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The nickname came about kind of unexpectedly.
A week into working as Doug’s pediatric PA, he spontaneously suggested that they get dinner together to celebrate.
“Nothing fancy,” he urged, circling Jeanie at the admit desk. He had already put his coat on, clearly itching to get out of work. It wasn’t that Jeanie disagreed, but she was far more interested in going home to Chinese takeout and whatever was on TBS that night. It was funny how quickly her life had transformed now that she was newly single. Not laughably funny, of course, but funny in a sad, tragic way that just made her feel small when she got home each night.
“It’s on me. Think of it as a thank you.”
She smiled down at the stacks of forms she was stapling together, the final task she had given herself before taking off for the night. It was clear that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she didn’t mind spending time with Doug (at least not for brief periods of time). He made her laugh. Besides, suggesting a rain check was pointless. She was already hungry.
They walked to the park down the street, making a detour at a convenience store to pick up a pair of Old Styles before parking themselves on the bench right in front of a hot dog cart. Winter had just begun and hadn’t evolved into a nuisance yet, the gauze of nostalgia for a season that had been long dormant keeping Chicagoans from raging at every snowflake or icy wind that invited itself back into their city. Streets still bustled with people beginning their holiday shopping, excited to wear the other two thirds of their wardrobes.
Doug and Jeanie toasted their successful week together; first, with their brown bagged beers and then with their hot dogs, steaming in the cold. Their small talk meandered, never straying far from easy topics, like work and the weather.
Jeanie eventually asked something of substance, questioning what made him decide to take her on. “You could have said no,” she reminded him. Shouldering disappointment was something she had become good at.
He smiled, smug. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m sure Mark and Kerry mind.”
A small, knowing smile grew on Doug’s face. “Mark and Kerry have more than enough qualified professionals to help them out.” He took a long sip of his beer. “You’re great with kids. Can’t say that about everyone we work with.” He paused, not looking at her. “I see what it does for you when you work with them.”
Jeanie smiled. She already knew that to be true, but it felt good to have it be recognized by someone else.
“The real reason is because I like working with you,” Doug added. Jeanie looked up from her hot dog, surprised to hear vulnerability pass through Doug’s lips. “You’re calmer than me, for one. You leave your personal shit at the door when you get to work.” He made a face then, as if he was recognizing the behavior in himself (or in this case, lack thereof) for the first time. He let out a terse laugh. “And Weaver likes you, so I figured it would keep her off my back.”
Jeanie laughed. She envied people who spoke with that kind of candor. She often wondered if one day she’d finally work up the courage to try it herself.
“I don’t think Kerry hates you,” she said, believing her words to be true. “I think your egos rub up against each others’ sometimes, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” She paused, offering him a smile. “You’re doctors.”
Doug laughed. “Well, that’s nice of you to say, but we may have to agree to disagree.” They exchanged knowing little smiles. “But I’m not kidding about the Weaver thing. I enjoy working with you and you’re great at what you do, but you’re also a walking rubber stamp from Kerry. Seriously.” Jeanie took a sip of beer, not willing to admit to herself that she did it to hide her reaction from Doug. “You should have seen the way she lit up when I told her I was going to steal you for pedes.”
“So she was mad,” Jeanie groaned.
“No. She said she thought it was a great fit for you.” He started to ball up the red and silver checked foil that once enrobed his now-eaten hot dog. “Carol told me that she had mentioned something about missing you, though.”
Jeanie stared down at her feet in the slushy snow on the sidewalk. She couldn’t come up with a response to Doug that wouldn’t show her cards in some way. Her heart, however persistent in its racing and desire to ask ‘really?!’ was quieted by her head, which knew better.
So, she smiled softly. “Well, you know how the nurses are,” she said, trying to inject some humor into her voice. It probably was gossip, for all she knew. “I know it’s Carol, Doug, but… still.”
“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” he said, hands up in the air. “I don’t think she meant anything by it. But, I do happen to know that Kerry has a great deal of respect for you.”
Jeanie smiled, looking up slightly from her feet. Doug, who still had a mischievous smile on his face, leaned forward on the bench, trying to catch Jeanie’s eye.
“You know, you can lighten up every once and a while. I’m giving you permission to do so.” They both laughed.
