Jessie & Elizabeth (abandoned)

15. The Olive Branch [Part 2]

With Elizabeth, a walk wasn't just a stroll around the neighborhood. She made me put on a pair of her hiking boots, muddy faded purple ones, and shook her head at me when I'd taken my jacket from the coat rack, telling me I needed a new one for the winter. It was cold outside, which was the only reason I accepted one of hers, though I secretly wondered if she didn't want to be seen with a woman in ratty old clothes. The thought stung.

There was a determination to her actions that made me watch her in silent awe. Although she had pocketed her work phone, she managed to not pay it any attention even though I heard the tell-tale swoosh of an incoming e-mail more than once. I'd briefly suggested picking up the kids, but she figured they were probably doing much more exciting things at their grandparents and they wouldn't appreciate being whisked away to go to the woods. She had a point there.

We hadn't been in a car with just the two of us since the day she hired me, now over four months ago. Though she was still pretty quiet, things couldn't have been more different than last time, with me chatting away about this and that, making her smile or roll her eyes at my silly jokes, comfortably leaning back in the passenger's seat with my legs spread wide. The way she muttered some unkind words under her breath at other people on the road brought a bubbly feeling to my stomach I couldn't really place — familiarity, probably. Without noticing, it hadn't only been the kids I'd grown attached to.

"What?" she asked, in that pretend offended tone of hers, her eyes flickering to me for a second before checking the rearview mirror. I liked watching her hands, the elegance with which they moved, even making driving look like a sophisticated activity.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you grinning at me like that?"

"Just happy. Lennox still hasn't answered. Think you took care of her for good." I still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Maybe lesbians should never do the straight thing. Maybe Lennox had wanted to apologize, become friends again, and I'd ruined that now.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed smug, straightening her shoulders as her lips twitched. "Good," she said, then went silent again, though the hint of victory remained clearly visible in her face.

The park was beautiful this time of year. On both sides of the trail, tall, thin branches hunched over us like little children's hands reaching out for each other, some leaves green and fresh, others flowing from fiery red into a glowing orange. Elizabeth's hair danced behind her as she walked out in front of me, blending in with all the colors of the forest around her. My footsteps were loud and messy, kicking about the undergrowth, while hers were light as a feather. She belonged here just as much as she did out on the water, her cheeks tinged with a healthy pink, creating puffs of cloud with every breath. The tips of my fingers were cold, and I stuck them in the pockets of the borrowed coat — it smelled like her, and it was much warmer than mine.

She looked over her shoulder, waiting for me to catch up. Her gaze lingered on my legs, and not for the first time, I wondered what it looked like to other people. I'd gotten offers of help so many times throughout my life, I was sure it must've seemed like a big struggle to others. "How far can you manage?" she asked.

"Three miles max," I said, not entirely truthfully — I was definitely upselling myself, but somehow I'd always had trouble admitting the real limits of my body.

"Alright," she said, already moving on again, "there's a path to the left that circles back to the parking lot. It's about two and a half miles, so should be doable."

Lucky me. That was probably right around what I could handle without exhausting myself. With a little more confidence, I took a bit of a sprint, falling in step next to her. "And then maybe on the way back," I said, my gaze trained on the ground in case of treacherous tree roots I could trip over, "we can go get pizza?"