Supercorp
Word count: 2664
Kara lets out a low whistle as she crosses the threshold of Lena’s apartment. “This place is…wow.” Her eyes sweep across the space before settling on the floor to ceiling windows. “It’s like five times the size of my studio.”
Kara admires the city. Lena admires her. It’s strange having her here. Having her in Boston. In her head, Kara lives against a permanent backdrop of National City. Maybe Lena’s imaging it, but the sunlight hits her differently here, like someone adjusted the saturation on a photo. It’s still her Kara, but also different.
Lena’s not entirely sure why Kara’s here. All she said was that she was going to be in town and wanted to see her. Lena was not inclined to pry that particular crate open in fear of what she’d find inside. Instead, she graciously offered Kara her spare bedroom and didn’t ask questions about what Kara was doing in Boston prior to her appearing at Lena’s doorstep.
“I get why you don’t want to leave,” Kara muses but all Lena can think of is how the view at her windows never looked better than this exact moment with Kara obstructing it.
“Come on,” Lena says, deciding she can’t stomach the sight anymore. “I’ll show you your room.”
The room is just down the hall from Lena’s, which feels far too close and not close enough. It’s really hitting her now just what she’s agreed to. That Kara’s going to be in her space for the weekend and that’s not something she’s experienced in a long time. Suddenly her apartment doesn’t seem as large as Kara’s made it out to be. Lena stands in the doorway, watches Kara drop her duffle bag on the bed. A bed that Lena meticulously made up, positioning the pillows just so, and washing the sheets that morning so they’d smell fresh when Kara tucks into them later that night.
“So what’s the plan?” Kara asks, eyes sparkling. As if they’ve ever had a plan. As if they haven’t been freefalling through life for all the years they’ve known each other. It’s getting to the point where the ground is coming up quick and Lena can’t find the parachute cord.
Lena leans a shoulder against the door frame, arms folded over her chest. “Depends what you’re in the mood for.”
“You know me.” Kara wags her eyebrows. “I’m up for anything.”
Anything. The word sinks in Lena’s stomach like a hot piece of lead. Lena shakes it off. Clears her throat. “There’s a really good Ramen place around the corner. We might have to wait a bit for a table but it’s worth it.”
Kara smiles that smile that’s always felt like it was just for her. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m seeing someone,” Kara blurts out as Lena’s blowing on a clump of noodles.
Lena freezes, chopsticks suspended over her bowl. “Oh.”
Kara nibbles on her bottom lip. “Yeah, Alex and Kelly set me up with someone from Alex’s work.”
Lena stares down at her bowl, mourning her appetite that’s vanished. “That’s—that’s nice.” She pokes at the noodles with her chopsticks. “A doctor?”
“RN.” Kara slurps down a mouthful of noodles. It almost feels like a betrayal that the admission doesn’t make Kara queasy. “Her name's Nicole.”
Lena feels something climbing up her throat. Acid reflux. A scream. It’s not like they both haven’t had relationships before. But they’ve never sat down and conversed about it over a shared meal. There’s always been the buffer of time and distance between them for that. The most Lena’s had to confront over the years is the occasional picture on social media. But Kara, for some incredulous reason, has chosen this exact moment to break years of precedent. “And you’re…are you happy?”
Kara’s brow furrows like it’s a question that requires careful consideration. Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. Her stomach tightens.
“Yeah,” Kara answers hesitantly, “I mean it’s early on, but, yeah.”
Lena forces herself to take another bite, if only to have an excuse not to respond. She chews slowly. Swallows down her pride. Forces a smile. “Then I’m happy for you.”
Is it still a lie if she wants to mean it?
They go to brunch with Jack and Sam, which in hindsight was a terrible idea. One, because it’s one of those places that does bottomless mimosas. Two, because it’s Jack and Sam. And they’re adamant on flipping through the rolodex of Lena’s most embarrassing memories from their gradschool days.
“Do you remember the time you got so pissed at the bar and took your shirt off?” Jack is telling stories in a way that Lena finds endearing when it’s not at her expense. With charisma and exaggerated flourish and a champagne glass in hand.
“Shirt and bra,” Sam adds, unhelpfully.
Jack laughs. “And what’d she say when you tried to get her to put it back on?”
“If men don’t have to wear shirts, then I don’t have to wear shirts!” Sam exclaims, in a decidedly terrible impression of drunk Lena.
