Chapter 14
Maura thought of Jane every day, all day, constantly. There were other things she should be focused on, far more pressing matters to be dealt with, but even as she worked hard to get things in order, Jane was never far from her thoughts. She wondered Jane was doing, wondered if she was thinking of Maura too, wondered what she thought of that night when she had taken Maura completely by surprise and pressed their mouths together in a kiss that made Maura feel dizzy just remembering it.
She wondered if Jane felt dizzy too, bowled over by the memory, heart fluttering, weightless and floating. She wondered if Jane regretted it, and willed that not to be the case. The not knowing was so unsettling, the enforced separation so maddening. Their relationship had undergone a massive shift and right at the moment when they most needed to communicate, they were completely unable to. Or perhaps it was because of her unnatural situation that this had happened at all, bringing feelings to the surface that were usually buried under the mundanities of the every day. They had been pushed out of their comfort zone and forced to acknowledge things that they might never have otherwise. Or at least, that's how it seemed to Maura. She had no idea how Jane felt, and her mind ran wild with speculation.
Was it accurate to say that she had always loved Jane? Certainly the woman had an immediate effect on her; Maura remembered their first meeting, how she had reached over to pay for Jane's food in the BPD cafe, unaware that she was a police officer under cover in Vice. Jane was physically striking even under all that makeup; tall and imposing. She was direct too; when she had unceremoniously rejected Maura's offering, Maura had fallen back on the Google-speak that she so often used as a buffer, careful not to become flustered. Jane was very intimidating. Maura might have been afraid of her if she hadn't also been kind. Still a harsh word from Jane had always held the potential to reduce Maura to tears; she cared so much what Jane thought of her, and in those early days Jane often didn't seem to realize that. Perhaps she had no idea what she meant to Maura. It was lucky that Jane was open with her affection, and wore her heart on her sleeve, or Maura might have been floored by some of the harsh words that came out of her friend's mouth- the Rizzolis' way of interacting was so different to the careful composure Maura was used to in her own family. The freedom and volume with which they expressed themselves took some getting used to. But the passion with which they approached everything was such a draw; Maura drifted towards Jane like a moth to a flame.
Once, she had tested the waters with Jane. Just once, she had asked casually what kind of woman she would like, if she liked women. She wanted to know if Jane had ever considered it; hoped to prompt her into a revelation. But Jane's response had been disappointing; she said only that she would 'be the man'. The whole point was that there was no man. Clearly Jane was so invested in this heteronormative world view that she couldn't imagine a relationship between two women where a 'man' wasn't involved in some way. Maura had laughed and dropped it.
And yet, she wasn't the only one to wonder about Jane. She had heard the whispers around the station; witnessed the criminals who saw her pant-suit and her swagger and hissed dyke; caught the lingering looks of gay women. Despite her purported interest in men, Jane hardly ever dated them, even when they pursued her. She seemed afraid to commit to a relationship, but she didn't even really date casually either, not like Maura did. Maura figured she was simply more comfortable with her sexuality than Jane was. Maura experienced attraction freely, dated without expectations, didn't worry about labels. It was sort of ironic, she supposed, that the doctor who wouldn't guess, couldn't lie, and wouldn't commit to any label or descriptor that wasn't 100% accurate (sharp pointy thing?), should be so comfortable with uncertainty. But it made sense when you thought about it; Maura didn't like to create labels and categories and boxes that could be wrong. She would rather be uncertain than be trapped in a box that didn't fit.
Jane was the opposite; she needed to know what she was dealing with. She was so afraid of not knowing that she would happily use the wrong words and boxes and categories so long as it gave her something to work with. But how many possibilities did she cut off by approaching life like this? For Maura, the vastness of potential experience was fascinating, the journey of discovery alluring. For Jane, it was terrifying.
Jane could not get her mind off Maura, any more than Maura could stop thinking about Jane. Why had she kissed her friend? Was she a lesbian now? But she liked men; she had always been attracted to men, right? She had only ever dated men, only ever looked at men. Hell, she had recently almost got engaged to a man! Granted, she had instead broken up with him and made out with her best friend…
That sounded pretty gay. Pretty closeted-gay-lady. Jane hated that idea; she prided herself on knowing who she was. Her sureness, her boldness, her ability to do her job, was all possible because she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. She had built her life around that certainty. She had built a career on trusting her gut and following her instincts. But hadn't it been her instinct to kiss Maura? It certainly wasn't her brain because it made no sense at all, to go against everything she had ever known or thought about herself.
So if that instinct was right, what did that mean? Did people just change sexual orientations? If people could 'become gay' then surely they could 'become straight' too? And that just didn't make any sense; everyone knows you can't 'pray the gay away'.
She knew what Maura would say; that human beings are complex, and sexuality isn't black and white, and attraction is hugely varied- probably has something to do with guaranteeing variety in the gene pool or producing offspring with new immunities or something. But then how does that work when you're dealing with two people who have the same sex organs and can't reproduce together? Not that reproduction was the only reason for sex. And not that gay couples couldn't have children- they did, all the time… Jane's head was beginning to hurt from overthinking. She felt like she was taking a crash course in Gender and Sexuality 101, only the teacher was absent and the textbook was in French.
She vaguely wondered if she had never thought about any of this stuff before because it was easier to just go along with societal expectations than to try and unlearn everything that was drilled into her every day; by her family, by the movies, by the law itself. If women like men by default, then women liking women involved a whole other worldview that she had no idea how to begin to understand. Maybe it had always just been easier to say that being gay was something that was for other people. Nothing wrong with it, love is love. But for her, she would stick with what she knew. And what she knew was a whole lot of guys who liked her, and who she didn't really want to get involved with. Roles she didn't know how to play; relationships she didn't know how to negotiate.
It had always been easy with Maura though. Things had just… snuck up on her. They had fallen into a relationship so close to the kind of thing she was looking for with a man, and it had happened without her realizing it. She may have been a little willfully blind; she did know that her relationship with Maura wasn't exactly typical. She had never had this sort of relationship with any of her other girl friends. And it was sort of a huge red flag that she knew she'd have to give a lot of it up if she married Casey; she wouldn't be having dinner with Maura almost every night, she wouldn't be sleeping over, they wouldn't go to movies on the weekends and host Thanksgiving dinners and babysit TJ together. These were couple-things, and they only worked when there wasn't a guy in the picture. Maybe that was why she had broken up with Casey; the stress of the Ferguson case was just an excuse, or perhaps a catalyst. But the reality was, she didn't want to change her life. She didn't want to give up what she had with Maura.
The thought formed clearly, and crystallized into certainty. Jane didn't know what label to put on this; whether she was gay, or bisexual, or fluid, or some other category that she hadn't even heard of yet. But she did know that she wanted it. And that was certainty enough.