Chapter 16: Judgement and Jealousy
The diner was a cacophony of clattering plates and overlapping conversations, a stark contrast to the sacred quiet of Jade’s studio. Clara slid into the worn vinyl booth, the scent of frying bacon and old coffee wrapping around her like a familiar blanket. Jade sat beside her, their thighs pressing together, a point of contact that felt both thrilling and grounding.
Crystal was already there, perched in the opposite seat like a sparrow, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She took a slow sip of her iced tea, the ice cubes clinking, her gaze flicking from Clara’s flushed cheeks to the way Jade’s arm rested possessively along the back of the booth.
“So,” Crystal said, setting her glass down with a precise click. “This is the famous artist you’ve been ghosting me for.”
“I haven’t been ghosting you,” Clara protested, but she was smiling, unable to help it. “Crystal, this is Jade. Jade, Crystal.”
Jade offered a small, polite smile. “Hey.”
“A pleasure,” Crystal said, her voice a purr. “Clara’s been very secretive. All I got was ‘distracted’. I had to imagine the worst.”
A waitress arrived, saving Clara from a reply. They ordered—a club sandwich for Crystal, a burger for Clara, a salad for Jade—and a bottle of house red. The moment the waitress left, Crystal leaned forward, her elbows on the table.
“So,” she began again, swirling the straw in her drink. “Tell me again how you two met?”
Clara felt Jade’s body go still beside her. Then, a warmth spread through her as Jade’s hand settled on her thigh under the table, the weight of it firm and reassuring through the denim of her jeans.
“At a gallery opening last month,” Clara said, the rehearsed line coming out easily. “The one for that new surrealist painter.”
“Mmm,” Crystal hummed, unconvinced. Her eyes dropped to the table, then back up, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “And you just… hit it off?”
“Something like that,” Jade said, her voice low and even. Her thumb began to trace slow, absent circles on Clara’s leg, a secret conversation beneath the Formica.
The wine arrived. Crystal took a generous gulp, her eyes never leaving them. “It’s just, you both have a certain… glow. And Clara, you’re sitting differently. Like you finally got the kink out of your neck you’ve been complaining about for years. You know... a kink called 'David'”
Clara nearly choked on her sip of wine.
The food came. For a few minutes, the conversation lulled into the mundane mechanics of eating. Crystal talked about a guy she was seeing, a musician who was predictably unreliable. Clara listened, nodding in the right places, but her entire awareness was focused on the hand on her thigh, the solid presence of Jade beside her. She felt seen, but for the first time, it wasn’t a terrifying exposure. It was a claiming.
Crystal wasn’t finished. She pushed her plate away, half-eaten, and fixed them with a more serious look. “Okay, real talk. I’m happy for you. You look good together.” She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “But you know how you get, Clara. You overthink everything. Especially… you know. The logistics.”
Clara’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. The noise of the diner seemed to recede, replaced by a roaring in her ears. She felt Jade’s hand stop its motion.
“Crystal,” Clara warned, her voice tight.
“What? I’m just being a friend. You’ve had your… challenges. I just want to make sure you’re not setting yourself up for another disappointment.” She turned her attention to Jade, her expression one of faux-innocent curiosity. “You seem lovely, Jade. I hope you’re… compatible.” Crystal said, with a seemingly incredulous wink.
The word hung in the air, toxic and clumsy.
Jade slowly withdrew her hand from Clara’s leg. The loss of contact felt like a sudden chill. She placed her napkin neatly on the table beside her plate.
"Excuse me," she said, her tone flat and distant as she stood, the movement sharp and final. She walked away towards the restrooms, her dark hair swaying like a curtain drawn between them.
The vinyl booth creaked in her absence, leaving a void filled by the diner’s relentless hum of chatter and sizzling grease. Clara watched her go, the warmth from Jade’s touch on her thigh fading into a cold, anxious knot.
Crystal blinked, her eyebrows knitting together in genuine confusion. “Okay, what was that about? I was just making conversation.”
“You know exactly what that was about,” Clara hissed, leaning forward so her voice wouldn’t carry. “Your ‘compatible’ comment was incredibly rude.”
Crystal sighed, swirling the dregs of her wine. “Look, I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I was just trying to make a light comment... obviously, Jade is trans."
Clara’s stomach dropped, her mind flashing back to the art studio, to the slow, unfolding realization that had felt like a discovery, not a disclosure. “How could you know that?” she whispered, her voice tight with surprise. “I didn’t even know at first.”
“It’s in the subtle things—the hands, the way she carries herself,” Crystal said with a casual shrug, as if diagnosing a common cold. "And, you know... the bulge in her pants," ending her comment as if it was the most obvious trait, making Clara feel a little oblivious for not noticing it sooner.
“And honestly, I hope for your sake she’s packing. You need someone who can actually do something for you.”
Clara felt a hot flush spread across her chest, her own insecurities about her body colliding with a fierce, protective urge. She remembered the shocking, perfect fit in Jade’s studio, a sensation that had quieted a lifetime of doubt. She kept her expression neutral, offering no confirmation, no denial, just a steady, silent defiance.
Crystal studied her face, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. “Nothing? Really? Come on, Clara, this is me you’re talking to.”