I’m scrubbing my kitchen and thinking about Shane.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more for you…”

Ouch. I close my eyes. I feel like I’m pressed up against a wall. There is no denying it to myself anymore. She has me.

It aches, a vast resonating void. She has been sweet, almost contrite. And, though now I understand what she was saying, it still smarts. That was a week ago.

Since then she’s seduced me three times, spent two nights with me, and danced with me at Milk, in full view of several dozen women, touching me hotly while grinding her hips into mine. Kissing me in a dark corner booth until I felt like I was screaming inside, halfway to coming right there and then amid beer bottles and cigarette smoke. I’ve heard from Alice that people are referring to us as being girlfriends, but this does not appear to have deterred Shane.

I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Sweet, bitter. Don’t want her pity. But I’m not sure it is pity. I’m not sure how I feel about anything. I’m a ***** mess.

My fridge is gross. I haven’t given it a proper cleaning since I moved in. My barbecue is in two days, and Mom and Navi will be here in… I look at my watch… an hour, and I’m cleaning my house in a whirlwind of procrastination.

I want to pick mom and Navi up at the airport, but they insist on renting a car and driving here. I haven’t seen them in almost a year and I’m psyched. I can’t wait to show off my house.

I’ve sent pictures, taken the day I closed on the house, but those were of white walls and empty rooms. No hint of the violet, the saffron, the red. I’ve just spent two days cleaning, and I’ve bought fresh flowers for every room. It’s bright and cheery. I’ve painted the guest room a slightly more calming shade of sage, and put hydrangea bouquets on the nightstands.

The fridge is the thing I’ve put off until the last minute, and when I stand up from doing that, my knees creak in protest.

I open a box of baking soda to take the cleanser smell out of the fridge, and set it inside. Then I head for the shower.

I imagine for the millionth time Shane as a hustler, a coke addict, and while it doesn’t surprise me, it breaks my heart, and inspires me. She’s overcome so much. I think of her out there, back to the wind, her slight body vulnerable to the elements and the streets. Holding her own, against the whole world.

Love her.

I need to not think that. As much as possible.

I stand under the water stream, staring into the tile, idly moving soap over my body, thinking about her. “I wish I could be more,” she’d said, and it is by far the most naked and honest thing she’s ever said to me.

“It’s not like that,” I said, and I feel shame for that, feel it hot in my face, because I’ve always thought she was the one denying the things between us – yet here I was, trying to salvage my pride like a fool.

Probably alienating her further. Foolish. Childish. Weak.

The role-reversal comes to mind as I work shampoo into the crown of my head, then downward into my hair. She was the one who was hinting at more, being more open than ever, showing me her soft tender places and confessing truths, and I was the one putting up walls.

When I first met her I thought we were so alike. Then, I thought we were so different, she was so damaged and closed off, and I resented her for it. But when my precious pride became threatened, I was no different.

I realize now that I’d thought myself better than her. And having the hints of her past that I now know, I’m sure that wasn’t the case at all.

I wish I could be better for you… but I’m horrible at this…

The thing that has haunted me most, and I’m not sure if it was wishful thinking or what, is that she seemed to be trying to tell me something more. That she wants more. That she wants me to guide her.

Sometimes I think it’s true. I think of the comments she made about “infidelity” on the way to the awards dinner, the way she touches me. The horrible thing she has forgiven me? I know I have more than the other women she *****, more even then her other friends. I know that we truly do have a unique and special relationship that encompasses, pretty amazingly, both friendship and *****.

Sometimes I feel like she’s reaching out, and do I dare reach back?

.

The doorbell rings and I wipe the hair gel off my hands, race to get it. My mom is at the door. She leaves her baggage on the porch and hugs me “Habibi,” she says, kissing my forehead. She smells like Mom, a certain shampoo and perfume, calming.

“Hi Mommy. You look beautiful.”

“So do you, sweetie.” We stand apart and look at each other, and I take in her chic white linen pants, the blue silk tunic she made. My mom is slight and feminine, and nearing fifty-eight, a great beauty with weathered skin and passionate eyes that dart around, taking in the deep violet of the foyer, and the saffron walls of the dining room, beyond. “Wow,” she says. “So bright.”

“Yep. I told you. I think you’ll like the guest room a little better.”

I see Navi come up onto the porch, carrying two large suitcases. Beyond him I see their rental car, tan and compact.

“Hey Pop,” I say, coming outside to greet Navi. He hugs me and I can feel that he’s started to sweat from the exertion of moving the suitcases in the hot September day. He smells like soap and cologne of some sort.

