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Barbara knows . She just knows that she has no business being there. Especially not after a long, exhausting shift at school—but, well, it was too late—and she was there.
The there in question being a new, hip bar; full of young hipsters with fashionable clothes, cool hair, lots of earrings on their faces, the whole lot of them singing pop songs with out-of-tune, squeaky voices. They chugged down shots of whatever drinks they had in their hands—their vapes filling the room with a mist of strawberry-smelling nicotine.
The whole vibe was chaotic — the type of thing that reminded her of the late 70s, if she thought about it—and that didn’t help with her feeling out of place. She was sixty five . She didn’t do these kinds of things.
“Do you like it?”
Janine’s voice is loud, yelling over the music, her whole body almost bouncing with excitement. She couldn’t believe Barbara was here — actually here —with her at her birthday party.
“It’s lovely, Janine,” Barbara says, kindly.
Although the music was too loud—the regulars too young and the whole place too crowded for a Thursday night—the bar wasn’t too bad. The light was a nice mixture of pink, purple, and red — reflecting off a large disco ball. The vinyl seats looked cozy, and as they walked towards the table, crowded with all of Janine’s guests — damn near the whole Abbott crew, Zach, and a young woman Barbara hadn't even seen before, and there Barbara spots Melissa.
She looks sinful in her leather pants and a form-fitting green top; enough cleavage showing to attract stares from everyone in the damn bar. Her hair cascades over her shoulders and Barbara can see the effort put into the whole thing; her eyes, her hair, and her makeup. Jesus Christ. Her mouth waters before she can process a whole thought.
“Look who’s here!” Janine announces as soon as they reach the table, laughing giddily. The whole group erupts in cheers, clapping when Janine twirls, already close to tipsy. Barbara smiles, eyes squinting in the low light of the bar.
And, well. Shit .
Melissa smirks. Barbara can feel herself stiffen as Melissa looks up at her, her whole demeanor dripping with smugness . Fuck it. Because she also put in some effort. Maybe it shows in her demeanor— because she can feel Melissa watching her, calculating her. Green and dangerous eyes, gliding over her red dress — a flimsy thing, something her daughters had her buy — her red lipstick and her hair, which she did specifically for this night out. She bristles under that stare.
“Oooh, damn. You look good in red, lady.”
Ava snaps her fingers approvingly, unable to hide her surprise over Barbara’s outfit. Jacob and Zach whoop in agreement and Gregory nods, smiling. In the corner of her eye, she can see Melissa gulping down her drink, unable to tear her eyes away from Barbara. The redhead seems thirsty .
“What do you want to drink?” Janine asks, looking over at Barbara eagerly. She’s so needy , even now. Barbara’s chuckle gets cut off by Melissa — her laugh biting.
“I think now that we’re all here,” She teases, looking around the group with a smirk. “We should order shots. Teach Lowercase here how to really get toasted.” Nobody argues when she calls over the waiter, her whole body languid as she orders a round of tequila for them.
“Maybe with shots, one of y’all might finally grow some balls and sing. My money’s on you, Hershey Kisses.” Ava gestures wildly around the table, batting her eyes up at Gregory. She cackles when he hides his face in his wine glass — ears red — desperately trying to ignore her.
As attention is drawn away from Barbara’s arrival, and the group turns back to each other, she plops down in the seat close to Melissa — shifting her legs to hide just how turned on she is. Jesus.
“Hi,” Melissa says, and for a second, Barbara is in awe of how a two-letter word can sound so goddamn devious . She licks her lips.
“W-What are you drinking?” she asks, as if trying to escape Melissa’s gaze completely. Melissa pushes her glass towards her, offering the brown beverage. Tentatively, Barbara takes a sip — immediately screwing up her face. “Oh God, is that whiskey?”
“You know it, hot stuff.”
And Barbara breathes, shakily exhaling through her nose. Because Melissa does this sometimes—flirts with her in front of everybody. She does it and she knows she does it, which is just another part of the problem . Barbara blinks.
“You know I’m not a Bourbon girl,” Barbara huffs, cheeks flushing as she waves off Melissa’s stare. She feels hot —hot all over and under and everywhere . Melissa chuckles, leaning in close to whisper in Barbara’s ear.
“Yeah, I know.” she pauses, breathing against the crook of her neck, smiling. “Y’know, you look real fine in that dress. It’s criminal. You tryna go to jail, Miss Howard?”
