Beautiful Accidents Read online

  “That’s better. How are you? I normally hear from you by now.”

  “I know. It was a long night. Lots of people clamoring to see the love psychic,” she explained. She smiled when she heard Sarah laugh. Sarah Fields was, for all intents and purposes, Bernadette’s girlfriend. Their relationship had escalated from acquaintances to casual booty calls to friends to more than friends to…well, whatever they were now. Girlfriends seemed the only way to label it, even though Bernadette hated the idea of labels and hated even more the idea of being tied down to anyone with a term like girlfriend. But it was what happened while they were living their lives, together, separately, then back together.

  “Those articles are helping, then?”

  “They are.”

  “Good. I’m glad I was able to get you those interviews.”

  She sighed. “You got us the Sun Times. The other was me. Don’t take all the credit.”

  “Oh, I remember. Didn’t you sleep with that girl?”

  Bernadette gasped, then in a hushed voice said, “How dare you suggest that’s the only reason I got the interview.”

  “You did, though, right?”

  She smiled as she folded a napkin in half, then into fourths. “Whatever, I guess. She was all woman, though. And it’s not like I didn’t have a great story for her.”

  “Oh, sure. A straight, deaf, hot lady psychic with a beautiful lesbian interpreter.” Sarah stopped talking and then added, “I guess that really is a great story.”

  “Damn right, it is,” she said with a low laugh. She leaned forward, crossed her arms, and propped her chin on her forearm. “When are you staying the night again?”

  “Is sex all you want me for?”

  Yes. “No, of course not,” she lied and rolled her eyes. “But it doesn’t hurt that we’re pretty good at it.” Another lie. They weren’t that great at it. The only orgasms Bernadette experienced had been given to her by her vibrator or her own fingers. But the human contact was nice, even if it wasn’t everything she wanted. And Sarah was cute, and she had this interesting charm that made Bernadette smile.

  It felt good to smile.

  Smiles had been few and far between for the most part since her dad died. So Sarah was a keeper. For now, at least.

  “I’ll come over now if you want me to,” Sarah said. Her voice was low, sexy, and it made Bernadette’s mind flash back to Stevie’s reading about change and love and taking chances.

  “I’d love for you to, but…” She glanced over her shoulder down the hallway to where she could barely see Paul sleeping on the couch. “My brother is here, and I need to not be loud.”

  “And we both know how loud you can be.”

  “The benefit of having a deaf mom, I guess,” Bernadette said softly into the phone. The guilt that surfaced was suffocating. She knew it was an awful thing to say.

  “If your brother is there, can’t you come here?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I…I can’t.” Instead of support for the situation, she was met with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know it’s difficult and maybe slightly awkward for you to always have to come here. But you know my situation. I can’t gallivant all over the city and leave her.”

  “Okay.” Sarah’s response was so succinct and final, a period at the end of her lack of desire to protest.

  “I wish you could understand.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Bern. Okay?” Sarah’s voice was laced with sadness, and Bernadette knew she needed to let it be. Pushing Sarah to understand was never a good thing. It was never a good thing with anyone, but for some reason, Sarah did not take it well at all.

  “Okay. Have a good night.” Bernadette didn’t wait for Sarah’s response. She set her phone down. Every girl who’d come into her life in the past two years struggled with sharing Bernadette’s time. It was hard to explain to these people that it didn’t matter if her mother could do everything herself; it didn’t matter if she could still cook and clean the house. It was a promise Bernadette had made. She couldn’t break it. And she also knew the right person wouldn’t question it.

  But the hope of finding the right person was starting to fade.

  Chapter Five

  Stevie had a feeling getting her tarot cards read was only going to lead to her friends not ever letting her live it down. And she was right. Every performance for the next couple of weeks started with her getting some sort of handmade card with the words Change is Coming or Love is Right Around the Corner taped to the mirror in front of her chair. She was irritated because not a single one of them believed how much the fucking reading shook her to the core. She hadn’t stopped thinking about it. She’d started journaling about it. She even had dreams about it.