“Why don’t you make it an order?” She teased. “That way I’ll have to do it.”
Doug sucked his teeth and shook his head, looking out onto the park again. Jeanie stared at him.
“You know, not to belabor the point, but I’m pretty sure that’s part of why Weaver likes you,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of himself. Jeanie studied his face, looking for a crack. “You’re just…” Doug’s hands spread out in front of him, creating an abstract visual aid. “Steady. Cool. Level-headed.”
“Careful, Doug,” she interjected. “Don’t pump my head up too much. I’ll end up like you.”
They both laughed. She could be funny when she wanted to be. Maybe the beer had something to do with it.
“Very funny,” he deadpanned, and gave her a nudge. “But really. Even now. You’ve got this… steely demeanor.” He chuckled to himself. “We should start calling you Steely Jeanie.”
“Oh, I don’t think I–”
“C’mon,” he said, laughing again. “You’ve never wanted a nickname?”
“Not really.”
“Alright, well, it’ll just be between us,” he said, finishing off his beer. “Steely Jeanie and the Sundance Kid.”
She turned to look at him, brows knit together skeptically. “That’s you?”
Doug leaned back on the bench, clearly satisfied with himself.
“Of course.”
The nickname did begin as something only Doug used, like he promised. He said it with the same intonation as that Rob Schneider character from Saturday Night Live — making copiesssss. She’d walk into the lounge or behind a curtain to a patient, and if Doug was there, so was her new pseudonym. He would croon as if he were expecting laughter and applause from a studio audience each time. Steely Jeanie.
But of course, like everything at County General, word got around fast. Malik had started using it (he had overheard Doug one day in the lounge) as a joke, and then Mark (to her dismay), and before she knew it, it had become a term of endearment used towards her by most of those who she worked with.
The only one who never referred to her as such was Kerry. Figured.
She didn’t really want Kerry to use the cheesy nickname Doug had come up with for her. She wouldn’t admit it out loud (not even to herself), but she cared too much about what Kerry thought of her to dare cheapen their relationship with a silly nickname. Particularly one that she found embarrassing.
One night while penning a journal entry, Jeanie noted that it almost felt better to her that Kerry never called her by the nickname – that there was something that felt special and reserved for just the two of them in its absence. Instead of recording the sensation that seemed to bubble up from her heart into her ears when she recognized the feeling, she chalked it up to admiration. It had to be that.
Journaling doesn’t work if you’re not honest, she silently reminded herself. But she was being honest. She did admire Kerry. Professionally, of course — but more importantly, as a friend.
“Are you coming to my birthday party?”
Jeanie ignored Randi’s question on purpose; she wasn’t totally sure of her answer. Again, something about takeout and cable TV sounded like more fun than going to a karaoke bar with her colleagues and a bunch of people she didn’t know.
It was easy to get lost in her own thoughts behind the desk, anyway. Sometimes, when she found herself parked behind the admit desk or staring up at the board, it allowed her to get swallowed up in the chaos of the ER. Focusing on other people’s emergent problems could make hers feel so small by comparison. It was a nice way to forget about her troubles for a while. Probably not the healthiest way to do so, but still.
Randi wasn’t particularly patient with her that day. “Jeanie!” She leaned over from her computer, tapping Jeanie on the shoulder with her pen. “Are you coming tonight?”
Jeanie came back down to earth. “Sorry,” she apologized. “You know, I’m not totally sure yet.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as Randi’s face fell into a pout. “Maybe I’ll make an appearance.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Randi coaxed. “A bunch of people from work will be there, I promise.” She paused, Jeanie feeling her eyes train on her, probably hoping for a sign of her giving in. “Good ones.”
Jeanie smiled. She was sure that her definition of good co-workers and Randi’s definition were totally different. Diametrically opposed, even. Still, she couldn’t ignore that the invitation was nice.
“OK, OK,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound worn down. “I’ll be there.”
Randi squealed and clapped her hands together, a toothy grin stuck to her face. “Great! And you can bring a plus one if you want,” she added, eyebrows wagging. “The more the merrier.”
Jeanie knew that there was no way Randi was including Kerry under her ‘more the merrier’ umbrella, but something urged her to ignore that instinct moments later, when she noticed Kerry rounding the corner, beelining to the lounge. She suddenly felt pulled, as if by a magnet, in the same direction, the chart once in her hands clattering down onto the admit desk in her wake. So much for the vomiting middle schooler behind curtain three.
