Trina's tea has long since cold. 

She has been too anxious about talking with Cordelia about this to remember to finish it, her hand around the cup until it went cold. She fiddles with the handle, chewing on her bottom lip. 

"How's Mendel?" Cordelia asks, apropos of nothing. 

"Ah, well," Trina starts, moving on to chewing at the inside of her cheek, "he's well. I'm well, too. It's all… good." She says the last word like it's something out of the ordinary, something she's not used to. And it's true; she's not used to it all being good. With Marvin, it wasn't all good most of the time, if ever. "I wanted to ask you something," she says after ages of hesitance. 

Cordelia lights up. "What would that be?"

"Did you ever… date men… before, you know?" She makes a vague motion with her hands. 

She nods, although a careful look remains on her face, like she's ready to throw Trina out of her place in the suburbs if she says something out of place. She's been trying to learn, to be better (God, she regrets how she treated Marvin when he confided in her), but she wouldn't blame her in the least. "I did. I hadn't realized who I was, so I dated maybe two, three men before I met Charlotte. The rest is history."

Trina stays silent for several seconds. "So is it better?" she asks. 

Cordelia blinks. "What is?"

"Being with a woman. Is it better? Does Charlotte… does Charlotte…" She doesn't know how to phrase it. How to explain that oh, ever since she met Cordelia something seems to have changed inside her. That maybe cruel men aren't the only people that are at her reach. "Is she good?"

Cordelia's look sours a little, like she's just swallowed a lemon. "Good how, Trina?" she asks gently. 

"Does she—" She knows it's so little to ask for. She knows it's the bare minimum. Logically, she knows. "Does she show you affection? Is she not cruel?"

"She's not cruel," she says. "She's quite affectionate." She finally puts her foot down, looking at the clock. “Trina, men aren’t all there is to life, but there are good men. Mendel seems quite nice himself, for all I know.”

Trina swallows thickly, staring at the wooden table, at the intricacies of the pattern. It’s not all that intricate, really, but she wants to look at something other than Cordelia’s welcoming look, the way she smiles at her gently, seems to take her up into her arms without a single word. 

“Mendel is nice,” she nods. “He’s good. But I’m just… doubting myself. All I’ve ever known.”

“I understand that, Trina.” There’s a pause that drags on at their feet. She gently places a hand over Trina’s, and she pulls away, looking at her with a raised brow. “I’m just taking your tea. It’s freezing, isn’t it?”

“Ah. Yeah, it is. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” She stands up. “Would you like anything else? I have some biscuits.”

Trina clears her throat. “No, I’m good.”

“Let me just leave our cups in the sink,” she says, smiling at her as she leaves to the kitchen.

She’s left alone with her thoughts, listening in to the sounds of the suburbs of New York City. The whirr of the cars, people talking as  the afternoon sets in. It’s all quite lovely, but she’s too empty to appreciate it in full. 

After a few minutes, the water running for half of them, Cordelia comes back. She’s smiling, as always.

“So,” she starts as she sits down. “You can love and be loved, dear. You just need to learn how to. Of course, you can always talk to Mendel about this all, but I think you should maybe go to the meetups.”

“The meetups?” she echoes, almost thinking of an underground criminal ring and not what Cordelia clearly means.

“Yes,” she nods. “Every other week gay men, gay women, transsexuals and everyone in between comes in and chats in the back of this nice lesbian bar across town. It’ll help you figure stuff out, I believe.”

She stares at her for several seconds before she stands up. “Do I tell Mendel?” she asks, eyes searching for hers. Their gazes meet, and Cordelia is still smiling, even though there’s that worry she rarely sees in her pretty eyes. 

“That’s your choice,” she advises, “but I’d consider only telling him after you have it all figured out.”

She nods. “I’ll see. Thank you for talking to me, Cordelia.”

“It’s a pleasure, Trina.” She straightens up and squeezes her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

When she leaves, she puts her hand to her cheek. She thinks of what this might mean for herself, how the intricate webs of her life might head somewhere else than she expected. Sometimes that’s how it goes. With this revelation, with Cordelia’s advice… she’s able to breathe for the first time in her life.