“My mom is planning on taking Tiff and me to visit Grandma in Palm Springs this weekend” I said to Emmy when she picked me up for school. “And I don’t want to go. I mean, Grandma is O.K. and all, but it’s really boring at her house. All there is to do is swim and read, and the weather’s gonna be too cold to swim.”

I realized I sounded a bit petulant, but Mom had just sprung this on me that morning and I was feeling a bit pissed off that I hadn’t even been asked if I even wanted to go.

“Must you go? Can you stay here?” asked Emmy.

“Mom has said on any number of occasions that she really doesn’t like the idea of leaving me home by myself. I really doubt she’d be O.K. with me staying.”

“Perhaps you can stay with me at my house. I can ask my father and mother if that would be all right with them,” Emmy said, a thoughtful expression on her coal-black face.

While she was thinking about it, we made our daily pilgrimage to worship the great bean at the drive-through coffee bungalow. Ah, sweet welcoming caffeine! Coffee truly is proof that God loves us and wants us to be awake.

Warming my hands around the doubled paper cups, I had a thought.

“Emmy, here’s an idea. What if you come over and stay at my house? That way I’m not imposing on your parents, I won’t be alone at home so Mom will be happy, and our downstairs neighbor won’t have to remember to feed Sylvester. We can stay up late watching movies and eating popcorn. It’d be great! Mom would be O.K. with it, I’m pretty sure. What do you say?” I asked, hopeful.

“That would be fantastique!” Emmy said, suddenly excited by the idea. “I will ask my parents if it is acceptable to them. Oh, I do hope they say yes!” Once again, Emmy’s instant enthusiasm surprised me. I’ve never met anybody who could emotionally go from zero to a hundred so fast in my life. She was literally bouncing in her seat with delight at the idea of a sleepover. Walking from the parking lot to our first class, Emmy was still buzzing with excitement. She wasn’t quite dancing the way she’d done the night we rode the roller coaster, but close to it.

Home Room focused her back on school, and it seemed she’d forgotten about it until lunchtime. She was a few minutes late to the caf, and when she walked in she was all smiles.

“I called my mother a few minutes ago,” Emmy said. “She thinks it will be all right, but she must talk to my father about it to make certain he has no objections. Most of the time when one of my parents agrees to something, the other one will, too. I expect that when I call her back she will have good news for me. For us.”

“Uh, don’t be too hasty. I haven’t asked my mom if it’d be O.K. with her yet. She might still say I have to go to Palm Springs,” I cautioned.

“Oh,” said Emmy, in a small voice. She looked completely deflated. “I had forgotten. I am sorry for making assumptions,” she said.

“What’s this all about?” asked Courtney. “What’s going on?”

“My mom wants to drag me and Tiff to visit Grandma in Palm Springs,” I explained. “I don’t want to go, and it occurred to me that Mom might let me stay if I weren’t alone at home. I asked Emmy if she could come over.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to go to your gramma’s house? She always bakes those amazing cookies, and her pool is always so warm,” said Courtney. “And besides, there are always tons of cute boys to check out.” Turning to Tom and Allie, Courtney went on. “I used to go to Leah’s grandparents’ house with Leah’s family a lot a few years ago. We always used to walk down to Palm Canyon and window shop. We’d check out the guys checking each other out, and get shakes at the chocolate shop.” Turning back to me, she asked “Why don’t we do that any more? That was fun!”

“Well, the last couple of times I invited you, you had something else to do, and I guess we just got out of the habit,” I replied. “I guess also once Tiff started in school we just went a whole lot less, too.”

Allie said “It’s nice your grandparents live so close. Ours are over a thousand miles away, up in Portland.”

“Just my grandma,” I replied. “My grandfather died two years ago.”

“Oh, sorry,” mumbled Allie.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I miss Grampa, but he had a good, long life, spent surrounded by his loving family. That’s all anybody can hope for, right?”

That night, Mom agreed to the idea of Emmy and me staying at out place for the weekend, to my surprise. “Sure, I don’t see why not,” she’d said. “You are getting to be a responsible young woman, after all.”

When we got to my place after school on Friday Mom and Tiff had already left. There was a note on the table with emergency phone numbers and reheating instructions for the leftovers in the fridge. I turned to Emmy to complain about how sometimes Mom still thinks I’m just a little kid, but what I saw surprised me enough that I didn’t get my rant out at all.

Emmy was holding Sylvester in her arms, and that silly cat was kneading Emmy’s shoulder and purring with a very contented look on her face. Emmy was gently stroking her fur and tickling her under the chin, and Sylvester was just eating it up.

“That’s amazing,” I said, surprise in my voice. “Sylvester usually hates everyone but Mom and me. In fact, she just barely tolerates Tiff. I’ve never seen her make friends with anybody before.”

“Oh, we were already friends,” Emmy said. “Sylvester and I met the first day I came and visited. You remember, the day I caused you to cry.”

“Thanks for reminding me” I said, sarcastically. “Please tell me you’ve never told anyone about that, have you?” I asked.

“Why would I tell anyone?” she asked, innocent curiosity in her voice.

“Never mind. Anyway, that crazy cat really seems to like you. That really is unusual.”