The door to the lounge closed behind her, Jeanie unable to make herself walk inside any further than the doorway. Doing so would, for whatever reason, give away her intentions.
Although, what were her intentions? Standing there, hands worrying themselves together in front of her chest, she wasn’t quite sure. All she knew was that it made her heart feel like it was in her throat. Jeanie wasn’t sure what that meant about her intentions – other than it felt like the right thing to do.
“Oh, hi, Jeanie.” Kerry was sitting at the table directly in front of her, poring over stacks of paperwork. She offered her a warm smile as she glanced away from her job. “Aren’t you supposed to be headed out of here soon?”
“Yeah, pretty soon,” Jeanie said, finally finding the wherewithal to walk to her locker, making herself look busy. She swung it open, studying her reflection in the little mirror that hung on the inside of the door. If she looked past herself, she could see Kerry behind her, head tipped back down and focused on her work. “I haven’t had a Friday night off in weeks.”
“Do you have any plans?”
Jeanie worried her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to decide if she wanted to invite Kerry with her tonight. She still hadn’t fully decided if she was actually going or not. The only way she could see herself going was with Kerry, anyway.
Kerry had beaten her to whatever she worked up the courage to ask, stepping over her thoughts like she often did. “Have you… put yourself out there, at all? Y’know, since…” Her voice trailed off, and Jeanie watched Kerry’s reflection as it looked up at her again, a smile on her face. “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just… asking. As a friend.” She paused, chuckling at herself. “Or trying to live a little vicariously, maybe.”
Jeanie smiled, her gaze breaking away from Kerry’s reflection. She looked down at her feet. “Not really. Unless you count the nine-year-old who said he would marry me if I didn’t give him his tetanus shot yesterday,” she laughed.
“I had one of those recently,” Kerry added, now fully torn away from the paperwork spread out in front of her. “Some nursing home transfer with dementia told me I reminded him of his wife. Not as romantic as yours, but…” They both laughed. “You know, I know a few single doctors. I could set you up if you wanted.”
Jeanie sighed, soft enough so that Kerry was unable to hear her. The prospect of going on a date with anyone, let alone someone vetted by her friend, was daunting. She often wondered who would possibly want to take her out on a date now that she carried all of the additional baggage that came with her diagnosis. It reminded her of when she read The Scarlet Letter in her 9th grade English class. Never in a million years did she think she would have her own red letter pinned to her chest – not even put there of her own accord.
“I’m a bit rusty in that department,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks flush. It pained her to think about it for too long. Kerry should have given her a punch card for all of the times she had gone to her for advice on her deteriorating marriage, or had caught her crying in the bathroom. Get walked back from the ledge by your friend twelve times, and the sense she knocks into you after the thirteenth time is free! “I haven’t been on a real date in…” Her voice trailed off, doing the math. Her answer was depressing. “Years.”
“Well, all the more reason to get back out there,” Kerry said, encouragement in her voice. Jeanie closed her locker and turned around to face Kerry, who was lost in her stack of paperwork. She leaned back against her locker door, wondering whether or not her gaze came off as staring.
“What about you?” Jeanie asked, head cocking to the side, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “What’s stopping you from having a hot date every weekend?”
Kerry looked up from a stack of Manila folders, eyes catching Jeanie’s. Her smile was clearly contagious, a similar one breaking out across Kerry’s lips. “I’m busy,” she deadpanned. Jeanie giggled. “Anyway, you never answered my question.” Kerry propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “What are you doing tonight?”
Jeanie rocked back on her heels, back pressed against the cool metal of her locker. Static filled her head for a moment, wondering if she’d be able to work up the courage to say what she wanted to in the moment.
“I was going to go to Randi’s birthday thing,” she said, and then immediately followed up with (for fear that she would chicken out before the words left her mouth), “you should come with me.”
Kerry rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t invited.”
“Well, I was. And, I was told I could bring a plus one.”
“All the more reason for you to find a date!”
Jeanie smiled, looking back down at her feet. “Well, why don’t you be my test run?” She offered, eyes angling back up at Kerry. “Come with me tonight and give me some pointers.”
