Now without any reason to be in North Carolina, May did not know what to do with her life. Of course, she and Jeremy had their issues. His racist family hated that he was dating an Asian American, but he loved her and treated her with the respect she deserved. Well, until the breakup. Apparently, he wasn’t racist; he was just biphobic. She was now left in an apartment built for two, the ghost of his voice echoing through the empty rooms.
On Saturday, April 12th, May decided it was time to change her locks; Jeremy was not coming back. She thought about possibly moving back home to California and beginning again, maybe opening up a bakery with her college friend, Katie. She wasn’t sure what to do now, but changing the locks was definitely step one.
Drowning in emotional hell while she reminisced about kitchen dishes she and Jeremy had picked out together, May failed to realize someone had knocked on the door. Dressed in sherpa sweatpants and a purple tank top that was definitely see-through, May forgot about the locksmith. She raced through the house, trying to find her turquoise robe. She eventually found it, sprawled on the bathroom floor.
“Hello?” A muffled voice said from outside.
May ran to the other side of the house for the door, wiping tears from her eyes. Grabbing multiple tissues, she blew her nose in an attempt to get rid of all evidence she was crying. The knock repeated, and May opened the door, hoping it was not obvious that she was upset.
A beautiful woman with curly merlot red hair and pine green eyes stared at her, leaning against the door with a bored expression on her face. She had a giant black tool belt across her camo pants, and a detailed yet intriguing tattoo of a pin-up girl on her upper arm. She was intimidating, but something about her took May’s breath away.
“Pop-A-Lock Locksmith. You May Chung?” she asked, her voice huskier than May imagined. Her fingers, the nails rugged and serrated, played with one of the tools in her belt.
“I, uh,” May stammered. She was overwhelmed; she had not felt such instant attraction towards someone in a very long time. “Yes. Come in.”
May gestured inside and the locksmith walked in, a wave of confidence flooding the gloomy apartment.
“Well, here’s the door,” May said, her face dropping the second she realized the idiocy of her introduction.
The locksmith laughed, and May saw how beautiful she really was. That smile made May forget all about the dishes. “Yes, thank you, I didn’t realize that’s what it was,” she said, a grin on her peach-colored lips.
May chuckled awkwardly before clearing her throat. “I got caught up and forgot you were coming, so I’m going to change my shirt because it’s see-through.”
May covered her mouth in embarrassment, before whipping her robe tightly around herself. The locksmith lowered her eyes to inspect her shirt with intrigue.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” May said, running her hands through her dark hair with a short huff. “I’m sorry, I’m just a mess today.”
“It’s okay, we all have those days.” The locksmith began taking out her tools. “I’ll do my job quickly and then leave you be.”
May exhaled with relief. “Do you want anything? Water? Juice? Vodka? I need vodka.”
The locksmith snorted, this cute little imperfect sound. “You’re funny. No, I’m good.”
May left to change. She decided to wear skinny jeans, the ones that Jeremy said made her ass look incredible, and that sexy white top Mom had bought her for the Costa Rica trip a year ago. May wanted to seem like a normal person, not a total hot mess.
When she returned, the locksmith was very concentrated on her job, removing the interior knob with her screwdriver. Her pants hung low and May could see the hint of lacy red underwear. May felt something in the room she hadn’t felt before; maybe the apartment wasn’t as locked by Jeremy as she thought.
“So, these locks are really old,” the locksmith said, looking up from the door. Her eyes quickly glanced down at May’s new look before continuing. “They’ll be a pain in the neck but should be doable. I’m pretty good at my job,” she said, her wide smile returning to her face. “How many copies of the new key do you want?”
“Probably only need the one,” May said, almost under her breath.
The woman punched some numbers into her calculator. “A divorce?”
“Huh?” May said, her heart beating quicker.
“A divorce. Is that why you’re changing the locks?” she said, focused on inserting the new knob into the door.
“A breakup… how did you know?” May said, interest growing about this red-headed lady in her and Jer—no, in her apartment.
“A place like this and a woman in her late 20s changing her lock?” the locksmith suggested.
