Page 29 of This Is Who I Am

ESTELLE

I’ve just thrown away a huge stack of my father’s papers when the doorbell rings.

It’s Thursday afternoon and Cass must be preparing for dinner service, yet I hope it’s her.

I always hope it’s her. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now and although we both have things to deal with, it’s been magnificent to get to know her better, to simply spend time with her—and August—at her house on the cliff.

Wiping my hands, I head to the front door, my heart doing its silly I’m-so-in-love pitter-patter.

When I open the door, Suzy stands in front of me.

“Hi.” She holds up a box of something. “Red velvet cupcakes. Homemade by moi,” she says.

“Suzy. Hi.” I’m a little taken aback. Apart from a few of my dad’s old neighbors, I haven’t had a lot of visitors, expected or unexpected. Cass and I have gotten into the habit of meeting up at hers, simply because it’s a lot more pleasant—and clean. “Come in. Ignore the mess.”

“I hope you don’t mind my impromptu visit.”

“It’s a welcome distraction,” I admit. I’m starting to get sick of my father’s endless piles of formulas and calculations. Sometimes, I fear I may burn out all over again just from looking through them.

“I can hook you up with some guys who will take care of this place in no time,” Suzy says matter-of-factly. “Although I get that a lot of emotions must be tied up in it for you.”

“It’s something I have to do myself, but I might change my mind soon.” I usher her into the kitchen, which I keep the tidiest because I have to prepare a minimum of food for myself. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“Coffee. Black,” Suzy says. I should remember her better from high school, but it’s all such a blur.

After my mother died, my dad and I sank into our bubble of comfort and grief and my memories from before the accident are strangely clouded.

Either way, Suzy Ireland and I didn’t travel in the same social circles at school.

She was the quintessential popular girl, and I was the cliché math nerd.

“Can I offer you a cupcake?” I ask, pointing at the box Suzy brought.

“Yes, please,” she says. “I used to work in a bakery. Picked up a few tricks.”

“That’s a long way from being a menopause consultant.” I grab some plates and put a dark red cupcake on each. The people in this town sure love to feed me.

“I’m a jill-of-all-trades, but with Devon, I’ve really found a professional home.

If my sister wasn’t married to her and I wasn’t aromantic, I would tie her down like nobody’s business.

” She bursts into raucous laughter. “I’m also a too-much-information-too-quickly kind of girl. You’ll get used to it.”

We sit in the rickety chairs at my father’s old kitchen table with our coffee and cupcakes.

“Cass is like a different person since she met you. Well, in some respects.” Suzy is also not a beat about the bush kind of girl. Cass did say Suzy had expressed an explicit wish to grill me on my intentions. I guess this is it.

“So am I.” I give her my best smile.

“It’s pretty obvious why she has the hots for you. You’re drop dead gorgeous. A math professor, no less. The gays are crazy about you.” She holds up her hands. “I can totally see it. I like you too, Estelle.”

“But?” I should be flattered by what she just said, yet I’m getting a slightly hostile vibe.

“No, no. Sorry. No buts.” She raises one shoulder. “This is just my personality.” A wide grin spreads across her face. “I’d like to get to know you better and, if you’re willing to share, ask what your plans are?” She looks around the kitchen. “Are you staying? Are you going back to work?”

“I honestly don’t know.” In order to take a beat, I bite a chunk out of my cupcake. It’s deliciously moist and just the right amount of sweet. Suzy really did pick up some tricks.

Time to find out how good she is at her new professional calling.

As a menopause consultant and former life coach, I expect her to display a good deal of sensitivity and have a smooth way of handling a potentially difficult conversation—although, as far as I’m concerned, our little chitchat doesn’t have to be difficult at all.

“Hm,” I moan. “So good.”

“Thanks.” Her smile is just as dazzling as her sister’s TV smile.

“I no longer have a job, so I can stay in Clearwater Bay as long as I want.”

“You don’t need to work?” Suzy asks.

“Turns out Daddy Raymond had a lot of money stashed away.” By the end of his life, he probably didn’t even remember—maybe that’s why he never told me. “My inheritance was sizable.”

“It’s good that you don’t have to rush back into work. That you can take your time to grieve and deal with all the practicalities no one ever warns you about.”

“And learn how to surf with Sadie and Devon.” I tried to catch some waves earlier today, but neither Sadie nor Devon was there, and it wasn’t as much fun on my own—it seemed almost impossible to stay on my board without their encouragement.

“If that’s your thing.” She smirks. “I’ve been the black sheep of the Ireland family ever since I stopped surfing in my teens. But just because I grew up by the ocean, doesn’t automatically make me a water person, you know? I like to walk. I like to feel the ground beneath my feet.”

“Sure.” A smile tugs at my lips. “Just like Cass. She’s very adamant about not surfing.” I remember what Devon told me about how beneficial it could be, mentally and physically, for women in the menopause. I’m sure Suzy has a different opinion on that.

“Yeah, me, Hunter and Cass are all land rats. We like to sit on the deck of The Bay and watch the surfers, but don’t put a board under our arm, thank you very much.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” I sip from my coffee. Suzy hasn’t touched her cupcake. “I’m not very good at it yet, but I love the weightlessness of it when I do manage to catch a wave and how I have to forget about everything else in order to stay on my board.”

