Page 12 of This Is Who I Am

ESTELLE

I’m completely okay with who I am, yet I’ve never met someone who isn’t thrown by my coming out.

Especially because it’s usually someone who’s romantically interested in me, and nothing puts a damper on all things romance more than revealing you’re ace.

But I did inform Cass last night that dating isn’t on my to-do list.

Though if I’m honest, part of me looked forward to tonight as if it were a date. A not entirely conscious part, because I do know better—I have all the scars on my foolish, hopeless heart to remind me when needed.

“My new best friend, eh?” I’m not blind. I’ve seen Cass check me out—especially tonight, before my confession.

“As long as you don’t want to go jogging or surfing together,” Cass jokes.

I laugh along because it’s the easy thing to do under the circumstances—this is hardly the time for a body positivity pep talk.

“In that case, I really should reciprocate this dinner invitation, although my lack of cooking skills might put too big a strain on our budding friendship.”

“We could just go for drinks at The Bay instead.” Cass puts her cutlery down.

“Let me just enjoy this final piece of exquisiteness before we continue this conversation.” I make a show of how tasty Cass’s dish is—not a hard thing to do—then wave my hand over my empty plate. “You’re a genius, by the way.”

“Just a good cook,” she says matter-of-factly.

“So.” I reach for my wine glass. Now that I’ve told her about myself, I’d like to ask her a more inquisitive question. “You haven’t been with anyone since you and your ex broke up?”

“No.” Cass tops up our wine glasses.

“No dates? No nothing?”

“It took me a while to get over because we didn’t break up out of lack of love. God, I loved her, but… There were so many obstacles and sometimes love isn’t enough, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” How I wish I didn’t. How I wish I could still innocently—stupidly—believe that love is always enough.

“What would be the point of dating, anyway?” She shrugs. “And the Clearwater Bay dating pool for middle-aged lesbians is also fairly small.”

“Hm, isn’t later-in-life lesbianism a big thing these days?” I joke.

“Maybe in Berkeley. Among college types and whatnot.”

“So you truly consider yourself undatable?” I prod a little.

“Look at me,” is all she responds, as though that’s an actual answer.

“I am looking at you and, well, you did ask me out last night.”

“While you didn’t exactly say no, you hardly said yes either.”

“For good reason.” I point a finger at myself. “If we’re in a contest of who’s the most undatable, I think I win hands-down.”

“It’s not a contest, but no fucking way.” She rests her chin on an upturned palm. “I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times before and I hope it doesn’t irk you, but you are rather, um, hot.”

A chuckle rises from my throat. “It doesn’t irk me when you say it.” Although she has read that right, it has most certainly irritated me plenty of times before. “But being ‘hot’”—I curl my fingers into air quotes—“doesn’t make me good at dating. The opposite, actually.”

“You said you had your heart broken too many times?” Cass’s expression softens further.

“Ten times to be exact.” I smile sheepishly. “I do like numbers, but ten times is too many. My heart…” I shake my head. “It’s not because I don’t have sex that I don’t fall in love.” Unfortunately. “But it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

“I’m so sorry, Estelle.”

“We all have our cross to bear.” I laugh at myself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so dramatic.”

“It’s just that, to me,” Cass says, “love without sex doesn’t sound like the complete impossibility you say it is.”

“You just told me your ex was not okay with you no longer wanting sex.” Cass has no idea.

“My ex was also twenty years younger than me. We wanted different things—things that became crystal clear when I hit menopause.”

“No kids for you?” As if her cat responds to the word ‘kids’, August turns up and jumps into Cass’s lap. She pushes her chair back to give him space, then gently strokes his head.

“Can you imagine having a newborn when you’re going through menopause?

I also run a restaurant and I would have been near seventy when our kid went off to college.

” She shakes her head. “I loved Sarah but it just felt completely unreasonable.” Gus rubs his chin against her fingers.

“The thing is, when we met, Sarah didn’t want kids.

That all changed when her best friend had her first baby.

She got a bad case of baby fever, and I can’t hold her change of heart against her.

I will never begrudge a woman for her biological desire to have a child, but I couldn’t do that with her.

Her new wife is much younger. It’s all just so much more… suitable.”

“What about you, though? Sarah has a new wife and a baby on the way. What do you have?”

“I have August.” She looks at her cat with all the affection in the world. “I have Savor. I have my friends. It’s a pretty good life.”

“Yet you’d like a bit more fun?”

