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The pair sat at the table, looking into each others’ eyes. While they were happy, they were also holding back immense sadness. And the longing as they looked up at the head table, at their friend who, despite their better judgement, they had allowed to make what they were certain was the worst decision of her life. But she was sitting up there, looking so happy, that they couldn’t see the disappointment in her eyes whenever they looked away.
It had been three months before that when she had shown up at the restaurant they typically met at with what Mira described as a “god awful affront to style” on her finger. And now, she was sitting next to the one person the pink-haired woman absolutely loathed. And she could see his eyes already searching for his next conquest.
As Jinu’s eyes passed over their table, he smirked before moving on, as if to say “I won, you lost. She’s mine now.”
The following months weren’t any better. It had started with Rumi’s posts on social media disappearing from their feeds entirely. Then it moved to phone calls suddenly having to end. Then it was emails bouncing back, the server declaring them ‘undeliverable’.
And the most recent loss was the physical letters. Every single one marked “Return to Sender”. It was after the ninth one that Mira stopped hoping for anything to come from their attempts at contact.
And, almost a week later, she found herself sitting on their couch, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably into her hands. She had come home early in hopes of being able to collect herself and get some sense of normalcy before her girlfriend came back from visiting her mother. But as the minutes ticked on, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. She had even prepared for this, setting a bottle of whiskey on the table in front of her. The glass next to it holding a small amount, the amber liquid almost mocking her, daring her to lose herself in an alcoholic stupor like she and Zoey had done after getting home from Rumi's wedding.
In the back of her head, the voices had started up again. More angry this time. ‘You failed her. You failed them both. And you failed yourself.’
“No… no no no no….” She reached out, her hand shaking as she tried to get a grip on the glass with her drink in it. But her fingers couldn’t seem to grab hold of the vessel, instead slipping silently off like water from a duck’s back.
Through it all, the voices persisted. ‘And that makes you a failure. You don’t deserve a family. You’ve known this since your own parents wanted nothing to do with you.’
Forcing herself to try again, she finally managed to grab the glass. Quickly moving it to her lips, she swallowed the alcohol inside, the amber liquid blazing a trail of flame as she swallowed. Returning the glass to the surface to pour again, she could feel the tears starting up again. And she knew that she didn’t want Zoey to see her like this.
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“Zoey, sweetie, I’m sure it's nothing bad.” Cora was fighting to stay composed, especially as she watched her daughter breaking down on the patio of her home.
Zoey looked back up at her mother, tears still falling from her eyes. She had told herself that she was going to stay strong during this. That she could just ask her mother about how it would all work out hopefully, and then take some good solid parental advice back to her girlfriend, who was probably sitting at home waiting for her by now.
Instead, she was on her mother’s patio, bawling her eyes out about a relationship that had never started. Over regrets and unspoken feelings towards a woman who probably never saw her as more than a friend. And here she was, almost 4 years later, still pining for her. And yet, she still held onto the hope that she could just ask her to her face. Put the thoughts out there and clear the air once and for all. It was all she wanted.
So why did she feel guilty? Like she was being greedy?
She had a loving girlfriend she thought the world of, and who thought the world of her. They should be enough for each other, shouldn’t they? Not receiving any emails, being blocked on social media, returned letters? Those were all normal as friends drifted apart, right?
The distant rumble heralded the coming storm, and Cora wanted her daughter to get home before it hit. “Why don’t you head home to Mira, Zoey? I’m sure she misses you.” She then gave her daughter a hug as she sent her out of the door to her car. “Plus, I want you to get home before this storm hits. It’s not looking like it’s gonna be pleasant.”
As soon as she was in her car and driving away, Cora shut the door and brought her hand to her own cheek, feeling something wet. Wiping her eyes, she checked her phone, which was lighting up with notifications from old friends she had managed to stay in touch with. And it drove home how devastated her own daughter had to feel right now.
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Across the city, Zoey managed to maneuver her vehicle smoothly up the hill and into the garage of the house she and Mira shared. As she got out, she noticed the distinct lack of heat in the garage, which told her that the pink-haired woman had been home for at least 2 hours. Walking up the stairs from their vehicles, she noticed the quiet sobbing coming from the top of the stairs.