  But the worst part?

  She couldn’t stop thinking about the fucking interpreter, Bernadette.

  Stevie even went so far as to persuade the entire group to hang out near Hubbard Street on multiple occasions. She would make it seem as if she wanted to go to the cool dueling-piano bar or grab a drink at one of the club-type bars because she wanted a fun night out. But in reality, all she wanted was to accidentally-on-purpose run into the beautiful Bernadette. Every time she thought she caught a glimpse of Bernadette, she would do a double take, and she’d be gone. It was infuriating.

  She finally admitted to herself that she was borderline obsessed. Not only with trying to catch a glimpse of Bernadette, but also with the reading. She started researching tarot cards and psychic energies. She read three or four books about tarot cards. She started learning about the cards and what each of them meant. Was any of it that accurate? Or was it Stevie allowing someone else to control her thoughts and emotions? Should she put any stock in the reading at all? Was she obsessing about the reading because, deep down, she was so taken by Bernadette? She knew that was part of it, but it was impossible to know the answers to any of her questions without seeing Bernadette again.

  It was not often she was so affected by another human being. There were only a few women who’d waltzed into her life who’d caught her attention. A few made her insides feel funny, and she’d be infatuated for a couple months, but none of the relationships ever blossomed into anything substantial. In fact, most of the women left her life in almost the same fashion they entered, without a lot of flair or drama. They sort of faded into the background.

  It was kind of sad because Stevie knew she had a lot to offer someone. She was funny and witty. And pretty easy on the eyes. She knew she was one of the hottest improv actors in the city. Eventually, she was going to make it out of Chicago, on to something bigger and better. Her dream was to get to Saturday Night Live. She was on her way, too. Two auditions down. The only thing left was hearing back from the casting director. Time was running out, it seemed, but she kept the hope alive. She was going to make it if it killed her.

  A relationship would only distract her from her passion of one day being at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, possibly shaking hands with Lorne Michaels, sitting next to the greats like Tina Fey or Kristen Wiig, laughing along with comedy writing geniuses like Paula Pell or Katie Rich. Her goals were bigger than anything. And she knew obsessing over a stupid tarot card reading was getting her nowhere and nowhere fast. Her performances in the last three shows had been complete flops. She couldn’t hit her cues, she fell flat in the audience-involved song, and she completely missed a perfect opportunity to drop a one-liner that would have killed. Her mind was not in a good spot comedically, and she knew it. Hearing Bernadette’s voice in her ear saying Bigger and better things are on the horizon was distracting her when it should have been encouraging her. Seeing Bernadette’s hand on her leg was confusing her instead of fueling her.

  It was infuriating.

  “Goddammit,” she whispered as she peered at herself in the mirror of the bathroom at the Chicago Theatre. In an effort to get her mind off the reading, off Bernadette, she agreed to attend a charity event with Laurie and Ashley for the Chicago Foundation for the Arts. She was dressed to the nines, str
apped into a short, skintight black dress with more Lycra than should be legal. And her feet were killing her in the three-inch black heels she was wearing. They were there to represent the improv theater, and the exposure was always good for the show and her career, so she needed to look her best. Ashley agreed to come, which was crazy, and up until Ashley started quizzing her about the stupid fucking reading, she was having a good time.

  Just like that, Stevie was back to obsessing.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, Laurie and Ashley raised a glass at her from the bar across the lobby. The place was packed, but they’d somehow managed to get to the front of the alcohol line. A glass of white wine was thrust in her direction when she approached. “I love you both so much,” Stevie said before she took a generous gulp.

  “Jesus Christ. Stevie, take it easy. This is a work function, after all,” Ashley reminded her with a low voice. She looked back at the bartender and raised a finger. “Yeah, this lush will take another glass at your earliest convenience.” The bartender nodded, and then Ashley turned back to Stevie. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen the ghost of your career or something.”

  “I needed to calm down.”

