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The sound of a sturdy wood door hitting concrete walls abruptly woke Madeline from her mid-afternoon beauty rest, making her yell in surprise. Helen had burst through the door, out of breath and smiling ear to ear.
“What the hell, Hel?!?!” She slurred out, still in her nap-time stupor.
“I have a date!” Helen squealed as she ran to her closet, rummaging through it, “God, I need something to wear, I need to put on makeup– oh jeez! Makeup! I barely know how to use makeup and all my clothes suck and oh my god, Madeline! I have a fucking date!”
The words were somewhat garbled but Madeline got the gist as she sat up in her bed.
“Okay Hel, breathe,” was all she could muster. Her chest tightened at the thought of Helen going on a date with some guy who probably didn’t get her like Madeline did. Still, she powered through and asked “Who is he?”
“Bobby! O’Brien! That guy from my soc class who I said had pretty, curly hair– remember?” Helen bounced excitedly while still searching for clothes. All Madeline could do was watch, jaw set in something between annoyance and hopelessness. When Helen had thoroughly rampaged through her own closet, she turned back to Madeline– who immediately plastered an excited smile on her face– anxiety clear in her eyes.
“Mad, I’ve never been on a date before,” she confessed.
“Never?” Madeline asked incredulously. She couldn’t possibly believe that Helen Sharp, in all her wonder, had never dated. What man wouldn’t look at her and immediately imagine a night on the town, feasting on spaghetti and talking about nothing but everything at the same time, followed by glasses of wine stolen from her– his parent’s pantry, laying on the couch, watching but not watching a movie because they’re too focused kissing each other and–
“Mad, I don’t know what I’m doing.” Helen was getting antsy. So, Madeline got up from her mountain of blankets and pillows and walked to her Helly. She placed two hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“You absolutely know what you’re doing. You’re going to be you, authentically and sincerely you, Hel, and you’re going to charm that boy like you’ve never charmed a boy in your life.”
“But, I’ve never charmed a boy in my life,” Helen protested.
“Clearly you did something, because he asked you on a date.” Madeline lightly scoffed. Helen only looked at her with unsure, pleading eyes, like she couldn’t believe what Madeline was saying. Madeline sighed and let go of her shoulders before continuing.
“Okay. I’ll help you get ready. When’s the date?”
Helen paused for a brief moment, then smiled at Madeline sheepishly.
“Next Saturday…”
“Oh my God, Helen Sharp, I’m going to kill you.”
Madeline was trying to hide her furious blush. She was sat atop Helen’s desk with Helen slotted between her legs, sitting in her chair, her chin in Madeline’s hands as she did her makeup. It was the best way to get the makeup perfect, they both agreed. Sitting across from each other in the chairs the dorm gave them wouldn't work, but Madeline certainly wasn’t going to stand the whole time. So, here they were, Helen’s chair raised as high as it would go, Madeline leaning over her with a desk lamp pointed at her face, carefully drawing eyeliner sharp enough to stab someone.
Madeline had decided to share her wardrobe and makeup with Helen, after persistent begging and puppy-dog eyes.
“What if he–” Helen started.
“Shush. I’m focused,” Madeline gripped Helen’s chin harder to keep her in place and Helen gulped quietly.
“But,” She whispered, trying not to move, “What if it doesn’t work out, or he hates me, or it’s all some prank?”
Madeline pulled back to let the redhead ramble, afraid to mess up her masterpiece, before scoffing.
“Hel, this isn’t a romance movie, people don’t actually do that.” Helen's eyes went distant for a moment, dark and green like a stormy sea.
“Yes they do,” was all she said. Madeline suppressed the urge to push, but her heart broke nonetheless. Her Helen, children laughing at her, surrounding her like a mob. It made her shudder.
“Helly. Every man on this earth would be lucky to have even one date with you. If Bobby chickens out, that’s his problem. That just means he’s too much of a wuss and is missing out on Helen Sharp. His loss.” Madeline pursed her lips and nodded, like it was a final statement. Helen seemed to get it, so she leaned back into Madeline’s touch and let her continue her work.