“Oh, no. Cats always like me. It’s because they know they can share their secrets with me.” Laughing, she gently set Sylvester down.

“Can they?” I asked, amused.

“Of course. They know I would never tell anyone,” she replied.

“And what are their secrets?”

“I cannot tell you. That would not be nice, and then cats would not trust me anymore.”

I have to admit that cracked me up. Her serious expression was what did it- no way could I have said something that ridiculous with a straight face.

Emmy’s puzzled look at my laughter only made things worse. Tears were rolling from my eyes, until I realized that maybe Emmy was serious. She certainly wasn’t finding any humor in the conversation. In fact, she looked a bit upset that I was laughing at her. Thinking maybe I’d somehow insulted her, I stifled my laughter and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Emmy. It was- I just thought you were joking. Really- I’m sorry” I said, the hurt look on her face making me feel ashamed that I’d laughed at her.

Smiling her most mischievous grin, she giggled at my discomfort. “Oh Leah, of course I was joking! The look on your face just this moment was priceless!” With that, she wrapped her arms around me in a big hug.

Realizing I’d been had, I laughed again, too. With our laughter dying down, she let me go.

Heading for the fridge, I asked her “Are you hungry? Want anything to eat or drink?”

“Perhaps a glass of water, please,” she responded.

“I don’t know how you do it. I eat a lunch that is seventeen times as big as yours, and I’m still starving when I get home. You have to be hungry. Admit it.”

“No, I simply do not eat very much. I am small, and do not need very much food.”

“I wish I were small like you,” I replied. “What size do you wear, anyway? Like, a negative two or something?”

“No, you do not wish that. It is not very good to be small like me. To tell you the truth, I wish I were big and powerful, like you.”

“Seriously? You aren’t just saying that?” I asked, incredulous. When she shook her head, I continued “Wow. That’s irony for you.”

I got a glass from the cupboard and filled it for Emmy, the water cooler making its familiar ‘glug’ as the bubbles rose in the water bottle. I handed her the glass and then went to the fridge to see what there was to eat.

Making a snack for myself, I heard Emmy tune up Dad’s guitar.

“Is it O.K. if I play?” she called from the living room.

“Sure. That old guitar needs some attention,” I told her.

She strummed a few chords, and satisfied with things, she started to play.

At first I didn’t recognize the tune, but when Emmy started to sing I couldn’t help but chuckle. I had no idea that Lady Gaga’s dance pop tune “Bad Romance” could be sung as a slow, sad acoustic ballad, but there it was. Emmy sang it with emotion, transforming it into a song of unrequited love and yearning. I sat on the couch, listening to her sing what turned out to be a very unlikely sad song, and completely forgot about my sandwich. When she sang the line about wanting your love even though it was just revenge I was on the verge of tears again. I don’t know what it is about Emmy’s singing, but when she sings a sad song, it really twists my insides up. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I just couldn’t help it.

Emmy didn’t seem to notice, though. She was looking down at the guitar, not at me, so thankfully she didn’t see the tears start to well up.

She went straight into another song, one a bit more upbeat. Good thing, too. I don’t know if I could have been able to stand another tear fest like that first time she played Dad’s guitar. That was embarrassing enough to have happen once, let alone twice.

For her next song Emmy sang a song I didn’t recognize. The lyrics were something about an old woman digging for fire. It was a funny song, but I don’t really remember it very well. After that she took a sip of water and continued playing, but this time it was a Spanish-sounding instrumental. She looked up at me midway through, and asked “Are you not hungry?”

I realized I hadn’t touched my sandwich, so I grabbed it and started eating. This seemed to satisfy Emmy, because she smiled at me.

“Is there a song you would like me to play?” she asked, never once missing a note of the tune she was playing.

“How about some classic rock. Something hot,” I suggested.

“Let me see… something hot…” she pondered for a minute, then her tune gradually changed into something a bit slower, and more rhythmic.

When she began singing, I laughed again at her song choice. An acoustic guitar rendition of George Michael’s “Father Figure” wasn’t my idea of classic rock, but I guess it did come out before either of us was born.

When Emmy saw the recognition and amusement on my face, she smiled broadly as she sang the line about never understanding her.

After the song ended, she set the guitar aside and took another sip of water. “I am supposed to play an hour a day, but I do not want to bore you.”

“Oh, trust me- I’m loving it. It’s not often I get a personal concert like this. Play as long as you like. This is great!” I babbled.

Picking up the guitar again, she said “Tell me when you want me to stop.”

As if that would come any time soon, I thought. I lay back on the couch, closed my eyes and just listened to Emmy sing and play. When I was little I used to listen just like this to Dad’s playing, but I do have to admit that Emmy was a better musician than Dad ever was.

Just as I was starting to wallow in those emotions of loss and sorrow, Emmy played a song that snapped me out of it.

“Purple Haze” is definitely not a song I could have imagined on an acoustic guitar, but somehow Emmy managed to make it sound right. She gave me a big wink when she sang the line

“’’Scuse me while I kiss this guy”

It made me break out laughing one more time. Emmy sure could bring out the emotional schizophrenia in me. Crying one minute, laughing the next. What was it about her that managed to make me such a mess?

She played a couple more tunes, but I can’t remember much about them because I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was lost in thought and maybe zoning a bit.

