It was two in the morning when a car came to a squealing halt in front of her.

 

“I don’t know shit about cars,” she said, with the thick fugue of tears taking some of the sarcastic edge out of her voice, “but even I know you need to get your brakes fixed.”

 

Lucia sat on the front step of a closed pawn shop, with her light jacket pulled up tight to her chin.  It was really too cold for such light fare, but she hadn’t planned on being out, and she glowered when Stan came around the front of the car carrying an old Carhardt jacket and two cups of coffee.

 

“I’m glad you called,” he said, tossing her the faded canvas.  “And I like your hair.”

 

Lucia grudgingly, but quickly, shrugged into the coat, and said nothing.  Stan sat down next to her, handed her a coffee, and sighed.

 

“Is that him?” he asked, gesturing across the street.  In his soft, Georgia accent, it sounded more like ih-sat.

 

Lucia nodded.

 

They were sitting across from a gas station.  There was a sharp Cadillac STS parked at one of the pumps, and a man leaned against the rear quarter panel of it looking at his phone.  He’d been in roughly the same place for the last two hours.  Lucia knew where to find him because, in another life, he had been her dealer.

 

“Smart,” Stan said.  “Well lit.  Nobody gives him a second glance.  People can pull up right in front of him, and use their cars to block themselves from the road.”

 

Lucia nodded, and took a sip of the coffee.  It was black, intensely bitter, and made her lips curl in a sour expression.  It was perfect.

 

“Did he see you over here?”

 

Luca shook her head.  Then, because she didn’t want to lie to him, even by omission, she added, “I don’t think so.  Keith doesn’t deal to walk-ups.  Only people with vehicles that can pull up and play out the scene.”

 

“So…”  He looked sideways at her, smirking.  “What were you gonna do?”

 

“I don’t know,” she groaned, frustratedly.  “I didn’t come here with a plan.  This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my fucking night, sitting on this cold-ass concrete.  I don’t know how everything got so fucked up!  God, it happened so fast!”

 

“Did it?”

 

Lucia took a breath, and then another.  And then another.  “No.”

 

He clapped her on the back and gave her a hearty shake.  “It never does.  It’s always like a slow motion crash, where we can’t look away and don’t think we can stop it from happening.”

 

Lucia nodded, very slowly.

 

“I’m surprised you called me.  I’m glad, but, you know.  Surprised.  You’d never called before, and it’s not like you don’t come to some of those meetings wound up like a deranged pocket watch.”

 

Lucia looked down, between her knees, and let her head hang.  “I made excuses not to call you.  I’m trying to be out here, on my own, putting my life back together, and…”—she took a breath—”...and if I have to call my sponsor every week, that says something… and if I can pull it off without calling my sponsor, that says something else.”

 

Stan nodded, took a sip of his coffee, and looked out toward the bright lights of center city.  “You know, I have Sunday breakfast with mine.  Every Sunday, at the greasiest spoon you can imagine.”

 

Lucia laughed, sadly.  “Is that, like, a bad on purpose thing?”

 

“Bad?” he said, head rearing back.  “Shit no.  I would fight a bum for those eggs.”

 

She almost spit out her coffee, but managed to raise the cup back to her lips so she wouldn’t waste any of it.  “Who talks like that?”

 

He didn’t take the bait.  “If you’d like, I can block off some time for you.  We can make it a thing.”

 

She chuckled grimly.  “Yeah.  Same time next week.  I’ll blow up my life again and be right back here on the brink of it.  Maybe next time, bring some of that stupid beef stew.”

 

He smiled, amused, and said, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

She put the cup between her palms and rolled it back and forth between them.  “I know.”

 

He took another sip, swallowed with a sharply in-drawn breath, and said, “It’s pretty common, you know.  To be reluctant to call your sponsor.  To feel like you’re gonna bother them.  That’s why I used to call you, to check in.  Trying to help you get into a better habit.”

 

“I know,” she said, softly.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“So what brought all this on?”

 

“I fucked things up with my girlfriend.”  Then, not wanting to lie to him, she quickly added, “We hadn’t said the words yet.  She’s my friend, but I want her to be more.  ...Wanted her to be more.”