“I love you, Madeline,” She whispered simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The words hit her like a freight train. Her lungs threatened to collapse, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t breathing anymore. Tears threatened to bubble up at this sudden, horrible feeling. Helen Sharp loved her but not in any way close to how much Madeline loved Helen.
“I love you too, Helly,” She whispered back, ignoring the way her voice cracked and her heart burned with an ache she was far too used to.
Madeline hadn’t meant to kiss Bobby. In fact, she hadn’t a clue how it ended up like this. Bobby was in that semester's production of Legally Blonde alongside Madeline, who, despite being a second semester freshman, of course got the role of Elle Woods. Bobby had gotten ensemble. He danced fine, was all Madeline could muster for a compliment. The boy was so lack-luster. Average height, brown eyes, black hair that was cut and curled into ‘white-boy haircut preset number three.’ And his personality had Madeline wanting to throw herself down a flight of stairs. He was so beige. And he never spoke about Helen, even after going steady for months now. So unfit for a woman like Helen Sharp.
The spring semester was coming to a close and Madeline was performing one last time. Throughout the show, she kept her eyes on Helen, who had spent far too much money for a college student to be guaranteed the best seats in the house. The redhead was practically vibrating out of her seat anytime Madeline had even one line. She felt on fire under her forest green gaze.
After the bows, Madeline followed the cast off-stage, veering towards the change room while they socialized to down the rest of her water bottle. The cold water slid down her throat, cool and refreshing. She pulled the bottle back breathless, both physically and metaphorically. She barely had time to recognize the gravity of this show. A freshman taking lead, the thunderous applause when she took her bows or finished her songs, the way thousands of eyes watched her every move. It was exhilarating. Madeline needed to feel this all the time.
Then, it was over, and Bobby was knocking and entering the room in one motion.
“Jeez, Bobby, maybe wait for an answer before coming into a changing room.” She rolled her eyes and put emphasis on ‘changing room’, pronouncing it loud and slow, like he was an idiot (he was).
“Sorry, Mad-” She hated when he called her that, “I just knew it was only you in here.”
“And? I still could have been changing.”
“Sorry, sorry. Listen, I just wanted to say you did great out there. Everybody was hype.” There was a nervous anticipation in his nasally voice, like he had more to say. Madeline, however, had nothing to say and chose to wait for him to get on with it. He stepped closer to her until she had to lean her head back a smidge to look at him. Her gut told her to kick him out. Instead, she watched him.
“I’ve just been meaning to tell you that,” he mumbled. “I think you look great out there, Madeline.”
And just like that, he was leaning in and pressing his chapped lips to Madeline’s. She flinched and reached up to push against his chest but he wouldn’t budge, so she moved her head back, away from his, but he just followed her.
“Bobby,” she said against him, “Sto-”
The door to the dressing room had again been knocked and barged into. This time, Helen stood in the doorway, clutching a bouquet like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning. Finally, Bobby was distracted enough for Madeline to shove him off her, albeit with more force than she intended. He slammed against one of the vanity desks that lined the wall and hissed in pain.
Madeline met Helen’s eyes and a hot, suffocating shame curled into her stomach like smoke.
“Helen,” she started but the other woman’s gaze paralyzed her. Her green eyes were dark, shining with an energy Madeline rarely saw from her and her bottom lip was trembling slightly.
“Hel, it’s not– you have–,” she tried again. This time, Helen interrupted her.
“Shut the fuck up.” The bouquet was wilting under Helen’s quiet, fiery anger. The paper that held it crinkled in her clenched fists, her knuckles bone white.
“No, Hel, I’m telling you, he–”
“I fucking HATE you, Madeline Ashton!” Helen screamed suddenly, throwing the fresh bouquet she was previously strangling to the ground. Like a tidal wave, tears overwhelmed her and she threw some can of hairspray at Madeline, missing by a narrow margin. She began babbling different insults, grabbing, and throwing and grabbing and throwing.
Madeline thought she should just run away. But Bobby was already standing there like an idiot, looking between Helen and Madeline like a deer in headlights. The thought of leaving her Helen with this… imbecile was worse than the thought of bearing Helen’s wrath.
So bear it, she did.
