Isabel's Healing

by Maggie McIntyre

  The final straw came when Jane suggested they go out to eat at the local steak house. “You weren’t seriously about all that vegetarian nonsense, were you? What difference will that make to the future of the world?”

  ***

  Isabel decided to treat her time with Jane as some masochistic lesbian boot-camp experience. Jane did like running early every morning, so Isabel joined her, panting at first behind her at a slow and painful jog, but then eventually managing to keep up more or less for the first half-mile or so, when she dropped out and walked home while Jane ran off at speed, and completed her full 5k circuit.

  When the tireless woman had left for school, Isabel used the peace and quiet in the empty house to work hard on the book, and was methodically ploughing through all the footnotes. It was fine.

  Well that was a lie. It wasn’t fine at all. But the footnotes connected her to the text and the text kept her in touch with the echo of Bryony’s fingers clicking over the keys for all those hours. She had somehow brought her words to life, and she remembered every question she had asked, and each comment she’d made.

  It was usually around 2 pm each day before Isabel started embarrassingly to cry from missing Bryony, and she had usually dried up her tears before Jane came waltzing in at 5 pm. As a misery coping mechanism, it worked like a dream, except at night, when she did dream. Then Bryony’s face, her hands, her lips, her tongue invaded her every fiber, and she would wake up trembling in a cold sweat. She felt she was moving backwards, even losing some of the weight Bryony had helped her gain.

  She knew Bryony wouldn’t write or call. Hadn’t she told her not to? Why had she been such a total bloody fool? Why hadn’t she trusted her heart, or even more sensibly, trusted Bryony when she had quietly challenged this ludicrous idea of separating?

  Then Isabel’s mood slumped even further. Bryony enjoyed following her orders. Supposing she had already obeyed Isabel and had embarked on an exciting new fling with a woman unknown? God, the girl was sexy, full of libido and loveliness. There was no way she’d stay celibate, faced with all the opportunities open to her in London. The sharp dagger of jealousy stabbed her heart. This was unbearable.

  Isabel need not have worried about Bryony playing the field, however. September in London was proving as difficult for her young caregiver as it was for her down in Bristol. Bryony certainly had no interest in sex with anyone, female, male, or even with herself. She just ached for Isabel, day and night, and only her Grade A self-control stopped her jumping on a train and pounding the streets of Bristol city until she found her.

  She concentrated on completing the ‘Isabel dissertation’, as she called it. It kept her in touch with the lovely woman, and when it was finally finished and she was ready to submit it, she held it back, remembering her promise to let Isabel see it first.

  So they continued in mutual isolation until Isabel decided after three and a half weeks that one more day of Jane’s company would lead her to commit buddycide or whatever killing your best friend was called, and told her she was preparing to return to London.

  Jane looked up from the sports science papers she was marking, and actually said something which surprised Isabel.

  “Yes, I knew you would. I’ve seen it coming. You can’t stay away from her any longer, can you?”

  “What?”

  “Bryony, your young lover. Don’t tell me she hasn’t been on your mind all this time! I’ve seen how many boxes of Kleenex you’ve gone through. And I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For not realizing just how much she means to you. For thinking you are still twenty eight, not forty two. For not taking you seriously and maybe for giving you really bad advice.”

  Isabel stared at her. “You think?”

  “Yes, I think I was wrong. If it’s right, then you need to test it out. You can’t feel worse than you do now. And maybe, you won’t break her heart after all.”

  “I may have broken it already.”

  “Well, go and find out.”

  Isabel was in a fluster, excited as a young thing suddenly. She realized she’d been idiotically leaning on Jane to give her the right leadership, when Jane didn’t have any clue how Bryony and she worked together. She bundled all her things together within the hour, and booked a mini-cab to take her to the station.

  She was too nervous to call Bryony’s new phone. It was so important not to say the wrong thing. She decided to wait until she was home in Highbury. She just needed the door key to get in.

  It was then Isabel realized she had never taken it back after Bryony’s trip to London back in July. She had a spare, obviously, but it was locked away in a drawer, inside the flat. Did Bryony even have the key still, and how could she get it from her?

  She would have to call, but then Bryony would think it was just because she wanted the key. She needed to do something serious to prove she was for real, that she was coming after Bryony, and that she was totally committed to a future with her, that she would stay faithful.

  Isabel left her suitcases and briefcase in the lost luggage office at Temple Meads railway station, and took another taxi into Bristol city centre. The driver was bemused by her request, but together they found the answer, and her expedition ended three hours later with the desired result. Isabel then caught the late afternoon train to Paddington. It was very crowded and she needed to stand for most of the hundred mile trip, which wasn’t a bad idea as it happened.

  When the train stopped at Reading, Isabel texted Bryony. She didn’t want to disturb her work.

  “Hi, I am coming back to London tonight. Do you by any chance have my flat key? I have missed you very much.”

  It took a few rewrites before it sounded with just the right amount of urgency and longing, but not too needy. She sent it from the train, so hoped it made it through the airwaves.