“Hello Didi. Your hair is gotten so long.”

“Actually I just recently got it cut. Come in.”

I lift two of the suitcases despite his objections, and lead them inside. Navi can be very old-world in a lot of ways. Fortunately they aren’t the ways that count.

“So how was your flight?”

“Not bad,” Navi says.

“Let me show you the guest room.”

“I love the house, Darah. It is so colorful. Bright colors.”

“Thank you. I love it too.”

“I would love to film a scene here in my next movie.”

“Absolutely. Are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat,” my mom says, falling into my bed in the guest bedroom, taking in the sheer curtains, the hydrangeas, the framed posters on the wall. “This is nice, Didi.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

I go down to the kitchen while they freshen up and start making a light dinner – spinach salad with vinaigrette dressing and roasted peppers. They emerge from upstairs and help me. For a while, it feels like old times again. I’m so glad to have them here.

.

“I mean it, Mommy.”

“All right, all right,” she says, putting her hands up. We are in my room, getting dressed for the barbecue. She is sitting at my vanity table, styling her hair. I’ve just told her to cut out the yenta ***** when Shane gets here. The mere thought of it is giving me butterflies as is. I don’t need her to make things worse.

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says. “But explain this thing to me, okay?”

“It’s complicated. Shane is kind of like my girlfriend but not quite.”

“What is complicated? You love her, no?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Does she love you?”

“I dunno.”

“Oh,” she says. “It’s like with your father.”

“Yeah, but I can safely say Shane isn’t going to knock me up.”

“Darah! Shame on you.” My mother. I roll my eyes. She picks strange times to be traditional.

“Well, what is the situation?”

I sigh, and try to think of a way to explain. My mom doesn’t need to know about rough ***** and bondage.

I sit down on my bed. “Shane is… a person who… has a very hard time giving her heart to someone. She’ll do anything for her friends, and she’s got a heart of gold. She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, but when ***** is involved…”

“And you have *****?”

“Well, yeah.” Constantly. The scent of her floods my memory. On the kitchen table, in the alley behind Milk…

“Didi, she’s just afraid. Give her time.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Just, please, be cool when she gets here, okay?”

“I only want you to be happy, Didi.”

“I know, Ma. You just don’t understand how… skittish Shane is. She’s got major issues. If you start that she’ll freak out and it will make it worse.”

“Okay. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

The phone rings and I get up to answer it. “Hello?”

“D? It’s Alice.”

“Hey hon.”

“Listen, I am so sorry but I can’t make it.”

“Aw, you’re kidding?”

“D, I can’t, my mom just showed up on my doorstep and I can’t get rid of her.”

“Well, just bring her.”

“No way. Noooo. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I don’t care, Al.”

“No way, ask anyone, my mom is super psycho.”

“I can handle it. I want you to come, really. Please.”

She sighs. “Fine, but you’re gonna regret it.”

“Alice, we’ll live. Just come over.”

“Okay. Just… don’t believe anything she says, okay?”

“Alice!”

“Ha. You think I’m kidding. I’m not. Okay. We’ll see you in a little while.”

“Great.” I hear Navi come in and get in the shower. He just mowed my lawn.

“So that was the infamous Alice of the chart?”

“Yep. She’s bringing her mom.”

“Good, we won’t be the only old farts.”

“Ma!”

“What?”

“You’re not an old *****. And Alice says not to believe anything her mom says, by the way.”

I watch as she back combs her hair, then gathers it and anchors a comb in it. “You look pretty.”

“So do you, darling. You’d better go change.”

I slip into my favorite Daisy Duke shorts and a low cut Juicy tee shirt. Then I go downstairs and check on the food.

The burgers are thawed, the beer is chilled, and I’ve set the condiments out on a tray. New picnic table, tablecloth, flowers.

The doorbell rings. I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and go to answer it. It’s Shane and Jenny. Shane looks gorgeous, in olive drab pants, new Sketchers and a boyish tee shirt. Each of them has a bottle of wine.

“We thought we’d come early, in case you needed any help,” Jenny says.

“Hey guys, you didn’t have to bring anything. Come on in.”

“It smells good in here.” Shane says, looking around.

“That’s the shish kebab.”

“Can we help?”

“Um, sure. You can help me with it.” I set out the marinated lamb and chicken and tofu with onion and peppers and mushrooms.

Then I take out a handful of skewers and put a long piece of aluminum foil on the table. We sit there and make shish kebab.

Navi emerges from upstairs in jeans and a tee shirt. “You guys are doing the fun part,” he says.

“Pull up a chair, Nav, it’s not gonna skewer itself.”

