Party Wall

by Cheyenne Blue

  “Just like that.”

  Lily lifted a shoulder. “I meditated. Tried to discern the right path. It wasn’t easy. But when I realised how hard Inga had fallen for Cait, I loved her enough to let her go. I’m not a believer that there is ever only one person for everyone. More there is a person for everyone for as long as it works. For some people, that’s a lifetime. For me and Inga, it was four years.”

  Carly was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if Andy loves Kim, or if it’s just a conquest. Just sex.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s never just sex, though, is it? It’s always sex and love, sex and power, sex and secrets, sex and ego.” Carly swung around so her head was on Lily’s lap and her tears dampened her loose pants. “I should try falling for a woman.”

  “Believe me, it’s no easier.”

  “Yeah. And that’s not how I am anyway.” A few breaths. “Have you seen Freya since she went to yoga?”

  “No. But she would have opened her shop.”

  Carly sat up. “It’s closed now, though. Have I done something to upset her? Do I need to apologise?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She’s probably just catching up on some sleep or something around the home.”

  “I’d like to talk with her.”

  “Go and knock on the door. She probably would like to talk to you alone.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” Lily’s smile twisted slightly. “Go. Come back whenever you want, or if you prefer to stay with Freya, don’t worry about it. Just stay.”

  “I’ll come back here, if that’s okay.” Carly fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “Can I leave my mobile with you?”

  “If that’s what you want. What do you want me to do if it rings?”

  If it’s Andy, answer it and tell him I’m okay. But nothing else. If it’s anyone else, it can go to voicemail. You’ll see who it is from the caller ID.”

  “You could just turn it off.”

  “No. I don’t want to speak to Andy, but I want to know if he calls again. A test. But if you have it, I can’t be weak and answer.”

  With the flat to herself, Lily did some yoga on the balcony to make up for missing the morning class, and tidied the kitchen. It was quiet after yesterday’s chaos. She settled on the couch with a cup of Assam tea and one of the books that had arrived. She’d always found it easier to sell books to customers if she’d read them herself and could talk about them with pleasure, and it was certainly no hardship to do.

  She was deep in an erotic romance when the doorbell rang. It was Carly.

  “I told Freya I’d stay here, as your bed’s bigger.” Carly shuffled in. “I hope that’s still okay.”

  “Sure.” Lily set aside the novel and prepared herself for a long debate.

  Carly’s clothes were rumpled, and huge shadows under her eyes attested to the broken night. “I talked with Freya. She suggested I get away for a few days to focus on what I want. There’s a three-day meditation retreat starting tomorrow. She’s arranged for me to attend.”

  “That sounds good.” Lily made her voice non-committal.

  “Yeah.” The ghost of a smile flitted across Carly’s face. “I hope being out of Grasstree Flat will help.”

  Lily moved to the kitchen. “Cuppa?”

  “No thanks. I think I need to be outside. Want to walk along the river with me?”

  The river moved in a sluggish wide path towards the ocean. They walked along the gravel path that ran across the flood plain, winding through the paperbarks. A crocodile sunned on the far bank, and a couple of blokes fished from a tinnie, but otherwise they saw no one. Lily walked in silence, enjoying the sun on her face, and the fresh clean smell of the air.

  They’d been walking for twenty minutes when Carly asked, “Did Andy call again?”

  Lily shook her head. “Two of your friends from last night. No one else.”

  They didn’t talk much after that.

  Three days passed and the only time Lily saw Freya was at morning yoga. Then, Freya’s gaze was remote, her touch on Lily’s spine impersonal as she corrected a pose. Lily tried to catch her eye, force some acknowledgment from her, but Freya’s glance slid away like iced water.

  Twice, Lily found herself at Freya’s shop. The first time, she went away without entering. The second, she went in, but Freya was busy serving a customer.

  “Won’t be a moment,” she said, and continued suggesting alternatives from the range of soaps and lotions.

  Lily loitered, but when, after ten minutes, the customer was still there, she returned to her own store without a word.

  Freya was avoiding her. And whilst Lily could understand why, the longer it went on, the more she despaired of them returning to their former friendship.

  And more.

  The kiss they had shared haunted Lily. It ran through her head, waking her in the middle of the night, breathless with kisses from the dream Freya. Freya’s lips demanding on hers, her tongue seeking entrance.

  Without Carly to act as a comforting buffer, Freya seemed to melt into the walls, so seamlessly was she able to evade Lily. After yoga on the third morning, Lily draped her towel around her neck and wandered in a seemingly careless fashion over to Freya, who was talking to another pupil.