When Emmy finished playing and put the guitar back on its stand, I asked her “How many songs do you actually know? I mean, seriously- you seem to be able to play anything! It’s like you know every song.”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “I know a lot of songs, but certainly not all of them!” Changing the subject, she asked “What movie are we going to watch tonight?”

“I was thinking about something on cable. I have no idea what’s showing, though.”

“Do you have any movies? What is your favorite one? I adore romantic movies! What do you like?” Emmy asked.

“I’m not a huge romance fan,” I admitted. “There are a few I like, though. Hey, let’s go to Blockbuster and pick a couple of videos to watch tonight. We can get something to have for dinner, too. I don’t feel like leftovers tonight.”

A quick couple of blocks in Emmy’s Mini (I love driving that car!) and we were at the shopping center with the Blockbuster in it. There was a Domino’s there too, but when I suggested pizza Emmy made a face.

“No, thank you! I cannot understand pizza at all. I find it revolting.”

“You’ll never be an American with an attitude like that!” I teased. “What would you like, then?”

“I know a place that has lovely food. Let us get our movies and then I will take you to dinner,” Emmy replied.

“Sounds good. It’s a date, then,” I said.

At blockbuster, I asked Emmy if she’d ever seen Memento.

“No, I have never even heard of it before. Is it good?”

“It’s a bit different, but very, very good. A lot of people don’t like the way it tells the story, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“I would like to see it, if it is a favorite of yours. Here is a movie I like very much,” she said, holding up the box for The English Patient. “But it is very sad, so maybe it is not a good movie for tonight.”

“Sad? That movie is beyond sad! When I watched that movie with Mom a couple of years ago we were both bawling by the end.” I replied. “Sure, it’s a great movie, but I don’t need that kind of thing right now.”

“O.K., I will find something else.” Emmy went off to look for another movie while I picked up a package of microwave popcorn.

She came back with Fast Times At Ridgemont High, which I’d never actually seen. She’d never seen it either, so we took our two videos and the popcorn to the front. We paid, and I found the way the guy at the counter stared at Emmy really bothersome. Emmy saw my expression and guessed at the source of my irritation.

“Do not be upset, Leah. Everyone stares. They cannot help it. I am just too different looking,” she said softly as we walked out.

“It bothers me that all they can see is the color of your skin. They can’t get past that to see that you’re just like anybody else,” I complained bitterly.

Emmy took my hand and turned me to look at her. “Leah. All anyone can see is the outside. To know what is inside takes an effort, and most people do not wish to work that hard. It is much easier to look at someone’s outsides and to come to conclusions without any further thought. It is simply the way people are.”

“Look at my face,” she commanded. “Look at me. You have grown accustomed to seeing me, so I think perhaps you have even forgotten how I look. Look at me.”

When I looked in her eyes, I saw what she meant. Those big, outrageously green eyes, that skin as black as charcoal. Her hair whiter than white- it brought me back to the first time I saw her, and how shocked I was at her appearance there in Principal Spencer’s office.

“Do you see?” she asked. “Do you see why people stare?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumbled, somehow ashamed that I was once one of those people, those gawkers. “That doesn’t make it right, though,” I said, petulantly.

“No, it does not. But it is human nature, Leah. It is human nature.”

On that downer note we walked across the parking lot back to the Mini, Emmy never letting go of my hand. Although it usually bothered me some when she held my hand, this time it was somehow comforting. A little bit of redemption, a sign that although I once was one of the inconsiderate ones, she didn’t care. I was her best friend, despite having been an ass when we first met. It was a good feeling, and so I made no effort to get her to let go of my hand. In fact, I actually gave hers a squeeze before letting go so we could go to our sides of the car.

My melancholy mood broke when I started up the Mini. It’s childish, I guess, but driving that little car of Emmy’s always brightened up my day. It may not be that fastest thing on the road, but I’m fairly sure it’s got to be the most fun to drive.

Emmy gave me directions to downtown, and we parked right in front of a place called “The Art Café” or something like that. When we walked in, the waitress recognized Emmy, saying “It’s good to see you again.”

Emmy had a salad with chicken, mozzarella and basil. By ‘had’ I mean she barely ate half of it. I still don’t understand how she can eat so little and not just die of malnourishment. Me, I had a grilled Panini with chicken breast and tomato.

“This much better than pizza, no?” asked Emmy.

“Well, yeah, I guess so,” I grudgingly agreed. “Yeah, it is better. You’re right.”

“Will you share a crème brulée with me?” she asked. “I could not possibly eat a whole one, and they are so delicious here!” she chirped.

When the bill came, Emmy wouldn’t even let me see how much dinner cost. “My treat- is that what they say? I picked the dinner, so I get to pay. It is only fair. That is how dates work, is it not?” she asked, reminding me of my comment earlier about it being a date.

“Wait- that’s not… I mean-“ I started to protest, but she held up her hand, so I just shut up.

“Please, Leah. Please.”

What could I do? I gave in. It was silly of me, after all. Emmy had more money than I could dream of, and all I had was what little I earned at my part-time jobs at the yogurt place and the nursery. If she wanted to spend her money, who was I to say no?