“No thank you. Who are these lovely ladies?”

“Well, this is Shane and Jenny. This is Navi, my dad.” I know this is probably confusing to them, but I know what a kick Navi gets out of being referred to this way.

He shakes each of their hands. “Hello, hello,” he says.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Jenny says, “I just loved The Mad Silence. It was amazing.”

She saw that? I forgot I’d lent it to her. Navi looks pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, Jenny.”

“I thought it was very…” she rolls her bright eyes upward, as if looking for the right word. “Kafkaesque. I loved the character development and the way you shot the fighting scenes.”

“Well, thank you. I am not used to people seeing my films.”

I glance at Shane and she smiles, amused with Jenny and Navi. She is deftly putting mushrooms, onion and tofu onto a skewer.

“It was great. Darah turned me on to your films and I just love them.”

“Well, I’ve brought my new one so you get a sneak preview if you like.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“Come here. I’ll show you the press kit.”

They walk into the living room, leaving Shane and I alone.

“How are you today, Hottie?” I ask her, shifting so I can tuck one leg under me.

“Good.”

“Excellent.”

“Your step dad is cool.”

“Isn’t he awesome? Wait ’til you meet my mom.”

I hear Mom come down stairs and I hear Navi in the other room, introducing her to Jenny. I can tell Shane is listening, a little uncomfortable, as they make small talk. I wish she wasn’t nervous.

“Where’s Darah?” I hear mom ask Navi.

“I’m in here, Ma!”

My heart is pounding, not because I think my mom will embarrass me, but because… well, I don’t know why. I look at the raw lamb and my stomach turns.

Mom comes into the kitchen. “There you are, Habibi. Let me help.”

“Sure.” I nod toward the seat Jenny vacated. “Ma, this is my friend Shane. Shane, my mom, Azadeh.”

“Hello,” Shane says nervously, wiping her hand on a dishtowel, then shaking my mom’s hand. Calm down Shane, I think. She isn’t gonna bite you.

“Well, hello Shane. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Oh, ***** *****.

“Me too.”

“Darah talks a lot about all her wonderful friends.” Oh, thank you Ma. Thank you thank you.

“It’s great to meet you.”

“Me also,” my mom smiles graciously.

I glance nervously at my mom, but she is quiet and starts loading food onto skewers.

“How long have you been in town?” Shane asks.

“Last night. We’ve never been to L.A. before.”

“Really? Well, how do you like it so far?” I watch them back and forth like a tennis match. I’ve never seen Shane make small talk with anyone before. I’m kind of impressed.

“I love it. But Navi, even though he makes films, will never leave New York. He says it takes too long to get anywhere from here. I could do without ever seeing a New York winter again.”

“I bet. Yeah, L.A. is crazy cool.” I smile at the Shaneism and roll out another piece of aluminum foil. God, she is so sweet.

“So, Darah tells me you’re a hairdresser?”

“Yeah.”

“Her hair looks lovely. You did a very nice job.”

“Thanks. I like it with the layers, too.” I can feel Shane’s eyes on me, a slightly warm, happy-unsettling friction. I don’t dare look at her.

My mom sets down her skewer and wipes her hands off with the dishtowel. “It was lovely to meet you, Shane. I’m gonna make sure Navi isn’t boring Jenny to death.”

There’s no chance of that, I think. From the other room I can hear Jenny talking as if she’d died and gone to heaven and Navi is just as animated, and they are batting philosophical and arty references back and forth that I don’t even begin to understand. Definitely no chance that Jenny will be bored.

But, I appreciate her subtlety. Over Shane’s shoulder, my mom gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I want to roll my eyes but I don’t.

Shane picks up the last skewer and slides some bits of chicken and pepper onto it. “What do we do with the leftover stuff?”

“Add what you can to the ones we’ve already done. My grill is pretty wide. We can hold on to the rest and when the skewers are used make more.”

“Your mom’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s all right.” I leave it at that, unsure if she feels at all strange about her own mom, and lack thereof.

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“What?”

“I dunno. I just get a vibe.”

“No, no, actually, that’s not the case. See, she’s always hoping I’ll find a girlfriend and sort of… not meddling, but giving me the third degree and *****. I told her beforehand not to do that to you.”

“Oh,” she says, with a confusing, complicated look on her face. What is it? Does she want to be my girlfriend? God, honey, I’ll be your girlfriend. I’m only holding back for you.

My head hurts.

I stand up and wrap the kebabs in the foil. “I’m gonna put these in the fridge until it’s time to cook them.” I glance at her and realize that I’m bent over slightly and that she is looking at my cleavage. She looks at me and realizes that I’ve busted her. She grins, and, I think, blushes slightly. I dart forward and kiss her head, briefly resting my hand on her shoulder, impulsive and quick.

