Road Trip: A Lesbian Christmas Novella by Carly Cane

Author:Carly Cane [Cane, Carly]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Carly Cane
Published: 2020-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

I feel the chill of the night penetrating the heavy duty material of my jacket as I drag my feet through the snow.

The B&B is in a nice cul-de-sac where I can imagine the kids playing together on the weekends. The house itself reminds me of Lena’s, except her street is lined by cedars and oaks to screen the front porches from the eternal rays of Texan sunshine.

I sigh and watch my breath drift away in front of me. In a parallel universe, we might both be heading to Lena’s house this year, hand in hand. We’d just get through the door and Mr. Marshall would pat my back and show me the peonies and pansies he’d be growing in the garden, while Mrs. Marshall would fuss over how little we’d been eating.

Then, at dinner, Lena would lean over and kiss my cheek as I drew little circles on her hand under the table.

Fuck Christmas.

I kick the snow aimlessly and wrap my jacket tighter around my torso.

It’s my grandpa’s old jacket - or so my mom has claimed - and there’s a medal of valor sewn onto the front pocket. I never tried to check if it was real: the fewer questions the better in my family.

I love the jacket, though.

On the first day of uni a pink-haired stranger had pointed to me across the corridor. “Cool jacket!” She’d said, loud enough for the entire wing of dorms to hear her. I had felt my neck grow bright red as heads had turned in my direction.

“Thanks.” I’d murmured back, willing for the Earth to swallow me whole.

I’d barely taken a step before the stranger had grabbed my arm. “Sorry for screaming,” she’d added, much quieter. “We’re way too loud in the lone star state. Which room are you in?”

I’d felt my shoulders relax. “The third one, on the left.”

“Oh,” the stranger had let me go. “We’re roommates! Oh my god! Look at you! You’re way too cool to be my roommate.”

I remember staring at her, a bundle of colourful energy, and thinking: no way this girl thinks I’m cool. She’s going to realise how untrue that is. “Not nearly as cool as you think.”

“That’s what all cool people say.” She’d winked then.

“I’m from Texas, too.” I’d decided to utter at last, after reigning in the new warmth spreading in my stomach.

“Oh you are?! Oh my god. This is a sign. We are meant to be roommates!”

I brush my tears off my face.

I want to hate every minute we’ve spent together over the years, everything she’s ever said to me. I want to hate her pink-hair, her loud excitement, her messiness. I want to hate it all.

But I can’t.

And I’ve loved the jacket ever since.

The phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s past eleven, so I can only think of one person who’d be texting me at this time.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t come...” are the few words appearing on the screen.

I click on the message anyway, out of habit rather than interest.

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