I’m envious,” Elizabeth says. “I’m such a city girl. Raised in a concrete jungle, grew up with a patch of asphalt for a backyard. People just packed in everywhere…”

Suzanne shakes her head. “I don’t know how anyone does it. I need--” She opens her arms wide, struggling to find the words. “--this!”

“I couldn’t take the quiet,” Elizabeth admits.

“You’d be surprised what you can get used to,” Suzanne says, with the confidence only a twenty-six year old can muster: young enough still to believe it but old enough to know she won’t forever. “Plus I volunteer. That makes living out here worth it, more than anything else.”

“Volunteer?” Liz asks.

Suzanne nods excitedly, lights another cigarette. She talks animatedly and uses her hands. “At an AIDS crisis center. We collect clothing, food, donations. Then we send them to hospitals where the patients are being treated.”

Elizabeth can only say, “Wow. That’s… brave isn’t the right word. But you know what I mean.”

“They’re the brave ones. The people living with this disease. I mean, we know virtually nothing about it and it’s decimating entire legions of our community.” Here, her heart-shaped face twists with disgust. “And the government is doing nothing. Nevermind at a local level, especially here. But even in major cities. New York, LA, San Francisco… people are dying in droves and Reagan’s motionless.”

“He’s useless,” Elizabeth says venomously.

Suzanne chuckles a little bit. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Sometimes out here… even people like us, they’ve just been brainwashed so long that they blindly support him. It’s the reason my ex and I broke up.”

“Because she supported Reagan?”

Suzanne gives a woeful nod. “I know.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that with me,” Elizabeth assures her. “I’m the furthest thing from a Reagan supporter you could imagine.”

“God, you’re really only in town for one night?” Suzanne sighs, leaning back on the bench. Her arm falls back across Elizabeth’s shoulders. It’s comfortable, natural. Elizabeth leans into her a little bit.

“For now,” she says, with a wry smile. “But it looks like I’ll be coming here pretty regularly, maybe weekly. For work.”

Suzanne shoves her shoulder. “Brenda Neal! Why didn’t you say so!”

“I don’t know, I guess I was worried about coming on too strong or something,” Elizabeth says, looking down at her lap. Her embarrassment is only partially put-on.

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” Suzanne assures her. “I like strong women.”

“Well then. That makes two of us.”

__________________________________

It’s late when she gets home, but Philip is still awake, eyes drooping over an issue of LIFE that’s been cluttering the bedside table for months. When she enters the room with her suitcase, he smiles. She leans down to hug him and his face is warm against her neck.

After a happy hum, she sits beside him on the edge of the bed and murmurs, “It was cold on the plane.”

“How’d it go?” He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear.

She thinks for a moment. “Good. She’s nice. It was… easy.”

“Good.”

She nods, takes off her boots, her earrings. “She’s… I don’t know. Not what I expected. Young, idealistic. She volunteers at an AIDS clinic.”

“Wow. Sure you don’t want to flip her?”

“Ha, ha.” Elizabeth twists her hair up and flips on the light in the bathroom. “The whole time she was stroking her own ego about how important it is, the work she does. How she hates Reagan. But what she’s doing, what AgriCorp is doing, is starving an entire country.”

“Not if you have anything to say about it,” Philip says with a smirk.

“I mean it, Philip. These are the people we have to be the most careful about. The ones who think they’re fighting for the same things we are.”

“The only thing Deirdre seems to be fighting for is a promotion.”

“How’s that going?”

Philip pulls a face that makes her chuckle as she slides into bed beside him. “That bad?” Instinctively, she curls toward him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” he says, and she mostly believes him.

“With a woman...” she says suddenly, “I wasn’t sure I’d know how to talk to her.”

“But you did.” It’s not a question; he’s confident in her abilities, always has been. It’s reassuring, his unwavering faith in her, but also infuriating sometimes. That he just assumes she knows what to do in every situation. She’s good at her job. She’s proud of her job. And sometimes she is terrified.

When Gabriel had told them about Kansas, that she’d be targeting a woman, she didn’t balk. It wasn’t about that. More and more she feels like she’s slipping, like little pieces of her are being chipped away, and she’s someone new under all this… stuff she’s been for all these years. And with a woman she’s out of her element, has to use her brain in a way she doesn’t normally with marks. It’s hard, and she is tired.