Kerry’s brow furrowed. “What, like a wing man?” Jeanie laughed.
“Something like that.” She watched as Kerry softened, a small smile growing on her face.
“OK,” she said, her smile now grown into a toothy grin. “What time do you want to pick me up?” Jeanie smiled, shooting Kerry a confused look. Kerry laughed. “What? This is a date, isn’t it?”
Jeanie stared at her for a moment, feeling her pulse quicken. Kerry unknowingly quelled it with a wink.
At Kerry’s request, Jeanie picked her up at her apartment on her way to the bar. Of course, Kerry’s apartment was on the way to the bar, making it easy for her to make the excuse to play along with what she was sure was just a joke. She figured it was a funny punchline to their teasing from earlier in the day.
They walked side by side to the bar from Kerry’s apartment after realizing it wasn’t very far. Upon encountering an icy stretch of the sidewalk, Kerry slipped her arm through Jeanie’s, not asking for permission. Jeanie leaned into her side a bit, noting how nice it felt. Maybe this was a date, after all.
Greeted by a gust of warm air as they stepped inside the bar, Kerry and Jeanie pushed their way through the crowd towards the back. The bar itself was nothing special; wood-paneled walls and neon beer signs served as the backdrop for the clusters of people who hung off the bar and stuck to the walls, nursing beers the size of their heads. Jeanie watched as Kerry strained to see above the crowd, stifling a laugh.
She cast her gaze across the bar, spotting the little karaoke stage in the back corner. In the lull between songs, she recognized the next two people who climbed up onto the stage – Doug and Carol. A sizable crowd sitting near the front of the stage cheered, and Jeanie assumed that was everyone else; Randi’s birthday party that she and Kerry were supposed to join the fray of.
“Jeanie!” Kerry called from across the bar, snapping her out of her daze. She turned towards the sound of Kerry’s voice, who was shedding her coat and lording over two newly freed up spots at the bar, motioning with a hand for Jeanie to join her.
She pushed her way through the crowd, feeling reeled in by her friend.
“First round’s on me,” Kerry said, patting the barstool next to her. Jeanie smiled and obliged. She always liked and appreciated seeing Kerry like this. Sometimes, she thought that if some of their coworkers could see this version of her, one that wasn’t overwhelmed by the throes of their jobs, they would change their minds. At the very least, they would maybe view and treat her as a peer instead of a tyrant.
“Jeanie,” Kerry said, her voice couched in a laugh. “Do you want anything?”
“Hmm?” Jeanie felt her cheeks flush as she came down to earth. She wondered if Kerry had caught her staring. “I’ll just have a club soda.” She stiffly propped herself up on her barstool, hoping to somehow physically shake her discomfort. Kerry had already caught the bartender’s attention. “Thanks.”
She turned her head back to the karaoke stage, where Doug and Carol were performing their rendition of a song she didn’t know – some showtune. She smiled at them, willing to admit that they both looked pretty cute.
“Annie Get Your Gun,” Kerry remarked, sliding Jeanie’s drink down the bar in front of her. “I’ve never really liked musicals,” she said, sipping her own drink – some brown liquor over ice. Whiskey, Jeanie figured. “But, I guess it’s fitting for Doug to be singing a song about how much better he is than his girlfriend.”
Jeanie snorted, nearly choking on her drink. “Kerry, that’s terrible,” she said, trying to mask her laughter. Kerry grinned.
“What, am I wrong?” She jostled her shoulder against Jeanie’s. “You know, I used to think I was the most stubborn person I knew.” They both laughed then, turning back inward towards the bar. “How’s that going, by the way? Working with Doug? I don’t mean to bring up work, but –”
“It’s really nice,” Jeanie interjected, meaning it. “I love working with the kids.” She spun the straw around in her glass anxiously. “Doug did tell me that you’ve missed working with me, though.” She smiled expectantly, flicking her eyes over to Kerry’s.
“I swear, no one can say anything to anyone in confidence,” Kerry lamented, a laugh breaking through her complaint. “I do miss working with you,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to hear that from somebody else and potentially regret your decision.” Kerry reached for her drink again, the side of her hand ever so slightly bumping up against Jeanie’s. Jeanie didn’t think Kerry noticed, but she had. It sent an electrical current down her back.
