"Pull the Trigger" "Hi, honey!" Emma McGowen smiled merrily as she burst through her front door. Awaiting her, she knew, was her current girlfriend, the displaced but warmhearted Andeira Torvald, who coincidentally was the foreign languages teacher at Stanton. She closed the door and slapped the mail on her kitchen counter as she went looking for her older lover. "Andy?" she spoke, using the nickname she had given her. "Andy, ya home? Your faithful sidekick has arrived. I've got a special book I think we could read together. Are you home? Are you sick? In bed?" Any of those could've been a possibility. Though strong, Andeira was more of a recluse, a chosen hermit, and she would not have been out unless necessary. She had been going in and out of illnesses recently, and might've been recovering somewhere, or else just napping, happily displaced from the world. A lot of things went on in the older woman's head, and that's what McGowen liked: chaos, controlled. She adored "Andy" and couldn't wait to pounce on her taller frame. "Andy?" she said, poking her head through their bedroom. The sheets were made, which meant she had been there earlier, but was not in the room at the time. She tried the bathroom and kitchen, and found her, of all places, in the small garden she had. McGowen was a student of all sciences; horticulture and biology were just two of the fields she liked, so naturally she had a garden. "There you are!" she exclaimed merrily. Andeira, beautiful albeit eight years Em's senior, stood up from her botanical reverie and put her hands behind her back in a very serious fashion. She had light-brown skin, mostly from ancestry since she didn't get out too often, and was half a foot taller than her girlfriend, although not nearly as intimidating or eccentric. Her eyes were glazed over, as if from years of dull living, but her smile persisted onward, though not at that moment. It was plain to see she had things on her mind. "Hi," she murmured as Emma put her arms around her waist. The smaller, younger woman kissed her jaw and cheek, and looked up with bright eyes. Andeira met her back with dull ones, and a sigh. Emma immediately became grave. "Something the matter, love?" "Uh, well, yes Emma. I have something to say, and I'm afraid it's going to break your heart." "Oh no." Emma chilled and took a step back. Her blue eyes turned sharp, her face cold and attentive. Andeira took a slow breath, and tried to remember all the words she had rehearsed during the time she arrived at the small house—during the whole week she had been in contemplation. Her lips pursed before she started. "Emma," began, "I don't think we can—I don't think we should see each other like this." "How should we see each other?" she replied, a bit of merriment still in her voice. Andeira was too serious for jokes or coyness. "We should see each other as coworkers in the same business," she answered, "not as lovers. Em, you know I'm not gay. You know I've never considered a relationship with a woman, much less two. You know what happened the last time a girl came onto me, and... you know I swore to myself I'd never let that happen again." "Well..." Emma was sharp, but her girlfriend's speech was too much to take in at once. She had to fight to defend herself, and only from one thing at a time. "Well what about me? I mean, you sort of became attached to me, and I started liking you, and... well, you know, I was in a difficult period of my life—a transition, from college to professional life. I was still mixed up." "That's all you need to say," said Andeira sharply. "Emma, I appreciate your friendship, and I'm grateful I had somebody to fall on while I was getting my bearings, but... we just can't see each other. I was too weak and too confused to say something before, and... part of me did like it, even though I knew it wasn't what I wanted to get into. You said yourself you never thought you'd ever be with another woman again." "Yeah, but—" "Listen, Em," said Torvald firmly, "I'm trying to end this quickly and bloodlessly. I don't want to be your lover or any other woman's lover ever again. If for nothing else, my son would never approve. It'd be like I had forgotten my entire ordeal back all those years ago, and I don't want to forget that. I was in transition too, Em—but what we did was not good for me. And from what little you've told me, it wasn't good for you either." "Andy..." Emma had lost, she knew she had. Her scientific mind could not win against the heart, against painful reasoning like this. She had condemned herself, she knew she had. Just one glaring mistake after another; her life had been one big mess ever since graduation from college. She was losing another lover, her heart was being broken again—they had a gun to her head and were ready to pull the trigger. But desperate times... "Andy, I love you. I've grown to love you since—" "Em," said Andeira, but it sounded like she was growling, "don't. Just don't. It will be better this way. I'll complete one more year of teaching here, then I'll move. I've already decided that. I can't be anywhere near you, or anywhere else I want to be. If I wanted to follow my heart, I'd be... oh, never mind. Just forget it. I'll need a few days to move my stuff; please don't help me. In fact, I think it'd be best if you went to a hotel or something and stayed there until I was finished." "Andy..." "Emma..." Andeira Torvald frowned sadly, but did not touch her former lover like she wanted to. She didn't really do anything, except stare and express great pain through her hazy eyes. "You go on and