“But you did,” Philip repeats. His lips are warm on the crown of her head.

“I guess so,” she whispers, feeling her voice reverberate along his collarbone. She wants to shut her eyes and burrow so close to him that they become one person who can never be broken in two.

__________________________________

Six days later, Suzanne is all smiles at the trailhead, with an optimism that would almost make Elizabeth nauseous if her target wasn’t also so genuine. She’s not sure if the lack of artifice makes her respect her or pity her.

“Brenda Neal,” Suzanne says, with her approving nod. She gives Elizabeth a quick kiss on the lips. “Hello.”

“Suzanne Stobert,” Elizabeth matches. She gestures at Suzanne’s backpack, a formidable contraption carrying quite a heavy load, by the looks of it. “We going somewhere I don’t know about?”

She’s only worn a fanny pack herself, thinking they’d hike for a few hours, and then she’d invent some work emergency and leave a day early with apologies and promises to meet next week.

Suzanne shrugs. “Maybe. I was trying to keep it a secret but I’m terrible at that.”

Elizabeth smirks. “Are you.”

“Well when it’s something good, yes,” Suzanne says, her eyes glinting. “I thought--if the weather stays nice, that is--that this hike could turn into a little overnight camping trip.”

“Camping? Wow.” Elizabeth chuffs.

“I’ve got food, blankets, matches. I know this great spot about ten miles out with an incredible view of the valley.”

“I didn’t know you could get high enough in Kansas to look into a valley.”

“Well, what passes for a valley here.” Suzanne winces. “I’m sorry, is this totally crazy? Is this too much right out of the gate?”

“No, no, not at all!” Elizabeth assures her. This could be easier than she thought. “I was just wondering if you’ve got a sleeping bag in there.”

Suzanne pats her pack, a scrappy smile across her features. “Well I only own one…”

Elizabeth loops her arm through the younger woman’s as they set off down the path. “You’re in luck, because I happen to have this excess of body heat that I never know what to do with.”

“That must have come in handy growing up in Chicago.”

“You remembered.” Elizabeth raises her eyebrows, pleasantly impressed.

“It’s kind of a gift,” Suzanne shrugs. “Flawless memory, incredibly thoughtful…”

“And somehow still single,” Elizabeth laments.

“Am I? Single?” She has moved her hand down Elizabeth’s arm and intertwined their fingers.

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth pushes her glasses up her nose. “Are you?”

_____________________

The fire crackles in the darkness and Elizabeth can scarcely see anything beyond the small clearing where they’ve pitched their tent. They share soup from a thermos, Suzanne’s hands lingering on hers as they pass the cup back and forth.

“I hope this isn’t rude but um, what took you so long?” she asks. “To come out? Most people your age--I mean, you look… You’re beautiful. Ugh, listen to me!”

Elizabeth laughs and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No, no! I’m no spring chicken, you’re right. But, um. I guess it was my job that kept me from coming out sooner.”

“Really?” Suzanne settles in, laying her head in Elizabeth’s lap. “I would have thought that in your line of work things would be… I don’t know, different.”

“For guys, maybe. But with gay women… I mean, you know the stereotypes. I didn’t want to lose credibility. Plus, it’s not like you might think, even in the fashion industry. There are still a lot of people who don’t like us. Don’t accept us. I like my job and I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“That must have been hard.” Suzanne plays with Elizabeth’s hands while she talks, interlacing their fingers, kissing her palm, the inside of her wrist. Elizabeth strokes her hair, rubs her temples. The things that Philip does when she’s laying beside him.

“It was,” she says. “It is. It’s hard having a job that you love but where you don’t... feel like you can be yourself.”

Suzanne nods, turns over on her stomach. Her cheek rests against Elizabeth’s thigh, her dark hair glowing orange in the firelight. “Are you out at work now?”

“To some people. My one or two close friends. It’s not perfect but it feels better. More honest. I guess I never thought I--” She stops, her heart thumping in her chest, her tongue thick all of a sudden.

“What?” Suzanne whispers. She pushes herself up slowly, one arm on either side of Elizabeth’s legs.

