In Medias Res by Yolanda Wallace Page A

and her best friend. I’m all three.”
    Natalie had rolled her eyes so hard she had nearly fallen asleep standing up. “Not quite.”
    “Okay, so I’m not married yet. Two out of three ain’t bad.”
    I had tried to use levity to lighten the mood, but Natalie hadn’t been able to find any humor in the situation.
    “You might want to crunch those numbers again. Or do you have so much internalized homophobia that you can’t think straight? Pun intended.”
    I had known where she was going but I hadn’t wanted to go there with her. “You think I’m… Does Jennifer think I’m…”
    “I’m not going to put words in your mouth, Syd. But until you can say the words, I’m not having this conversation with you.”
    She had tried to walk away and I had tried to stop her. Jennifer had separated us before our war of words could turn physical.
    “This side of the room is much too serious,” she said. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is supposed to be a party.”
    She had bought a round of tequila shots as a peace offering, but the truce had proven to be only temporary. Relations between Natalie and me had remained frosty at best.
    I was roaring drunk by the end of the night. Jennifer had taken me home and poured me into bed. When she had tried to excuse herself to head to Natalie’s apartment for some “late-night aerobics,” I had talked her out of it.
    “We both know she’s pissed at you right now,” I had slurred, “so why don’t you give her a little more time to cool off?”
    “Good idea.” She had lain next to me on the bed, sliding her pillow close to mine as if we were going to spend the rest of the night sharing secrets. We had hinted around them instead, neither of us quite able to trust the other with the complete truth. She was in love with me and couldn’t tell me; I was concerned for her safety but didn’t want my fears to be a distraction for her.
    “When were you going to tell me about Darfur?”
    “You’ve read the paper. You’ve seen the news. I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s going on over there.”
    I had punched her lightly on the shoulder so she could realize I was serious. “Okay, smartass, when were you going to tell me that you’d be in the middle of it?”
    “This weekend is supposed to be about you, not me.”
    “So you were going to let me come home from my honeymoon to find you gone?”
    “Of course not, but—”
    “Natalie says I’m the reason you’re leaving. Is that true?”
    “Unless you joined the militia while my back was turned, you’re not the reason I’m needed over there.”
    It had been a hedge but I had let her get away with it because I had been more concerned with her answer to my follow-up question.
    “She also says you’re in love with me.”
    “She says a lot of things when she’s drinking tequila. In vino veritas. Truth is in the wine. Isn’t that how the saying goes? There’s no such adage for tequila. Probably because it effects each person in a different way. It makes me horny, it makes you sleepy, and it makes Natalie argumentative.”
    I would have selected a different word. Mean or cruel would have been much more appropriate.
    “But was she right?”
    Jennifer had sighed loud enough to wake the dead. “What good would it do if I said yes? You’d just find a way to let me down easy.”
    “I haven’t had my final fling yet. There’s still time for me to turn you into a cliché.”
    Another joke. And a bad one at that. Apparently, tequila also makes me insensitive.
    “One night with you wouldn’t be enough for me, Syd. It would just be the beginning.”
    The seriousness of Jennifer’s response—and the apparent sincerity behind it—had taken my breath away. “What am I going to do without you?” I had wanted to put my arms around her and beg her to tell me everything was going to be okay, but with drowsiness setting in, my limbs had felt so heavy I hadn’t been able to force them to move. “Tell me this isn’t