the hyena, or whatever the fuck it was. It clearly wanted to eviscerate her and then roll in her entrails.
She put her head back down in the futile hope that the beast would lose interest if it couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. It only continued to bark at her.
The door opened again.
“Callisto! What is it, girl?”
New, non-animal footsteps approached as the hellhound continued to bark.
“Did you find another possum, girl?”
Bijal recognized the voice as Colleen’s. She revised her previous assessment of her most humiliating moment as the beam from a flashlight came to rest on her as she lay in the ditch.
“Um, hello,” Bijal said, looking up. She silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike her and instantly turn her to a smoldering pile of cinders.
“What the hell?” Colleen asked. “Bijal? Is that you?”
“I’m sorry to say it is.”
“What are you doing in my front yard wallowing in mud?” Colleen scanned the area with the beam of her flashlight. “Ah, it’s all becoming clearer now. Is this your video camera?”
“Yes,” she answered dejectedly.
“I’m…I’m speechless. Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”
“I’d rather just lie here and continue to die a little inside.”
Colleen held her arm out. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Please don’t be nice to me,” Bijal implored. “It only makes this more mortifying.”
“Well, maybe if you’re lucky I’ll kick you in the chest later. Now take my hand.”
*
“Here,” Colleen said, offering a steaming mug of something to Bijal before taking a seat beside her on the sofa.
Bijal sniffed it. “What’s this?”
“Hot tea—to take the chill off.”
Bijal grabbed one side of the terry-cloth robe she was wearing and pulled it tighter around her. She couldn’t recall a time when she felt quite as guilty or out of place as she did at this moment—now that she was naked underneath a borrowed polka-dot robe, sitting in the living room of her boss’s campaign opponent, whom she had been caught spying on while cowering in a mud-filled ditch. If she was ever to stumble across the definition of the word “disgraced,” she was certain that a picture of her, dejected in polka dots, would be right next to it.
“You’re being exceptionally nice,” Bijal said softly.
Colleen showed no hint of a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s requiring a monumental amount of effort.”
“Nope, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Get comfortable. Your clothes are in the washer.”
“Thanks,” Bijal mumbled. As though Colleen’s dog could sense both the tension in the air and the utter sadness in Bijal, she approached her and nudged Bijal’s hand with her head. Bijal complied and scratched the dog between the ears. “You look a little like Lassie,” she told her as she stroked the animal’s ears.
“She should,” Colleen said. “She’s a collie.”
“But she’s not all fluffy like a collie.”
“Callisto’s what they call a smooth-coated collie. She can still rescue a little boy from a well. She just sheds less when she does it.”
Bijal sipped her tea. “She sounds handy. So her name, is that Greek?”
“Uh, yeah. My late girlfriend and I were fans of Xena: Warrior Princess . Callisto was a character on that show.” Colleen looked a little sheepish.
“Really?”
“That’s how we met, actually, on a Xena message board. You know, back in the dark ages before Facebook and Twitter.”
“Wow, I thought lesbians only met in women’s bars, or through their exes.”
Colleen smiled. “Nope, that’s a myth. Don’t underestimate the drawing power of a spirited debate about which character’s development was more critical to the arc of the story—Xena or Gabrielle.”
“And you think it was…?”
“Gabrielle, of course,” Colleen explained calmly, with a wave of her hand. “She evolved from a meek victim to a fierce warrior wielding multiple weapons with fluid
She put her head back down in the futile hope that the beast would lose interest if it couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. It only continued to bark at her.
The door opened again.
“Callisto! What is it, girl?”
New, non-animal footsteps approached as the hellhound continued to bark.
“Did you find another possum, girl?”
Bijal recognized the voice as Colleen’s. She revised her previous assessment of her most humiliating moment as the beam from a flashlight came to rest on her as she lay in the ditch.
“Um, hello,” Bijal said, looking up. She silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike her and instantly turn her to a smoldering pile of cinders.
“What the hell?” Colleen asked. “Bijal? Is that you?”
“I’m sorry to say it is.”
“What are you doing in my front yard wallowing in mud?” Colleen scanned the area with the beam of her flashlight. “Ah, it’s all becoming clearer now. Is this your video camera?”
“Yes,” she answered dejectedly.
“I’m…I’m speechless. Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”
“I’d rather just lie here and continue to die a little inside.”
Colleen held her arm out. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Please don’t be nice to me,” Bijal implored. “It only makes this more mortifying.”
“Well, maybe if you’re lucky I’ll kick you in the chest later. Now take my hand.”
*
“Here,” Colleen said, offering a steaming mug of something to Bijal before taking a seat beside her on the sofa.
Bijal sniffed it. “What’s this?”
“Hot tea—to take the chill off.”
Bijal grabbed one side of the terry-cloth robe she was wearing and pulled it tighter around her. She couldn’t recall a time when she felt quite as guilty or out of place as she did at this moment—now that she was naked underneath a borrowed polka-dot robe, sitting in the living room of her boss’s campaign opponent, whom she had been caught spying on while cowering in a mud-filled ditch. If she was ever to stumble across the definition of the word “disgraced,” she was certain that a picture of her, dejected in polka dots, would be right next to it.
“You’re being exceptionally nice,” Bijal said softly.
Colleen showed no hint of a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s requiring a monumental amount of effort.”
“Nope, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Get comfortable. Your clothes are in the washer.”
“Thanks,” Bijal mumbled. As though Colleen’s dog could sense both the tension in the air and the utter sadness in Bijal, she approached her and nudged Bijal’s hand with her head. Bijal complied and scratched the dog between the ears. “You look a little like Lassie,” she told her as she stroked the animal’s ears.
“She should,” Colleen said. “She’s a collie.”
“But she’s not all fluffy like a collie.”
“Callisto’s what they call a smooth-coated collie. She can still rescue a little boy from a well. She just sheds less when she does it.”
Bijal sipped her tea. “She sounds handy. So her name, is that Greek?”
“Uh, yeah. My late girlfriend and I were fans of Xena: Warrior Princess . Callisto was a character on that show.” Colleen looked a little sheepish.
“Really?”
“That’s how we met, actually, on a Xena message board. You know, back in the dark ages before Facebook and Twitter.”
“Wow, I thought lesbians only met in women’s bars, or through their exes.”
Colleen smiled. “Nope, that’s a myth. Don’t underestimate the drawing power of a spirited debate about which character’s development was more critical to the arc of the story—Xena or Gabrielle.”
“And you think it was…?”
“Gabrielle, of course,” Colleen explained calmly, with a wave of her hand. “She evolved from a meek victim to a fierce warrior wielding multiple weapons with fluid
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