Elizabeth shakes her head. Behind her, an owl hoots in the trees. “I don’t know. I guess I never thought I deserved to feel happy like that.”

“Well you do,” Suzanne says after a moment. “You deserve everything.”

“You sound like one of those inspirational posters in my break room.” She almost can’t believe there are people that actually talk like this. But as always with Suzanne, there’s no pretense. She actually believes it.

“There’s a lot of people out there that hate us, Brenda,” Suzanne says. “So we might as well love ourselves, don’t you think?” She reaches a hand between their bodies and defly undoes the first button on Elizabeth’s shirt.

“Suzanne,” Elizabeth says against her mouth, but the younger woman shakes her head.

“Everybody calls me Susie,” she says, and unbuttons Elizabeth’s shirt the rest of the way. The crisp fall air hits her skin and she gasps in spite of herself.

“I’m not everybody,” she smirks.

“No. You’re definitely not.” Susie straddles her in one swift movement and Elizabeth’s hips buck in surprise, unused to being in the other position. The younger woman’s hands are hot and insistent, sweeping across her belly, over her breasts, behind her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. It feels objectively good, just like every other target, all of them indistinguishable from one another. An unexpected heat pools in her gut and she hears herself gasp when Suzanne’s lips close over her earlobe. She is suddenly aware of a rock beneath her leg and she stiffens in Susie’s arms.

“What’s wrong?” she asks instantly. “Too fast?”

“No, I just, um--” Elizabeth runs a hand over her face. “I’ve never--”

“Oh, god,” Susie says, dismounting. Her hazel eyes flash wide with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have just assumed you--I mean of course you haven’t. Not that you couldn’t, my god, I mean--”

“It’s okay,” Elizabeth insists, taking Susie’s hands between her own. “I want to. Let’s just… will you hold me?”

“Of course.” Susie settles in beside her, arm snaking across her waist, head on her shoulder.

“I really like you,” Elizabeth says after a moment. “And I don’t want to rush things.”

“I think I got a little carried away. I’ve just never met anyone like you before, Brenda.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s true,” Elizabeth murmurs, but she knows she’s never met anyone like Susie before either.

______________________________

Paige’s eyes widen when Elizabeth hands her the keys. “You’re kidding.”

“No, get us home,” Elizabeth says with an encouraging smile. “I trust you.”

“You’re sure?” Paige asks, taking the keys from her mother. “You’re not gonna like, make me pull over on the Beltway and switch with you if you don’t like the way I merge?”

Elizabeth frowns. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“That sounds exactly like you, Mom.”

“Come on, get behind the wheel before I change my mind.”

Her heart swells with pride as Paige turns out of the parking lot, her acceleration a little slow but her eyes steady and her hands strong on the wheel.

When they’re at a stoplight, Elizabeth asks, “Do you know if Pastor Tim does any work with AIDS Action?”

Paige blinks. “What?”

“It’s the group that’s helping communities affected--”

“I know what AIDS Action is, Mom. I’m just surprised you do.”

Elizabeth narrows her eyes. “Why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, a lot of people your age aren’t… talking about it. The disease. I mean, our teachers are always like, ‘Don’t do drugs’, ‘use protection’ or whatever. But they’re not actually talking about the disease or… who gets it, or how you get it. It’s always ‘don’t do this, don’t do that.’ But never any actual information.”

Elizabeth smiles; it’s so exciting to hear Paige get passionate about something that isn’t Youth Group. She hasn’t prayed before dinner in months, and the last time she was in her daughter’s bedroom Elizabeth noticed her Bible discarded on the shelf under something she’d had to read for school. She’s getting close to giving up church for good, Elizabeth can feel it.

“I don’t think there’s a lot of information out there right now, sweetie,” she says. “But until there is, and even after, I think it’s worth supporting these people. Would that be something you’re interested in?”

Paige thinks a moment, shrugs. “I guess so.”

“What?”

“I guess I’m just surprised that you… feel this way. That you want to help. Doesn’t Russia like, hate gay people?”

Elizabeth looks down, chastened. “There are a lot of outdated laws. We’re a little focused on other things right now. But I think change is coming. Soon.” Even as she says it the words feel like lies in her mouth. But the opposite is unthinkable.

“I mean, you don’t…”

“You know what I believe, Paige. That everyone should be equal.”