Getting into the car, Emmy asked me to make one more stop before we headed back to my place. “We must get something to drink while we watch our movies,” she explained. She directed me to a wine shop on South Main. She said “Wait here,” and zoomed in, only to return a couple of minutes later with two bottles in a bag.

“Did you just buy alcohol?” I asked, amazement in my voice.

“But of course!” she exclaimed. “What is a movie without something to drink?”

“But, I mean, how did you buy booze? You’re under age!” I protested.

“It is simple. I did not buy it. My father bought it- I am just picking it up for him!” she said, laughing. “He has an account here, and they are used to it.”

“I don’t think that’s legal,” I said.

“It may not be completely legal,” Emmy admitted, “but it is good enough for me.”

Still unconvinced, I asked “What did you get?” As I pulled away from the curb, nervously looking around for the cop I was sure was going to bust us.

“I bought a good, sweet Champagne. Perfect with popcorn,” she said, laughing at my nervousness.

Thankfully we weren’t pulled over in the handful of blocks it took to get back to my house. I tell you, though, I obeyed every speed limit and came to a complete and total stop at every stop sign!

When we got home I threw the popcorn in the microwave and Emmy popped the cork on one of the bottles of champagne. She did it differently than I’d ever seen it done, though- she held the cork and slowly eased it out, so it didn’t “pop” at all, just hissed a little bit. We didn’t have any champagne flutes, so she poured the bubbly into a couple of Shrek souvenir glasses we had from some fast food restaurant’s kid’s meals.

“Trés chic,” Emmy commented about the glasses. Mine had the cat, and she took the donkey glass. Lifting her glass, she said “Santé!” Figuring it was a toast, I clinked my glass against hers and had a sip.

I’m not a fan of champagne because for the most part it’s too tart for me, but this was very sweet and smooth. Seeing the look of approval on my face, Emmy asked “Do you like it?”

“Yeah- that’s good,” I said, taking another sip.

We waited for another minute or two while the popcorn finished doing its thing, then headed to the couch to watch our movies.

“Comedy first?” Emmy suggested, holding up Fast Times.

“Sure,” I said, arranging everything to make a spot for us to sit with the popcorn bowl between us, and the comforter around us.

“I heard this movie is about a high school in San Diego somewhere,” I said as the movie started. “Supposedly it’s based a lot on real people and events.”

Fast Times was funnier than I expected, and Emmy seemed to find great amusement in pointing out how the characters in the movie were just like some kids we knew at school.

When we (and by “we” I mainly mean me) finished the popcorn I had a good warm feeling going from the champagne. We had emptied the bottle, and all that was left was in our two glasses. Emmy put the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table, suggesting one last toast with what little champagne we still had.

“To Leah, my best friend,” she said. I responded with “To Emmy” and we drank our glasses dry.

Emmy put the second movie, Memento, in to play. It was getting late by this time but I was feeling good and enjoying hanging out. When she sat back down on the couch Emmy sat right next to me and snuggled up, pulling the comforter up around us. Sylvester was snoozing on her favorite spot on the back of the couch, purring to herself. It felt nice, the warmth of Emmy’s body, and the warmth of her friendship. Courtney and I used to be like this, I thought. Back when we were little, we’d stay up late on sleepover nights, snuggle and watch TV until Mom made us go to bed. Emmy and me under the comforter had that familiar feeling I hadn’t even realized I’d lost. I wrapped my arm around Emmy’s shoulders and she cuddled in to me even more, giving me a warm feeling in my tummy that wasn’t just the champagne.

Memento’s backwards storytelling had Emmy confused at first, but she soon realized what was going on, and even started to predict what we’d see next. In fact, she saw the ending coming a mile away.

“How did you figure that out?” I asked, amazed.

“It only makes sense. What we saw in the beginning is what he experienced at the end,” she said.

“I guess so,” I conceded. “But it sure took me by surprise the first time I saw it.”

I have to admit I didn’t really want the movie to end. I was enjoying the cozy feeling of the champagne and also of Emmy snuggled against me. It felt so good, just being close to someone. No stress, no bullshit, no agendas. It had been a long time since Courtney and I had been this innocent with each other, and even at the best of times Chris had never been so undemanding and just, well, comfortable.

Eventually the movie did end, and it was late enough that going to bed seemed like a good idea. I cleaned up our dishes while Emmy brushed her teeth and got ready for sleep. I grabbed a pillow from the hall linen closet and folded the comforter to make a kind of sleeping bag for Emmy on the couch. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then went to my bedroom to put on my PJs.

Emmy was sitting on my bed, wearing a camisole and undies, holding one of my stuffed animals in her midnight black arms, looking as if she planned on sleeping there.

“Uh, Emmy… I set the couch up for you,” I said, awkwardly. She looked up at me with a bit of surprise mixed with disappointment.

“I am not going to sleep here with you?” she asked. “I thought…” and she trailed off, sounding just a bit deflated- but it was enough that I caved completely.

“Well, it’s not a very big bed, and I haven’t since I was a kid…” I said, then “Oh, sure, why not. It’ll be a little crowded, but that’s OK.”

Her smile returned, and honestly, it made me feel like a jerk for thinking of sending her to the sofa.

I grabbed my pajamas, and went to the bathroom to change. I turned off all the lights, made sure the door was locked, and gave Sylvester a stroke as I passed.