“A feminist icon,” Jack drawls, raising his glass to Lena. “Really breaking down barriers for women everywhere.”
Kara is delighted by the story, hanging on to every word. “What’d you end up doing?”
“I snagged a fleece vest off of a finance bro and wrestled her into it because it was snowing outside and we still had to walk home,” Sam explains.
“Hoes don’t get cold,” Jack mutters into his glass.
“Right,” Lena finally interjects, cheeks flushed. “As much as I’m loving this trip down memory lane, I’d like to remind you that I have blackmail worthy stories on both of you.”
“I like them,” Kara says on the walk back home. Both of them are a little tipsy and their shoulders keep bumping since neither of them can keep in a straight line. “I like that you have people who care about you here.”
Lena likes it too. Sam and Jack were the only thing that got her through that first year of grad school. They filled in the empty spaces of her life so perfectly. But it’s also difficult. Having people in two places that you love is like a never ending game of tug-a-war on your heart.
Back in Lena’s condo, it’s just them and the daunting stretch of an empty afternoon. If Lena were sober, or smart, she would’ve suggested they go literally anywhere else. Somewhere where the rest of the world couldn’t fall away like it always did with them. Alone in her space with Kara—who has a girlfriend, she keeps reminding herself—feels like Lena’s very own gauntlet of fire. Because Lena is a little drunk. They both are. It’s hard to moderate when the waitress keeps topping off your glass before you’ve had a chance to finish it. Impossible to know their actual levels of consumption. It’s enough for Lena’s skin to be humming. Her head caught in a pleasantly floaty space. Limbs loose and deliciously heavy. Then there’s Kara beside her, drawing her into her orbit like the sun. Nothing but blinding heat.
“I’ll make us some tea,” Lena blurts. It’s a good excuse to disappear for a bit. To put some space between them. She goes through the motions, filling the kettle, pulling two mugs from the cabinet, loads two infusers with some loose leaf jasmine, and squeezes a generous dollop of honey into Kara’s mug because she knows she likes it sweet.
Back in the living room, Kara’s settled deep into the sofa, lazily scrolling through whatever streaming service she’s stumbled her way into. Lena places the steaming mugs on the coffee table. Internally she’s smacking herself on the forehead for prepping a hot drink that she has to wait to cool before she can busy her mouth with it. A foolish oversight on her part. Now she has to sit here in a thick blanket of silence that itches against her skin.
“Watch anything good recently?” Kara asks.
Lena rolls her head to the side. Kara’s still scrolling, eyelids so heavy that her long lashes nearly kiss her cheeks. Her lips are full, a little dry from the cold weather. Kara must feel her gaze, because she turns and she’s closer than Lena initially registered. A severe miscalculation. Her depth perception impaired by her intoxication. At least that’s what she tells herself. Their eyes catch, two magnets finding each other. Lena’s swimming in a sea of blue, or maybe the room is just starting to spin. She feels flushed all over. When Kara licks her lips, Lena’s eyes trace the motion. There are two halves to Lena’s brain—the rational half and the caveman half— and they’re having an all out cage fight. Unfortunately for the former, it’s getting absolutely pommeled to a pulp, and Lena is a biased referee. Lena doesn’t stop. Just keeps leaning into Kara’s space and over that line they drew in the sand without every really talking about it and—
Kara’s phone rings. It makes them both jump. Kara cycles through phases of confusion, clarity, then hesitation as she stares down at the caller ID. For a moment Lena thinks she’s going to send it to voicemail. That, maybe, just this once when they reach that fork in the road, they’ll go left instead of right. Then at the last minute she answers.
Lena’s brain takes an emotional cold plunge and resurfaces painfully alert and sober.
“Yeah, I just got back to my room. Yeah, of course I’ve got time.” Kara throws Lena an apologetic look and then stands, if a little unsteady, to scurry off to the guest bedroom. “How was your shift?”
Lena tries to keep herself busy but there’s only so much to distract herself with. She tidies up around the apartment, starts a load of laundry, lights a candle to mask the smell of her shame and desperation. When she runs out of practical things to do she drifts back into the living room, eyes immediately zeroing in on the two full mugs of tea gone cold. Something thick tries to claw its way free from her throat as she pours them into the sink, watching the liquid slowly disappear down the drain.
When Kara finally emerges two hours later, she’s changed into a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt. She looks soft and sleepy. Her hair is a little mussed and there are pink lines pressed into her cheeks. Must’ve taken a power nap after wrapping up her phone call. She smiles at Lena, slow and sheepish. “Figured we’d stay in tonight.”