Her daughter nods. “That’s what Pastor Tim says Jesus believed too.”

Elizabeth hears the hollowness in Paige’s words here too, dares to hope. “Well if Pastor Tim knows any way we could get involved in AIDS Action, would you want to come with me? To a… clothing drive or something?”

After a moment, Paige looks over at her mother and nods. “Sure,” she says with a smile.

Elizabeth tries not to grin. “Good. Now, eyes on the road.”

_______________________________

Suzanne’s house is modest but well-decorated, eclectic and modern but also comfortable, cozy. Unique Eastern and African pieces adorn the walls, rest on end tables and windowsills. Tall white candles burn in her bedroom and her pillowcases are hand-stitched, bought from a woman on a mountain in New Guinea. Suzanne tells her this in between kisses, her voice low and full from the wine they’d had with dinner.

“I don’t get you,” Elizabeth says, their legs tangled together, clothes still on. “You’re a thoughtful, compassionate woman who cares about other people. Wants to help them. But you’re stuck working for the man at that stupid Agro company…”

“AgriCorp,” Susie says with a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Elizabeth continues, propping herself up on an elbow. “You could be running your own company, one that’s actually affecting change, helping people, like you want to do.”

“I am doing those things. At AgriCorp.”

“Oh really?” Elizabeth teases. She leans in for a kiss but Suzanne pulls back, her eyes flashing, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, really,” Susie snaps, venomous. She sits up, chin high. “You don’t need to patronize me.”

Elizabeth reaches for her hand but she pulls away. “Susie. That’s not what I was doing.”

“What were you doing?”

“I only meant--I mean, look at you. Volunteering. The Peace Corps. Working for some big corporation just doesn’t seem like you.”

“You think you know me? I met you a month ago in a bar.” Suzanne stands now, arms folded across her chest. “I hide who I am pretty well when I have to, but I still get a lot of judgement from people around here. And I thought you were different.”

“Suzanne. Listen…” Elizabeth struggles to keep her voice even.

“I thought, oh wow, a cosmopolitan fashion gal from Chicago looked twice at me. How lucky am I? But I’ve dated girls like you before. Trying to make me into what they think I should be. I’m either too involved or not involved enough. Too butch or too girly. Whatever I am, I’m always too much for people.”

Elizabeth reaches out and takes Susie’s hand. “Susie. Listen to me, please. I know… I know what you’re feeling.”

The younger woman scoffs but doesn’t pull away.

“It’s not easy hiding who you are. You’re right about that. I did it for almost forty years. I still have to do it. And it’s exhausting. To wake up every day and think that there are people out there, all around you, who want to do you harm. I know what that’s like.”

Susie looks down at their hands, joined between their bodies. “I know you do.”

“I wasn’t trying to judge you. To make you into something you’re not. I care about you, Suzanne.”

She nods, bringing her gray eyes up to meet Elizabeth’s. “I really, really like you, Brenda.”

Susie closes the distance between them and leans down to kiss Elizabeth, her lips warm, her tongue cabernet. This time, Elizabeth does not stop her when she unbuttons her shirt with hungry hands, when she reaches around and removes her bra in one swift motion, when her skirt is up around her waist. There is a reverence to her actions, something holy in the way Suzanne touches her.

“Is this okay?” Susie asks, her lips on the inside of Elizabeth’s thigh.

“Yes,” Elizabeth assures her, lying back against the pillow from New Guinea.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right?”

Susie’s hair is down, tickling Elizabeth’s knees, making her shiver. Elizabeth winds her hands in it and says, “I won’t want you to stop.”

________________________________

Philip’s face lights up when she walks into the office the next afternoon. She knows she must smell like the airport. It’s not a long flight, and only an hour’s time difference, but she’s always exhausted when she comes home.

“I didn’t think you’d come by,” he says, pulling her into a hug once the door is closed.

She smiles. “Surprise.”

“How was it?”

“Fine.” Elizabeth shrugs. “I think I got too comfortable too fast, the whole thing almost blew up in my face.”

Philip’s forehead puckers and the corners of his mouth turn down. “Too--”

“Oh, not--I mean we did--” Elizabeth shakes her head. “I hit a nerve with her. We fought. But it’s fixed now.”

