batfamilied and pittpilled

Trinity Santos had promised herself she would get better about not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Promised herself she would try to be more trusting. Would try not to pick apart intentions until her head was tied in knots and she was alone in her apartment again. It was going well. For the most part.

It was maybe not going well right now. But everything about right now was confusing.

What is a girl supposed to do when she finds herself on her ex-attending’s couch, drinking wine, alone with her, less than 24 hours after she became her “ex-attending”? What is a girl supposed to do when her ex-attending is also the current girlfriend of her ex-situationship? What is a girl supposed to do when she and her ex-attending have already finished a bottle, and her ex-attending is maintaining eye contact like she never has, and is pronouncing every syllable of every word perfectly, and placing her hand on Trinity’s knee to emphasize a point and then leaving it there?

Trinity knows what she, a girl, would do if this woman next to her on the couch (when had they gotten so close together?) was not her ex-attending. And Trinity definitely knows what she would do if this woman was not the current girlfriend of her ex-situationship. Her ex-situationship who has, admittedly, been being pretty nice to her lately. Her ex-situationship who gave her a ride home last week after her stupid car wouldn’t start. Her ex-situationship who last week had asked how she was doing and sounded like she actually cared about the answer.

So, as the hand on her knee shifts a little higher, and the shoulder next to hers leans in a little firmer (seriously, when had they gotten so close?), Trinity thinks it is maybe not insane to maybe look this particular gift horse in the mouth. To, for a moment, consider intentions. Because this is messy in a way she has been trying really hard not to be. It is maybe reasonable to not trust intentions at face value in this instance.

There’s a lull in conversation. Baran’s laughter at Trinity’s stupid joke tapers off and neither of them say anything to fill the silence and Baran is still making eye contact with her, laughter sparkling in her eyes, and Trinity knows exactly what she would do if Baran was almost any other woman in the world. And it seems like Baran knows too, because for a long moment, they’re not making eye contact. Because Baran is staring at Trinity’s lips.

The voice of Trinity’s therapist is in the back of her head reminding her that in addition to not assuming intention, she also has to work on asking intention. So, with a Herculean effort, she does.

Kind of. She’s had half a bottle of wine, and the way Baran is looking at her is making her a little dizzy. What comes out is maybe not a question so much as it is a statement.

“It seems like you want to kiss me,” she says, without pausing long enough to wonder if it is the right thing to say. (Progress!)

“I do,” Baran says simply, making eye contact again. Trinity might die or burst into flames or something if Baran keeps looking at her like that.

“Okay but you can’t,” Trinity says. Ex-attending. Ex-situationship’s girlfriend.

“It seems like you want to kiss me, too,” Baran counters with a little quirk of her eyebrow.

“Okay but I can’t.”

“Who says?” Baran’s hand is still on her knee.

“Well, for one thing you’re my—“ she stops herself. Trinity decides she doesn’t care about the ex-attending of it all. Ex-attending is not current attending. Which only leaves the other thing. “You’re dating my—“ she stops herself again. Yolanda had never been her anything. That had been the problem. “You’re dating Yolanda,” she finally finishes, a little lamely.

“I am,” Baran says simply. “Is that a problem?”

“I—“ Trinity is starting to feel like an idiot with all these starts and stops. Is it a problem? Since when had she decided it was her responsibility to care about how Yolanda felt? To have an interest in the success of Yolanda’s relationship, when she hadn’t gotten to have a relationship with Yolanda at all? Trinity wants to say no, it’s not a problem. Wants to give in and have the hot steamy affair makeout that Baran seems to be asking for. But Yolanda had given Trinity a ride home and asked how she was doing and cared about the answer. “Yeah, kind of,” she says finally.

Baran removes her hand from Trinity’s knee and shifts a little further away on the couch. She stays close enough that Trinity can still feel warmth radiating through her t-shirt, but she shivers all the same. She’s still making eye contact. There’s still laughter sparkling in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Baran says, once there’s space. “Yolanda told me she gave you a ride and that you talked. Clearly she didn’t cover all of the topics she was supposed to.” Baran drains her wine glass then, leans forward to place it on the coffee table before reaching back to take Trinity’s from her as well. Once she’s back, making impossibly deep eye contact again, she continues. “She knows you’re here tonight. And she knows where I’m hoping tonight might go.”

Trinity thinks her heart might beat out of her chest. “And that is?” she asks, surprised by how even her voice sounds.

“Well, to start,” Baran’s hand is back on Trinity’s knee. “I would like to kiss you. Would you like to kiss me?”

And Trinity is not at all looking the gift horse in the mouth when she finally leans in and does.

—