 

“Relationships are tough,” he said, nodding.  “I got on pills trying to get back on my feet, back to work, too fast after I hurt my back, because I thought that my value to my… my ex-wife, was in me making money, you know?  I kept holding on to the idea that my paycheck itemized my value, and nevermind that more and more of it started disappearing into some kids pocket.  You bend yourself into all these crazy shapes, trying to be the person you think they expect you to be, and...”

 

“Yeah,” Lucia said, nodding and staring through the ground.  “Yeah.  I know all about that… and that’s what makes this so tragic.  I didn’t have to do that with Helen.  She accepted me.  She liked me.  The real me.  I was in such a bad place when we met that I couldn’t be bothered to put on an act, like I’d always done, and…”

 

“And that was even harder?”

 

“Yes!”  she cried.  “I didn’t know what to do with someone wanting to get close to the real me!”

 

Stan nodded, rocked back and forth slowly, and nudged her with his elbow.  “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure I like the real you too.  My daughter liked you, that one time you met her.”

 

“Shut up,” she said, and it wasn’t until she heard her voice that she knew she was crying.  “It’s like there’s this part of me that’s… that’s just unlovable.  A monster.  It’s awful... and so… I’m awful… and anyone who thinks otherwise just doesn’t know yet.  So I play this nervous waiting game, trying to figure out when the moment will finally arrive and they realize what was inside me the whole time… and that’s if I don’t push them away first.”

 

“Yeah,” Stan said, nodding.  From the sound of his voice, he might have been crying too.  “Yeah.”  Then he added, “I don’t need to tell you that’s all bullshit, right?”

 

“What if she didn’t care?” Lucia said.  “What if I just pushed away someone who could’ve…”  She put the coffee cup down on the concrete between her feet, braced her elbows on her knees, and put her head in her hands.  “...who didn’t...”

 

Stan reached into her pocket for a moment, but Lucia didn’t look up.  Nothing mattered.  He could have the cash in her wallet.  She probably only had enough to cover the coffee anyway.

 

“If you could talk to her again,” he said.  “If she was here, right now, what would you say?”

 

She dragged her fingers down along her face, pulling and stretching the skin, and sighed.  “I’d, ah… I’d say Hey, Helen.  Sorry.  I should’ve called… be-because obviously it’s gonna take me a fucking month to work up to doing this.  Ah Christ.  Just wanted to…  see how… um…”

 

She sniffed loudly, trying to compose herself.  

 

“I wanted to explain.  Wanted to talk to you again.  God, I miss you already.  I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.  I fucked this up like I fuck everything up, and pretty soon I’ll just be a memory that pops up sometimes, and takes you away from being happy.

 

“I don’t want to just be a memory, though.  I want to be more.  Much more.  God, I… I lost control for one minute, and… and it’s my fault.  Fuck.  I’m not dead.  I want you to know that.  I’d… I’d hate it if you were worrying about me.

 

“This is not how it was supposed to go.  I seriously fucked up.  Trust me.  I know.  I shouldn’t have said any of that.  You were trying to open up to me, and I just… 

 

“Do you…  ...Fuck.  How do you just ask someone if they miss you?  How do you do that, Helen?  How will I know?  How will I know I’m not gonna show up and you’ve already moved on?

 

“I’m gonna show up.  I’m gonna be there.  I don’t know where to go from here… and I don’t know how to get from here to there, but... “

 

She stopped to cover her mouth, to muffle the sound of her crying, and coughed to try and shake herself out of it.

 

“I’m sorry, Helen.  For everything.  I have no idea where I’m going without you… because everytime I try to see myself a few years down the road, every time I try to picture where I want to be, you’re there with me.  You’re everything I ever wanted.  I really wanna see you again.  ...and… I hope I do.”

 

Stan sniffed next to her, and Lucia flinched.  She’d forgotten he was there.  He mistook her twitch for fear, and put his arm around her to hug her, to pull her in, and Lucia let it happen.

 

***

 

The next morning, Lucia sat in the soft grass, in the shade, and took long, slow breaths.  She’d said everything she needed to say.  It had been tough to open up that wound, and face some things she’d been keeping inside, and when she was done she realized she still had most of the day open.  No plans.  Nowhere to be.  It was a little cool in the shade but not windy.  Birds were chirping.  Squirrels were hard at work in an oak tree off to her left.  It felt like he was talking back to her, about patience and understanding, so she waited and listened.