“Good.” He nods. She thinks he might be relieved. What did he think she meant?

“What about you? How’s everything here?”

Philip leans back in his chair, runs a hand over his face. “Henry’s been a little lax on his curfew the past few nights.”

Elizabeth frowns. “I didn’t know we gave him a curfew.”

Philip narrows his eyes at her but smiles. “I told him back by 11 on school nights, but he’s been pushing it. Says he’s studying with--”

“Chris, yeah. Do you believe him?”

“I don’t have any reason not to. Oh, and Paige said Pastor Tim got back to her with the names of some people he knows at AIDS Action? Do you know anything about that?”

“Yeah, I asked her--”

There’s a knock at the door. It’s Stavos. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, no, what is it?”

“The Mays’ honeymoon package to Bermuda. Looks like the wedding’s off and the parents of the bride want to know if it’s too late to get a refund.”

“Yikes.” Philip winces. “Tell them I’ll look into it and I’ll call them right back.”

“Okay. Elizabeth, how was Seattle?”

“Wet.”

Stavos gives a sympathetic nod. “I’ll let them know to expect your call.” He closes the door behind him.

Philip picks up the phone and dials. “If it’s not one thing…”

“I’ll talk to Paige,” Elizabeth tells him.

He nods and gives her hand a squeeze.

______________________________________

She leaves her suitcase by the door and drops her keys in the bowl. “Anybody home?”

“Hi, Mom,” Paige calls cheerfully.

Elizabeth follows her daughter’s voice into the kitchen. Paige sits at the table, books spread out around her. “Hi, honey. Did you eat?”

“Yeah. You?”

“The flight made me a little sick. I’m not really hungry.”

Paige twists her pencil between her fingers. “You were gone for work, right? This is the... thing you were telling me about before?”

Elizabeth sits down at the table across from her. “It is.”

“How’s it going?”

Elizabeth remembers the feel of Suzanne’s hand between her legs, the slick skin, the sound of her voice, breathy in her ear. Oh my god, Brenda. Look at you, oh my--

“Fine,” Elizabeth answers with a shrug. “Interesting.” She takes a breath and changes the subject. “Dad said Pastor Tim gave you the names of some people at AIDS Action.”

Paige closes her textbook. “Yeah, and I called one of them, a woman named Diane. She said there’s a food drive next Thursday that they need volunteers for, and it’s right by your office.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come by and we’ll all go together after work. Dad too.”

“That’s the thing, it actually starts at noon,” Paige says, chewing her lip. “So I’d have to miss school. But don’t worry. I already checked with Ms. McKinley, and she said I could take my science test another day if I’m going to be absent.” She pauses, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “What?”

Elizabeth shakes her head, trying to put on a neutral face. “Nothing. I’m just--I’m glad you’re taking the initiative.”

“Is this something you’re working on… for work? Helping people with AIDS?”

“No. Not really. A source I’m working with now, she does a lot of this type of work. And it made me realize how much more we could be doing.”

“Is this more like what you and Dad used to do? Before I was born?”

“Some of it, yeah.” She smiles. “Standing together with a group of people, showing the world that this is what you believe in. You know what that feels like. It’s very powerful.”

“So it’s okay if I miss school?” Paige asks.

Elizabeth nods and it feels like a balloon expands inside her chest when her daughter grins and says, “Thanks, Mom.”

_____________________________

“I told Paige she could skip school on Thursday,” Elizabeth says, her earrings falling with a clank in a dish on the dresser. “She and I are going to a food drive that afternoon, if you want to come.”

“I already told Henry I’d take him to hockey practice Thursday afternoon,” Philip says. He pulls his t-shirt on and climbs into bed.

Elizabeth nods. “That’s okay. It’ll be good for Paige and me to do something together that isn’t church.”

“Or fighting in the garage.”

“She’s good,” Elizabeth says, fumbling with the buttons on the back of her blouse. “Fast. She can move quickly. It’ll surprise people.”

“When will she need to surprise people?” Philip has come to stand behind her and she meets his eyes in the mirror.

“When she needs to defend herself, Philip,” she says sharply. “It’ll happen whether she does what we do or not.”