  She put her hand on Freya’s forearm. “Sorry to interrupt—are we still having coffee this morning?”

  The silvery eyes shot shards in her direction. “Sorry, I can’t now.”

  Lily waited for the reason behind the polite excuse, but Freya had already turned back to her pupil. There was nothing else to say.

  The walls of her shop were crowding her; the space which normally seemed so welcoming was suddenly claustrophobic. Freya prowled around, tweaking a wall hanging into place, rearranging the display of scented candles, only to move them back on her next pass. Her muscles twitched restlessly with the need to move, and her mind screamed out for uninterrupted solitude. Processing time. Her mouth quirked upwards wryly. What lesbian didn’t need that?

  When the shop closed, Freya grabbed a water bottle and went down to the river. The sun was still a couple of hours from setting and there was still plenty of heat in the day. The path ran for five kilometres along the river, through the paperbarks and banksias before following the upper bank through grazing land. Freya marched purposefully, the sun hot on her shoulders, letting the exercise clear her head. At first, there was just the static blur of anxiety that no amount of deep breathing could clear. The building blocks that formed her life since Sarah had died, that had seemed so solid, so immutable, were crumbling, falling into dust. Not instantly, but piece by piece. A smile, a shared experience, a moment of understanding—Lily’s presence was in all of these. And a kiss.

  Her mind shied away from that, and she pushed her feet faster, until she was nearly running. Her singlet was damp with sweat, and her hair escaped the bandana to fall over her eyes. Impatiently, she pushed it away.

  How dare she? How dare Lily blow into her life with her brightness and sunshine and laughter? Why did she pick this small town to stir up the cocktail shaker of Freya’s life, making friends so effortlessly, running workshops that should have been shunned, but that were very definitely not.

  And, how dare she be interested in Freya? How dare she persist in dragging Freya into her life?

  She broke into a full run, her feet flying along the gravel path, through the peeling paperbarks, the red jewels of banksia flowers. Her breath rasped in her throat, and her chest ached with the effort, but she forced her muscles onwards, ever onwards, faster, faster, as if she could outrun the confusion in her mind.

  She rounded a corner to find a carpet python, its thick body stretching the full width of the path. She cleared it with a flying leap, and the shock of landing dislodged the tears that blurred her eyes and
sent them cascading down her cheeks. Her muscles screamed in protest, and sweat and tears mingled in her eyes until she could hardly see.

  Freya dropped back to a jog, and then a walk, before coming to a halt, her hands pressed against the red trunk of a gum tree. Her throat was thick with tension, and her feet hurt from running in sandals. Her lungs couldn’t draw in enough of the humid air, and her head spun in a grey wave of dizziness. She crouched before she fainted and closed her eyes.

  When had it come to this? She had rebuilt her life since Sarah died, and she was content. She didn’t need the upheaval. Deliberately she summoned Sarah’s face in her mind, not Sarah as she was in the months before her death, but the Sarah of the years before that: serene, gentle, radiating a kindness and empathy. Sarah and her, lying together in the bed where Freya now slept alone, making love with tenderness and passion. Making love.

  She knew exactly when that had ceased being a part of her life.

  Freya rose and turned back the way she had come. She dawdled, letting her feet find their own pace. And whilst her eyes traced the flight of a lorikeet landing in the trees and her fingers crushed the leaves of a lemon myrtle so she could smell the sharp scent, her mind sifted through the memories and resistance.

  Memories of love. Resistance to change.

  Freya stood aside to let a small child pass, wobbling on his too-big bicycle. His father, running behind, smiled his thanks, and Freya resumed the walk for home. Her life felt like that child; trying for something bigger, but on the verge of disaster. But that child had his father to catch him.

  Freya stopped at the end of the path. From here, her shop was visible at the start of the sweep of the road into the main part of town. There was her grey-green door, the planters of flowers on the footpath, and her row of Buddhist prayer flags hanging limply in the still air. Her gaze switched to Lily’s shop next door. The silver-and-purple shopfront with the curly wording of the name was tasteful, she had to admit that. Lily had changed the window display. The mannequin was gone, as were the bunches of lingerie. Now there were piles of books, and a French maid’s costume, draped over a wooden chair. The effect was more arthouse than sex store.

  Freya reached the shared porch just as the door to Lily’s flat opened. Lily came out, empty shopping bags in her hand. Freya stopped. There was nowhere to duck out of sight, nowhere to go except into her own shop.

  “Hi.” Lily smiled and her gaze focused on Freya’s face. “I’m off to get groceries. Do you need anything?”

