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"We could go like... literally anywhere in this city and you wanna to go to a karaoke bar?"
"Not just any karaoke bar, Alexis," Twyla beams up at her, "A New York City karaoke bar. It's completely different."
As incredulous as she may have been over her friend's choice in entertainment, Alexis also has to acknowledge how utterly adorable Twyla is, perched on her white coverlet, wide eyed with a smile that shows all of her teeth.
There it is again...an unexpected start of warmth, little flutters, just like that morning when Alexis had met her at Grand Central. Twyla's light filled the entire island of Manhattan; her enthusiasm, her energy.
Alexis shouldn't have been surprised. She'd done that same thing back at home (Home, Alexis thinks with a profound wistfulness)... projecting sunshine into the darkest corners, the grimmest of circumstances. The way in which she saw life, saw the city itself, opened up Alexis's eyes to things she usually took for granted. A subway ride was an epic adventure, Central Park and Rockefeller Center, both better than any of the wonders of the world, a hot dog from a street vendor, akin to a gourmet meal.
Having Twyla there could not have come at a better time. She was due to be in the Creek to spend Christmas with David and Patrick in a few weeks, but the hectic pace of the city was beginning to drain her. These days, she only had the reserve energy to complete what she had to, work wise, and crawl under the covers with a bottle of wine.
Old Alexis had craved the chaos, the anonymity, the pulsing beat of the people milling around... she'd thrived on it. And she would have thought nothing of skipping silly traditions to dine on lobster and champagne at Pearl before hitting the clubs downtown to see what kind of trouble she could get into.
The loneliness had begun to bleed into her skin.
Oh, she knew she could go back anytime. Knew that admitting she was really fucking sad and isolated from everyone she cared about didn't equate with failure. That it wasn't giving up to say to hell with being alone and go back to the place that had made her a whole person.
The problem is, as Alexis perceives it, was maybe she hadn't given the whole doing it on her own thing a fair shot. It'd only been a few months, after all, and she wasn't the same Alexis who had made the city her bitch back all those years ago.
She would just have to learn to adjust.
When she had casually invited Twyla to come and hang out with the promise, "it'll like be, totally chill," she was quite certain her sweet, well meaning friend wouldn't detect any ulterior motives, to not think anything of her intentions. Twyla couldn't possibly know that Alexis needed a piece of home, a piece of herself that wasn't present here, that was too small and introspective and serious to survive. New York would eat that version alive.
Twy saw her.
She watches her now, ankles crossed, looking up expectantly as she waits for Alexis to reply.
Waiting for the drama, she acknowledges wryly, a tiny smirk lifting one corner of her mouth.
Well, she can certainly give her that.
"Twyyy," she draws out, flopping back onto the bed. Her hair fans neatly behind her. "Can't we like...do something fun?"
She screws up her lips for good measure, eyelashes fluttering and Twyla giggles.
"Oh, c'mon, karaoke is ridiculously fun. I know it's not your thing, but please? For me?"
Twyla's gotten dangerously into her personal space, so much so that Alexis can feel the heat of her breath dance across the bare skin of her collarbone.
Something about the contact rattles her and she rolls away, propping her chin against an open palm.
"Well," she shakes her head, "I couldn't make it that easy for you, could I?"
Twyla returns her smile, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Never thought you would."
There's a slight shift in her eyes, a minute gloss over that tells her that Twyla's aware that Alexis didn't possess the ability to deny her anything at all.
She fidgets, vaguely uncomfortable.
If Twyla notices, she says nothing, placing a gentle hand on Alexis's wrist. "Actually, it's okay. We don't have to, if you don't want to. We could go to a club or something."
Her tone is light, eager to please and it transports her back to a time where the idea of having a true friend, a loyal friend, was almost obsolete. She'd taken Twyla for granted more times than she cares to admit.
There's always a flash of shame for the actions of that Alexis. Who wasn't used to genuine, real relationships where people actually cared. She didn't know what to do with it back then, a gift like that, brushing it aside because it was easier than facing potential rejection.
Then there was sweet, persistent Twyla. Twyla, who always seemed to know exactly what she needed, whether it was an (awful) smoothie or shockingly sage advice. Twyla, who wouldn't take no for an answer.
She shakes her head firmly. "Don't be silly. You're my guest. Of course we can go."
Twyla's brow knits. "You sure?"
"Positive." She smiles. "Let's go get ready. I have a killer dress you can borrow."