When I returned Emmy was already in bed, scooted over by the wall so I would have as much room as possible. I turned off the light and climbed into bed next to this oh so very strange girl.

I lay there stiff as a board for what seemed like forever. All I could think about was staying on my side of the bed, and how much smaller it seemed than it had when Courtney and I were ten years old. There was no way I was going to fall asleep anytime soon. The warm relaxed feeling from earlier felt a whole lot less relaxed now, that was certain. Finally, Emmy’s breathing slowed into a deep, regular rhythm. I gently, carefully turned on my side, trying my best to not wake her. Facing her in the dim light filtering through the curtains, I saw that she wasn’t asleep at all- in fact, she was watching me, just as awake as I was.

It was too dark to make out her features, but I could clearly see her big green eyes, which almost seemed to glow with the little bit of light in the room. She blinked slowly in that strange way of hers, and asked in a very quiet voice “Are you uncomfortable? Do you wish I were not here? Do you want me to go?”

With the realization that I did want her to be there, that it did feel good to cuddle with her on the couch and it could only get better in my bed, the nerves that had been building in me since climbing into bed suddenly peaked and it felt as if my skin was on fire. My insides felt just like they had on that roller coaster a few weeks ago- tingling with fear and excitement.

“No, I don’t want you to go. Em…” I whispered, unsure what to say. I took a deep breath, aware that what I was about to do would push us both into new territory. That roller coaster was just about to start its drop, and there was no getting out now, I thought. I was committing myself to the ride.

I gently reached my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “No, I want you to stay.” As she resettled herself up against my side, laying her head on my shoulder and her arm across my tummy, I realized that this was in fact much better. It felt right, somehow.

I looked at Emmy and saw that she was looking straight back at me, so I leaned in and kissed her on the lips. She didn’t seem surprised, and she didn’t resist. In fact, her lips parted, too, and we kissed a long, tender kiss that seemed to last for hours. I hadn’t kissed another girl since I was little, playing family with the girl next door, and this was nothing like that. It wasn’t like kissing any of the few boys I’d kissed, either. It was softer, more gentle. Emmy’s lips were like velvet, and breathing in her breath was magical in a way it had never been with anybody I’d ever kissed before.

When we pulled apart, I asked “Is that O.K.?” in a ragged voice.

“It is very O.K.” she answered, and leaned in for another kiss.

I pulled her tightly to me, and we kissed over and over again. My nerves were all vibrating like violin strings and my heartbeat was loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The little voice in my head that had been shouting that this wasn’t right finally gave up and went away as we held each other without saying a word. We just nuzzled each other’s hair, planting kisses wherever we went. Emmy stroked my back in long, gentle caresses, and I ran my hand along the side of her face and her hair.

Her faint jasmine perfume filled my lungs with every breath, giving me such a rush that I thought that I might pass out from it. Emmy’s soft, delicate hands traced along my spine and I wrapped her up in my arms, throwing a leg over hers to draw her into me as much as I possibly could.

I don’t really remember much more of the details, but I do know that we spent several more hours like that before we both finally did fall asleep, with me on my back and Emmy’s head on my shoulder, my arm around her body.

At least, that was the position I woke up in. It was about nine A.M., and the light through the curtains let me know the day had started without me. Emmy was fast and deeply asleep, so I gently disentangled my legs from hers and got up to take a shower.

Pulling my PJs off to get under the hot water, I thought about what had happened last night. What exactly had happened, anyhow? Letting the water run over my face, I couldn’t decide if Emmy had seduced me, or had I taken advantage of her? A bigger question that I didn’t want to even think about was the issue of my sexual orientation. I mean, did this mean I was a lesbian? Was Emmy? I couldn’t be a lesbian- after all, I’d loved Chris, and he was as boyish a boy as can be. I mean, he joined the Marines the day after he graduated, right? How much more manly could a guy be? We’d had a good physical relationship, and I’d loved him enough to give my virginity to him, hadn’t I? But kissing Emmy had felt so good, so easy and natural. Holding her in my arms had been so very nice… My mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, too mixed up to be able to come to any kind of conclusions.

Thank god for the giant water heaters in apartment buildings. I was in that hot shower for long enough that all my fingers and toes turned to prunes and my skin got all itchy.

Toweling off, I realized I hadn’t brought any clothes in with me so I had to put my pajamas back on to go back into my bedroom where Emmy was still asleep. I certainly wasn’t going to feel comfortable in just a towel in front of her. That might seem ridiculous, but there it was. I might be a lesbian after all, but I sure wasn’t ready to face it just yet.

Emmy was still asleep, so I quietly grabbed something to wear from my dresser. Turning back around, I saw that Emmy was sitting up, watching me.

“Jeez! I thought you were asleep!” I yelped, startled out of my skin.

“I woke up,” she said, in a matter of fact way.

I turned back to my dresser and picked up my brush and went at my hair to cover my embarrassment, but she said, “Come over here” in a gentle voice.

She held her hand out, so I gave her the brush and sat down on the edge of the bed. She gently turned my shoulders so I was facing away, then started to brush my hair. She did it the way you are supposed to, but I never do- starting with very short strokes at the tips, each stroke of the brush ever so slightly longer. Holding my hair with one hand and tenderly brushing with the other, she didn’t say anything for a while. It felt nice and comfortable, the way that watching the movie had.

