Work Text:
Barbara Howard opens her eyes, and her first thought is how especially weary she is on this Sunday.
Most days she would open her eyes and the first thing that greets her is the mask that she would wear that day. The one she wore for her husband, her daughters, her colleagues, the world. That mask has taken beatings over the years. The incident with Delisha Sloss at the mall left her feeling like her mask barely survived a Category 5 hurricane.
As she prepared to go to church this morning, Barbara applied more masking tape- she was exhausted.
She was so tired of fighting; Barbara had been running from part of herself since she was 12 years old when she had stared a little too long in the gym locker room. She didn’t know why she felt warm when she noticed a classmate’s growing chest, but the subsequent whispering confirmed she DID NOT want to feel that way, ever. Barbara never wanted to be the cause for staring, snickering, or sneers– so, at 12 she created her first conscious mask.
Women were people you were “just friends” with, not people she was supposed to desire. Barbara had learned to compartmentalize.
See an attractive woman. Place her in a box.
Get gooey feelings from a woman’s smile. Place them in a box.
Never get too close.
She had done well for years. She married Gerald the summer after college graduation and began teaching that fall. They quickly had two daughters and Barbara was trucking along as the Christian Wife™. Life was content. If the second-grade teacher she met early in her career made her feel like she was 12 again, she deftly ignored it.
Compartmentalization. Home. Work. Church. Church always seemed the easiest place to wear her mask. To be in a space with like-minded individuals with the same beliefs and understanding on how humans should interact, felt like the safest place to wear a mask. She trusted herself with the women of the church because they were all mask wearers, and none of them wanted to rock the boat lest all the masks shatter.
For 15 years, this personal round-robin worked for Barbara.
What Barbara had not been prepared for was a younger woman who joined the church choir. Nicole. They were in the same section and were seated next to each other. Barbara was cold at first. Nicole was different from the other woman in the church– she seemed freer, laughed harder, and had a constant twinkle in her eye as if she was always sharing an inside joke with Barbara. Nicole was 10 years younger than Barbara, and as they got closer Barbara would tell herself that she was a mentor for the young woman. But as they began to meet for coffee after choir rehearsal, share meals after Sunday service, get together after work, it became clear that this was not a mentor relationship.
Barbara could remember how Nicole’s warm brown eyes would light up when their eyes met. Barbara remembered the way Nicole would lightly touch her arm when she made her laugh. The pleading in Nicole’s eyes to make the first move so she could know she was not unmoored. Barbara remembered being unable to meet those eyes with the reassurance they wanted. The final straw occurred when a late movie, on Barbara’s couch, found them entangled together sleeping. As they both slowly awakened, Barbara remembers feeling whole for the first time. And when she looked into the eyes of the woman holding her, she knew a decision would have to be made.
“Barbara, please,” she thought that she imagined but the pained look in Nicole’s eyes above her told her that she hadn’t.
And with tears in her eyes, Barbara slowly disentangled and stood from the couch shaking her head.
“I can’t.”
Silent tears tracked down both of their faces as Nicole gathered her things and left. Barbara did not see her at church the following Sunday or any other Sunday after that. She did not seek Nicole out and quietly mourned something that never was.
After what she liked to call "The Great Slip of 2002", the mask became ever-fixed. Even in her quiet moments alone, she would wear the mask. So many years focused on being a good wife, a good mother, a good Christian, and a good teacher. Everything else was superfluous. She just had to make it through life by being good at those four things. Some days she felt like she was white-knuckling it, but when she laid her head down at night, if she could check off her list of four goods, she could rest. Even if her dreams were not so peaceful, she could rest.
All those years of control vaporized the moment Ms. Ava Coleman smiled at her.
Ava was everything Barbara was not. Brash, unapologetic, and unafraid to name her desire and ask for it. She wanted to dislike Ava from the moment “go”, but found it impossible. There was something so charming about Ava but Barbara could not let her know that. Her mask firmly in place but her and her damn dreaming eyes.
The day Janine shorted the electricity in the school, Ava had looked particularly spectacular that day. And though she tried her damnedest, and was distracted by Janine and Gregory for most of the day, Barbara’s Ava tracker was on high alert. That jumper was hugging every curve, every smile was extra bright, and Barbara just could not stop watching her.
Once they were all outside, Barbara was able to surveil the black top from behind her sunglasses. She caught sight of Ava and believed that she was discreetly eyeing her. But when she finally had enough of fantasizing about what it would feel like to hold those hips, and looked up to her face, Ava smiled at her with a very knowing smile. And then proceeded to do a full head-to-toe perusal, took off her sunglasses, and gave Barbara the most smoldering look she’d ever received. Barbara did not know it was possible to be aroused that quickly. And once again, 12-year-old Barbara reared up and hit her over the head with her mask.