She sounds deep and serious, and Barbara laughs, trying to hide the effect that Melissa has on her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
And it’s easy, Barbara thinks, to fall into this game with her. It’s easy to flirt, play innocent when she knows just how true the opposite is, when she knows how it gets under Melissa’s skin. The redhead’s nails dig into her thigh and Barbara shivers, taking another sip from her drink.
“Don’t play. You know what you’re doing to me. Will you sing too? ‘Cause that might as well be a death sentence for me.”
“I might,” Barbara answers, staring right into Melissa’s eyes. She’s thankful that their colleagues are so oblivious. Really. They don’t even see the way Melissa moves her, spreading her open and keeping her bare whenever she wants her—whenever she’s gotta have her. They don’t see the way they flirt nor their overall thing , period. She’s thankful.
I wish I had a friendship like yours . Barbara smiles as she thinks back to what Jacob had said a few weeks ago, feeling cheeky as she grabs Melissa’s hand from under the table.
That day, when she also grabbed Melissa’s hand under the table of the teacher’s lounge, she wondered if the redhead could feel it. Feel the pure amount of glee running through her that no, they weren’t just friends. They hadn’t been just friends in months, and Barbara wondered if that felt as good to Melissa as it did to her.
It was hard to pinpoint when exactly it had shifted. When soft touches became intimate and shared looks became deeper ; something more than just ‘work friends’. She knows it was after her divorce and Melissa’s breakup with Vending Machine Guy, when they became closer and closer, sharing meals, going on coffee dates, nice restaurants, movie nights, and tons of wine. Tons .
Of course, took them a few weeks to come around the idea of crossing that line, where their friendship blurred into so much more, and when they finally did, it became a broken damp of feelings and lust, that caught them by surprise, and sometimes left them wondering when they would move on from that phase.
Barbara finishes off her drink.
Well, how could she move on? Who was she fooling ? They had been together for months now, and Barbara knows they can’t just move on. She doesn’t know if she wants to. Maybe it’s Melissa’s hand on her thigh, or the heady perfume of the woman, but she’s burning electric , and no way can she just move on . The words itch at the back of her throat and Barbara gasps, buzzing with it.
“Here’s those drinks y’all ordered! And oh , for you, madame.”
The waiter fumbled with the drinks as he hands them out, a cheeky smile on his face as he handed Barbara a different one. Something fruity, and no doubt, fucking expensive . She scowls.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she deadpans.
“Well, you might wanna tell her that,” he chirps, pointing over to some woman at the bar. She smiles at Barbara, lifting up her glass and laughing with a wink, gesturing for her to come over. And, okay . No thank you. Shut that shit down real quick. Barbara turns away.
“Uh oh! Looks like somebody’s on the hunt for a cougar!” Ava giggles as she says it, eyes half lidded as she shoves Barbara, ignoring the glare sent her way as she does it. Melissa huffs from beside her and Ava snickers, putting her hands up like she’s saying hey, i’m just the messenger. “Don’t get mad at me, Jessica Rabbit! I only said what we were all thinking!”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Barbara huffs, clearing her throat awkwardly as she adjusts her dress sleeve. This whole thing is making her feel dirty , and she can’t stop messing with her hands — playing with the space where there should’ve been a ring on her left finger. She coughs. “Would you be a dear and hand this back to her? I appreciate it, but—,”
“Come on, Barbara!” Ava interrupts, standing up drunkenly to glare down at Barbara. She frowns. “You’s a single woman, now! You’re supposed to go out and get them granny panties wet! Now if you ask me, you should go over there and show that hoe just how tight and right it is down in the—!”
“Ava, stop it!” Melissa snaps. Her face is red and she glares over at the woman, eyes blazing. Her shoulders are drawn up tight and Ava blinks, mouth gaping open wide.
“Girl, huh ?” Ava slurs, squinting down at the other woman, her whole face confused. “You’re her best friend! Can’t you see that homegirl over here needs a good plowing?”
Melissa’s shoulders shake. Her grip on Barbara’s leg is so tight it’s almost painful , her nails making little crescents in her skin. She’s fuming . Of course, the girl is not blind, Ava’s too obnoxious, and Barbara is delicious in that dress, triggering all the alarms on her body that makes her want to claim her girlfriend right there in front of everyone, but she knows better. Knows Barbara it’s not ready to come out, but the need to kiss the woman in front of everybody at the bar hurts
Barbara opens her mouth — to say something, to take it all back, to curse out Ava because come on — but then Melissa’s storming up and she’s not looking back and why the hell would Ava say that? Really. She blinks and doesn’t reach out for Melissa.