“I’m glad it’s going so well,” Kerry said, raising her glass. Jeanie followed suit. “May it continue to go that way.” They toasted, Jeanie unable to pull her eyes away from Kerry’s. “Hey, speaking of which… I really don’t think you should stand in your own way when it comes to putting yourself back out there. I wasn’t kidding about the single doctors.” She made a reach for her purse. Kerry seemed awfully serious about this.
“If they’re so single, why aren’t you going out with them?” Jeanie protested, eyeing Kerry’s address book now on the bar.
“None of them are really my type,” Kerry said, taking another sip of her drink. Jeanie noticed this sip was a bit longer, more pointed. “Anyway, there’s this anesthesiologist I know who would be perfect for you,” she added, surfacing from her whiskey and cracking open her address book. “He’s never been married, no kids… he went to Harvard on a full ride.”
“I’m sure he’s great, Kerry, but I just don’t think I’m what anyone’s looking for,” Jeanie murmured, hiding her shame behind her drink. She worried her straw between her teeth, gazing back up at the karaoke stage. Jerry was doing a poor rendition of Let Me Roll It – giving it his all, albeit slightly off-key.
“Oh, c’mon,” Kerry encouraged, a smile still on her face. “Jeanie, you are more than a catch,” she said, Jeanie offering a small smile in return. Kerry’s voice softened then, maintaining an air of discretion as she turned inward to face her. “You know, they are making so many promising advancements in treatment,” she said, Jeanie turning away from her briefly. “Medical professionals understand that. They won’t look at your diagnosis and write you off as a lost cause.” She paused, then – “Not anyone I would set you up with, anyway.”
Jeanie felt a lump form in her throat, tears prickling at her eyes. She sniffled, trying to convince herself to look back at her friend. For being so maligned, Kerry certainly was the only person she had entrusted with her status and showed her true, radical empathy in response. She wished others were willing to see those parts of her. She thought it was admirable; Jeanie couldn’t say with confidence that she would have been able to do the same had the shoe been on the other foot.
Kerry put her hand on her shoulder, her touch firm but delicate. It caused Jeanie to turn her head back in response, chin nearly brushing against Kerry’s fingers. For a fraction of a second, Jeanie contemplated rocking her face against Kerry’s hand, curious what kind of response it would provoke. The thought was fleeting; she shook it off as easily as it came to her. It felt intrusive and out of place. Not necessarily wrong, but… different.
Kerry didn’t seem to notice Jeanie’s reaction. Her hand however, instead of falling back on the bar, gave Jeanie’s shoulder a gentle, congenial rub.
“I know that,” Jeanie said, turning back so that she was facing the bar. Her hands found the cocktail napkin that had arrived with her drink and she crumpled it between her fingers, a nervous tic she had picked up in college. It normally did the trick when there were no beer bottle labels to be found. She sighed, feeling the lump in her throat return. “I just wonder sometimes, you know? Why would anyone want to end up with someone who’s a walking… biohazard.”
Kerry tsked, brown furrowing. She looked pained by her word choice, causing Jeanie to immediately regret her own level of candor.
“First of all, that isn’t true,” Kerry said with kindness behind her eyes. “Secondly, I… I know I will never fully understand what you’re going through. You got dealt a shit hand, and as your friend, if I could get rid of that for you, I would.” Jeanie looked over at her now, bringing a hand up to wick a tear from her eye. “But I know what it feels like to be overlooked because of something that’s out of your control. And it’s terrible, and sometimes it makes me feel like swearing off a love life altogether, but you just have to keep going.”
Jeanie nodded, a smile weakly breaking her reserve. “How do you do it?” She asked, eyes unable to meet Kerry’s gaze. “You make it look so easy.”
Kerry smiled, taking a moment to craft a thoughtful answer. “I don’t know,” she admitted, laughing tersely. “I think that despite people’s biological distrust towards abnormality, or ignorance, there has to be something more powerful out there that can influence their decision-making.”
Jeanie snorted. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Kerry looked at her, clear-eyed.
“Love.”
When they were nearly back at Kerry’s apartment, Jeanie realized that she had never found Randi to wish her a happy birthday.