I move the stuff around the fridge, trying to make room for the kebabs, marveling that someone so sexually aggressive can also be so shy. I hear her footsteps on the tile as she comes over to where I am.

I shut the fridge door and feel her warm presence behind me. She pulls me close and moves her hand over my bare midriff. Her fingertips are cool and gentle, and some sweet emotion flashes through my body, impossibly sharp. I whimper, remembering the first time by the bar, mixing Midori and orange juice.

Leisurely, slowly, I turn around. She looks so beautiful in the cool muted light of the kitchen that lust rips through me, tugging at my *****, from just the sight of her. I’m so far gone.

I move my hands under her shirt, lingering on her waist. Her boyish outfit belies the softness of the skin there. I press my hand flat against her belly, then move it toward her back. She moans low in her throat, then kisses me. It isn’t frantic but it isn’t gentle, either. But it is very real and I feel myself flood inside.

Her hands twine in mine and she presses them above my shoulders, pinning me. I stand there captive, hands above me, eyes wide, knowing that she hears the delighted gasp I make. She knows I like it. I hear new voices from the living room but they seem very very far away as she presses me against the fridge, her leg moving between my thighs. All the while she kisses me, fevered, hands in my hair. Her lips, her tongue, her breath.

She pulls back a bit, air filling the space between our bodies. I’m disappointed when she lets my hands go and they fall to my side. Then I pull her to me roughly, and kiss her.

“Okay, you two need to get married already.”

Alice is standing there in a cute little sundress, looking amused, next to an older woman with perfect cheekbones who must be her mom.

“Hey Al, hey Lenore,” Shane says with a sly grin.

“Hello Shane,” Lenore says, with a distinct subtext to her voice.

Did she? Jeesh. Shane and I exchange amused looks. I repress a laugh. You little ho, Shane.

“Hey, welcome!” I say, disengaging from Shane and going into hostess mode. “You didn’t have to bring anything.” Al is holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery bag.

“Oh, bullshit. Happy week before your birthday, D.” she hands me the flowers and I grin.

“These are gorgeous, Al. Thanks. Uh, hi, I’m Darah.” I offer my hand to Al’s mom.

“Hello Darah, I’m Lenore.”

“Nice to meet you. Welcome. Did you guys meet my mom and dad?”

“Yeah,” Al says. “Can we help?”

“Nope, I’ve got it under control.”

“I see that,” she grins.

“Shaddup,” I say, swatting her head with the dish towel.

“Do you have a vase, Darah? I can arrange these for you.” Lenore says of the flowers.

“That would be great! Under the sink.”

I hear the doorbell ring. “I’m gonna get that. There are drinks out on the back porch, make yourselves at home. Excuse me.”

“Thanks.”

“Stay away from my mom, you MILF-hound,” I whisper in Shane’s ear. She just grins at me.

Later, everyone is eating, talking, or laughing, and I feel the relief of knowing that the party has turned out okay. I’m on the porch grilling burgers and shish kebab, which is a big hit. I stand there holding the spatula, the sizzling heat of the grill behind me, and survey my guests as I wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist.

Navi and Ravi from the ER are speaking in rapid-fire Farsi, which even my mom can’t seem to decipher. Alice and Dana are playing badminton, and Bette is discussing art with my mother. Louise and a few of the doctors from the ER have come, and everyone is mingling nicely. It’s a kickin’ party.

Shane comes outside with a drink and hands it to me. The glass is sweating and it looks amazing. I smile, surprised, and sip it, a wondering “what is this?” It’s limey and crisp and perfect.

“It’s a gimlet. You had some left over lime juice.”

“Thank you,” I smile, tickled that she’s thought of me. “Did you get enough to eat?”

“I’ll have one of those burgers,” she grins.

“Sure thing.”

I make us each a cheeseburger, and sit down at the picnic table. Shane sits next to me. Lenore’s flowers are there, arranged beautifully, and I finger the delicate edge of an iris petal. “Lenore’s good at flower arranging.”

“Yeah, they’re nice.”

“I can’t believe you did Al’s mom.” I grin. I’m not jealous. I admire that, not that Lenore does anything for me, but it’s just funny.

“I didn’t do her. We just kissed.”

I laugh. “*****.”

“*****,” she grins. There is a dollop of ketchup on her lip and she licks it off. I wanted to do that.

Kit comes into the yard, looking around, carrying a bakery box. “Kit!”