“Well, um, yes. The end of a—” May struggled to speak about her relationship, especially in past tense. “A ten-year relationship.”
“Ten years and no proposal? Not someone I’d want to be with,” the locksmith said, shrugging her words off as if breaking up was easy.
May, uncomfortable speaking about her breakup with some stranger, walked over to the couch and wrapped a blanket around herself.
“I didn’t do the breaking up.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks,” the locksmith said dismissively, her mouth curving slightly as she turned back to the lock. “What happened?”
May was taken aback. Her face scrunched up as she attempted to find the right words for what had happened with Jeremy.
“Did I say something?” The locksmith asked, her red eyebrows furrowed.
“I just never expected a locksmith to ask me about my relationship,” May said, smiling. She was appreciating the attention.
“Locksmiths are the new bartenders,” the woman said, laughing at her own joke. “Besides, how many female locksmiths have you met?”
“Not a lot.”
“Exactly. I’m one of a kind,” the locksmith said, winking at May before returning to the door.
“What’s your name?” May asked curiously.
“Ali,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a smile – a cute mannerism.
“Nice to meet you,” May smiled, and sincerely meant it.
“Well, what happened?” Ali turned away from the door and sat down on the floor, looking like one of May’s second-graders ready for storytime.
“I, uh,” May began. Her breakup with Jeremy had been bothering her for a long time. It wasn’t like she could talk to her friends about it; they were all mutual friends with him. “Oh, fuck it, I’ll tell you. He broke up with me because I told him I’m bisexual.”
Ali stood up abruptly.
“He did what?” Her red curls bounced around as she shook her head in disbelief.
May thought about that day, when she realized she was sexually attracted to women just as much as men. How could she have known in her late teens when she started dating him? After a decade, it just made sense she told him on her birthday. It wouldn’t change their relationship but strengthen it. That’s what May told herself before the conversation. He did not take it that way.
“I told him I also like women,” May said, slowly and carefully. Her sexuality was not something she was especially open about. “I was scared of telling him because I didn’t know how he’d react. It’s not like I wanted to leave him for a woman, but I thought it was important he knew,” May said. “It’s a part of who I am.”
“It is important,” Ali repeated, hanging onto May’s every word.
“He and I got into a big fight. He called me some hurtful names and then left. He told me he couldn’t date—” May tripped over her words. “… A dyke.”
Ali’s knuckles were pale as she furiously clenched her screwdriver. The rest of her tools were scattered on the floor, as still as the air in the room.
“I want his new address, so I can go beat him up.”
May laughed, thinking it was a joke. But Ali’s green eyes were full of fury.
“He can’t call you that.”
“Ali, it’s okay,” May said, her voice relaxing a bit. “He came from a racist family. I guess I’m not surprised they’d be homophobic too.”
“That’s shitty. I’m really sorry, May,” Ali said sincerely.
“It’s probably for the best.”
Ali began picking up her tools, putting them back into her tool belt. “Well, my work is actually finished here. The company will send you an invoice.”
“Oh, already? That was quick,” May said, sad to see Ali go.
Ali got up, brushed her hands off, and demonstrated the new door, smiling in admiration at May’s astonished face. Ali gave her a copy of the key and headed to leave, pausing first to turn back to May.
“Listen, I got an invite to this bar that’s opening up tonight. Would you want to come?”
Before her mind could think, May’s lips said yes.
“Great,” Ali said, that contagious smile returning to her face. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”
As May got dressed for the elusive date, she couldn’t help feeling bewildered. She couldn’t figure out whether Ali asked her out as a friend or on a date. Her gay friends called this “the lesbian conundrum” and the name had stuck with her. On one hand, Ali was very passionate about May’s breakup. With the pin-up tattoo, maybe Ali could be a lesbian herself.
But May wasn’t a lesbian. Well, she was interested in women, but she’d never been with a woman. The few drunk kisses in college that her family dismissed as a phase didn’t count. A bisexual perhaps? May didn’t know what to label herself.