Finally, she asked “Are you thinking about last night?” When I nodded that I was, she said in a voice so soft I could barely hear her “I am, too.”

When she was done with my hair she pulled it back and tied it with the scrunchie I’d slipped around my wrist.

“There,” she said in a satisfied, confident tone, completely unlike the few words she had spoken up until this point. “May I use your shower?”

“Of course! Sure. The towels are in the hall linen closet. The apartment building has a big water heater, so you don’t need to worry about running out of hot water.”

She looked at me as if she didn’t understand what I meant, but didn’t say anything. She got up and stretched her lean slender body, exposing her smooth, hard tummy and little belly button jewelry as she stood. The simple movement reminded me of a cat, and I realized that this wasn’t the first time I’d thought that about Emmy. Walking to the closet, she took a towel and went into the bathroom. I used the opportunity to get dressed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

After her shower, Emmy came out of the bathroom with her towel wrapped around her, far more self-assured in her skin than I was in mine. She strolled into the bedroom and pulled some clothes out of her duffel bag. I looked away when she dropped her towel, but Emmy didn’t give me the impression that it mattered one way or another. It was so matter-of-fact a gesture, so free of any further meaning that that once again, her strange innocence struck me by its utter lack of self-consciousness. Emmy just was the way she was, and in some ways seemed to embody the Zen ideal Mom’s friend May Ling was always going on about. Of course, we’d all seen her as close to nude as you can get at the pool party, so evidently physical modesty just wasn’t something that concerned her at all. Then again, if I had such a lean, muscular little dancer’s body like hers I’d probably show it off some, too.

After Emmy got dressed we had our little breakfast in silence. Emmy seemed lost in thought, and I know I was too mixed up and confused about things to try to start a conversation. Honestly, I was a little bit afraid of bringing up what had happened and was perfectly happy to avoid any discussion on the subject. The memory of Emmy in my arms, the smell of her skin, and the warmth of her body was just too real, and my confused feelings just too much to deal with at that moment.

After she finished her half grapefruit, Emmy suggested we get out of the house.

“Let us go for a drive. I have not seen very much of the area, and at school yesterday they said there is snow in the mountains. I would like to go. What do you think?” she asked.

“That might be fun. We can go to Julian and get some apple pie,” I agreed, happy with the idea of doing something that would distract me. “I don’t really know the way, though. It’s been a few years since I’ve been there, and I wasn’t paying attention to the way Mom went last time.”

“That is O.K.,” Emmy said. “My car has SatNav. All we need to do is tell it where we want to go and it will provide a route for us.”

“Yeah, I guess…” I said, doubtfully. We didn’t have a GPS in our car, and I wasn’t used to the idea.

“What does it matter if we get a little bit lost? The whole point is to sight see, is it not?” she asked. “What if we see something we did not plan on? Would that be so bad?”

“No, I guess not,” I conceded.

Although I’d never driven in the snow before, Emmy handed me the keys so I could drive. I was a bit nervous about the prospect, but she reassured me.

“I have driven in the snow many times, so if we need to switch we can do that when the time comes.”

“Does it snow in Paris?” I asked.

“Not very much,” she admitted. “But it does in the country, and we often went to the mountains.”

The idea of driving Emmy’s Mini out on country roads outweighed my misgivings about possible snow, so I took the key and climbed into the driver’s seat. Opting to turn the GPS on only if we needed it, we headed east and into the back country. The weather was cloudy and it seemed as if it might rain so we kept the windows rolled up and the heater on, but it was still very beautiful outside. The oaks and then pines as we climbed up the twisty road to the top of Mt. Palomar were all wet with recent rain until about halfway up when everything turned white with a dusting of snow. Up at the top the road was clear, but crowded with other cars of fellow snow-seekers. Instead of stopping, we continued down the other side and east again. Somehow we made a wrong turn, though, and we got on a road that snaked its way down and into the desert. We stopped at a big turnout viewpoint to look at the desert floor below us, spread out all the way to the Salton Sea to the east.

Emmy was wide-eyed with amazement. “But only a very few minutes ago we were in snow in the mountains!” she exclaimed. “I can feel the heat in the air from down below! This is incredible. Let us go down there! I want to be hot.”

How could I say no? I’m not a big fan of the desert, but as she’d pointed out, we were out here to see the sights. We jumped back in the car, and before we’d gotten down the hill and into the little town of Borrego Springs we’d had to turn the A.C. on.

At the gas station Emmy asked which way to go to Julian and was given directions that didn’t seem right to me, but we followed them anyway.

At the town’s improbable traffic circle we turned south, and up and over another crazy little winding road and down into a little canyon with an east-west road crossing through it.

“Let us go to that ocean we saw from up above. Can we?” Emmy pleaded.

“The Salton Sea? It isn’t really an ocean. It’s a big salty lake,” I explained. “I’ve never actually been to it, but I hear it’s a strange place. A long time ago people thought it would be a resort destination but it never worked out, so everything got abandoned. I’ve seen pictures- it’s kinda creepy looking. But if you really want to go…” I shrugged my shoulders.