“I’d like for my body not to betray me so much. I’d like to be able to go out and not worry about hot flashes. I’d like to have a goddamn orga—” She cuts herself off. The clipped word hangs suspended in the air between us.

“You can say the word orgasm in my presence, you know.” I inject lightness into my tone. “I’m not triggered by it.”

“You’ve never…” Cass arches up her eyebrows. “Um—” Her cheeks flush. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”

“No.”

“God. It’s?—”

“I know it sounds weird, but it’s just how I’m wired. It’s not something that I miss or crave.”

“I can’t climax anymore,” Cass says. “My body seems entirely unwilling—or unable.”

Oh, fuck. Don’t go there, Estelle. This is a time to be sensitive, not to rise to a challenge. I try to ignore the tug in my chest—that old, dangerous thought. Because this is how it always begins. And it always ends the same.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s fine.” As if he can’t handle this conversation, August abruptly jumps off Cass’s lap. “How about dessert?” Maybe Cass can’t handle it anymore either.

“Um, okay.” I accept Cass’s swift gear change. In fact, I welcome it. And I have good reason to.

* * *

While Cass rummages in the kitchen, I take a moment to process our conversation—to absorb the effects of coming out.

And to brainstorm ways to keep this as a potential friendship and not let it turn into something more.

Because I am romantically attracted to Cass.

I like her. Being around her is easy but also exciting.

But I have my reckless little heart to consider.

She strides out of the kitchen with two plates in her hands.

I can’t help but smile when I see her walk toward me.

She is by no means a light-footed, dainty woman—and it only makes me like her even more.

Also, deliciously paradoxically, she’s not above complaining about her body and its middle-aged weight gain, while serving a generous portion of dessert not long after.

She puts another gorgeous plate down in front of me.

It’s beautiful in an understated way—dark and glossy, with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar on top. A single, thin curl of chocolate rests at an angle.

I hover my fork over the pristine surface of the dessert. “What masterpiece am I about to devour next?”

“A dark chocolate cake.” Cass settles back into her chair. “A little bitter, a little sweet. Kind of like…” She tilts her head as if assessing me.

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t say me.”

She grins. “I was going to say life, but sure, if the shoe fits…”

If anyone is like this cake, it’s Cass—and it’s probably the main reason why I’m here tonight.

I take a bite and it’s exactly as she described. Dark and rich, with just enough sweetness to soften the edges.

“Oh my god.” My mouth full of yummy goodness, I shake my head. I try to savor my bite, but I end up swallowing it greedily because it’s just too damn good. “You’re not the first chef I’ve dated,” I blurt out. “I think food might be my sex.”

I didn’t mean to be so flippant, but I think something in that chocolate has intoxicated me.

“Hold on a minute.” Cass does an impressive job of not losing her cool—it must be all those years working in high pressure environments. “First of all, when did this become a date?”

“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I meant friend-date.”

“Are you still friends with the chef you used to date?” She’s looking at me with a very self-satisfied grin on her lips and I can’t tell whether it’s because of this divine dessert she served me or for another reason—or both.

“Heavens no.” The chef left me with Scar Number 8. “I sure hope we never fall out, because your food is too good to live without.” I glance at the delicious cake on my plate.

A short silence falls, the only noise the clattering of our forks against porcelain. It’s the kind of awkward silence I’m desperate to fill, but I’ve blurted out enough inanities these past couple of minutes. Instead, I patiently wait for Cass to say something.

“Because food is your sex?” It sounds utterly ridiculous after that silence.

“Obviously…” Maybe I can still save this, come out of this looking better than I deserve. “I can’t compare the two. I’ve heard people talk of foodgasms and such, but, well, for obvious reasons, I wouldn’t know whether that term is correct.”

“Oh, it is. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times.” Cass surprises me. She’s throwing me a conversational lifeline.

“Only seen it happen?”

She chuckles low in her throat. “In my extremely expert opinion, you can’t compare the two.

” She pushes a strand of hair away from her forehead.

Are those beads of sweat pearling on her brow?

“I mean, I guess it depends. But sex is…” She pauses, then moves her hand about as though what she was about to say next needs to be waved off.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to hold back on my account.” She’s looking decidedly flustered now, which—again—delights me too much.

“Oh, no. That’s not what I was doing. You’re the one who started talking about this, but… my thought ran out of steam.” She scoffs gently. “Kind of like my own sex life, really.” She pulls her lips into a smile that completely contradicts what she just said.

I have to laugh because, so far, tonight has been nothing short of joyful—and I truly do believe that Cass might become my new best friend in this town.