had pulled herself together, she asked, “Okay, so why did your new therapist say she wanted you to go to a bondage dungeon?”
“Because she thinks I won’t get over this thing with John until I understand bondage. I think it bothered her a little when I suggested people who do that stuff were abnormal for wanting to be beaten.”
Kristy gaped. “You said that?”
“Yeah. Kind of.” After seeing Kristy’s reaction, Wynne started second-guessing herself. “Um, I said something like they have a sex addiction and can’t help themselves.”
“Your counselor has a point, then. That’s a judgmental thing to say.”
“Yeah, maybe.” When a glance at her friend’s face left her feeling like crap, she added, “I was upset, you know? She kept pushing me to tell her how I felt, so I did. I wasn’t thinking. The words just came out. Even if I don’t believe everyone who goes to bondage dungeons is a sick addict, it doesn’t change anything. I won’t go to one of those places.” She paused. “I…can’t.”
“Why not? What are you afraid of?”
More silence. “Because those places are creepy. And scary…and I just can’t.” There came the tears again. She blinked to keep her vision clear. Damn it, she hated crying. Hated crying almost as much as she hated feeling like this—like her insides were still as raw as they’d been that day in April.
“Oh, honey. I wish there was something I could do or say to help you through this. I…could go with you, if that would make it easier.”
“But I don’t want to go.” Sniffling, she dug in the center console between the seats, looking for another tissue. She found a crumpled McDonald’s napkin. “It’s not going to change anything. John isn’t going to come back to me. So what’s the point?”
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the pathetic sound of Wynne’s sniffling.
Kristy sighed. “Maybe Susan Smith, Certified Therapist, knows something we don’t. You’ve tried to get over this thing on your own and it hasn’t worked. You’ve tried two other counselors, and they didn’t help either. I say you trust the shrink you’re paying God only knows how much and do what she says. You might come out of this understanding why John lied, why he had to leave you…. It’s been a year,” her friend reminded her gently. “You dated one guy since John left, and that lasted for less than a month. Sweetie, you acted like a clingy leech and scared him off. Since then it seems like you’ve given up. You don’t go out anymore. The funny, friendly, easygoing girl I knew is gone.”
“Maybe I don’t need to be that girl anymore. Maybe she was easygoing because she didn’t have a freaking clue what a mess her life was.” Wynne hit the power button on the radio, putting an end to the conversation. No denying, it was rude, cutting off her friend like that, but she was pushing too hard and Wynne wasn’t in any condition to listen to more psychobabble shit.
Absolutely, she wanted to get out of this hell she’d fallen into. She could step outside of herself, watch herself being a bitch. It was her way of dealing with her pain and anger.
Obviously, despite what all the counselors had said, there was no cure for a broken heart. It would take time. A lot longer than one year. Maybe this girl was a slower-than-average healer.
She just wished someone understood how she felt. Really and truly knew what it felt like to have the one human being on the face of the earth who cared about her turn around and tell her it was all a lie, that he didn’t really love her, had maybe never loved her at all. She had a feeling if she ever did find a person who empathized with that kind of pain, they’d be friends forever. Or better yet, more than friends.
“Pull the car over,” Kristy said abruptly.
“Why? What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”
“No, just do it. Please.”
Wynne looked over her shoulder and eased into the right lane. Then, at the first driveway, an entry to a Burger King, she turned out of traffic and parked.
Kristy cut off the radio. “There’s something I need to tell you, and well, this is just as good a time as any. If I keep waiting for the perfect opportunity, I won’t ever tell you.”
Wynne’s heart stopped. A split second later, it kicked back to life, but at a pace that was at least twice its normal rate. “What’s wrong? Are you pregnant?”
Kristy rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not pregnant. I get the Depo shot every three months, like clockwork. How could I be?”
“Well, I don’t know. You’ve been acting a little moody the past few weeks and the shot isn’t 100 percent reliable….”
“That’s because I’ve been dealing with some things, too. And I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. Especially with how you’ve been feeling lately. But I can’t sit here and pretend any longer.”
“Pretend what? That you’re my friend?”
“No, I’ll always be your friend, at least if you want me to be.” Kristy glanced away, staring down at her hands.
What did that mean? “Oh for Chrissakes! What’s wrong?”
“It’s not really that something’s wrong. It’s just that…well, in the last year or so I’ve come to the realization that…I’m…gay.”
Huh? “You’re what?”
Kristy nodded. “I am attracted to women. Sexually.”
“I can’t believe this. Are you sure?”
Kristy gave her a mean-eyed glare. “Yes, of course I’m sure.”
“But you were married. To a man. For years. You have had sex with men. Lots of men—”
Kristy smacked her shoulder. “Hey, not that many!”
“And you’re like…in your thirties. How could you be gay all of a sudden?” When Kristy didn’t offer up an answer to that question, Wynne asked, “What is going on? First John decides he’s gay and now you? Why is everyone turning homosexual on me? Let me see that book you were reading….” Wynne snatched the novel off her supposedly gay friend’s lap. The cover boasted a typical romance nekkid man titty. The title: The Barbarian. “See? You’re not gay. You’re reading a romance novel….” She flipped the book over and read the blurb. “What is this? It’s about two guys? You’re reading a gay romance?”
Kristy grabbed her book and dropped it into her enormous purse. “I knew you’d have a hard time with this. Listen, we can talk about my choice in reading material later. This is important. I’m trying to tell you that I have been homosexual—or rather, bisexual—for a long time. I just didn’t want to accept it.”
“I don’t want to accept it either. I mean, we live together. We’ve slept together. In the same bed. Before your bedroom set was delivered.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Wynne felt the color draining from her face. “Did you…get aroused?”
“No,” her friend answered sheepishly. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“But you’re gay.”
“Yes.”
“You like women.”
“Yes.”
“And you needed to tell me this now? Today?” Wynne folded a napkin and dragged it under her bottom eyelashes, removing a black smudge of molten eye makeup.
“I know the timing sucks, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m dating someone. Things are getting serious between us. You were going to figure it out. I mean, how do I explain why I’m taking a woman into my bedroom?”
Wynne glanced at Kristy