  “You started acting like an asshole the minute Ashley brought up the stupid reading.” Laurie laughed as she pointed at Ashley. “I guess I should have warned you about that, Ash. She’s uber sensitive about it. Like, for no apparent reason. Especially for someone who didn’t even want to get the damn thing.”

  “Y’know…” Stevie paused, downed the rest of her glass of wine, and was instantly met with a new glass from the bartender, as well as disapproving glares from her friends. She waved her thanks and then looked at Laurie, then Ashley, then back at Laurie. “Is it not possible I could have been moved by everything the psychic said? You both act like I’m always this stone-cold bitch who doesn’t have feelings.”

  “You’re not?” Laurie and Ashley asked in unison.

  “Fuck you both.” Stevie rolled her eyes as all the lights in the lobby dimmed twice, signaling that the show was going to start soon. “We need to get to our seats. I hate you both. I hope you both trip on your dresses.” They all three laughed as they made their way through the crowd and finally found their seats in the third row. They were close to the stage since their tickets were by invitation only. One of the perks of sort of being a celebrity. Stevie sat between Laurie and Ashley, her left leg crossed over her right. She leaned into Laurie and whispered, “Who are we seeing again? I forgot to look.”

  “Stevie,” Laurie said under her breath. “You’re kidding me, right?” Stevie stared blankly at Laurie, who rolled her eyes and put her hand to her forehead. “I can’t even believe you.”

  Ashley leaned forward and over toward Stevie. “It’s Sarah McLachlan, you idiot.”

  Stevie blinked twice. “You’re kidding me.”

  Laurie shook her head. “No, we aren’t kidding you. Do you always just float through life like a feather in the breeze?”

  “More like a used plastic bag,” Ashley said with a stifled laugh.

  “I mean, right?” Laurie leaned back in her seat and looked back at Stevie. “A bunch of high schoolers auditioned for the choir and orchestra that’s playing for her. I’m slightly disappointed in you for not even understanding why we’re here. You’re normally a lot more in tune than this.”

  Stevie straightened up. “I’m sorry, guys. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “It’s Sarah McLachlan, for fuck’s sake,” Laurie whispered. The last part of her sentence was hissed into Stevie’s ear. “It’s not like we’re seeing Joe Schmo and the Schmoes.”

  “I heard they’re super good.” Ashley’s response was so deadpan. She leaned back in her seat, crossed her left leg over her right, and nudged Stevie with the toe of her teal-colored heel. “Maybe you’ll pay attention the next time we say it’s a big fucking deal.”

  “Shut up. It’s getting ready to start.” Stevie looked up at the stage. The curtains slowly pulled open, the crowd started to applaud, and Sarah McLachlan appeared from stage left. “You weren’t joking.”

  “No shit,” Ashley whispered.

  “Good evening, Chicago!” Sarah said into the microphone after she sat down at the grand piano.

  Even though Stevie was smiling on the outside, she was so angry at herself on the inside. She loved Sarah McLachlan. The singer was one of her very favorite artists. Her very first concert experience was going to see Sarah at Lilith Fair. Stevie was nine years old, and her older cousin, Samantha, took her against Gram’s wishes. It ended up being one of the best times of her young life. It was sickening that she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts about an inconsequential psychic reading, which probably meant absolutely nothing, that she didn’t even know who the main act at the concert was. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself get so deep into her own thoughts. What else had she missed?

  Sarah introduced the high school student orchestra first before highlighting some of the more prominent things the foundation was part of, including a few other concerts and stage productions. “And tonight, our ASL interpretation will come from none other than Chicago’s very own Bernadette Thompson. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”

  Stevie’s mouth fell open, and she felt the world come to a screeching halt. That was her Bernadette. Standing up there. On stage. With Sarah McLachlan. In front of a sold-out crowd. A sold-out crowd that was in full standing ovation mode, except for Stevie, who was still sitting with her mouth hanging wide open.

  “Stand up,” Laurie said as she grabbed Stevie’s arm and pulled.