“Oh, she wouldn’t notice,” Kerry reassured her, tipping her head up to look at Jeanie. She had looped her arm through Jeanie’s once more, although Jeanie internally noticed that somehow, the sidewalks weren’t as icy as they had been on their way to the bar. It must have warmed up while they were inside. “Just say you got a migraine when you got home, or something. And bring her a card on Sunday.”
“So I should lie?” Jeanie asked, giggling. Kerry joined her.
“No, you’re just saving people from having hurt feelings,” she added, so sure of herself. “Everyone does that.” Jeanie smiled. She supposed Kerry was right.
They paused in front of Kerry’s stoop once they got back to her apartment, hands shoved in coat pockets and teeth chattering in the cold.
“Do you want me to walk you to the train?” Kerry asked. Jeanie shook her head.
“it’s just around the corner,” she said, watching her breath in the winter air. “I think I can handle myself.”
Kerry smiled. “Well, do you want to come inside, then? It’s freezing out here.” Jeanie nodded.
“What, did you just remember this is a date?”
Kerry looked at her for a moment, her gaze feeling like it penetrated her usually iron-clad shell. “Something like that,” Kerry laughed. “C’mon, just… come warm up for a few minutes. Carter’s at work; we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.” Jeanie wondered if Kerry meant for that to sound as intimate as it did. “I’ve got some wine, some tapenade, a new Grace Jones album, c’mon.”
Jeanie wordlessly agreed at that point, enjoying Kerry’s display of confidence. They made their way up the frosty stairs arm in arm once more, laughing as Kerry griped about how Carter was supposed to salt them before leaving for work that evening. Kerry stuck her key in the lock and together she and Jeanie pushed themselves inside, standing in the dark entryway for a while.
“Y’know, I’ll do a better job at making this feel like a real date next time,” Kerry joked, setting her purse down and shedding her coat in one fell swoop. Jeanie wasn’t so lucky; she had a harder time maneuvering in a strange apartment in the dark. “I’m a very firm believer that chivalry isn’t dead.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Jeanie said, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “I couldn’t imagine you settling for anything less, Kerry.” Her breath caught in her chest as she realized Kerry was behind her then, helping her shed her coat. “I-I should bring you flowers next time,” Jeanie said, hoping her stammer didn’t give her nerves away. Why was she nervous, anyway? Kerry was her friend – one of the best ones she had at the moment. In that realization, she felt a wave of calm crash over her. “What are your favorite flowers?”
Kerry smiled, now standing directly in front of her. Jeanie couldn’t make out all of her features in the dark, but she could feel her in her orbit.
“Oh… I love hydrangeas,” she said, voice practically swooning. Jeanie giggled.
“Hydrangeas aren’t exactly romantic.”
“No, but they’re beautiful,” Kerry added, her voice sounding smaller. Jeanie noticed the space between them slowly becoming smaller. At first, she figured Kerry was struggling to see where she was in the dark, but she very quickly realized that it was both of them, practically dancing around one another, inching closer and closer and neither seeming to mind too much. “What’s wrong with wanting something just because it’s beautiful?”
Jeanie swallowed thickly, feeling her stomach flood with butterflies. Instinctively, she began backing up towards the door, curious if Kerry would dare follow after her, closing the gap between them once more.
She did.
“Nothing,” Jeanie said, voice falling to a whisper. They stood so close now, Jeanie feeling she would feel Kerry’s eyelashes against her cheek were she to blink. They stood like that for what felt like forever, close and like statues, neither wanting to be the first to pop the invisible bubble between them.
“Kerry, I…” Jeanie’s voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. Any command of language she once had was gone, evaporated.
“It’s OK,” Kerry whispered, Jeanie sensing how warm her gaze was, even in the dark. Jeanie felt it again, then—that magnetic pull from earlier—only this time it pulled her towards Kerry in a kiss, eyes falling shut as she prayed that Kerry would kiss her back. She didn’t know what she would do if that didn’t happen. Quit her job, move to a different city, change her name.
Luckily for Jeanie, Kerry did.
Kerry’s whiskey from earlier lingered on her lips, Jeanie tasting it as they melted into one another. It caused her to smile, which dominoed into Kerry smiling, which finally forced them apart.