She notices me and smiles. “Hey girls.”

“Hello, have a seat, welcome, make yourself at home.”

“Don’t mind if I do. I’m beat. I came right from the Planet.”

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Sure,” she looks around. “Bangin’ party.”

“Thanks. Can I get you something?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, well there are dogs and burgers and shish kebab if you want; help yourself.”

“I brought you some pear tarts.”

“You did!”

“Yes ma’am,” she says, pushing the box over to me.

“Thank you! I’m gonna go squirrel these away.”

When I enter the kitchen, Dana and Alice are there. They part tensely as I enter, and I wonder what I just interrupted.

“Hey guys. Did you get enough to eat?” I look down at the box, and pretend I didn’t see anything.

“God, yeah.”

“Let me know if you want me to grill anything else, ok?”

I go back out and finish my burger. Tonya arrives and flounces in, and sits down opposite me at the picnic table, pushing Shane’s paper plate aside. She starts regaling me with a story about reason she is late. As if I minded. Someone come and rescue me from her, I think. She puts her purse on the table. It is white with sequins and it looks a little absurd. Where has Shane gone?

I look toward the house and see Shane, holding the door open for my mom, who emerges with a sheet cake, white frosting, blue icing. “Oh, *****,” I cringe.

Suddenly everyoe is singing Happy Birthday. I blush ten shades of crimson, each of which I can distinctly feel burning on my face. I glance at Shane, and she is singing too. She looks oblivious to my discomfort, light, unburdened, happy, and I feel better.

Later, the party migrates over to Bette’s and I jump into the pool. My mom joins me and Shane does as well. She looks luscious in my brown bikini. It’s the one I picked out for her to wear and I can’t take my eyes off of the way the fabric fits snugly over her hips. Love those thighs, those legs…

Later, Navi gives us an exclusive premiere of his new movie. Everyone has left, hugging me and thanking me for the party, except Jenny, Shane, Darrell and his date, and Kit. Bette comes over to watch the film also.

It’s quite serendipitous that he just finished the post on it two days ago. They wait until I finish loading the dishwasher. When I come out into the living room, I see that there is nowhere to sit. Shane is sprawled across an entire love seat, wearing her jeans and my bikini top. “Scoot,” I order her. She doesn’t move, just grins wickedly. *****. I roll my eyes and just lay down on top of her. She moves her legs so I can lie down between them. I rest my head on her chest and I can feel her breath. She smells of light sweat and chlorine. Beautiful.

Navi starts the movie. I sigh comfortably. I look up at her, just because I can. She is laying there, breathing calmly, fingers of one hand resting on the edge of the love seat, then her other hand rests on my hair. Sweet.

Then her eyes move to mine, and she catches me looking. “What?” She says, lifting her hand.

“Nothing.” I turn my attention back to the TV screen. I can feel my mom looking at us. She puts her hand back down on my head, and I close my eyes. So good.

I’m blown away by my stepfather’s talent, as always. But my full belly and Shane’s smooth slow breath under me lull me, and I fall asleep like that, feeling Shane’s fingers idly stroking my hair.

I wake up knowing that the room is darker and they are talking about me. “She’s asleep,” someone says.

“I can *****’ year you.” I mumble, sniffing and rolling over, and they laugh. When Shane chuckles I can feel it, her chest moving underneath me.

“Get up, dude, I have to pee,” Shane says, shaking me a little. Rough awakening. I was in bliss.

Shane and Jen take off, out to go to Milk or somewhere. I say goodbye to everyone. Kit, Darrell, and Jenny hug me, but Shane doesn’t. Did I cross some sort of line? I couldn’t have, because she was holding me, playing with my hair. Very telling, I think. All I did was sleep. They leave me with Mom and Navi.

We walk down to La Cienega for ice cream, me, my mom and Navi. In the gloaming, unusually quiet but for the whoosh of cars, it feels melancholy.

I hope my mom can’t read my despondence. Navi teases me about how his work puts me to sleep, and it is cool, we can joke around like that.

Later, after Navi hits the hay, my mom comes out on the front porch with a glass of wine. “That was a nice party.”

“Yeah, it was great, wasn’t it?” I reach out for the wine glass and she hands it to me. I take a sip. Nice, dry. I hand it back and she sips too.

“She’s the one, sweetheart. In case you wonder.”

“What?”

“Your Shane. She loves you, you love her. Perfect.”

“Right. Perfect.”

“Give her time, ‘bibi.”

Time, I think. Right. I’ve given her time. I’ll keep giving her time. But some moments, like this one, my ache for her is so great, and time seems like too much.