  When she reached Paddington she looked for an answer to her message but nothing had popped up, to her great disappointment. She swallowed her pride and tried to call, but Bryony’s phone went to voicemail, and it wasn’t even her own voice but a recorded message.

  Isabel stuttered something incoherent into the phone, and then gave up halfway through. She would just have to go home, and maybe break a window if her neighbor could help. She went off to find another black cab.

  The taxi wound its way up the main roads from North Islington to Highbury Corner and then north past the playground and tennis courts. It was already dusk, so Highbury Fields park was quiet, apart from a group of boys playing basketball on a floodlit court, and a few evening dog walkers. Her own road flanked by its tall plain trees showed the lights of people’s kitchens and living rooms, as they recovered from an exhausting day at work, and prepared their evening meals. She gave the taxi-driver the number of her house, and indicated which lamp-post he should aim for. She was in for a very tricky struggle to break into her own flat, without the alarms all going off, and the sound of glass breaking.

  But like an angel out of the shadows, as Isabel emerged from the taxi, a tall, slim, beautiful vision of her Bryony girl stepped forward from where she had been sitting, out on the front steps. She even waved the door key.

  “I tried to call you back but my phone died. I thought I should come at once, as this is my fault. I have had your key in my wallet all this time. I’m so sorry.”

  Isabel paid the driver, and the cab disappeared into the night. Bryony walked forward, as helpful as ever, to help her carry in her luggage. She turned the key in the lock and they went in together. Isabel went to turn off the alarm, but Bryony had already done it.

  “Sorry, I have just been inside to pick up your post again, and to check that everything is OK.”

  You’ve cut off your hair! All your lovely hair!”

  “Well, not all of it, obviously. I thought I should follow your advice, and come out a bit more. I thought this cut would be just about the right amount of butchiness. I know you didn’t want me to, but I thought I’d never see you again. It was kind o
f to remember you by.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, as if! Bryony, I’ve been the biggest fool, but I hope you can forgive me. These past three weeks have been...”

  “Pretty hellish. I know. For me too. I was so delighted when I received your text, and then the phone went dead. I just want you to know, Isabel; I will take any small morsel of your time, any crumb of your company. I know you don’t want us to be lovers, but I will take any level of friendship over what these weeks have been.”

  Isabel ran forward, reached across and gripped her short blonde locks. She pulled her mouth forwards and stopped what she was saying with a desperate kiss. Bryony wrapped herself around Isabel and they stayed like that, pushed back against the hall table, for what seemed like months, but was possibly about thirty seconds. Isabel wasn’t counting.

  “Not want to be lovers...it is all I want! I have been such a fool. You have filled my mind every moment of my life since I left you.”

  “Oh, well, you mean then, we’re good?”

  “Of course we’re good, silly girl. If you forgive me.”

  “I have brought you my dissertation to read.”

  “You have? We’ll look at it afterwards.”

  “After what?”

  “Come with me. I have a little bit of writing of my own I want to show you.”

  Isabel pulled Bryony into the bedroom, still kissing and hugging her, and then Bryony took control of their situation, as the realization of what Isabel meant for their future sank into her brain. When they were in a bedroom together, it seemed inevitable that they should end up in bed.

  She began to undress Isabel almost reverently, and then let her do the same to her. It took quite some time, as they were both shivering with nerves and arousal, but then they were standing in the room together, pretty well naked. Bryony reached up and gently smoothed back Isabel’s waves. She still had those adorable flicks at the ends of her hair. Bryony thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  “Come under the covers. It’s chilly.”

  Isabel turned on the light and drew Bryony down beside her in her bed. The mutual warmth of their bodies gave immense comfort and they melded together in a head to toe embrace.

  “So what was the writing you wanted to show me?”

  Isabel chuckled.

  “It’s something I think you might like. Remember the promise I made you make? Well that was for your gorgeous body, not mine. I had something done this afternoon, to show you how much I love you. It’s still sore, but they said it will settle soon. What do you think?”

  Isabel turned over onto her front, and tugged the sheet down behind her. Isabel’s gaze went down her back and then she gasped as she focused on Isabel’s perfect ass. On the left buttock was tattooed, in a very elegant script and discreetly small letters, the word Bryony, and on the right, the words, My Love Forever. Then, to finish, there was a perfect little rose in red and green.

  Bryony was speechless. Her eyes shone, but she couldn’t say a word, until she said, “You do understand this is for life? You’ll be stuck with it until you die.”

  “As long as I’m also stuck with you, I don’t see any problem. I just needed you to know it really wasn’t just a summer fling, that you have transformed my life, that you are my perfect rose. I love you so much, Bryony.”

  Bryony reached round her and held her closely against her body.

  “Then I will get one done as well!”

  “No, you can’t. Remember I made you promise not to.”

  “But that was under duress. I don’t think it should count.”

  “Yes it does, nothing should mark your exquisite skin.”

  “It must have hurt you, a lot. I thought you never wanted to feel pain again.”

  Isabel looked into her eyes, and ran a finger very gently down Bryony’s arm.