If she was going to make it downtown in time, she had to leave now, and it was good to get moving. All these contemplations were making her spiral into worlds unknown. She wanted to know if the plans tonight were a date or just a friendly invitation. The question was – which one did May want it to be?
When she arrived at the bar, she knew exactly where Ali was. Through the boisterous sea of sexy women, Ali stood out. She was in a bodycon dress, the tight sapphire-green fabric showing off Ali’s gorgeous curves. Her red hair was up in a bun, some loose curls sticking out. Perfection within imperfection.
Maybe she did know what she wanted the date to be.
“Hey!” Ali said, almost yelling, making her way over to where May was.
“There’s so many people here,” May said, trying not to get knocked over by the drunk and horny crowd.
“I mean, it’s one of the first lesbian bars in Raleigh. It’s a big deal,” Ali said, reaching out to touch May’s arm.
May felt all the confidence drain out of her, like her drip coffee machine at home. “A lesbian bar?”
“Yes,” Ali smiled, but it dropped when she saw May’s face. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m not a lesbian,” May said, shrugging Ali off. She felt vulnerable and wanted to leave.
“You told me your boyfriend broke up with you because you like girls,” Ali said.
“He did,” May replied, her voice squeakier than she wanted it to be. “But I’m bi, not a lesbian. I think. I don’t know. I just – I can’t do this.” May walked out of the club, into the chilly spring air.
“Woah, woah,” Ali called out, running to stop her. “May, wait a minute.”
May whipped around, feeling overwhelmed. Ali gestured, and they walked away from the chaos of the bar towards the parking lot.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Ali said quietly. “That wasn’t my intention.”
May kept her face towards the ground, not wanting to make eye contact. “I just got out of a huge relationship and I do, uh, I do like you. I got excited about this, but now I just don’t know who I am anymore.” May could feel tears coming. She sat down on the curb and buried her face in her hands.
Ali put her hand on her back. “I’m sorry I had the wrong idea. And I’m sorry I, uh, assumed you were a lesbian. You’re bi and that’s great.”
May felt a tear run down her cheek and was glad she wore waterproof mascara.
“I like you.” Ali looked nervous, something May had not seen on her before. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you to a lesbian bar after your long-term hetero relationship. But when I saw you, looking beautiful in your sweatpants and messy hair, I wanted to know you. How about we go somewhere and get coffee?”
May shook her head, her bobby pins coming undone. “Some dumb chick is crying on the curb of a bar, and you want to go out with her?” May asked, laughing at the whole idea. “I’m a hot mess.”
“And I’m still interested,” Ali said. “Not a lot of women interest me, May.”
May looked up at Ali. Her red hair was the perfect halo around her face. May leaned forward and her lips met Ali’s. The kiss was soft and tender; their lips fit well together. They broke apart naturally and looked at one another for a few seconds.
“Ali, I do like you. I just think I need a moment to think about what I want,” May said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“If you want any help moving on from him, I’m here,” Ali said mischievously, leaning in for another kiss. The little butterfly tingles she hadn’t felt in years circulated through her body. They lingered, their lips together for much longer than before.
“I have your number,” May stood up, and Ali followed. “I’ll call you.”
“You better. I don’t like not knowing.”
May grinned. “I think you know.”
They kissed again, this time more passionately than before. Ali grabbed May’s face and pressed her lips against hers. Their lips parted and they explored each other. Everything felt right.
“I’m gonna go,” May said, once the kiss ended. “But I will call you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Ali said. “If not, maybe I’ll tell the company your locks are malfunctioning, and I’ll come back.” May laughed and waved goodbye.
Sitting in her car outside the lesbian bar, May looked at Ali’s number on her phone. She took a deep breath and smiled, a sincere and happy smile. A smile she hadn’t felt in maybe ten years.
Morgan Kail-Ackerman is a storyteller above all else. With her love for reading, writing, dancing, and theatre, she has always loved telling stories through different mediums. She is passionate about romance and fantasy novels. Morgan has published some poetry and short stories in a few online zines, along with being the Fiction Section Head for her own feminist literary magazine called They Call Us (theycallus.com).