do what you must," she ultimately decided to say. "I'll move on, and hopefully regain some semblance of a normal life. Those girls still need you, but I won't ever be missed." "Yeah, but—" "Em." McGowen didn't relent. "You do know about Ms. O'Brien, right? About how her class and yours are going to merge next year?" Andeira shrugged indifferently, and walked back into the house she had shared with Em for a long time. "Bernie can find someone to replace me. I'm sure there are better, more stable linguistics teachers out there than me. I just don't want to stay here any longer. Good-bye, Emma. And may that be the end of our relationship, though I did enjoy it while it lasted, and I wish you better fortune and knowledge in the future." Torvald went into the house and immediately busied herself with work. Emma hugged herself, weather notwithstanding, and stood out there in her yard for such a long time, her legs began to hurt. She avoided entering the house as she walked back to her car, not an hour after she had left it, and drove away. She didn't cry, but only because she felt too sick. Emma McGowen ultimately ended up renting a cheap hotel room to give her ex-lover a respectable berth, but did not sleep very well. The upcoming promise of a weekend did not lift her spirits at all. ......... The next day, Friday, Emma avoided Andeira out of respect for the woman's wishes. Her science classes sagged and dragged due to her tormented feelings, and even the students felt her turmoil. She was no longer the loveably weird woman they all knew, but snappy, impatient, more dangerous than usual, unpredictable, and worst—to the students—her tests were even harder and her grading was more merciless. A few griped, but those that knew McGowen well enough could forgive her, because they saw the hurt on her face. Olivia Johnson knew what hurt felt like, because she lived with it daily. Her limp, given to her by mild cerebral palsy, was proof enough, and her emotional state of mind was just as skewed, so naturally, she was one of the first to confront her teacher. "Miss McGowen?" she asked, once she and the teacher were alone. She had one more class to attend before the day was over, but she could afford to be late. "Are you feeling okay? You really don't look your best." The smallish teacher sighed as she gathered her papers to her like chicks, not bothering to lie with an "I'm fine". "Oh, I got dumped," she answered sadly. Olivia, knowing what it was like to have a relationship broken off, gave her teacher a knowing look. "Yeah," resumed McGowen, "but I guess it was for the best, and she had a few good points. I really screwed things up." "How so? Did you neglect her or—" "No, no. Sorry, I don't think I can tell you. The teacher-student relationship shouldn't be affected because of my romantic happenings—besides, the whole matter is personal." "You listen when we tell you our troubles," she defended, and it was true. Olivia could attest; she had counseled McGowen before. Emma nodded her head but still kept her silence. "Yes... but this is deeply, deeply personal, and there are many things you probably keep secret from your closest friends." Olivia said nothing. This, too, was true. "Sorry," groaned McGowen, rubbing her eyes until they became bleary, "I shouldn't be acting this way. I've got a lot of work to do. I didn't mean to make you feel—" "It's all right." "No, it's not. I'm really sorry." Olivia's lip raised in a smile. "Well, I forgive you. I hope you can find some peace of mind, Miss McGowen. I have to get to class." "Mm, you go, Liv. Don't worry about me, I'll get over it. I just have to talk to somebody that can help me." "Miss Keeping?" Emma paused and thought about it. That had not been her idea, but it was a good suggestion. "No, but I might speak with her later. You have a nice day, Liv." "I probably won't," muttered Johnson as she left, adjusting her glasses all the way. Emma sighed and splayed her head and arms on the desk wearily. She stayed that way until the first student of her last class of the day walked in. She picked herself up sheepishly, smiled in apology, and lifted herself back to her feet. She had been an emotional wreck all day, and she owed it to at least one class to appear normal. Well, as normal as Em could get, anyway. ......... Something deeper, much more painful than merely being apart from Andeira ate at McGowen's soul, something that crushed her and caused her to be so upset even during business hours. Parting with her beloved would not have been so terrible if that had been the whole matter, but unfortunately, it was only a small piece of a larger, more agonizing puzzle, one that Emma had irreversibly destroyed through her own foolish or selfish actions. She had done far worse to others, and she knew she would have to pay for it, because right after her last class, she went straight to the one person she knew she could talk to, the school doctor. And she was the last person Emma should've seen on that matter. The door was open, which meant Dr. Andrews didn't have any patients. She would have time, perhaps, to listen to McGowen's troubles, but how she would react to them and advise the smallish woman, Emma could only hope. At best, the doctor would tell her the truth, objectively and professionally, like a true doctor. At worst, their relationship would be unrecognizable from the strain. Emma saw the tall, masculine outline of Doc Andrews from the hallway, and knocked meekly before letting herself in. "Uh, hi Jackie," she said quietly. Dr. Jean-Jacques Andrews frowned and nodded as courteously