Philip’s mouth settles in a thin line and he works at the buttons down her back. She moves to take over but he gently brushes her hands away and she hums her thanks. His hands move along her back, untucking her blouse, then unhooking her bra. Elizabeth lets herself relax, leans against him, feels his lips on her scapula, her shoulder, her neck--

“What’s this?” he asks against her nape.

“What?”

She feels his thumb run over a spot on the back of her shoulder and remembers Susie behind her, her legs bracketing Elizabeth’s, chest flush against her back and Susie’s mouth hot on her shoulder as their fingers moved together--

“It’s what it looks like,” she says simply. She steps out of her skirt and into a nightgown, busying herself with rearranging the jewelry on the vanity.

“You fought but you made up, huh?” he asks, sauntering to the armchair in the corner.

She glares at him. “Come on.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” she says, more harshly than she means to.

“Elizabeth.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not asking because I… I don’t care about that. I’m just asking.”

She sighs, moves to sit on the ottoman. She picks at a loose thread that’s coming up. “When we do… this. There are certain things you get used to. Risks you know you’re taking walking into that bedroom. You prepare yourself for certain possibilities.”

Philip nods. “Yeah.”

“Most of the time, with men, you know there’s a chance that they’ll hurt you. Hit you. Whatever. But with her… I was afraid she would see me.”

_________________________________

There is a small crowd outside the building as they approach. She watches Paige’s fingers tighten around the paper bag of canned goods they’ve brought.

“Do you think they’re volunteers?” Paige asks in a tone that says she knows they’re not.

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Just stay close, okay?”

As they approach the door she brushes past a man with a scraggly beard and a sign that reads: GOD HATES FAGS. A woman even closer to the door makes eye contact with Paige and scoffs in apparent disappointment. Elizabeth keeps her eyes ahead and ushers Paige in quickly once they reach the door.

Inside the small office space, there is the smell of fresh paint. The reception desk is empty but before Elizabeth can ring the bell, an older African-American woman enters from the hallway and approaches them expectantly, a friendly smile on her face. “Hi, are you Paige?”

Paige nods. “Are you Diane?”

The woman nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Tim told me you’d be coming with--” She points to Elizabeth, extends a hand. “This must be your mom.”

They shake. “Elizabeth. Thank you for letting us help out today.”

“Of course. We’re always looking for more hands and frankly, with all that bullshit that’s going on out there--oh god, excuse me.”

Paige chuckles. “It’s okay.”

“Well, I see you brought some food yourselves. Let me walk you around and introduce you to some of the people you’ll be working with today.”

Elizabeth watches as Paige takes it all in: these people who are fighting, who are risking so much to be here, to stand up for what’s right. Her daughter observes with wide eyes and a tentative smile as Diane points out the clothing donation boxes, the metal shelving units stacked with canned goods.

“Tim said you’re invaluable to the food pantry downtown,” Diane says. “That the place wouldn’t run without you.”

“I’ve been doing it for almost two years now,” Paige says. “And it’s a lot of work but it’s… rewarding, you know? I know I’m helping, I can see that I’m making a difference.”

“Tim and Alice really know how to inspire young people.” Diane meets Elizabeth’s eyes with a knowing smile, but before she can reply, Paige speaks again.

“I love Tim and Alice. They’ve been great. But we’re here today because of my mom. This was her idea, to get involved with AIDS Action.” Paige smiles. “She met someone through work who volunteers and wanted to get involved.”

Elizabeth thinks her heart might burst looking at Paige, her brilliant brown-eyed daughter who knows nothing and everything, who’s always full of surprises, whose chin reminds her of her own mother’s.

Diane smiles at both of them. “That’s wonderful. What do you do, Elizabeth?”

She is surprised that her voice is strained with emotion when she answers, “I’m a travel agent.”

_______________________________

“I had to go to DC for a work thing last week,” Elizabeth says, passing the bowl to Susie. “And while I was there I, uh, went to an AIDS Action thing.”

The young woman shoves her shoulder. “Get out! I’m so jealous.”

“You inspired me.” Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t know. I try to help however I can. But I realized I could be doing more.”

Susie leans over and gives her a chaste kiss. She tastes like weed and the unfinished bottle of wine on the hearth. Elizabeth tightens the blanket they share around her shoulders and scoots closer.