Impulsively, Twyla folds her into an elated hug. "Oh, my gosh, you'll have the best time, I promise!"
For the briefest of instances, Alexis closes her eyes, permits herself to rest her head against the slope of Twyla's shoulder, inhaling the scent of what was remarkably and indisputably her; laundry detergent and Dove soap, with a hint of cinnamon thrown in the mix.
It isn't until she feels moisture prick the back of shut lids that the longing hits her square in the chest.
As they put themselves together, it is suddenly old times in Twyla's apartment or her room at the Rosebud. There are rejected pieces of clothing strewn about, straightening irons plugged in, so many beauty products littering the counter of the vanity that it was questionable whether or not one even existed, all while blasting 90s hip hop and dancing at random.
"I missed this so much," Twyla says quietly. She's seated at Alexis's vanity mirror, curling her eyelashes with a precision that's almost startling. "I mean... Stevie and I hang out every Friday or Saturday night and I've been over to David and Patrick's place a bunch but…" She shrugs helplessly.
"It's not the same."
"Yeah. I miss my best friend."
The softball that's suddenly decided to take up residence in her larynx should be, at the very extreme, annoying at most, but it's absolutely gutting and once again, she finds her eyes watering.
"I miss you, too, Twy. So much."
She fans her face, cursing herself for ruining carefully applied foundation. As much as she's managed to embrace emotion over the years in lieu of hiding it behind expensive purses and designer shoes, it's still shocking when it has a chokehold; sinks its claws right the fuck in.
"You know," Twyla begins thoughtfully, setting down the curler and angling toward her, "I told myself you'd...I don't know, forget about me, I guess. Make other friends... sophisticated ones. Like before."
She sounds apologetically sheepish and Alexis's first instinct is to roll her eyes, laugh it off.
Self preservation, rearing its ugly head.
"Twyla," she finds herself saying softly, "I thought the exact same thing. Like... not that Stevie would replace me or whatever but...you know, out of sight, out of mind? You'd forget about me, too."
Vulnerability still wasn't her strongest suit and though she could say with certainty Twyla would never mock her, heat floods instantly to the apples of her cheeks.
Twyla stands, crosses to the bathroom door frame silently.
"Oh, Alexis," her hands are warm on her face, her voice matching them, "I could never. You're pretty unforgettable."
She's frozen to the damn spot, for once, at a total loss for words.
"Uh," Alexis takes a step back. The spell is broken. "We should probably finish up…"
"Right! For sure!"
There's that mysterious glint again, that tiny sparkle in the deepest parts of her irises and it makes Alexis gulp inaudibly.
"Let me go grab you that dress."
The dark recesses of the closet offer a brief reprieve, a place to catch her breath and when she returns and hands the garment to her, Twyla shakes her head.
"I can see the tag. This is an Alaia. What if I spill something on it? What if it rips? I can't wear this, Alexis."
"Hey," Alexis reaches out to take her arm, "you absolutely can. Please. No arguments, alright? Unless you don't want to."
She worries if she's made Twyla feel uncomfortable with her insistence, recalls with more than an edge of guilt how she refuses to flaunt her wealth and the apology sits on her lips.
"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous."
Twyla runs her fingers over red silk, almost reverently, a tiny sigh escaping.
"I just don't want to---"
"You won't. I trust you," Alexis throws out without thinking. "You're like...one of the most responsible people I know. Really...it would make me super happy if you wore it."
A slow smile blooms across Twyla's entire face; springtime in the desert.
"Well, in that case... I'd be honored."
She curtseys lowly and this time, Alexis giggles, too, shooing her away.
Her own dress is one of her favorites...a short, black understated piece she usually pairs with outlandish jewelry and because it's freezing, she spontaneously adds one of her mother's gifted feathered coats.
"You look like a sexy...ostrich," she says to her mirror reflection. She gives an exaggerated flounce, a flip of her hair.
"You look amazing."
At the sudden intrusion, she whips around, teetering dangerously on thin heeled boots.
"Oh, damn."
She really thought she'd said it in her head but Twyla blushes, turning nearly the same color as the dress and horrifyingly, she realizes it escaped aloud.
"Thanks," she replies, doing a half twirl. "It fits okay, you think?"
Once upon a time, Alexis would insist that it took a certain kind of sophistication to pull off a designer dress, a special flair. It could be argued the dress wore you.
But this clung to curves Alexis wasn't aware Twyla had, accentuating her petite shape, leaving the barest hint of cleavage.
"Uh, yeah. Definitely."