 

Or, at least, she tried to listen, but it became harder.  The cemetery wasn’t empty, by any means.  People had been walking by, most of them heading toward a service a little ways over the hill from where she was.  They’d all been respectful about it, but someone was coming closer and being an ass about it.  Scuffing their heels.  Kicking up the loose rocks in the stone path.  Clearing their throat.  Eventually, she had to turn around just to glare at them, and—

 

“Viv,” she said, as she bolted to her feet.

 

Vivian had her head down, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans.  She nodded.

 

“I… but how—”

 

“Kevin’s mom,” she said.  Then she gestured to the headstone, and said, “She told me you’d be here.  I like your hair.”

 

Lucia turned back toward the grave, and gave it a long look as she scratched absently at the shorter hair at the back of her head.

 

“She has your number now, so I hope you’re prepared to have her mother you.  Get your address out of you.  Show up with a lasagna or a casserole from time to time.  Tell you you’re not eating enough.”

 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Lucia said.  She matched Vivian’s posture, shoving her hands into her pockets, and licked her lips while she tried to think of the right words.

 

“I’m sorry I blew up at you,” Vivian said, quietly.  “You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Yeah I did.  I left.  We were just… having our break-up fight a little late.”

 

Vivian chuckled.  “That’s what happens when you put two procrastinators together.”

 

Lucia looked sideways at her, and said, “You still ridin’ the couch?”

 

Vivian’s expression never changed.  It was always pensive, bordering on unsurprised.  “I threw myself on the mercy of the court.  Got off on time served with a little bit of… um… Fuck it.  I can’t make the metaphor work.  I promised I’d do better.”

 

“Is that what this is?” she asked.

 

Vivian, with her long black hair back in a ponytail, nodded.  “Community service.  That’s the word I was looking for.”  After a moment, she added, “It’s so weird to see you, looking all defeated.”

 

Lucia chewed on her lip.  “It was easy to not give a fuck, and pick fights with whoever, when I didn’t think of me as having any... I don’t know.  Value.”  She squatted, plucked a couple blades of grass, and threw them impotently.  “I OD’d that day.  When I left.  I way-overdid it, and scared the shit out of myself.  Never told anyone that.  I died… and I could’ve just stayed dead.  I didn’t, though.   I wanted to live, and that meant… Fuck I don’t know.  All I know is that it’s harder to ignore it when people say something to me now.  I have to take it in and think about it.  I can’t just shrug off what people say to me and move on, and, you know, fuck everybody.  Not anymore.”  She ripped another few blades of grass, frowned, and said, “Self-worth sucks.”

 

Vivian nodded again, and her voice cracked as she said, “I still love you.”

 

“I know,” Lucia said.  She tried to meet Vivian’s gaze, but Vivian didn’t look up.  “I care for you too.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Is there room in your life for a… bandmate?  A sister?”  She knew, as soon as she said it, that there wasn’t, but didn’t regret asking.

 

Vivian shook her head.  “No, I, uh—”

 

“It’s okay,” Lucia said.  “I get it.  It’s hard, being on the outside.  We spent so much time together, for so many years, that it’s tough to think about that not being the case… but I understand.”

 

“Okay,” Vivian said, sounding very choked up.  “Th-thank you.”

 

Lucia threw herself at a stunned Vivian, who pulled her hands out of her pockets a half-second too late, and stood there stiffly while Lucia hugged her fiercely and buried her face in Vivian’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 

“I know,” Vivian whispered back, and very hesitantly pulled her arms around Lucia’s shoulders too.  It was still a very one-sided hug, but not completely.

 

After a few seconds, she gave Vivian’s shoulder a vigorous clap, and stepped back.  Vivian was eyeing her.

 

“I was gonna stay for a bit yet,” Lucia said, gesturing toward the headstone, and Vivian nodded faintly.

 

“I’ll go, then.”

 

“Just…”  Lucia bit her lip hard.  “If this is the last time we talk, I hope you know that I treasure... all of it.  That I’m glad for everything.  Even the parts that sucked.”