“Before,” she begins, “when I said I didn’t think the work you were doing was… I didn’t mean--”

“I know,” Susie says. “I forget sometimes that--and I’m not saying this to make you feel stupid or anything--I just forget that most people don’t understand what I do. Or care about it, for that matter.”

“I care.”

Susie smiles, her gray eyes crinkling at the edges. “I know you do. And thank you for putting up with me while I ramble about genetically modified wheat.”

“Please,” Elizabeth insists, “it’s so much more interesting than ‘what shoes go best with jeans for casual Friday at the office.’”

“You’d be surprised,” Susie sighs.

“So what, you… breed wheat? For what?”

Susie shrugs and expels a puff of smoke. “There are countries all over the world with incredible natural resources but they don’t have the money to protect their crops against pests. So we’re trying to breed a strain that can survive pretty much anything.”

Elizabeth feels the blood rush to her head, suddenly dizzy. Or maybe she’s high. “And… and then what?”

“We give it to these countries. Reduce famine, help bring some of these places out of the third world.”

“Wow.” Elizabeth lies back against the couch, turning away from the fire.

“You okay?” Susie reaches out and rubs a hand against her leg.

“I should tell you something,” she says, the corners of her mouth tugging down as she tries to keep her voice even.

Susie’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

Elizabeth looks down at her hands, studies the half-moons of her fingernails, her cuticles. “I have a daughter.”

Whatever Susie is expecting, it isn’t this. “Oh.”

“She’s sixteen. I was young, I was… I had her for all the wrong reasons. Things between us have always been hard. I’m away a lot for work and I know that’s not easy for her. About a year ago I told her. Who I really am, you know. I’d wanted to for so long and I thought that if maybe I just told her the truth, treated her like an adult, that things would finally be better between us.”

Susie has settled against Elizabeth’s chest, nestled between her legs. Her voice thrums across Elizabeth’s sternum when she says, “That must have been hard.”

“My--her father didn’t want me to tell her. But then she asked and… I couldn’t lie to her anymore.” Elizabeth’s mouth is dry.

“What did she say?” Susie whispers.

“She was confused at first. Then angry that I’d lied. But lately we’ve been… Things are good. We’re getting along. And I mean, we still fight, of course. But I think she’s--I think we’re finally starting to understand each other. I was able to bring her with me to DC last week and we went to the meeting together.”

“Wow. So… what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth says. “You just… you worry.”

She rests her cheek on top of Susie’s head and they sit like that until the fire is just embers crackling in the darkness, whispering voices that haunt her in the place between dreams and waking, ghosts that say, careful, Nadezhda.

______________________________

Gabriel’s face breaks into a smile when he opens the door. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s not a bad time?”

“No, no, not at all. Come in, please.” He ushers her inside. She’s grown used to the smell of the place: old wood and the dry, metallic heat that comes from radiators in the winter. It reminds her of home.

“I was just about to make some tea, would you like some?”

Elizabeth nods. “Sure.”

She sits with her palms around the teacup, seeing how long she can hold them there before it becomes too hot to stand. Finally Gabriel says, “Topeka. How’s that going?”

She sets her jaw. “You read my report?”

“Yes.” The old man sighs, looks into his tea. “You know it goes like this sometimes. And I know this wasn’t a good time to get it wrong.”

Elizabeth nods. “I can cool things off there, be out of it in a few weeks.”

Gabriel squints. “I thought your instructions were clear. Maintain the relationships, you and Philip both.”

“Do we need to? I don’t see the point,” she says, trying to keep her voice even.

“Elizabeth, what’s going on?” When she doesn’t answer he sighs and clears his tea from the table. From the sink he asks, “In your report you said you told Stobert about Paige. Is that what this is about?”

Her stomach twists. “Why would it--”

“Sometimes the things we share in order to get what we need… it can be hard.”

She almost scoffs. “We?”

“Elizabeth, no one is discounting your sacrifices. Especially me.”

“I didn’t need to tell her,” Elizabeth says slowly. Her tongue is thick in her mouth. “I don’t know why I did.”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Gabriel tells her. “It’s allowed. It’s okay for you to share things to get close to your targets.”

“That’s not the way I do things, Gabriel.”