Lena swallows thickly. “Sure. I can make us something?”
Kara smiles. “Only if I can help.”
“Says the woman who can barely boil a pot of water,” Lena teases.
“Hey! That was college, okay? A lot has changed since then.” Kara means it lightheartedly, but it claps like thunder between Lena’s ears.
They work side by side. Lena does the actual cooking while delegating simpler tasks like detailing the shrimp and chopping the mushrooms to Kara. She stirs the orzo, happy to keep her hands busy and letting the heat of the stove distract her from the what ifs rolling around in her brain like loose marbles.
They have dinner at the dining table, which Lena can count on one hand how many times she’s used since moving in. She normally takes her dinner on the sofa but it seemed like a responsible choice to have a table between them. That is until they’re seated at said table with their nicely plated meal, color draining from the sky casting a soft glow in the apartment, and the candle she lit earlier flickering beside them. Lena can’t help but think the universe has pulled a fast one on her.
Kara moans loudly when her lips wrapped around her first bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Lena allows herself to be flattered by the complement. Even if she only half believes it, not because she questions Kara’s sincerity, but because the woman eats so much food she doubts she remembers half of it. “Thank you,” Lena mumbles anyway.
They both leave their glass of wine untouched still coming down from day drinking, or maybe for some other quieter reason neither of them will say. “Your flight’s at ten AM?”
Kara nods, swallowing down another bite.
“The flight back is always longer,” Lena says for the sake of saying something. “Tell Alex hi for me when she picks you up?”
Kara wipes at her mouth with the side of her hand. “Oh, Nicole is actually picking me up.”
Ah, right. Nicole. The thorn on the rose Lena keeps pricking her finger on. But that’s not really fair is it? Lena’s not sure what’s fair between them. Lena would have to know what game they’ve been playing at all this time in order to know what the rules are.
“But we’re having dinner with Alex and Kelly tomorrow night, so I’ll pass the message along.”
Lena wonders if Kara knows her words are a knife the way she says it so carefully like it makes a difference how gently they slip through Lena’s ribs before piercing her heart.
After dinner they wind up on the dreaded couch again, both seemingly reluctant to be trapped by it once more. Lena puts on some sitcom that she knows they won’t pay attention to and, after they politely endure one or two episodes, they can part ways into their separate bedrooms.
“This was fun,” Kara comments offhandedly.
Lena wants to laugh. Disney World is fun, a trip to Cape Cod is fun, but this—this weekend with Kara—has felt like an act of cruelty. Lena can’t remember why she agreed to it before. Why she thought she’d come out of it unscathed. Why she’s put her hands on a burning hot stove and now has the nerve to be shocked when they come away burned.
“It was good seeing you here. Seeing your life here.” Kara drifts for a moment, eyes going somewhere far away. Lena wonders what Kara’s seeing. If she’s trying to fit herself into the shape Lena’s life has twisted into. What it would look like if she were a main character in it and not a one-off guest appearance. Lena’s imagined it more than she’d care to admit. Kara blinks. Her gaze focuses on Lena again. “I’m turning in for the night. I’ve got a bit of a headache and I still need to finish packing.”
“Of course.” Lena can’t deny that she feels a little relieved they’re time is coming to a close.
Later in her bedroom she hears Kara puttering around in the guest bedroom. The door opens. The hall light flickers on. The pitter patter of barefeet down the hall. The sink in the bathroom starts running, an electric toothbrush hums. Then it’s deadly quiet again. Those footsteps carefully make their way back down the hall as if not to be heard. But instead of stopping where they should, they get closer, until they’re slicing shadows through the light spilling under Lena’s door. Her heart thunders in her chest. Her hands fist against her comforter. The silence becomes a blaring siren. The walls vibrating. Lena has a ridiculous urge to hide underneath her bed. But then the footsteps get further away again. The hall light flicks off. The guest bedroom door closes with a sense of finality. Lena’s not sure how long she stares up at her ceiling before falling asleep.
When Lena wakes in the morning, Kara’s already gone. She leaves a handwritten note on the coffee table explaining that she wanted to get to the airport early and didn’t want to disturb Lena. Lena looks around her empty apartment, which suddenly feels haunted, with the spirits of almost wandering up and down the hall. That night, when Lena lies down in her bed, she swears she hears footsteps outside her door.
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