She sounds almost drugged to her own ears, physically shaking herself out of a stupor.
"Great!" Twyla chirps brightly, regarding herself in the mirror. "You don't think it's too short? I mean, for me," she adds hastily, "not for you. It's the perfect length for you."
Alexis shakes her head with a well executed grin. "I'm like...at least three inches taller than you."
Again, she reddens. "Okay, if you say it's fine, I'll just go with it." She turns toward Alexis, hands flying in front of her. "Thanks again for letting me borrow it. I brought a couple of things for evening but this is---"
"Perfect," Alexis supplies. Twyla's hair is ironed straight, framing her subtly made up face and the dress lends to the whole effect.
It's a moment out of a movie where the world has completely halted, as if the romantic lead has come out of a hundred year long sleep and lays eyes upon their soulmate for the first time.
"Should have asked," Twyla grabs her purse from the vanity, "did you have a place in mind?"
"Uh, yeah. Of course." Alexis lays a sideways boop on the bridge of her nose as though it's a ridiculous inquiry. "I know just the spot, actually."
"I'll just grab my coat and we can head out then," she takes Alexis's wrist, blue eyes shining. "This is going to be so much fun."
"Oh, it'll be something," she can't help but return the smile; Twyla's excitement has always been contagious. "Let's go and see where the night takes us."
****
So, she may have been slightly exaggerating when she assured Twyla she was a karaoke location expert. The few spots she knew of had either closed down or remained a past life drunken blur of puking in the alleyway.
But there is no way she can actually admit defeat. It isn't so much to save face as it is that she does not want to disappoint Twyla, doesn't want to watch her brilliant smile dull.
Heading downtown seems like a safe bet and they catch a cab to Second Avenue.
"This way," Alexis feigns confidence. She offers her arm to her companion, looping them together and leading them to the left.
The winter night air is biting and smells of impending snow. As they stroll, huddling close for extra warmth, Alexis sneaks a sidelong glance. Twyla's cheeks are pink from the cold, a cheerful yellow knit hat pulled down to protect her head and the rush of warmth starts from the soles of her feet and floods up into the back of her neck so rapidly that she tilts slightly, sending them both off kilter.
"Sorry. These heels."
It isn't a solid explanation, nor is it believable but Twyla seems to buy it without question, laughing and pointing out shops and restaurants that peak her interest. Alexis half expects her to ask when exactly they'll reach their intended destination because they've been walking for nearly five blocks.
And then it appears, an oasis, just when Alexis considers spilling her little white lie and Twyla sees it, too, squeezing her forearm with an unprecedented squeal.
"Oh my goodness, is this it?"
Alexis eyes the neon sign with the burnt out letters that advertises karaoke and determines that it is most definitely a dive, in every sense of the word, and in that same instance, knows that they are both significantly overdressed but at the very least, it may remind them of home.
"Alexis," she turns to look at her in awe, "this is amazing."
"You haven't even been inside yet. Are you sure you don't wanna go somewhere a little more...New York?"
"In every single movie and tv show I've seen about this city, this is exactly what it looks like. It doesn't get any more New York than this. Really. This is great."
"Yeah?"
Twyla nods, taking Alexis's hand, "c'mon!"
Inside is not very much of an improvement on the exterior. The lighting is dim, the bar stools peeling and an ancient pool table sits in the corner of the room. The clientele is just about what you'd expect from such a place and Alexis is about to tell Twyla they can find somewhere that doesn't resemble a Law & Order crime scene when she speaks into her ear, a hand resting on Alexis's waist.
"Drinks are on me tonight."
"Oh, Twy... no. I can't let you---"
"You're having me over your place this week, I'm in the greatest city in the entire world, you lent me this gorgeous dress," she lifts up the hem on a finger, "the least i can do is buy you some drinks."
She leans to whisper conspiratorially, "and you know I don't have to worry about the money."
It's not often she mentions being well off as much as a passing thought and it momentarily takes Alexis aback.
She blinks. "If you insist."
"I do," Twyla answers firmly, "seriously, whatever you want."
Soon, they are sipping what Reggie the grizzled bartender deems his "holiday special" that tastes just like cough medicine, rolling their eyes at the particularly spirited version of "Last Christmas" someone's warbling in the background and giggling madly.
"Hi," there's a light tap on her shoulder and she turns her head to see a particularly cute guy leaning over the bar. "Could I buy you a drink? I'm Dave, by the way."
"Alexis. And this is Twyla."