As she reached the top, she looked over to see Mira, a mostly drained bottle of whiskey in her hand, a discarded rocks glass on the floor next to their couch. The taller woman was never really one to drink to the point of intoxication, much less have more than two to three alcoholic beverages in a night. And, for her part, Zoey drank so rarely that she may as well never have touched any alcohol in her life.
She shook her head as she approached her girlfriend. It was going to be one of those nights where a great deal of things were said, and then forgotten the following morning.
“Mir?” She spoke softly as the distance between them closed. But the sobbing didn’t stop. Zoey was now in uncharted territory for their relationship. She had seen Mira when her first ventures into running a dance studio or even applying to be a choreographer for a stage play had fallen through. And none of those had managed to hit her as hard as whatever was on her mind tonight. So she knew it was more important to her that she just had somebody there when she needed them to be.
Sitting on the couch, she reached over to take the bottle from the dancer. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight, baby.”
“Leave it here.”
The response, almost distant and cold, shocked the shorter woman. She had never even thought about the possibility of Mira trying to drink to forget anything. Deciding to listen to the demand, she released her grip on the bottle. As she leaned back again, she heard the soft questions, punctuated by tears.
“Did we mean that little? It’s like she just threw us to the side. Did those years mean nothing?” Mira’s voice continued to break as she put her innermost thoughts and fears into words.
Zoey placed a hand on the dancer’s back and began rubbing circles, only for her to shrug it away. “I… I don’t know… I mean…”
“Do I even deserve a family?”
That one hit Zoey hard. It cut a swathe across her consciousness and ability to control her tears like a logging crew though a forest. It cut deep, and caused the tears she had been holding back to come to the surface. As she reached for Mira, she had to jump back as the arm opposite her sent the bottle it was holding into the wall.
“Mira! What the hell!?”
The shout seemed to snap the taller woman out of her trance. Realizing what she had just done, she stood silently and went to get the broom from the hall closet. She didn’t make it that far when Zoey wrapped her arms around her waist and just held her there.
“Let me go, Zo.”
“No, Mira.” Zoey muttered back, her face pressed between her girlfriend’s shoulders. “We are talking about this. We can clean it later. For now, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Releasing her hold, the shorter woman backed away, looking up at her. Mira turned around and fell to her knees, stopped from colliding with the floor by her arms. She then broke down in her arms, the sobbing worse than it had been when she had decided to use alcohol in a vain attempt to numb her pain.
“Years, Zo. Years.” She continued to cry as she let herself be held. “And then she gets married and we end up on the outside of all of it.”
All Zoey could do was sit and gently rub the top of Mira’s head as she continued to break down. “Maybe that little voice is right. Maybe I don’t deserve a family. I love you, Zoey. I do. And I should be content. Happy. But I want her, Zo. I still want her.”
She looked up as Zoey finally answered her. “I know, Mira. I want her too.”
“So why does it hurt so goddamned bad when I think about her? Why can’t I just move on? We should have been married by now, hon….” she made a vain attempt to clear the tears from her eyes as they continued to cloud her vision, forcing her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t be so stuck on her.”
She then managed to push her eyes open and suppress another sob before choking out an apology. “I’m sorry, Zoey. I… I’ll understand if you want to…”
Zoey pulled her girlfriend closer as she started losing the fight with her own emotions again. “Not gonna happen, Mir. I’m with you through it all. I promise.”
As they both sobbed, neither noticed Mira’s phone, still on silent from her work day, lighting up. On the screen, a call from an unknown number. In their continued crying, they also missed the voice mail notification being left. They wouldn’t notice it until they were about to head to bed and picked up the device.
Pressing play, more out of curiosity than anything, they were shocked at the contents of the message.
‘“Hey…”’ the voice in the message was quiet, almost defeated, but it was definitely Rumi’s. They would recognize her ‘I’m sneaking around, don’t tell mom’ tone anywhere. ‘“...it’s Rumi. I know it’s not much, but I… I need somebody to talk to that isn’t Jinu. And I know he doesn’t like you…”’
“No shit. I hate him, too.” Mira scoffed.
‘“...so I had a coworker pick this up for me. I know it’s not my usual number, but if you could hang on to it… maybe we can talk some more? Ah shit. He’s in the driveway. I’ll try again from my office tomorrow around noon. Gotta go.”’
As the message ended, Mira quickly updated Rumi’s contact info with the new number. They weren’t going to let this just go. And, maybe, they’d finally get the chance to give a voice to those unspoken feelings. To the words they couldn’t say.