He sighs, stands beside her at the table, takes her hand between his. “Cancel this week if you need to. But go back the week after that.”

She nods, bites the inside of her cheek. She feels her hand in his and has to keep a lump from rising in her throat.

___________________________

On her way home she stops at a phone booth and dials Susie’s number. She keeps her voice airy but disappointed when she tells her she won’t be able to make it down there on Thursday, she’s so sorry baby, something unexpected came up at work and they need her to stay here.

“The week after that I’ll be there for sure. Definitely,” she assures the younger woman.

“I miss you,” Susie says quietly. “You’re the best thing about this place.”

“I’m not really a part of it though, am I?” Elizabeth asks. “48 hours a week hardly makes me a Topeka resident.”

“Oh, I don’t know. These past few months have just--I’ve felt alive in a way I haven’t in a long time. And it’s because of you.”

She’s touched, rendered almost speechless for a moment. “Suzanne…”

“I won’t guilt trip you anymore,” Susie says on the other end of the line. “But it’s a shame you’re not coming tomorrow because I was just lying here thinking about you.”

Elizabeth notices for the first time how breathy she’d sounded when she’d picked up. “Is everything okay?” she asks, hand tightening around the receiver. Her wedding ring clunks hollowly against the cheap plastic.

“You heard me,” Susie murmurs, “I was thinking about you.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth shifts her weight in the phone booth, checks the street. “What about me?”

“You. Here. Your body stretched out next to mine.”

Elizabeth hums in her throat. “I wish I was, baby.”

“What would you do if you were?”

“I would… kiss you. On your lips, your neck. That spot behind your ear that you like so much.”

Susie chuckles, low and dark. “Brenda Neal. You’re good. Where next?”

Elizabeth clears her throat, suddenly dizzy. It’s not that she hasn’t done this before, it’s just-- “Well that depends,” she hears herself say, “What bra are you wearing?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” She swallows. “Are you touching yourself? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Susie sighs. “Are you?”

Elizabeth looks around again, puts another quarter into the pay phone. “I… yeah. Oh, yeah.” She adds an extra hum for emphasis.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“You’ll have to wait til next week to find out,” Elizabeth says.

“Tell me,” Susie whines.

“Just… just keep touching yourself. It’s me. I’m touching you, Susie. Nice and slow, how you like it. You feel that?”

“Uh huh. Keep going.” Susie’s breathing is short and shallow, crackling through the receiver.

Elizabeth feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You like the way I touch you, don’t you, baby? Oh yeah.”

“God, Brenda. So good.”

“Good girl,” Elizabeth whispers, her throat tight. “That’s right Susie. I’m going faster now.”

“Please,” Susie whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”

“Come on, baby. Come on. Oh my god, you feel so good.”

“Brenda--I--oh my god!” Susie lets out a gasp and there’s more crackling through the receiver.

She waits five seconds, ten. Elizabeth swallows the lump rising in her throat. “Oh, yeah. Oh, didn’t that feel good baby?”

“Holy shit. So good,” Susie agrees, her voice low. “What about you, you ready for me? God, I bet you’re so wet.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, you can repay the favor then.”

Elizabeth hangs up and waits until her hands stop shaking to get in her car and drive the rest of the way home.

________________________

In the few years that follow, she will remember Suzanne in bits and pieces. She will see her face when she smells vanilla incense. They will get occasional AIDS Action fliers in the mail, calls for volunteers; she will give them Paige’s address at her new apartment and remember a feeling, Suzanne’s wide-eyed hope on that bench outside that shitty bar. She will retain none of the names of the tai chi positions she taught her, but keep them in her body even when she is too tired to do them anymore. Even later, when she draws, she sometimes tries to recreate the movements, the simple flow of arcs and lines a poor substitute for the momentary peace they’d brought her, arms akimbo and her feet grounded on a braided rug from Guatemala or somewhere.

She and Philip don’t talk about her, about any of them. The people whose lives they ruined, whose lives they saved. Suzanne is in that place with all of them, halfway between remembrance and forgetting. Between the two sides of the world, between the earth and the sky that seems so much bigger here.

Now, they walk. Long, wandering treks that leave her nose red and her lungs on fire. They relearn the roads they walked once, a lifetime ago, in a country they never really knew.