He's smooth, not the kind of guy she expects to see in such a shit bar and she raises an eyebrow at Twyla who shrugs.
"Sure," she raises her palms face up, "why not?"
Dave ends up buying them both a few shots as they make polite conversation above the din.
"You come here a lot?" He asks, tipping back his beer.
They exchange a look and Alexis answers, "not really. Do you?"
He grins, raising his voice to be heard. "Every Friday, like clockwork. My buddy runs the karaoke thing. I help him out."
"Hmmm, doesn't seem like you're doing much helping right now," Alexis taps her chin thoughtfully. "I think you just agreed to "help" so you could buy girls drinks and try to take them home. How am I doing?"
His grin grows wider and he acknowledges her question with a tilt of his head.
"You're doing pretty good, actually. Is it working?"
"What," Alexis plays coy, twirling the red straw into the dredges of melted ice, "getting me to go home with you?"
In her peripheral vision, she sees Twyla cover her mouth with the heel of her hand, either stifling a giggle or in disbelief over her audacity. Either way, it nearly sends her and she's grasping the wooden edge of the bar to keep it together.
"No," Dave meets her eyes, "getting the both of you to."
Twyla is practically hunched over, her head to her chin and Alexis squeezes her hand desperately.
"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen."
Her mouth gapes open and she's sure she resembles some sort of weird catfish.
Twyla's straightened up, her arm coming to curl possessively around Alexis's waist.
"Oh." An embarrassed expression of understanding crosses over Dave's features. "I'm sorry, I didn't---"
"You should have asked, maybe?" Twyla flips her hair over her shoulder in a gesture that's so reminiscent of one of her own that Alexis nearly dies.
Dave shrugs. "Well, if you're into---"
Alexis and Twyla simultaneously shake their heads and he puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
"Well, my apologies, ladies. Enjoy your night."
He retreats and the second he does, they burst into giggles.
"Jesus," Alexis mutters, thumbing at her eyelashes, "why do men like...assume that all sapphic women are automatically into threesomes? It's so gross."
"Have you ever---I mean, forget it. It's none of my business." Twyla glances down, flushing.
"Well...duh. But that's not the point." Alexis takes a compact out of her tiny purse, inspecting her makeup. "Hey, thanks for coming to my rescue. Now," she leans on an elbow, "I'm the one who owes you a drink. For saving a damsel in distress."
"It was no big deal. Really. I know you'd do the same for me, so…"
"Twy, c'mon. Just let me thank you. Please?"
Twyla pauses, considering. "Then we can sing?"
She affectionately rolls her eyes. "Yes, then we can sing."
Liquid courage is indeed the name of the game and a few cocktails later, they're both feeling pretty confident.
"I'm gonna go first," Twyla volunteers, jumping up from their table to grab a book and a few slips. "I'm so nervous!"
Alexis smirks. "Oh, no way. You have the voice of like...an angel. You'll sound better than everybody in here."
She puts a hand to her heart. "Really?"
In the pale lighting, she resembles an angel, too, albeit of the weird, blue tinted variety.
"Yeah."
She's suddenly gone more than slightly breathless and it's unnerving. There's no time to ponder because Twyla's decided on a song and closes the book with a satisfied thud.
"Did you pick one yet? I could bring yours up, too," she offers, gesturing to the slip of paper in front of Alexis.
"Huh? Oh," she shows her that it's blank, "I need a few more minutes."
The truth is, she's completely in her feelings and she's having a difficult time processing much of anything. It's riding the mix between pleasant and kind of confusing and she decides another drink is just what she needs.
She tells Twyla of her intended destination, asking if she needs a refill, but Twyla shakes her head.
"I'll go put this up there and meet you back in a few minutes."
The line at the bar is longer than she expects and when she returns, Twyla's already starting.
She waves, clapping enthusiastically and giving her a big smile of encouragement.
The music begins and though Twyla appears unsure, she closes her eyes, leaning into the swell of the melody.
Alexis watches, mesmerized, as she launches into a gorgeous version of "God Bless the Child" that gives her goosebumps.
She finishes to a spirited round of applause, taking a small bow and Alexis can tell she's pleased from the way she bites down on the flesh of her lower lip
"Twy!" Standing, Alexis embraces her, holding her back at arms length, "I mean, I knew you could sing, obvi but that was... incredible. God. Everyone in here was like, speechless."
"Everyone in here is drunk," Twyla reminds her playfully. "Thank you, though. I'm glad it was okay."
