“Call me crazy,” Amy said to Sally, switching gears, “but I often like beer with my seafood.”
“I’m game,” Sally replied.
“We have a really large selection of beers,” their server offered. “A lot of them are from local microbreweries.”
“Perfect,” Amy said, quickly scanning the list. “Ooh! I’ll have that coffee IPA, please.”
“Aaaand it doesn’t surprise me that you’d order a beer with coffee in it,” Sally snarked. “I’ll have the same,” Sally then told the server. When she left to get their drinks, Sally said, “I’m afraid I don’t know much about beer. I usually stick with wine.”
“Snob,” Amy said jokingly.
“So, what was your serious question?” Sally asked.
“Oh! Right! Um…Do you think things are moving too fast between us? For the record, I totally don’t! I mean, I know we’ve practically spent every night together since we met and I know that—Oh my god!—we’re suddenly taking a vacation together! But, I don’t know, I don’t feel like things are moving way too fast. I feel like this is totally normal for us! Like, it’s the pace we’re meant to follow! And it’s not like we’ve U-Hauled—which, by the way, if we do…your place! So much bigger! But I’m not suggesting we do that! I’m just saying…Anyway, forget that! I don’t think we’re moving too fast but I’m kind of worried that you might feel that way and if you do, tell me because I’d rather you be honest so we can make adjustments and whatnot.”
Amy finally had to stop because somehow, she said all that in one breath and her lungs were starting to ache.
Meanwhile, Sally was laughing.
“Holy fuck, why do so many lesbians ramble?” Sally asked, staring at Amy with wide eyes.
“Do they?” Amy asked, interested, already wondering if this could be a blog post. Communication idiosyncrasies of gay women.
“Well, I don’t know, actually,” Sally said. “I probably just think so many lesbians ramble because I pretty much only hang out with lesbians. Anyway, you’re now added to my collection of rambling lesbians.”
Amy blushed.
“I know…I just had diarrhea of the mouth there.”
“Well, before you have another bout of diarrhea, let me answer you,” Sally said quickly.
Amy folded her hands on the tabletop and forced herself to stay quiet.
“No, I don’t think we’ve been moving too fast,” Sally said, smiling. “I like our pace.”
“Really?”
“Really. Like you said, it feels like it’s the pace we’re meant to follow. At least I think that’s what you said…You can talk really, really fast, did you know that? Anyway, before I become a rambling lesbian…No, I don’t think we’re moving too fast and so now we can both relax about that.”
“Yay!” Amy replied, feeling relieved and feeling that, yes, she could now relax about it.
Chapter 30
The next morning, Sunday, something pulled Sally out of a deep sleep. It wasn’t a noise or other disturbance which did it, and as she lay there in that fog-like, in-between state of being somewhat awake, somewhat asleep, she tried to puzzle out what it was. Finally, she determined that it was the absence of something. Or rather, someone.
Amy wasn’t next to her.
Groggily, she opened her eyes and then had to wait until her brain recognized the unfamiliar surroundings.
San Francisco. I’m in a hotel suite in San Francisco.
That done, her eyes located the clock on the nightstand. It was only just past six a.m. She groaned, wondering why, when she was on vacation, she couldn’t sleep in later than dawn.
Must be the new bed.
It always took her a while to adjust to a new bed. The first few mornings she awoke at Amy’s had been super early also. Even those mornings she had had to go to work, she had woken up before her normal alarm.
She wanted to just snuggle her face back into the pillows but she knew the mystery of where Amy was would keep her awake and so she needed to solve that first and so, after wrapping herself in that amazing Hyatt bathrobe—And, seriously, did they sell these? Because she wanted one. She made a mental note to ask. —she padded out of the bedroom.