Macon's Heart Read online

  Greene sent a quick text to Joanna asking her to let her know that she’d gotten home safely. A few minutes later, she got a response with a middle finger emoticon. She laughed as she made her way onto her own street. One of the first times they’d hung out after meeting each other, Greene had requested the same thing. Joanna had explained that she was perfectly capable of getting herself home safely. When Greene had insisted, Joanna had flipped her off as a joke and later sent that same emoticon. It had become their signal. When Greene arrived at her own apartment five minutes later, she returned the favor. She moved into the kitchen to grab a snack before she’d shower and head to bed.

  Her apartment was a one-bedroom and on the third floor of a walk-up, which wasn’t fun most of the time. She was grateful she’d chosen a violin as a child and not the cello. She grabbed the popcorn and pulled back at the plastic before shoving it into the microwave and pressing the popcorn button. She’d lived in the same apartment since she’d returned from Boston, after getting the job in the orchestra.

  She sat on her sofa and flipped on the sixty-inch flat screen that had been an impulse buy a few months prior, changing the channel to some reality cooking show while she waited for her popcorn to finish. Her apartment was her domain. It was her fortress that kept all the crap away from the world outside. The building was pre-war and had great structure. It gave her great acoustics to play her instrument, which was secured on its stand on the shelf she’d built for that purpose. The sofa had been a hand-me-down from her parents when they’d upgraded their own furniture. Her bookshelf beside the TV, coffee table, dining room table, and chairs had all come from them. They weren’t exactly Greene’s style – being that they were light wood, and she preferred dark – but they’d been free. The dining room barely fit the four-seater table and was off the kitchen. The one bathroom was to the right of that table, and her bedroom was across the hall from the bathroom.

  If she had one complaint about the apartment, it was that it didn’t have a washer and dryer. She had to lug her laundry weekly to the laundromat down the street. That had annoyed her for several years until recently, when she and Joanna had become friends. Joanna lived only a couple of blocks away and had a washer and dryer. She’d let Greene borrow it every Sunday for the past few months. If Joanna wasn’t out on a job, they’d eat lunch together or just hang out. Joanna had even given Greene a key to her place.

  The microwave beeped five times in a row, indicating that her popcorn was done. She headed in that direction and pulled the hot bag out while grabbing a bowl from the cabinet above at the same time. After putting the popcorn in the glass bowl and adding salt, she moved back to her sofa and tried to feign interest in the show. She made it another ten minutes, finished half the popcorn, and returned the bowl to the kitchen to deal with tomorrow before heading to the bathroom, where she showered and readied for bed. When she got to her bedroom, she noted it was only just after ten. She rolled her eyes at herself and slid under the thick, comfortable blanket.

  ◆◆◆

  “Hey, it’s me,” Greene announced as she entered Joanna’s apartment the following day.

  “Hey, come on in,” Joanna replied. “I just got back. I’m working on some stuff in the office.”

  Joanna’s office was really just a section of her bedroom she separated with a large box-type shelf, enabling her to store her photography equipment in each of the slots along with other items, while her desk was on one side and her actual bedroom on the other.

  “I brought tacos from the truck outside. Interested?” Greene held up a plastic bag in the doorway that read Thank You, Thank You on it.

  “I’m starving.” Joanna stood from her desk, where she’d been working on her Mac, and stretched as she walked toward Greene.

  “You’re still wearing your glasses,” Greene said.

  “Oh.” Joanna turned back and set her reading glasses on the desk. “Let me change first. I need to get out of these clothes.” She was wearing loose fitting jeans and a white button-down short-sleeved shirt.

  “Living room? I’ll start my first load.” Greene said.

  “Give me five,” Joanna replied and headed toward her closet.

  Greene made her way out to the living room where she placed the bag of food on the table, reached for her laundry basket that she’d already sorted, and headed back to the closet that held a small washer with a dryer on top. She placed her whites inside and started the wash before returning to the living room where she sat on the sofa and began pulling out the food. Joanna walked wordlessly into the kitchen, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a light gray t-shirt. She moved to one of the cabinets where she pulled out plates, grabbed some paper towels, and placed them on the table for Greene.

  “Do you still have–” Greene started.

  “That pico from last time? Yeah,” Joanna interrupted and headed back to the kitchen to pull a small, plastic container with pico de gallo. “Mexican Coke?” she asked.

  “Yes, please. My weakness,” Greene admitted.

  Joanna laughed at her as she placed two bottles in front of the plates Greene had already organized, and offered Greene the pico.

  “It’s the actual sugar,” Joanna reminded. “Better than the fake stuff.”

  “Absolutely,” Greene agreed. “So, how was the job?”

  “Fine. Adorable baby,” Joanna replied and set about adding the salsa from another similar plastic container to her taco. “The name was a little weird.”

  “Yeah?” Greene took a bite.

  “Margarine,” Joanna stated.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Greene added more pico to her taco. “Like butter?”

  “Like butter.” Joanna laughed lightly as she took a drink. “I guess they call her Margie, but still.”

  “What’s her middle name? Parkay, Country Crock, Blue Bonnet?” she asked. “Those are the only brands I know.”

