FICTION

The Lesbian Love I Lost on a Lazy Sunday Morning

Every trace of your existence had been erased

Muscle memory rolled my body over to wrap my arms around her before I was even fully conscious. I’m not sure what detail first sent the adrenaline shock through my body. It shouldn’t have been obvious at first that she was gone.

She could have just woken up early to make me breakfast. That’s the sort of thing she would have done. Never one to waste food, she would have made a spicy omelet with all of the leftover vegetables in the refrigerator. She would have decorated my plate with slices of fresh kiwi and orange to make it pretty.

Maybe it was that the sheets on her side of the bed were cold or that the only indentation in her pillow was from my forehead searching for the back of her neck. Maybe it was the complete silence.

Something sent a burning shock of dread straight from my stomach up to my chest. Was she okay? Had she come home from work safely last night? I’ve seen the way people look at her, as she walks along the streets downtown. It isn’t safe to be a trans woman where we live.

That’s one of the reasons I had begged her to stay closeted. I was so scared I’d lose her. She was too perfect to lose. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known, inside and out. I was also scared of losing my family and my job. I was afraid she would be fired, too. I was afraid we would become homeless together.

I was wrong, of course. People at her work were surprisingly supportive. They replaced her badge and helped her to take a new photo. I’d been working up the courage to tell my mother. I’d planned to have the discussion soon. I’d planned to tell everyone everything eventually.

When I realized she was gone or that she’d never come home, I reached frantically for my phone. I needed reassurance. No new texts. Searching through my list of recent calls, I couldn’t find her name anywhere.

I went to my text messages, since she used to text me adorable cat videos every morning. Surely, I could find her name there. Nothing. I went to my contacts list. It was as if she had never existed. Embarrassed, I struggled to remember her phone number. I’d never needed to know it. Her voice was always a finger tap away.

I began searching the apartment for any sign of her. Nothing. There was no trace of her existence. She’d never had a lot of stuff, but there were little markers of her everywhere. Hair bands. Pictures. Lipstick. Eyeshadow. Mascara. A pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. Indigo nail polish.

Every detail had been removed. She had meticulously erased herself from my life sometime while I slept. How had she been so quiet? The trash can was emptied, so there wasn’t even evidence of the last dinner she cooked for me before the nightshift.

I called her best friend. Tristin was gentle but firm: “Honey, I know you’re hurting right now, and I’m really sorry. I can’t tell you where Kate is, though. We need to honor her decision.”

“What do you mean ‘honor her decision’?” I asked, heart pounding. “She never even talked to me!” My voice sounded embarrassingly shrill. I could hear ringing in my ears.

“Maybe she didn’t feel safe talking to you about leaving. You’d had some nasty fights. Some of the things you’ve said…you know I love you, Sarah, but you’ve said some really hurtful things to Kate. I’ve heard you fighting.”

Fighting the urge to be defensive, I listened to my words through Tristin’s ears. How would it have sounded to them, when I begged Kate to tone it down just a little for the sake of me not losing my family?

Though it broke my heart, I could understand why Kate wouldn’t have felt safe talking to me about leaving. Maybe I wasn’t as supportive as I thought. Maybe I was making her life harder, during a time when she was already struggling to stay afloat.

I can’t say I was used. She stole nothing from me. My life is better than it was when she entered it. I wish she knew that I always saw her as a woman, that I knew long before she told me. I was always attracted to her femininity. She probably thinks that I never supported her. I can understand why. It wasn’t fair of me to ask her to hide who she was from the world. I was just scared.

I wish I could somehow tell her that I love her exactly as she is, as she was, and as she will be. I wish I could tell her that she is perfect. Now, I’ll never have the chance.

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