“Is she okay?” Janine whispers. She looks back at Barbara like a goddamn puppy , and it’s the worst and it’s awful because Barbara didn’t ask for this — she never does — and yet somehow this shit keeps on happening to her.
She wants to hold Melissa’s hand. Or her arm or her hair and just hold her — really — because Melissa does so much and asks for so little and would it be enough just to let her have this — let them have this ? One night out, in perfect peace.
She licks her lips, nauseous. “She’s fine,” she murmurs, tracing over her lips with shaking fingers. “She’s fine. ”
-
“Melissa?” Barbara calls as soon as she enters the bathroom, breathing out a relieved sigh when the heavy door provides a bit of respite from the loud music. She finds Melissa near the sink, washing her hands absentmindedly.
“Hey, Barb.”
Melissa doesn’t look at her. She just washes her hands again, the suds coating the back of her hands and her palms. She bites her lip and Barbara tracks it in the mirror.
“Melissa, I’m sorry,” Barbara whispers, daring to step closer. Melissa’s shoulders shake like something dangerous, something ready to tip over and break at the slightest misstep. She laughs, shakily. Barbara’s fingers brush the back of her arm. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“What’re you sorry for, Barb? It’s not your fault that you’re hot,” Melissa jokes, her voice breaking.
“Yeah, well. You’re hurt. And jealous. And I hurt so badly knowing I made you jealous, darling.”
“You think I’m jealous, Barb?” Melissa asks, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth curling up in a scowl. She scoffs. “I’m not jealous. I’m just trying to deal with the fact that hey, Ava looked at you and thought ‘ this girl needs some! ’ She needs it quick and she needs it bad! ” Melissa laughs, voice shaking in anger. “And I can’t say a damn thing about it, because I can’t tell them about us”.
Barbara steps closer, something foul and ugly crawling up her throat. She wants to cry , goddamn it. A gaggle of girls rushes in and Barbara jerks back, hands burning.
The air between them is strained as the girls head into the stalls—some of them preferring to stray back and fix their clothes and makeup by the sink. The bathroom is a quiet hum of chatter, but Barbara’s ears are ringing — tongue heavy with all the wait, please ’s, and the I need to talk to you ’s, and the you know I’m yours, right? I’m yours.
The girls leave just as quickly as they came and suddenly they’re alone again, Melissa’s hands an angry red as she finally stops washing them. Her mascara is smudged around her eyes and she curses, quickly grabbing a tissue and blotting the drip. When she speaks again, her voice is tiny—nothing at all like the usual, say-anything-and m-I’ll- kill -you voice Barbara is used to.
“I know you love me, alright? I know that. I’m just being silly.”
“Melissa—,”
“Nah, it’s cool,” she chuckles, balling the tissue up and tossing it in the trash. She turns towards Barbara and smiles, eyes glinting with so much pain and hurt that Barbara wants to cry , feeling vomit settle at the back of her tongue. She swallows. “Hey, don’t wait up, okay?” Melissa whispers, stepping closer to brush some lint off of Barbara’s shoulder.
She leans up and kisses the corner of her mouth, lingering there for a moment before stepping away. Barbara wants to say something—anything—but then Melissa’s gone and she’s blinking, staring after her as she walks away. Barbara just stands there, watching the door swing open and slam closed. She curses.
When she finally steps out, a few minutes later, Melissa’s at the table, and she doesn’t look at her. She doesn’t react at all, really. She’s just there, gripping her glass tightly.
Melissa doesn’t speak. Their friends laugh and drink around them both, arms flung over shoulders as they talk and talk and talk. And Barbara watches Melissa carefully, watching as she bites her lip and nurses her drink, a permanent scowl on her face. She smiles at Janine’s phone when the camera turns towards her, but her eyes are teary and Barbara can see the way she’s shaking, nails digging into her own thigh.
And, fuck. It’s painful , seeing Melissa like that —fucking hurt , sad, and tired — because of Barbara’s prejudice and fear. Her own bullshit . Suddenly, she’s overwhelmed with the shit, feeling dumb and ridiculous for hiding their relationship: for denying them the rightful delight and joy of being an out and proud couple, for hiding for so long, for never taking what she wanted because it might hurt . Because it scared her.