"No," Alexis grasps both of her shoulders, "no, you don't understand. It was beautiful."
Something pulls at her then, this inexplicable need to say the right thing. She'd never worried much about it before, the weight of words... how they carried the ability to maim or destroy. Not until she had learned that they could also hold promises of love.
"Are you ready?"
"Oh, you want me to go after you, I'm gonna need two more tequila shots."
"We can take care of that," Twyla smiles, offering her hand to head back toward the bar.
They clink glasses, tipping back the liquor and Alexis winces as it brushes the back of her throat.
"Better?"
"Oh, my God, much."
When they get into the room again, she hurriedly flips to a page in the book, scribbles down a number and runs up to the table to give it over before she can change her mind.
"What did you end up choosing?" Twyla asks curiously.
"It's a surprise."
"Nice! I can't wait."
"Mmm," Alexis lifts up the remainder of her drink toward Twyla, "you may come to regret that statement."
They suffer through two more songs before Alexis is called up and suddenly, staring out into the small crowd, she's a deer in headlights.
"Um, hi." She gives a little wave, "I'm Alexis and this song is for someone really special. I think that maybe she doesn't even know that she is. But she is... totally."
She forces herself to look straight out at Twyla who is seemingly oblivious that Alexis is talking about her, screws up her courage and begins.
"I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you, yeah"
It's squeaky and somewhat off key, a fact she pins on nerves but Twyla only looks slightly embarrassed, so she continues.
"I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need (and I)
Don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas Day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
You, baby"
Not only is the song building momentum and people have leapt to their feet to cheer her on, but a light bulb has seemed to turn on in Twyla's head, a slow dawning and it's this knowledge that makes her a tad braver.
"Oh, all the lights are shining so brightly everywhere
(so brightly, baby)
And the sound of children's laughter fills the air (oh, oh yeah)
And everyone is singing (oh, yeah)
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need? (Yeah, oh)
Won't you please bring my baby to me?"
It's the final verse and she's gotta do it, bite the bullet and confirm what Twyla's more than likely figured out by now.
Drawing in a breath, Alexis saunters over to where she's sitting, red cheeked, head resting on her propped hands and bends slightly to serenade her.
"Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just wanna see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Oh, I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you
You, baby"
By now, the entire space is applauding, her little performance having drawn in a sizable audience.
For a split second, she considers her public display may very well have had the opposite effect, that Twyla was mortified and her heart feels like it might give way at the possibility.
Until Twyla grabs for her hand and Alexis sees that her eyes are wet and she's laughing and crying all at once.
There's no way she can keep it together now so the very last notes come out like she's being strangled and by the time the song has ended, she's in Twyla's lap and everyone is hollering and she's somehow she's smack in the midst of a cliche romantic comedy.
"Outside?"
It's just about all she can get out and silently, Twyla nods.
Amidst well wishes, they make their way through walls of people and into the alleyway and she watches as Twyla scuffs the toe of her suede boot against rough brick.
She prides herself on reading people, on gauging expressions, but for the life of her, she can't possibly fathom what will come out of Twyla's mouth.
"Twy," she begins and Twyla puts a finger to her lips.
She kisses her.
And she tastes just like Alexis had imagined she would when she'd allowed her mind to go there and it's only just soft lips on hers, Twyla's fingers intertwined in the locks of her hair, her own palms open on her hips.
When they finally break away, she takes Alexis's face, cupping her jaw with cool fingers.
"Nobody's ever done anything like that for me. Alexis Rose, you are a romantic." She smiles demurely, brushing her cheek with the faintest of kisses. "Always knew you were."
"You deserve it," Alexis finds her voice. "Seriously, Twyla. You're everything. You have been for a long time now…"
Swallowing hard, her gaze sweeps over big blue eyes, the ski jump nose, sprinkled with tiny freckles, rosy, full lips.
"I want you to know, I meant every single word."
"In that case," Twyla leans forward, bumping their noses together, "I'm yours."
"Yeah?"
Twyla kisses her softly. "Something wasn't right. Uncompleted. I told myself I just missed what we used to have and being able to see you all the time, but somewhere along the way, I figured out it was more. I wanted this."
"Oh, God, me too," Alexis giddily confesses, her fingers finding Twyla's collar. Their collective breaths dance in the space between them.
And in the dingy alleyway, pressed to one another, mouths crashing together in a sweet sort of hunger, Alexis supposes she can kind of see why Twyla loves New York City so much.