 

Vivian didn’t look up.  She nodded, haltingly, and turned slowly.

 

Lucia sat back down, picked up two little rocks, and held them in her hand.  When she rubbed them together, they made a thin scritching noise that was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of Vivian walking away.

 

***

 

She didn’t have much hope of getting past the door unnoticed.  The bar was empty at eleven in the morning, and there was nothing else to distract from the sound of the bell at the door.  Helen didn’t look directly at Lucia, but Lucia knew she’d been spotted by the way Helen very specifically didn’t look at her.  Lucia slouched her way to the bar, climbed onto a stool, and waited patiently.

 

This time, Helen didn’t say anything.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lucia said.  “I’m really, really sorry.  I know I’ve been gone a couple days.  I know I should have called.  I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s better than a month,” Helen said, softly.  When Lucia looked up at her, frowning, Helen took her phone out of her pocket, poked at it a couple times, and then set it down on the bar between them.

 

Through its speakerphone, it said, “First Saved Message:  I’d, ah… I’d say Hey, Helen.  Sorry.  I should’ve called… be-because obviously it’s gonna take me a fucking month to work up to doing this.  Ah Christ.  Just wanted to…  see how… um…”

 

Lucia absently patted at her pocket in wonder.  “That son of a bitch,” she mumbled, as she listened to herself ramble on.

 

Helen reached over, picked up her phone again, and poked at it.

 

The phone said, “Message Saved,” and then Helen put it back in her pocket.

 

“I was…” Helen’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat roughly.  “I was at Evan’s grave, asking him to help me figure out what to do, when you called.”

 

“Ah shit,” Lucia said, shoulders slumping.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“There’s this…”  Lucia wiped at her eye with her sleeve.  “There’s this thing between us, and—”

 

“Then come around behind the bar,” Helen said, “you idiot.”

 

Lucia got off the stool so fast that she set a world record for the ten yard dash from a seated start on a bar stool in a bar, and when she impacted into Helen the both of them went stumbling.  They held onto each other, though, and they kissed.

 

It was the best kiss Lucia had ever had, which she knew because she was fond of ranking things.

 

***

 

The assembled crowd cheered as the crane lowered the sign into place.  A construction worker in a hydraulic lift shifted it slightly so that the exposed bolts dropped through the holes in the mounting bracket, and the cheers only got louder as he started tightening the nuts to fix it into place.  Lucia stood next to Helen, with the old sign for Russell’s on Main between them, both of them leaning on it.

 

“Your dad would be proud,” Karl said, from where he was standing next to Helen.  “He always wanted you to do your own thing.”

 

“Does this count as doing her own thing?” Lucia asked.  Helen gave her a flat smirk.

 

“I asked my magic eight-ball that very question this morning,” he replied, “and it said all signs point to yes, so…”  He held out his hands, palms up, and nodded as if the matter were settled.

 

When he got down to the last bolt, the worker gave them both a thumbs up, and Helen and Lucia came forward to stand in front of it and kiss.  The sun was nearly set, so the photos would all look gorgeous and perfectly lit.  The two of them, in front of their freshly minted queer bar, Thirsty on Main.  Lots of phones were making the sound effect of shutters, as lots of the crowd was taking pictures, but Lucia and Helen didn’t need to pretend like it was a private affair for the sake of getting their poses right.

 

For them, it was always like they were alone.

 

Helen’s bar had been trending this way, little by little, over the previous four years.  Newcomers noticed that Helen and Lucia spent a lot of time in close proximity, and weren’t shy about public displays of affection.  Little by little, those newcomers who related to that became regulars, and brought their friends.  Many of her dad’s regulars still came to support her, as her dad had been a very vocal supporter of trans rights.  They were a minority, but they also had ally status and that afforded them some respect from the new crowd.

 

It also hadn’t hurt that their derby friends had started coming.  It had taken some time to get the whole team to come, but time helps with a lot of things.  It's good like that.

 

Once the kiss was done, which took a lot longer than the photo op, Lucia went inside to finish setting up.  Her band was playing opening night, and she was really excited.  Graviton hadn’t caught on like Insanity Hall had, many years before, largely because Graviton had a sound that didn’t fit into a box.  They were heavy, bordering on stoner metal, but with a lot of emo influences in the lyrics.  Their fanbase kept expanding, though, and that was all Lucia really cared about.

