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Buzz… buzz…
For a grown woman of 50 years, Laura Peterson was proud to say she didn't scramble to reach for her phone as it scuttled across her nightstand. But Bradley… Bradley was for sure in the last throes of a horrible day, and stern as she was earlier, Laura just needed to know if –
+41 33 815 2738
11:15 PM: Didn't we already learn a thing or two from Maureen?
Her eyes squinted at the international phone number format, and immediately realizing who it was from, she barely suppressed a gigantic eyeroll. She tossed the phone to the other side of the bed, leaving the stupid message unanswered, and rolled over to try to get some sleep. Four hours. She only had four hours before going back to that godforsaken studio, and for what?
To get the same rote response she received from one closet case too many? God. I'm too old for this. What happened to avoiding chaos in her life –
Buzz… buzz… buzz… buzz…
She closed her eyes tighter.
Buzz… buzz… buzz… buzz…
Buzz… buzz… buzz… buzz…
"What?" she snarled.
"The 90s called–"
"It's…" Laura paused to do the math, "...5AM in Geneva. Are you calling for any other reason than to be irksome?"
"Aww. But they're totally missing the perm! None of that bouffant Katherine Hepburn situation.”
“Good night, Al.”
“Have to be up in a few hours, don’t we?”
“...”
“What’s it like being Carrie called back to speak at the high school reunion?”
Alice Holt was one of Laura’s oldest friends, and she really shouldn’t have been surprised anymore to be receiving this phone call.
“Gordon told you.”
“I do have Twitter.” Laura sighed. “So, does she call you Daddy?”
Against her better judgment, that elicited a telling snort from her. “No,” Laura said primly. She heard a disbelieving chuckle from the other line.
“Is she there with you?”
Instantly, the momentary levity Laura felt dissipated. “No,” she sighed.
“Well good, I’d hate for you to be a walking punchline.”
Laura closed her eyes. She is a walking punchline. God, it felt like a lifetime ago when she asked Bradley to bring a few clothes over. What am I doing, really? She heard the rustle of papers carrying over the line, and she felt a trickle of gratitude for the sip of time Alice was affording her right now. Finally deciding to give up on shaking off her probably well-meaning friend, she sighed and flipped the light on.
“How is Geneva?” she asked.
“Not gonna mince words with you, darling, it’s going to get bad.”
“How do you mean?”
“It won’t be too long until a wave washes over there. The W.H.O….” there was a pause, “well it is, a global health emergency now.”
“A pandemic then?"
“It’s quite the blast from the past, no? 1918… Then just earlier, on morning TV, 1997…”
“Alice,” Laura groaned.
“Look, you extended me the same courtesy when the Joanne situation happened–”
Beyond pettiness now, Laura rolled her eyes, “You mean Joanne... Joanna… Michelle… Angela…”
“Exactly. I’m the one between the two of us who’s supposed to be making this particular miscalculation.”
“Bradley isn’t Maureen,” she rubbed her eyes tiredly. “She’s…” she paused, “She’s something.” Loneliness washed over her at that moment, and images of their “afternoon delight” as Bradley called it cornily flashed in her eyes. If the world was any kinder, any more decent, they’d probably be cuddled in bed right now, toxic family members far away from their happy little bubble. And they were happy, weren't they? Laura could not remember laughing this much with any of her lovers before–
“Oh darling…”
Apparently, Laura paused a tad too long and Alice easily caught on to her wandering thoughts. “She isn’t,” she sighed, “Maureen was a backstabbing, manipulative, opportunistic… walking storm cloud. And Bradley… Bradley, is quite simply, a ray of sunshine.”
“Well, she better be. She works on The Morning Show after all. Bleugh.” Laura chuckled. “But honey, still a baby dyke, as the kids call it these days.”
“She’s 40. Hardly a baby.”
“That’s what you’re going with, Daddy?”
“Fuck off.”
Alice chortled, “Let’s put it this way then. I’m hardly the one to pontificate about this matter, as you so kindly enumerated, and yes, I do acknowledge you do know better. But the crash and burn isn’t any better when you’re in your 50s… you’re not going to be immune, even if you’re Distinguished Lesbian Laura Peterson…” she paused, “I guess, all I’m asking is, is this… is she worth it?”
Laura has been asking herself that the moment Bradley wrapped herself around her in a desperate hug, asking for another chance. The vase – and Alice is definitely not going to know about that – was already a red flag. She has broken up with many partners for far pettier reasons. Bradley was chaos walking through and through, and Distinguished Lesbian Laura Peterson, who believed herself far removed from that already… she surprisingly wanted to dive in and be the anchor that grounds this whirling dervish. Somehow ready to risk the crash. And the burn.
Isn’t someone who makes her want to risk it all, already worth it?
“Yes,” she whispered, almost involuntarily.
Distantly, she heard Alice whistle, probably feeling as stunned as she was with this declaration. And probably understanding that this was something that Laura had only recently come to realize, she was kind enough to let the silence permeate for longer before speaking.
“Well then,” she said, “if anybody is going to turn out a Southern belle, it’s gonna be Distinguished Lesbian Laura Peterson.”
This got an honest laugh out of Laura this time, who somehow found her heart lighter.
“In any case, how timely! Love in the Time of COVID.”
“You think you’re so clever.”
“You’ll thank me, and my forecast that New York is probably going to go on lockdown.”
“Why would I thank you for what might be an apocalyptic event?”
“Because then you’d have the forethought to whisk away your Sunshine to that ranch of yours and quarantine together.”
Against her better judgment, this sparked an idea in Laura’s head. Bradley could use a break from UBA. But with Alex being gone –
“Oh my god, she’s actually considering the logistics already!” Alice crowed knowingly, “Before I lose you to your romantic machinations, because I know how you get, I thought I’d have time for some shoptalk, but my call time is at 7. Will blitz you an e-mail. You have Fauci on the docket at 360?”
She chuckled at how their lifelong friendship allowed them to easily transition from sapphic drama to shoptalk. Laura was immediately attentive regarding a few pointers Alice was able to cover from the pressers at the W.H.O. Headquarters. They chatted a little bit more until her friend was set to leave.
“Have a good morning, darling…” the imp said in parting, “I’ll be waiting for updates.”
It was a little after midnight when the call ended. And for the first time in quite a while, Laura was definitely looking forward to set her alarm.