They stood there together for what felt like years, foreheads just touching, lips inches away from falling into another kiss. Jeanie was afraid of that happening; worried she wouldn’t be able to stop if they started again. It felt like the world spun on around them and there they stood, still and immune to the hum of the traffic outside or Kerry’s refrigerator, rumbling off in the kitchen. There was nothing that could touch them like this, standing on their own planet.
“Kerry,” she exhaled, her heart pleading to burst out of her chest. She pressed her hands against the wall behind her to steady herself, finding that Kerry’s free hand had found one of her own, their fingers lacing together. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing.” She tried to cut through what she felt was awkwardness with a laugh.
They remained close, neither one wanting to be the first one to pull away. Kerry smiled.
“It’s OK,” she whispered. “I d-don’t really know, either.”
They stayed like that for a while—again, seconds feeling like hours—until Kerry finally squeezed Jeanie’s hand. “I… do know that it felt good, though.”
“Yeah.” Jeanie nodded, unable to tear her eyes from Kerry’s. “It did.” They both smiled then, neither one waiting for the cue to go in for a second kiss and instead collapsing into one another, their kisses more giggle-ridden than before as their hands found each other’s in a way that felt less awkward than the tightly gripped fists they were in earlier.
Kerry’s kisses eventually moved from Jeanie’s lips to her neck, words buzzing against her skin as they fell out. “Can I do that?” She asked, her voice soft. “Can I make you feel good?”
Jeanie’s eyes fell shut as she swallowed nervously. It was strange to experience something so foreign that felt so correct at the same time. She nodded, feeling Kerry pull away from her and move a hand to her cheek. She noticed how soft it was against her own skin.
“OK,” Kerry whispered, her lips pressed back against Jeanie’s neck. “C’mon, then.”
They laid there for a while, Jeanie on her stomach, Kerry on her side, propped up on her elbow. The butterflies that now filled Jeanie’s stomach felt different than before; these ones seemed to whisper reassurances to her between her feelings of uneasiness.
Kerry was the one to break their silence. “I guess now is when I should say something like, ‘I never do this kind of thing,’” she sighed, eyes not breaking from Jeanie’s. “As clichéd as that is.” They both smiled, giggles escaping their lips.
Jeanie sighed. “Yeah,” she agreed, her head still floating in space. She felt like she was hovering above both of them in bed, watching their conversation as a third party. It was strange to have an out-of-body experience that felt so… good.
Kerry’s gaze shifted then, eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“What?” She probed, a smile growing on her face. “Do you make a habit of sleeping with your colleagues?” She laughed. “Which one am I? The final conquest, or something?”
“No,” Jeanie protested, her eyes tearing away from Kerry’s for a moment. Her embarrassment lay more with herself than with Kerry’s line of questioning, however unserious it was. The realization that these feelings she had been trying to avoid for so long were what landed her here, tangled up in bed with Kerry. She wondered why she had ever denied herself this kind of happiness for so long.
“What?” Kerry asked again, her voice softer than before. There was an added kindness to her voice, her face showing real curiosity this time. “What, you’ve slept with someone else from work?”
Jeanie bit back a smile, knowing she’d been caught.
“Don’t tell me it was Doug.”
She laughed. “God, no!”
Kerry laughed along with her, inching closer to Jeanie. At last, Jeanie couldn’t say that she didn’t mind. “Well, who was it?” She asked, her hand that once propped her head up reaching out to touch Jeanie’s shoulder, index finger absentmindedly tracing a pattern against her skin. “You can tell me,” she added, her voice falling to a whisper.
Jeanie turned her head to lean into Kerry’s hand, a guilty smile stuck to her face.
“Peter,” she confessed, nose wrinkling up on her face. “But really, Kerry, it was a mistake. Seriously.”
Kerry laughed, fingers still tracing against Jeanie’s shoulder. She watched as Kerry tried to do the math in her head, deciding when this could have happened. She didn’t like to think about it for too long.
“Oh,” was all she said, and curled herself closer to Jeanie, who did the same in response. It had never really crossed her mind when she would get stuck fantasizing about a moment like this before, but it was overwhelming how soft Kerry’s skin felt, how sweet her hair smelled. She silently sent up a prayer that they could stay just like this, forever.