“Holy fuck,” she breathes. She laughs, blinking rapidly. “Holy fuck .”
The group might look at her as if she lost her mind, and Melissa’s looking at her, brows creased and confused, because she never hear Barbara swearing like that outside of the bedroom. But she doesn’t care . When she jerks up and out of the booth, she’s determined, not stopping once as she storms towards the DJ, her mind made up. She thinks she might be crazy, if the calls for her name and the stares mean anything. They holler her name and she ignores it.
“You got any Aretha Franklin?” She asks the man, already breathless without even doing anything. The guy blinks and nods quickly, and suddenly she’s on stage, looking out over the crowd. She zeros in on Melissa, her smile shaky as she waves at her. Melissa can’t stop blinking, her mouth one big ‘ O ’. Barbara laughs.
“Good evening. Good evening! I-I wanted to come up here and sing something special, something important for someone in this audience that means the world to me — really, she does — because I haven’t been treating her right and I-I don’t think that’s right. And because I love this person — I love her so badly that it hurts — and, well, who would I be if I didn’t thank her? If I didn’t make her feel half as good as she makes me feel? I’m sixty five years old—,” Barbara laughs—out of breath and giddy like she’s six again—burning up and sweating from under the lights. People in the audience cheer and she can hear Melissa’s laugh through the noise—a sharp thing that sends shots of warmth right towards Barbara’s cheeks. She continues. “— And I’m only now learning what life is really about. And I know y’all are sick of me! Some old lady coming up here and talking about her whole story, when what she should be doing is singing the damn song already. But I—I needed to get this off my chest. I needed to tell her . So, Melissa—Melissa Schemmenti—if you’re listening, I love you. I love you and I’m sorry I can be so silly sometimes. Because you mean the world to me, honey, and I hope this shows you that” she gasps, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks.
She grins, shakily, and then suddenly, the music is starting, and Barbara can’t even hear it—not over the pounding in her head and the whoops and claps the crowd sends her way. They cheer. She giggles and grabs the mic, and when she starts singing, she sings for Melissa.
She sings for Melissa and doesn’t care about what the rest of them are going to say, what they’re going to think . She sings for Melissa, who watches on with her hands over her cheeks: tears streaming down her face, a smile stretching from ear to ear, a look in her eye that screams I get it. I get it and I know and I love you and oh my God, you absolute lunatic .
She’s so lost on Melissa that she misses the stares of their colleagues, realization hitting them so hard, over so much all at once. Barbara can sing , and oh! she sounds like an angel , and oh my god, Barbara’s singing for Melissa?! She misses the tears that flow out of Janine’s eyes, and the way Gregory seems so happy about them. She misses the smug look on Ava’s face when she mumbles a sort of smug I knew it , and the tearful and proud hug shared by Jacob and Zach.
Oh! Baby what you've done to me, you make me feel so good inside .
She means those words, and she can feel her cheeks burning because every time she sang that song for Melissa, she meant every breath, every note, and feeling on the lyric. She’s thankful that Caroline King put all of those things in a song because otherwise, she would be at loss for words that could pinpoint what Melissa made her feel.
When the song is over, the crowd cheers like Aretha Franklin herself just stepped off the stage, and Barbara’s legs are shaking when she walks past the sea of young adults that are clapping loud and excitedly at her, hers being clearly the best performance of the night, but she doesn’t care about this.
She only cares about Melissa and the way the redhead rushes on when she’s close to their table and kisses her like a desperate person. Barbara makes sure to pull her in close, smiling into the kiss as Melissa sobs — kissing her over and over and over again, until their breaths are even and they can look into each other eyes, their foreheads connected.
“You’re a crazy lady, amore ”, Melissa points, a smile spread out on her face and Barbara laughs, feeling light and dizzy as if she could be swept away in a breeze. She feels drunk on Melissa’s kiss, and the way she just said amore , as if they’re alone on a slow Sunday morning. “I can’t believe you did this!”
“I did, Melissa Schemmenti, ‘cause I’m done hiding us, hiding how much I love you.”
“I love you too, so much”.
(And they kiss again, ignoring the gaping mouths and bubbling questions coming from their colleagues as if they just came out to their 6-yeard-old students).