  “You’re right, and it did hurt more than I expected, but nothing like the pain I’ve felt after leaving you in Wales and that was self-inflicted as well, and much worse, it hurt you as well. I needed to punish myself somehow, but also to make amends, and imprint your name on my backside, just as surely as it is imprinted in my heart.”

  “Then I will have to do something just as permanent to tell the world you’re mine.”

  “Hmm?”

  Bryony decided to dive from the highest springboard.

  “Will you marry me, Isabel Bridgford?”

  Isabel jumped in the air.

  “Are you serious? A battered bag of old bones like me?”

  “Well, yes, though I would hardly agree to your description, oh, glorious goddess.”

  Isabel was so flustered; she decided to change the subject.

  “Why haven’t you banked my check? You’ve not paid it in yet.”

  Bryony hesitated. “I was unsure. It is so much money. I just didn’t want to think it was some sort of payment for services rendered.”

  “Oh, darling, it isn’t payment. It’s tax-free I assure you. It’s simply a present from me to you, because I love you, I will always love you. You have given me back my life,”

  Bryony walked her fingers up Isabel’s spine until she shivered.

  “Then please take my proposal seriously. Please say yes, so then I can live with you in this super convenient flat, and use all your lovely cooking utensils, and lie in your grade A bed...and...”

  “Yes!”

  What?”

  “Yes, my darling, I’d be delighted to marry you, of course I would.”

  There was a delighted sigh from Bryony, and she buried Isabel’s mouth under her own. It took several more minutes before Isabel could speak, but then she whispered, “Only first, could you find me some nice Aloe Vera gel to put on these tattoos? They do sting rather.”

  “Roll over darling. I have a better idea of how to take your mind off the pain.”

  And Isabel smiled, and then closed her eyes in pure contentment. “Yes, Bryony,” she said.

  Chapter 29

  Everyone they consulted told them a Christmas wedding was a bad idea. The weather would be awful; no-one would be able to come, because of work or family commitments and traffic hold-ups. All the venues would be booked, and anyway wasn’t it rather too soon?

  Isabel and Bryony sensibly ignored all this advice and went ahead. They booked their marriage ceremony for December 18th, just after Bryony’s term finished, and once the chaos caused by the early general election would have died down.

  Isabel had spent most of October engaged in the Extinction Rebellion protests, and had been interviewed on several TV and Radio current affairs programs. She even had a ten minute interview on Channel 4 News about the themes of her book, which was being rushed through the presses to be launched in January. It was also going to be serialized in a Sunday newspaper.

  Bryony had hardly seen daylight during this time, pursuing her surgery elective, and perfecting her suturing skills with typical focus. She already performed a range of small tissue and skin repairs, under supervision and knew she wanted to focus on orthopedic surgery.

  Giving people back the ability to move their limbs, and restore strength to shattered bones still seemed as worthy a vocation as it ever had. Someone else could find a cure for cancer, and other specialties. She knew the only person she wanted to give complete and holistic care to from now on, was Isabel.

  From the moment they reconnected, there was no hesitation. Bryony’s possessions had been so few, that there was no need for the legendary U-Haul hiring cliché, but they spent several weeks together, gently making space for her within the Highbury flat. Bryony played it really gently, but helped whenever Isabel needed her, to sort through all of Carrie’s collections of artifacts and musical instruments, her clothes, files, books and DVDs, and even her make-up still stored in at least half the bedroom drawers.

  “I just couldn’t face any of this before, but I can now. I know she’s gone. I will always have the memories.”

  “I think we should keep her portrait somewhere central, maybe not ov
er the mantelpiece but where you can see it. I feel she has given me permission to take her place, and I would like her to be around.”

  “Thank you, sweet Bryony. Let’s put her up in the dining alcove, and see how we feel later, after a few months.”

  After many of Carrie’s things had been sold or disposed of, the flat seemed to double in size, and Bryony realized that Isabel did actually like things simple and cleared away. The one thing they definitely kept was Carrie’s water feature in the garden, though as the nights drew in they turned it off for the winter, and wrapped the pipework in insulation to stop it freezing.

  Isabel took Bryony round to her agency headquarters near Old Street station, and introduced her to all her colleagues. Their offices were a jumble of small rooms in a block for NGOs, and Isabel’s friends all seemed delighted to see her alive and well and to welcome Bryony into their circle. Isabel planned to return to her post in January, after the wedding, and after a short honeymoon.

  Then it was Bryony’s turn to shyly present Isabel to her colleagues on the medical course. Aiden stayed well away, but she was pleased and not surprised to learn he had certainly taken on a new partner, a pretty Chinese student who was in the year below them. None of Bryony’s girlfriends seemed at all fazed by her coming out, nor by her choice of partner. Ted and Claire were relieved it was Bryony who would now take care of Isabel, though they still found it hard to comprehend that Bryony was as gay as she was. Jane simply sent a funny email when she heard the news, offering to give Isabel away.

  People seemed to assume they would fly off to somewhere warm for a honeymoon, but Isabel’s new found conscience about accruing yet more air-miles slid exactly alongside Bryony’s own idea of where she wanted them to go.

  “Are you thinking the same thing?”

  “Yes, of course. It will be cold and dark though, this time of year.”