But Ava was persistent. It was as if Ava knew Barbara was resisting; never leaning too hard, but not going to ignore what was brewing. Barbara could feel Ava’s eyes on her all the time. Always watching. Always ready to come in with a quick quip or unhelpful suggestion to stir things up. But when things would get too hectic and she feels herself losing control, Barbara would look up and those ever watchful eyes would be there, anchoring her.
The first time it happened, it scared her how easily Ava was able to calm Barbara with just one look. She’d found herself, her mask, and her student in front of the school with a lie about his reading ability. Quickly feeling untethered, she looked to the right and caught Ava’s eyes. And for just a moment, Barbara felt like she was in the biggest hug. To know she was so easily read by Ava and would be held oh so gently by her. The mask was laughing at her. And in that moment, she felt the seed that was planted at their first smile start to take root.
When Taylor and Barbara had their disagreement during the Open House, Barbara was comforted by Melissa, who helped, but she was still feeling shaky about her ability to check off “good mother” for the day. When she stopped in the lounge, Barbara looked up and there was DJ A-V-A. They shared a brief look and Barbara felt herself cracking. Before she could stop herself a whimper escaped. At the sound, Ava slowly approached her, eventually standing within arm’s length, and gave her the most reassuring look. Barbara felt like Ava could see into her soul the way she looked at her. She just wanted to let go for a moment, needed some physical comfort that she knew she could not ask for.
Ava read her face perfectly and slowly opened her arms. Barbara reluctantly placed her hands on her waist and tilted her forehead onto Ava’s shoulder. She tried to resist a full body hug, afraid of all her boxes collapsing, but Ava would not have it and pulled her in closer. The Fenty perfume Ava was wearing enveloped her and then Barbara’s mind went blank. Safe was all she felt as Ava’s arms fully embraced her. She put her face in the crook of Ava’s neck, inhaled deeply, and completely let go. In those arms there were no expectations of her, no need for a 4-point checklist.
She could just be Barbara.
Barbara felt fingers running through her hair with long nails scratching gently at her scalp as Ava whispered words of comfort in her ear. Barbara almost purred. Loud cheering from the library brought them back to themselves and she slowly let go of Ava. She looked into Ava’s eyes and knew that she would love this woman for the rest of her life.
Ava reached up to wipe tears that had fallen with her thumb and softly said “I will always be here. No matter what you need, I will ALWAYS be here.”
If it could just be that simple.
After that, Barbara reinforced the mask with Gorilla Glue and then kept her distance. Not just physically, but she also put a wall up emotionally, and Ava noticed. At first, Barbara tried to push through but eventually, Ava just exuded hurt.
Barbara knew she was being unfair. They had begun to build a slow friendship, mostly built on fucking with Janine, but the mask was necessary for Barbara’s salvation and nothing would deter her. Tamika’s mother was supposed to be the perfect way for Barbara to show her piousness and help a young woman who clearly had lost her way. But it ended with her offending almost everyone she knew and had Ava speaking to her like she was a stranger.
Things came to a head last week during the fundraising for the field trip. Even though she and Ava had come to an understanding, Barbara could not get the look Ava gave her at the mall out of her head. Could not shake that she hurt the woman she loved. Could not shake her own hurt from Delisha and the church women’s looks of disdain. As she gathered her keys and opened her door to head to church, she was greeted by Ava Coleman on her front stoop.
Standing there in a beautiful blue dress with a shy smile, Ava looked at Barbara like she always does– like she’s the embodiment of a warm cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day. She can feel her weather worn mask begin to splinter.
“I overheard you tell Melissa that Gerald works 1st shift now and you were concerned about going to church alone this week. I’m not saying I would be the best companion but you don’t deserve whatever those hateful bitches–”
Barbara scoffed and gave Ava a disapproving look through the warmth she couldn’t fight any longer.
Ava rolled her eyes and continued, “Whatever those HATEFUL, NOT CHURCH LIKE, BITCHES, have in store for you today. I’m here offering to be your pew buddy or your brunch buddy.”
Barbara stared at Ava for a long moment. And Ava stood there with her, unwavering. Barbara was so tired of fighting herself. She reached out and lightly touched Ava’s left hip to anchor herself.
“Ava, I–” she starts but finds her voice cracking. She knows that this is her personal fork in the road. Knows that if she tells this woman anything other than “No thank you, go home.” her life will be forever changed.
As Ava pulled her in and placed her forehead on Barbara’s temple, she whispered “You don’t have to figure anything out today. I watch you every day at war with yourself. Others see the saint that you want them to see. And while that beautiful smile does a great job, your eyes have always been your tell. I can’t take watching you hurt yourself anymore. You try to be all things for everybody, I just want to be the soft place you land.”
Barbara closed her eyes and saw her 12-year-old self in her mind’s eye. That little girl yearned for a soft place to land. Deserved a soft place to land after 60+ years. Knowing that if there is anywhere she can figure out how to live without a mask, it will be in the softest place she could land.
She opened her eyes, shining with unshed tears, turned her head, and softly kissed Ava's cheek.
“Let’s get breakfast.”