“I get it. My dad, bless him, still surfs every single day for that very reason.”

“Good for him.”

“Can I ask you a personal question out of professional curiosity, please?” Suzy asks.

“Sure.”

“We’re the same age and I’ve been on hormone therapy for three years now. Where are you in your journey?”

“Nowhere, I think.”

“No symptoms? No mood swings? Hot flashes? Irregular periods?”

“No. I guess I’m a late bloomer.”

“Good for you, really. Maybe you are one of the lucky few women who breeze through it like it’s nothing, but it’s not like that for the majority of us… Cass, in particular, has had a rough time of it.”

I nod. “I know.” It’s hard to forget her meltdown prior to our first sleepover.

“And she refuses any medical help. She can be rather stubborn,” Suzy says.

“Yeah, she told me why.”

“Her mother’s cancer was not hormone-sensitive.

Cass knows this, but it’s emotional for her.

She can’t break the promise she made to her mother.

She’d rather suffer.” Suzy sighs. “We’ve had so many conversations about it.

I’ve sent her so many links to studies refuting what she believes.

I’ve told her over and over again that she doesn’t have to be in pain because she’s a woman, but I might as well be talking to a brick wall. She refuses to hear me.”

“It’s her choice. If she has all the information, she decides.”

“True enough. I just hate to see her so distressed. So unlike she used to be.” She tilts her head as though asking, what about you?

I don’t reply because I’m not Cass, although, obviously, I don’t enjoy seeing her go through yet another hot flash—but Cass is old and wise enough to make her own decisions.

“One thing did surprise me, though.” Suzy narrows her eyes.

“What’s that?” I wish I didn’t because it makes me more defensive, but I have developed a sixth sense about this so I know what’s coming.

“Please know that I’m not judging. I’m not in the business of judging. I’m aro, which is not the same, but it does mean I’m far from ignorant… Still, I was really surprised when Cass told me about the best sex of her life… in the menopause… with an asexual partner.”

“You could just be happy for her.” My voice is surprisingly steady.

“Oh, I am. I really am.” She pins her gaze on me. “And for you, of course. Cass is a wonderful person.”

“Again, agreed.” What’s with the subtext of this conversation? Is she trying to tell me something? Or is it just me who’s got my hackles up because of the topic? “What is it you’re trying to tell me?” I ask, meeting her gaze.

“I’m not sure.” She brings a hand to her chest, as though she’s guilty of something. “I’m very protective of Cass. The past couple of years have not been kind to her and I just… I’d hate to see her hurt.”

“You think I’m going to hurt her because I’m ace?” In my experience, it’s usually the other way around.

“God, no. I’m sorry, Estelle. We’re getting off on the wrong foot and it’s completely my fault.” She shakes her head. “My friends are very important to me and…” She emits a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry. Now I’m just making excuses for my poor behavior. How appalling.”

“You care about Cass and that’s great.” For a moment, I wonder if Suzy has feelings for Cass, but she’s aromantic. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Please, do.” She relaxes her shoulders.

“You never fall in love?” I know it’s offensive to ask, but she hasn’t been the most tactful either. And maybe I just want to know what her secret is. Sometimes, I wish my own heart could be a little smarter.

“I wouldn’t put it like that exactly, but a romantic relationship is simply not for me.

I’ve tried, of course. But the being in love part was always over in a flash and then, after that first haze of mind-altering chemicals, of being smitten, lifts, I always wonder what the hell I’m doing trying to accommodate another person.

I have a great life. A loving family and the best friends I can wish for, but I prefer to be alone.

I’ve never had that need to share my life with someone.

I share my life with me. I do what I want, when I want it.

I’m an aunt, a sister, a daughter, and, yes, also an annoyingly overbearing friend.

” She holds up her hands as if to say, what are you going to do?

“But I’m nobody’s partner. That’s not me. ”

“And sex?” I might as well ask.

She points her thumb at her chest. “Mainly with myself.” She shrugs. “One-night stands are just so… pffhhhh.” She huffs out a loud, exasperated sigh that makes me chuckle. “Honestly, I can’t be bothered.”

When she’s not grilling me, I do like Suzy. I like her directness and also that she’s not like everyone else—that she’s like me.

“I’m not going to hurt Cass,” I say. “Not if I can help it. I’m crazy about her.” If anything, I’m afraid she’ll hurt me.

Suzy just nods, her gaze drifting to the untouched cupcake. “And she makes the best grilled cheese sandwich,” she says matter-of-factly.

“And burger,” I add.

“She’s very good at what she does. It’s a blessing to have a job that suits you so much.

” She picks up the cupcake and finally takes a bite, as though giving in not just to the sugar but to me, to the possibility that I might be good for her friend after all.

We sit in silence as she chews. “What about you? Have you thought about a career after mathematics?” That must be the life coach in her rearing its head.

“No, not yet.” I pick a crumb off my plate. “Math will always be a part of my life. It’s like Cass and cooking. It’s a part of us, but… I don’t know. I’m taking the time I need to figure it out.”

“And fall in love in the meantime.” Suzy winks at me.

“Oh, yes,” I say, my stomach fluttering at the thought of Cass.