At my description a concerned look appeared on Emmy’s dark face. Even behind her dark glasses I could see the worry in her eyes.

“Is it safe?” she asked.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. I mean, there’s nobody there, right?”

“Let us not go there. I think it is maybe not a good idea,” Emmy said in worried voice.

“O.K., Julian and apple pie it is, then,” I said, and the relief on Emmy’s face was so immediate I just had to laugh. “Don’t forget- the Salton Sea was your idea,” I teased.

“Maybe it was not a good idea. I have never had American-style apple pie, and that does seem like a good idea right now. Shall I have the SatNav map it for us?” she asked, plugging in our destination. As it turned out, the road we had been staring at for the last few minutes went right to Julian, so we turned east and a little while later we were climbing up a narrow, twisting canyon up into the mountains and back into the snow.

When we drove into Julian, Emmy clapped her hands with excitement. Up until I’d met Emmy I had thought that people really didn’t do that, and it was just one of those things you read in books but doesn’t actually happen. But no, Emmy actually does clap her hands together when she gets excited. I admit I do find it charming in a strange sort of way.

“It looks like a village from a Western movie!” she said, looking around at the historic mining town. “I almost expect to see cowboys having a shootout at noon!”

“Yeah, it does look that way,” I agreed. “I think the pie shop is down at the other end of town,” I said, looking around to make sure I hadn’t missed it. “I’m not sure we can find parking, there are so many people here.” Driving past the pie shop, we found a spot a block up the road and walked back. By then I should have been totally over the way people stopped and stared at Emmy, but it still grated on me the wrong way. She ignored it just fine, but it made me want to tell people to screw off. The tourists walking through the dirty slush on the road were just as bad as any for their rudeness, and by the time we got to the pie shop I was steaming mad.

Emmy seemed to know how I was feeling, so she put her hand on my arm and gave me a pleading look.

“It does not matter, Leah. It is of no importance. They are merely curious. Please, simply ignore it. Please?” she begged, taking off her dark glasses so she could look me in the eyes.

How could I stay upset? If it didn’t bother Emmy, it shouldn’t bother me, right? She was the one everybody was staring at, she was the one who should care, if anybody did.

“Yeah, I know you’re right. I just get pissed off, that’s all. Look, I’m sorry- I don’t want to ruin the day,” I apologized.

By this point the smell of the freshly baked pies was hitting us like a golden cloud of tastiness, so we quit talking and just breathed deeply for a moment or two. When we got to the head of the small line in the crowded shop, I ordered a slice of Dutch Apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Emmy ordered “A very small piece” of natural style apple pie and a cup of coffee.

Taking our treats out on to the back patio, I asked “are you going to be warm enough? It’s really cold out here.”

“Oh, no. I will be O.K. I enjoy the feel of the cold air,” she responded, with a smile.

“I thought you liked hot weather,” I responded, puzzled.

“Yes, hot weather, too. I like it all.” This was so Emmy an answer I just couldn’t help but laugh.

We ate our pie (well, at least I ate mine. Emmy only had about half of her “very small piece”) in the cold. By the time we were done I was shivering, so we didn’t waste any time getting back to the car and turning the heater up high. A couple of minutes later it was nice and toasty in the Mini and I started to relax.

“You really weren’t cold back there?” I asked in disbelief.

“A little bit, but not too bad,” she responded. “You must remember it gets a lot colder in France than it does here in Southern California. I am accustomed to it, I think.”

“I guess so,” I conceded. “I don’t know if I could ever live someplace it gets really cold. I’m just a wuss.”

“A wuss?” Emmy asked, puzzled.

“It means a wimp, somebody who isn’t tough,” I explained.

“A weakling?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’m not sure you’d find it in any dictionary, though. Hey, where should we go next?” I asked, as I pulled away from the curb.

“Let us return the two movies and pick out some others to watch tonight. It is getting to be late, after all,” Emmy said.

A little bit disappointed to be calling it a day, I sighed “You’re right. Home it is.” It still took us an hour and a half to get back to Fallbrook from Julian, and the sun had set by the time we got to my apartment.

We grabbed the videos and headed back to Blockbuster. The same guy was working the counter, and when he saw us (well, when he saw Emmy, I should say) he got on the phone and called someone. A moment later, another geeky looking guy came out of the back room and looked around until he spotted Emmy. After staring at her a bit, he went to talk to the counter guy.

“Assholes,” I thought. Once again, I was in a bad mood because of peoples’ insensitivity. Glancing around to find Emmy, I saw her looking at me with a worried expression on her delicate face.

It struck me that we’d been having this discussion a lot the past twenty-four hours, so I gave her a smile to let her know I was O.K. She returned the smile, and then went back to movie browsing. I decided I should just give it a rest, and tried to find a video to watch.

Emmy picked out French Kiss, starring Kevin Kline and Meg Ryan. Neither of us had ever seen it, but with those two it had to be good, right? I grabbed Inception and we paid and got out of there. Instead of stopping for dinner like the night before, we opted to reheat the leftovers Mom had put in the fridge for us.

I heated up the lasagna and set the table while Emmy played the guitar sitting at the kitchen table, watching me. Mostly she just played some Spanish-sounding stuff, but occasionally I thought I caught some familiar snippets of classic rock tunes. It all flowed so well I could have just been imagining it, though.