  Joanna laughed louder this time. Greene watched her as she tried to avoid choking on the taco she’d just taken a large bite out of.

  “Stop,” she insisted and gave Greene a soft shove.

  “I thought my name was weird.”

  “Your name is nice. I hate my name.”

  “Why? It’s nice.”

  “My parents named me after my grandmother. Well, technically, her name was Josephine, but my mom didn’t like that. They compromised and went with Joanna and Jo for short.”

  “I like Jo.” Greene took a drink.

  “I would have preferred something else, I guess.”

  “Like Margarine?” Greene asked.

  Joanna smirked at her and said, “Maybe like Macon.”

  “Please.” Greene scoffed. “It’s like my parents knew I’d be gay and gave me a guy’s name or something to try to fit the stereotype. I didn’t exactly turn out butch, though. I got my revenge.”

  “Macon is a nice name, and you should use it more often. What’s your middle name though?”

  “No.” Greene sat her Coke back down.

  “Come on. I’ll tell you mine.”

  “I know your middle name,” Greene said.

  “What? How?”

  “You told Keira. Keira told me.”

  “Well, that’s not fair.” Joanna laughed.

  “No, it’s not, Joanna Isabella Martin.”

  “Isabella was my other grandmother,” she explained. “Your turn.”

  “Macon Sage Greene,” she offered and cringed.

  “Sage? Macon, that’s so pretty. Why don’t you go by that if you don’t like Macon?”

  “Sage was my great-great-grandmother’s last name. It’s a family thing. My mom’s middle name is also Sage. My grandmother’s middle name was Sage. My sister’s middle name is Sage. She’s older. And she decided she wanted to go by Sage instead of the plain name she’d been given. She’s Sage. I’m Greene. Even my parents call me Greene.”

  “She wanted to go by Sage instead of Sarah? I guess I can get that.”

  “Most people just called me Make. But when I got to high school, I could kind of start over. I just asked the teachers to call me Greene, and it stuck.”

  “People think it’s because of your eyes.” Joanna finished her taco. “I did before I knew your last name.”

  “Why? A lot of people have green eyes,” Greene replied.

  “Not like those.” Joanna pointed with one hand while her other picked up her bottle.

  “What’s that mean?” Greene asked and leaned back on the sofa.

  “You have to know your eyes aren’t like normal green eyes, right?”

  “They’re normal to me.”

  “They’re the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re only green. Most people have green with brown or dark green, but your eyes are almost glowing sometimes.”

  “I have glowing eyes? Thanks, Jo. I sound like an alien.”

  Joanna laughed and sat down her bottle before turning to Greene.

  “They’re perfect on you. You have this dark complexion and these bright eyes with your black hair. I’m convinced it all makes you seem mysterious, which is why all the ladies want you.” She turned back to her food. “Well, that, and I’m sure you’re good in bed.”

  “Gee, thanks,” the woman returned sarcastically but a little hurt.

  Joanna turned to see her lower her head.

  “Macon, I didn’t mean it like that.” She placed her hand on Greene’s thigh. “It was a joke. I meant that you’re gorgeous, and your particular brand of beauty evokes mystery that reels people in. But, once they’re there–”

  “They stay for the sex. Yeah, I got that part.” Greene sat back up.

  “Hey, you’re awesome. I wouldn’t be hanging out with you if you weren’t. I’ve been spending a lot of time with you for months now, and t
here’s been no sex.”

  “Like I’d want to have sex with you anyway,” Greene teased.

  “Like I’d let you,” Joanna tossed back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You seemed a little weird last night with that girl. You asked me to check her out, and then nothing.”

  “I thought she was cute.”

  “But when she said she was straight, that was a deal breaker?”

  “Well, yeah,” Greene said.

  “But you’ve been with girls who said they were straight before.”

  “A couple.” Greene took a drink.

  “A couple a month? A year?” she asked.

  “A couple total. I know my friends make me sound like I’m constantly having sex, but I think you would know by now that that’s not the case. I mean, I see you practically every day and most nights. Like you said last night, you’ve never seen me go home with a woman.”

  “You could be arranging booty calls after hours.” Joanna wiggled her eyebrows at her.

  “I’m not.” Greene polished off the rest of the taco.

  “Because you don’t want that all of a sudden?”

  “Because I’m not really the person everyone seems to think I am.” Greene stood. “I’m going to check on the laundry.”

  “Which is in the washer and has at least twenty more minutes. Sit.” Joanna tugged on Greene’s sweatshirt.

  “What?” she asked softly and sat.

  “You can’t say something like that and then expect me to drop the conversation.”

  “I came over here for laundry and lunch, Jo. I didn’t come here to have a debate about my persona versus my actual person.”

  “The Philosophy minor in me is going nuts right now.” Joanna laughed.

  “Who minors in Philosophy?” Macon laughed.

  “A kid who didn’t know what she wanted to do,” Joanna returned. “What’s this persona you’re talking about?”