“This wasn’t a mistake, was it?” Jeanie had turned to face her now, back to looking her in the eyes, feeling like she would get lost in them if she wasn’t careful. They reminded her of being a little girl and seeing the night sky for the first time, stars fat and glowing without the city’s air and light pollution. If she stared long enough, she felt tipped upside down, ready to fall into space without gravity’s seatbelt strapping her firmly to earth.
Jeanie didn’t know it was possible for another person to make her feel that way. At the very least, not just from looking into their eyes.
“No,” she said, both of them whispering now, telling secrets to one another in an empty room. She felt the need to make herself extraordinarily clear; it was too risky to lose experiencing this feeling ever again. “This wasn’t a mistake, Kerry.”
“Good,” Kerry hummed, their foreheads resting against each other. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She took a lock of Jeanie’s hair between her fingers, playing with it absentmindedly. They stayed that way for a while, just staring at each other, comfortable in the silence.
“You are so beautiful,” she whispered, her hand moving to Jeanie’s cheek. It made Jeanie’s breath catch in her chest, all of the blood in her head rushing to her cheeks. Kerry softened and rolled closer into her, making her face feel like it was on fire.
“Hey,” Kerry said, voice falling to a whisper, hand falling from Jeanie’s cheek to her hand. Their fingers laced together under the sheets. She bit back a smile, inching closer to Jeanie. “What was Peter like in bed?”
Jeanie’s eyes widened. “Kerry!”
“What?” Kerry laughed. “I’m not allowed to ask you that?”
Jeanie smiled, unable to meet Kerry’s eyes. She squeezed her hand, bringing it up from underneath the cover and holding it between them, studying their intertwined fingers.
Kerry laughed, nose wrinkling up in a smile. “Well?”
Jeanie paused, looking back into Kerry’s eyes. Her heart had steadied once again. It was funny; anyone with heart palpitations like she had been experiencing all night should probably be seen by a doctor, immediately—at least, in her professional opinion. She wasn’t afraid that she’d slip into cardiac arrest, but figured that she was lucky to have a doctor by her side on the off chance that she did. It wouldn’t be so terrible a fate to be brought back to life by Kerry Weaver.
She contemplated her answer before giving in. “Bossy,” she finally said, looking back at her and Kerry’s hands again. Kerry let out a laugh.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she said, head falling back on her pillow. “Who was better?”
Jeanie paused, holding Kerry’s hand still. A laugh broke through her lips. “Kerry, I –”
“C’mon. It’s just between us. I won’t tell anyone.”
Jeanie snorted. “You can’t resist a performance review, hmm?”
Kerry laughed, leaning into Jeanie’s shoulder. “No,” she said, her words morphing into a kiss. “No, I guess I can’t.”
Jeanie adjusted herself so that she could tip her head against Kerry’s chest. “This is better. I mean, all of it is… was… but… this, right now, is better.”
A silence hung over them, perhaps the first all evening that neither felt needed to be filled with an awkward laugh. Kerry pressed a kiss to the top of Jeanie’s head, eyes falling shut.
“No one’s been able to do this for a long time,” Jeanie said, her confession coming out faster than it had materialized in her head. Perhaps it had been sitting there for a long time, waiting for a person who made her feel at ease to unlock it. “Or, at least wanted to. With me, anyway.” She struggled to articulate her thoughts without sounding like she was feeling sorry for herself. “So that feels… good.”
Kerry smiled. “I know what you mean,” she said, voice honeyed and soft. Jeanie imagined it as a cloud she could float away on. “Jeanie, I… that will never affect the way I see you. I know you know that, but –”
“I know.” They both smiled then, eyes unable to tear away from each other. She’d always known that to be true.
They lay there for a long time after that, limbs twisting together and apart again as they fell in and out of kisses, each one feeling spontaneous and earned. Late that night, after Jeanie had agreed to spend the night and got into bed wearing a borrowed pair of Kerry’s pajamas, she reframed the admiration she had always held for Kerry as what she now knew it was all along: a crush.
“Well, I could have told you that,” Kerry laughed upon Jeanie’s disclosure of it to her. “But I never noticed anything different, or anything like that.”
Jeanie felt her cheeks flush. “Really?” An internal sigh of relief. Having a crush remained embarrassing at every age, didn’t it?
“No,” Kerry said. “You’re always that way, though. So calm and collected.” She bit down on a laugh.
“I guess that’s why they call you Steely Jeanie.”