  She quickly shut her mouth, stood, and slowly started to clap. She couldn’t take her eyes off Bernadette. She looked incredible. Was it cliché to say that she was breathtaking? She was wearing a beautiful deep purple dress that was fitted across her chest but flowed beautifully to the ground. There was a sheer piece of purple material over the skirt portion of the dress, and it had sparkles all over it. She looked like a princess standing up there, her hair pulled back. Her makeup was simple, but it highlighted her eyes. And her lips were a light pink, unlike the bright red they had been the first night she saw her. Bernadette was the embodiment of perfection standing there, and Stevie could barely breathe or form a coherent thought.

  “What has gotten into you?” Laurie asked, her voice a hushed hiss when she leaned into Stevie’s space as the applause died down. They sat down, and Sarah started to sing the first few lines from “Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.”

  “That’s her.” Stevie couldn’t stop staring. “That’s her.”

  “Who?”

  “Bernadette.”

  “Who the fuck is Bernadette?” Ashley leaned into Stevie.

  “The interpreter from the reading.”

  Laurie’s soft, “Oh,” was followed with an even louder, “Oh…” from Ashley.

  “Yeah,” Stevie whispered. “Holy shit.” And she found herself not listening to a word that her favorite artist was singing or a note the incredibly talented high school orchestra was playing. She was immersed in Bernadette, her facial expressions, her body movements, how she was so into every single word she signed. Watching Bernadette was erotic in a way Stevie wasn’t prepared for, and it emotionally moved her in a way she never imagined.

  What was happening to her? Was she falling for a woman she barely knew? How was that even possible?

  It was crazy, was what it was. Pure fucking craziness.

  But Stevie was lost in every single second of it.

  * * *

  Standing onstage with a blazing hot spotlight shining on her for two hours was not exactly Bernadette’s idea of a good time. By the time the concert ended, she was ready to rip her dress off and take a cold shower. But she couldn’t leave yet. Now was the time for her next gig: hobnobbing in the lobby with very important, very wealthy people who would hopefully donate to the foundation. She was much better with her hands than her mouth when it came to communicating, but the second she got involved
with the foundation as a volunteer, she knew it was going to require summoning her inner extrovert from time to time.

  And this was one of those times.

  She smiled as she shook hands and doled out Thank you for coming and You have no idea how much this means for the children. She was orally accosted, in a friendly yet creepy way, by a wealthy older white man wearing glasses the size of a Cadillac with hair growing out of his ears, for a few minutes, and it made her uncomfortable, but when he handed her a check made out to the foundation for five thousand dollars, she felt a little better about the exchange. Bernadette knew she was a beautiful woman, but dammit, fighting off the advances of creepy men was tiring. She hated not being able to start the entire conversation off with, “I’m a lesbian.” She wished Connie would have been able to attend, because Connie’s unapproachableness was a welcome respite during these events. But it wasn’t always easy or possible to get Connie to leave the house or her family on their nights off from the shop.

  After another hour of shaking hands and kissing cheeks, she noticed there was a lull in the crowd. Perfect opportunity to grab a glass of wine, so she scanned the area and looked for the nearest bar. “Ah, there we go,” she whispered and took off toward the front of the lobby. She breezed past the line and made eyes with the bartender who served her before the event started. He had a glass of sauvignon blanc poured and in her hand before the next guest even realized she cut in front of him. “Thank you so much,” she mouthed, and he winked at her. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn’t. Life would have been so much easier if she was attracted to men. She probably would be married with two-point-five kids, living in the suburbs with a white picket fence, driving a minivan back and forth to soccer practice. That was so not the life she wanted, though.

  Did she even know what she wanted anymore?

  Bernadette turned to head back to her designated hand shaking spot, when all of a sudden, she caught sight of a woman with blond hair standing across the lobby. Her movements were familiar. Too familiar. She narrowed her eyes and observed from her vantage point. Where had she seen the one woman before? Maybe a reading. Yes, that had to be it—and as those words passed through her mind, the blonde turned around, and Bernadette almost choked on the sip of wine she had taken.