She came closer to Helen, slow and calm like she was trying to gain a wounded animal’s trust. This was how Helen needed to be talked down enough to listen to her. Madeline learned this quickly after a few of Helen’s sudden outbursts. The redhead flinched when Madeline finally brushed her fingertips on her shoulder.
“No! No. Go away! Just– Both of you– I hate– why would you–” She sobbed, breathless, trying to turn her body around to leave. Madeline just grabbed her, gentle but firm, and pulled her closer.
“Helly,” Madeline whispered, “Listen. Bobby kissed me. I tried to get him off but he’s too much of a moron to read body language.”
“Hey,” Bobby grumbled. Both Helen and Madeline snapped their heads in his direction and he immediately looked like he wanted to take it back.
“Shut up, you absolute moronic, two-timing, bumbling, desperately-in-need-of-anything-other-than-Axe-Body-Spray, idiot!” Madeline yelled. This seemed to pull Helen back enough through sheer shock. Her breath was still coming in quick puffs but she pulled back from Madeline enough to look her in the eyes.
“He… kissed you?” She asked the way a child would ask a question like their whole world depended on the answer, innocent and heartbroken. Madeline nodded solemnly.
“Yes, Helly.” Helen’s shoulders dropped in resignation. The tears had slowed as she took a shuddering breath. She looked at Bobby, who was still standing there, watching them and looking longingly at the exit, which was blocked by the two women clinging onto each other. Her eyes clouded over, and her voice became distant.
“I don’t ever wanna speak to you again,” Helen said simply. She would have seemed stoic to anyone else, but this close, Madeline could still feel her shaking. She placed a hand on the small of Helen’s back in support. Bobby just sighed, as if this were merely an annoyance rather than moral failure on his part. The pair separated and allowed him to leave the changing room, leaving them in heavy silence.
After a moment, Helen bent over to grab the discarded bouquet.
“I swear I was trying to get him off me, that boy is like a leech, honestly.” Madeline rambled.
“I believe you, Mad. Bobby and I weren’t exactly… passionate about each other. He’s been distant the past few weeks. I don’t know what I was expecting.” Helen said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was completely believable– inevitable, even– that this would happen. It made Madeline’s chest tighten but, before she could press further, Helen continued.
“These are for you. I’m sorry I kind of ruined them. You were spectacular, Maddie.” Helen handed her the bouquet. It was a little disheveled, but still a brilliant array of lisianthus, camellia, and sunflower, with accents of lavender, eucalyptus, and ranunculus. The flowers made a beautiful arrangement of pinks and whites, with splashes of shining yellow and hints of purple.
You’re beautiful, I’m proud of you, I love you, the arrangement said. Madeline didn’t know if Helen was aware of the language of flowers like she was—if this was on purpose or just what one of the many vendors that lined NYC’s streets was selling, but she was touched nonetheless.
Madeline didn’t say anything. She just gingerly took the arrangement from Helen’s arms like it was something holy. Her lips pursed to keep herself from overreacting. She gently touched the soft petals and took in the strong, earthy scent of eucalyptus.
“They’re perfect,” She whispered, reverently. Finally, when she felt like she truly wouldn’t cry, she looked up at Helen. “I love them. Thank you, Hel. Bobby–”
“No.” Helen stopped her. “Forget him. This is your night. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, it’s all Madeline Ashton.” Madeline preened at the attention and twisted a strand of blonde hair on her finger, blushing. An air of electricity zapped through the small space between them, amplified by the calm silence. Helen met her sparkling blue eyes, smiling warmly. It felt like Madeline had so many things to say, but they were all distant hard to reach thoughts on the tip of her tongue.
Then, the moment was over and Helen was looking around the room at the wreckage. Some of the light drained from her eyes and she looked down, blanching in shame. Madeline smiled sympathetically. The pair cleaned up in comfortable silence. Hairspray and brushes were placed back on the desks, loose flyers picked back up and stacked neatly, and a chair that had gotten tipped in the scuffle was righted.
Helen clapped her hands with finality when they finished.
“I’m taking you to dinner. Let’s forget all of this. C’mon, Elle Woods.” She linked her arm with Madeline’s and the two set off.