as she knew how. "McGowen. What brings you here?" "Uh, can we talk?" "I'm very busy." "Your door was open." "With forms." Em saw the impressive stack and chewed her lip. "Just a few seconds." "Unless you're ill or hurt, I'll have to ask you to leave." Em stood, though shyly (which was unlike her), and played with her fingers. Dr. Andrews was even taller than Andeira, reaching six feet in height, and could look over some men's shoulders. She was younger than McGowen and by no means as sprightly; the woman was all business at work and a dark mystery outside, and only Emma really knew her well, since... "Andeira broke up with me," whispered McGowen. Dr. Andrews gave her a very malicious stare. "And you're telling me because you think I'd care? Or that it'd make things better?" "Jackie..." "I am doctor during school hours, professor," she stated harshly. "You've done me enough discourtesy in the past; please don't continue anymore. Now. I was in a good mood today up until now, no patients and nothing serious from Miss Blair's department..." At this, she indicated a very large file of papers, all taken from Furious Hail's medical past: drugs they were mostly, largely illegal, but some of it consisted of self-inflicted injuries, and worse, injuries she had given others. Dr. Andrews continued, "So I'll spare you my cruelty by not taking pleasure in my... observations of your emotional state. If you needed somebody to talk to, Dr. Keeping is your woman; I only take care of physical ailments. Now, McGowen, are you in any physical pain?" "...No," she murmured. "Very well then, please leave my office." She turned her head, dismissing Em, and resumed her work, but McGowen, like a bad smell or memory, lingered behind. "Jackie, I know I deserve you being cruel to me, but I really—" "Leave, please, or I'll have Headmistress Marbel take you." It was a promise, not a threat, so McGowen took it and relented, for the time. She backed away from the doctor's office, hugged herself from the pain, and decided to leave for home, or perhaps the hotel if Andeira was still taking her things. Keeping was probably talking to somebody else, anyway. But when Emma McGowen got on the road, and drove towards her hotel, she began to weep and silently whimpered to herself. The weather was oddly depressing in its late-summer warmth, the singing birds painful, the occasional couple of lovers an ironic stab. She just wanted to go to bed and ride out the weekend in peace, but the shackles of her past squeezed tighter, weighed down heavier, and shook louder than before. She was locked and bound; those who held the keys held them stubbornly, for good reason: McGowen deserved to be locked up, after what she had done. When she got to the hotel, she undressed and showered, and went to bed naked, trying to pleasure herself into sleep and false bliss. She could still feel the arms around her, the legs rubbing up against her, the chest thudding and expanding with pulse and breath, the cheek happy and the lips warm. The memory was painful, like a cold barrel of steel to her neck. Click. Boom. Well I can't regret, can't you just forget it? I started something I couldn't finish And if we go down, we go down together best friends means, well best friends means And I've got a twenty-dollar bill that says you're up late night starting fist fights versus fences in your backyard Wearing your black eye like a badge of honor Soaking in sympathy from friends who never loved you nearly half as much as me Broken down in bars and bathrooms All I did was what I had to Don't believe me when I tell you it's just what anyone would do Take the time to talk about it Think a lot and live without it Don't believe me when I tell you it's something unforgivable...ohoh Well I can't regret, can't you just forget it? I started something I couldn't finish If we go down, we go down together best friends means, well best friends means You never knew Well I never told you... Everything I know about breaking hearts I learned from you, it's true I've never done it with the style and grace you have But I've made long term plans based on these mistakes Broken down in bars and bathrooms All I did was what I had to Don't believe me when I tell you it's just what anyone would do Take the time to talk about it Think a lot and live without it Don't believe me when I tell you it's something unforgivable Is this what you call tact? I swear you're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back so let's end this call, and end this conversation there's nothing worse... (that's right he said, that's right he said it) I swear, you have no idea The jealousy that became me thinking (that's right he said) that you always had it way too easy Broken down in bars and bathrooms All I did was what I had to Don't believe me when I tell you it's just what anyone would do Take the time to talk about it Think a lot and live without it Don't believe me when I tell you it's something unforgivable Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve Best friend thinks I pulled the trigger! Best friend thinks you get what you deserve! McGowen shuddered, and drifted off, nude except for sheets, naked and lonely. She rode out the weekend in discomfort, in her hotel room. Andeira had packed up by Sunday night and sent Emma an unemotional phone call saying she could come back—and that was all. She returned home in the middle of the night, and showered, and undressed, and once again held onto memories, for they alone comforted her during those cold hours.
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