  “When I was younger, I went out a lot. That part is true. I dated a lot. That part is also true. When my friends met me, I was in the date around stage. But dating doesn’t mean I’m reckless with women’s hearts or that I just use them for sex and move on. Women hit on me. I’m nice to them. I’m not a bitch. I don’t just send them away. Because of that, people sometimes assume that I sleep with every woman that approaches me.” She paused, realizing she’d never uttered this out loud. “I don’t. When I meet a woman and I like her, I am genuinely interested in seeing what could be there.”

  “Yeah?” Joanna seemed to wonder if that was really true.

  “Yes,” Greene replied and turned her body into Joanna. “I don’t just take a woman home and sleep with her. I’ve done that one time. It didn’t end well. I try to get to know them. And yes, sometimes there’s sex; less than what my friends think, though. It’s just never worked out much beyond a few weeks. I have this thing where I think I’ll know.”

  “Know?”

  “Like I’ll meet a woman, and I’ll know. I’ve always believed that. It might happen the second I meet her or maybe after our first kiss or the first time we make love, but I’ll know.”

  “Know that she’s the one?”

  “Yes.” Macon nodded. “I know it’s silly and sounds like a romantic comedy, which I hate. That’s part of the reason I don’t exactly blurt this out to people. I’ve never felt that thing. When it’s been a couple of weeks with a woman, I start to wonder if I will. If it’s not there, it’s not there, and I end it.”

  “Make, why don’t you tell your friends this? It’s got to bother you that they think you’re some kind of player, going around breaking hearts.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Liar.” Joanna chuckled at her. Then, her expression changed. “So, you’ve never felt it? Never been in love?”

  “No, I guess not. You?”

  “Once or twice, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It’s hard to answer that question. It’s like… you’re in the relationship; you love them. You know it’s love. Then, you break up; you’re heartbroken, but you’re still sure it’s love. Later, you get time and space between you and the relationship and you start to wonder: was it really love? Was that it? If that was it, did I lose it? Will I ever get it back? So, I know when I was with a couple of my exes, I was in love. I was happy. But as I get older and get further away from those relationships, I start to become not so sure. Because, if that was love, then I don’t really know what all the fuss is about.”

  Macon laughed and drank more of her Coke before placing it back down and running her finger along the condensation that had formed on the glass.

  “The longest relationship I had was nine months. I was a junior in college. Her name was Daniella, and she was a senior at BU. She was a Drama major. We met when I played in the orchestra for one of her performances. I played in the pit. One night after the final show, we all went out for drinks. She was beautiful, talented, and funny.”

  “Was she the one you–”

  “Yeah, we went back to her apartment since her roommate was out of town. That was my first time.”

  “Wait. What? First time or first time with a woman?” Joanna asked.

  “Both,” Greene revealed. “I was twenty-one, and she was my first. I’d known I was gay. I’d kissed a few girls, but that was the furthest it went until her. I had offers. Not to sound conceited about that, but I did. I just hadn’t gone through with any of them for various reasons until Daniella. It was nice. It was sweet and slow. She made sure I was okay with everything. We started dating after that.”

  “And you dated for nine months?”

  “Yes. We were together a few months after she graduated and started working at a costume shop in New York while she auditioned for Broadway shows. We’d take the train back and forth from there to Boston to see each other when we could. It seemed like it was going well.”

  “But you’ve never been in love before?”

  “She’d said it, at first. We’d been together for about four months when she said it the first time. I didn’t say it back. It took her another month to try again. I still couldn’t say it. She’d tried one more time around month seven. And by month eight, she was cheating on me, and I had no idea,” she explained with little emotion in her voice. “I went to New York to visit at least seven times. She’d had someone else the whole time. I guess once that girl said she’d loved her, Daniella realized it was confession time, told me the whole story, and ended things.”

  “Sorry, Make.”

  “I was too. I blamed myself for a while. If I would have just said ‘I love you,’ maybe that would have been enough. But I don’t think that now. I didn’t love her. I would have been lying. That wasn’t right either.”

  “Why did you stay with her?”

  “Because I liked her. I thought I would love her one day. I kept waiting for that day to come. It never did. I never felt that thing with her. After a few months, I stayed because she was my first. Then, I stayed because I was scared of losing her. Then, I stayed because she loved me. I knew that. I at least needed someone to love me, I thought. It was wrong. I should have ended things, and I should have done it sooner. I was a kid; I didn’t know any better.”

  “So, that’s why now you end things before it gets that far.”

  Greene finished the Coke in front of her and said, “It’s easier for everyone this way. If you don’t feel it, what’s the point?”

  “Do your friends know this?”

  “You’re my friend, and you know.”

  “Greene, you know what I mean.”

  “They know about Daniella. They know that whole story. The only thing they don’t really know is that she was my first, and that there have only been eight since.” She let out a deep exhale and met Joanna’s eyes.

  “Nine?” she asked. “That can’t be–”

  “I’ve been with nine women total my whole life. I think my friends assume I’m with nine a month or, at a minimum, nine a year. And it’s nine total for me. I’m a bit of a kissing slut; that’s true. But I’m not the sex fiend that everyone assumes.”

  “I feel bad,” Joanna replied.

  “What did you think? What number?” Greene smiled and rested her head on her hand and her elbow on the back of the sofa.