 

She was about sixty percent of the way through mixing and mastering their first album, and the band had finished shooting their first music video, something Insanity Hall had never done (because Kevin was opposed to the idea of being on MTV; it was a different time).  It was all self-funded.  They had talked about the idea of getting a Kickstarter going to help them record their second album, if the sales of the first one ever really took off, but that was a long ways away and Lucia always tried to keep them from getting ahead of themselves.  She was at least five years older than Beanie, and ten years older than Gene and Taylor, who were now a couple, and sometimes it felt like they were her kids.

 

They weren’t, and she knew it, because the adoption of her actual (potential) kid was still pending.  Helen and Lucia had been drawn to a shy, introverted twelve year old, who had been in and out of other homes for years, and Lucia was ready to chew through iron to make it happen.  Social Services was, as they had been warned by literally everyone, making her and Helen jump through hoops.  It was always harder for gay couples, but they were determined.

 

Karl came up on stage with them, as they checked their cables, with a tray of waters and a shot of whiskey for Beanie for his nerves.  Karl’s shirt that night said Let’s Start A Nuclear War At The Gay Bar.  It had taken Lucia an embarrassingly long time to realize that he owned a silk screen machine and made all his own shirts.

 

“I don’t get this one,” Gene said, as he took his water bottle and opened the cap.

 

“It’s an Electric Six song, baby,” Taylor said, patiently, which earned her a double finger guns from Karl.

 

Gene rolled his eyes.  “I can’t get into them.  I tried, but like—”

 

“Well,” Lucia asked, “don’t you want to know how we keep starting fires?”

 

“It’s my desire,” Taylor replied, popping one shoulder up.

 

“It’s my desire,” Lucia added.

 

Gene turned to Beanie for support but their drummer was closely inspecting his drum stick for any imperfections in the grain that might give him a splinter, which was a thing he did sometimes to avoid taking a side in their playful spats.

 

Lucia played with the gain knob, and played a few root fifth power chords.  The crowd gave a few hoots behind her as the excellently-distorted chords attenuated, and Lucia couldn’t help smiling.

 

“Hey,” Gene said, coming across the stage.  “We’re definitely starting with Rebel Girl, right?”

 

Taylor and Lucia both nodded emphatically, and Beanie held up his hands in defeat.  He’d argued for Julia, one of their own songs that they all agreed was their best show opener.  Julia was good, but it wasn’t Rebel Girl.  Graviton didn’t have a songwriter the way Vivian had been a songwriter.  They all contributed little bits and pieces, and worked cooperatively, which was new.  And good.  And maybe what she’d always been looking for.

 

Taylor started to say something to Beanie, leaning over the drum kit, but Lucia missed what she said.  She’d been distracted.

 

Vivian LeBlanc had just walked in, arm in arm with Delia.  Lucia immediately turned to Helen, who was frantically waving and pointing at the same thing.  Lucia gave her a half shrug, which in their world meant could be something, could be nothing.  The two of them shared a quick conversation with their eyebrows and shoulders that, if transcribed, would have looked like really? - I know, right? - huh! - did you know about this? - bitch please

 

Lucia’s favorite part about being in a relationship was the private language.  It was strange, but incredibly fulfilling, to make jokes in front of others that nobody else got, and reference things nobody else had been there for.  Hers and Helen’s was particularly obtuse, looking like absolutely nothing while still being extremely expressive.  If she had to guess, it had been learning to communicate around a ball gag that had maybe been the start of it.

 

The best part about getting to play Rebel Girl was that she was in a position to dictate that they play the Joan Jett version, the only version that mattered, and that meant that for a little while she got to be Joan Jett.  Play lead guitar.  Sing backup.  Fucking rock.

 

As soon as Beanie started playing the intro, the crowd responded by clapping sharply along with the beat.  She and Gene joined in on the second bar, playing in tight unison, and the crowd went wild.  Usually, she couldn’t handle playing guitar and singing at the same time, but the only lyrics she had to join in on were the titular ones.

 

Every time she did, she found herself staring over at the bar, where the queen of her world was staring back with obvious satisfaction.