We didn’t really talk much. Emmy played, I listened. Her playing seemed so effortless, so natural. None of it seemed to be forced, and I certainly didn’t notice any mistakes at all. It was nice just sitting there at the table, watching her fingers float so easily across the frets and hearing the soft melodies she coaxed from Dad’s old guitar.

When the timer buzzed it startled me out of a kind of half hypnotic state. I’d been zoning, lost in the music. Grabbing some hot pads, I pulled the lasagna out and set it on the table.

“That smells delicious!” Emmy said, breathing in the aroma. “What is it?”

“You’ve never had lasagna before? Wow. It’s like a cheesy kind of layered spaghetti, sort of. Here- have a taste,” I said, serving her a piece.

Emmy’s face lit up as she tasted it. “It is very good. I especially like that little bit of crunchy texture it has.”

“Crunchy?” I asked, biting in to my piece. Sure enough, I’d overcooked it and the bottom layer of pasta had turned crispy. “Oh, jeez. Sorry about that. It’s really not supposed to be crunchy,” I apologized.

“I like it!” Emmy said, smiling. “It is unusual, and also tastes very good.”

“Thanks,” I said, sarcasm creeping into my voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to order pizza after all?”

“No, I do like it,” Emmy replied, as she continued to eat the overdone lasagna. “I am very happy with this.”

“Well, O.K., I guess. Sorry it turned out so bad, though.”

“Leah,” Emmy said, putting her hand on mine. “I have never had this dish before, so I have no idea how it is supposed to be, or not supposed to be. All I know is that it is delicious, and that I enjoy eating it. That is enough for me.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Well, at least dessert won’t be burned. I hope you like frozen yogurt. I brought some home from work last Sunday.”

“I would love some,” Emmy said. After that we ate in silence- well, except for the crunching noise from chewing the lasagna, anyway.

After a little while, I glanced up and saw that Emmy was watching me. Suddenly self–conscious, I asked “What?”

Emmy smiled and said nothing, making me embarrassed. “What?” I demanded again.

She reached over and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, her smile never leaving her face. “You are so beautiful,” she said in a soft voice, as her fingertips brushed softly across my cheek. “So beautiful. You remind me of sunshine, and blue skies. Warm, sunny days.”

I could feel the heat in my face as I started blushing like crazy. I didn’t know how to respond at all. I mean, it was nice to hear her say that. Hell, it was better than just nice. It was wonderful. It made me feel as if my heart were about to burst, it was pounding so hard. Those few words set my nerves tingling, and my insides felt as if gravity had let go. I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t think of any words, and even if I could, I wouldn’t have been able to say them.

Emmy’s big, vivid green eyes captured my own. I could not look away from her gaze, and really, I didn’t want to. This strange, beautiful girl affected me in ways I could never have expected. I wasn’t sure if I loved girls in general, but this girl, well, I had to admit I was falling head over heels for her.

We never watched the videos we’d rented. Emmy and I went to the couch and snuggled, kissing and holding each other for hours. We talked, but I can’t remember what we talked about. It didn’t matter. When we finally got up off the couch and went to bed we spooned and I held Emmy in my arms for hours. I nuzzled her hair, enjoying the delicate smell of her jasmine perfume on her warm skin. With our legs intertwined we were as close as two people could possibly get.

When I woke up the next morning, Emmy was still in my arms. Unlike the confusion I’d felt waking up the morning before, Sunday morning brought a clarity to my feelings. It didn’t matter that it was a girl I loved, and not a boy. She was the one for me, and that was what mattered. I still had no idea if I really was gay or not, but this girl, this strange looking girl from halfway across the world, was the one I loved.

I was in no hurry to get out of bed. Emmy’s bare shoulder smelled so good, and her skin was so warm… Her heartbeat under my hand was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt. I wanted to stay that way forever. I didn’t want to think about ramifications or repercussions. I didn’t want to think about coming out, or staying in a closet. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to enjoy this wonderful feeling forever.

My bladder, though, insisted I get up. Unable to ignore its demands any longer I tried to take my hand back but Emmy wouldn’t let it go.

“Please, stay here a little while longer,” she pleaded.

“I thought you were asleep,” I confessed.

“No, I have been awake for some time. I just do not want this to end.”

“I’m sorry, but I really need to pee. I’ll be right back, though. Save my place, will you?” I teased as I got up.

Emmy rolled onto her back and was looking at me. Her amazing green eyes shone in the morning light coming through the blinds, and her midnight black skin against the pale blue sheets looked like velvet. She was so gorgeous, so outlandishly beautiful it made my heart ache just to look at her lying there in my rumpled bed. I leaned down and kissed her, and she returned the kiss, long and sweet.

“Hurry back,” she murmured.

When I returned, Emmy was sitting up. She was stretching in that slow, languorous (I love that word) way of hers, and I stopped in the doorway to watch. Her movements were so graceful it was like watching a slow motion ballet. She stood, then came over and gave me a kiss. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close and we kissed again. For a very long while. The feel of her smooth satiny skin under my hands gave me goosebumps, as stupid as that sounds. Finally, Emmy pulled away, explaining that she needed to shower.