  Freya shook her head. “Thank you for asking, but there’s nothing I need.” Nothing, except some peace of mind.

  “No worries.” Lily swung the shopping bag. “I’ll be home later if you fancy joining me for a glass of wine?”

  Freya’s pulse pounded. The semblance of equilibrium gained from her time by the river vanished in the flash of Lily’s dark eyes. “Thank you,” she managed. “But I need to prepare for a workshop.”

  Lily nodded, as if she expected the answer. “Another time soon, then. We need to talk, Freya. Please don’t run from me.”

  “I won’t.” Even as her feet carried her to her door, she acknowledged the lie.

  Carly’s return eased the tension. She arrived back the next day and blew straight into the third sexuality class a few minutes late, dumping a sports bag in the corner of the room. Lily smiled a greeting as Carly slipped into her usual seat near the front.

  When the class had finished, Carly waited back.

  “How was the retreat?” Lily studied her friend. Carly looked more alive than she had a few days prior and she had a ghost of a smile on her face.

  “Really good. Helpful. Would you mind if I stayed with you again tonight?”

  “No worries. Do you want me to ask Freya over?”

  “Up to you. I don’t need to talk, if that’s why you’re asking.”

  Carly followed Lily up to her flat and threw the bag on the couch. Lily poured wine, and Carly sat on a stool watching as Lily prepared dinner.

  “I’m going to ask Andy to have coffee with me tomorrow,” she said. “Not at Remy’s place—too many long ears. Down at Oncey-One’s. No one I know goes there.”

  Lily nodded and waited.

  “I don’t want him back. Not now anyway.” Carly took a mouthful of wine before continuing. “Once a cheater, always a cheater. And things weren’t that good for a long time. I don’t want to start the cycle I’ve seen happen to others: he swears he’ll never do it again, I take him back, for a while things are good, and then he starts up his old patterns again, and before I know it, I’m once more sitting at home alone crying into my wine.”

  “Where will you go? You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I can get a futon and you can have some space in the living room.”

  “Thank you, but no. I don’t want to impose. It’s time I made a new start, and that means living alone for the first time in my life. I went from my parents’ place to shared housing at uni, and then I married Andy. I’m going to get a flat here in town. I’m seeing one tomorrow, over on Fielding Street. And I’m getting a job. Actually, I’ve already got one. I’m going to take Remy up on the offer to waitress for her.”

  “Is that what you’re going to tell Andy?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if I can do this, to be honest. I’m afraid I’ll see him, and all the feelings I had for him will come rushing back. But I know I have to try.” She reached out to Lily, touched her hand as she pulled a lettuce apart for salad. “I see you being so free, so unattached. Sleeping with whomever you want. And I see Freya, wanting no one, needing no one. Just living her own life. And I think if the two of you can do it, then surely I can too.”

  Lily swallowed. Carly’s words felt like a half-truth, as if she were only seeing part of the picture, the outward parts Lily and Freya presented to the world. The sexual free-spirit and the empowered asexual being.

  “I was married, Carly. Don’t forget that. And if Inga hadn’t left me, I’d still be in a monogamous relationship.”

  Carly was silent, studying her. “If you found the right person now, a woman whom you loved and she loved you back, would you commit to her?”

  “In a heartbeat.” Lily put down the lettuce and leant across the counter. “Carly, I teach sexual freedom and expression, and I truly believe it is a natural joyous thing. And yes, I’ve had partners since Inga left. Probably less than you believe. But I would still commit to a monogamous relationship with the right woman. So I guess what I’m saying is follow your heart. Don’t follow my path, or Freya’s, just because you think it’s what you should do.”

  “Thank you. But I have to try and be by myself. And I’m testing him, I know that. I’m not so confident when it comes down to it. If he shrugs and goes off with Kim, then it doesn’t say much, does it? So I guess this is as much about seeing what he will do when he’s supposedly got more freedom. Maybe that’s the wrong way to go about it. Maybe I should demand he returns and is faithful.”

  “Ultimatums seldom work in relationships. They so often backfire.”

  “And forcing someone to adhere to something that deep down they don’t want, seldom ends well.” Carly nodded. “When did I become so wise?” Her face crumpled. “Lily, I don’t know what I want in the long term yet. But I have to determine that alone. Not living with Andy.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for the support you’ve given me. You and Freya.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Change of subject.” Carly’s grin was an approximation of her former exuberant one, but it was a start. “So are you and Janie an item now?”

  Lily turned to the fridge to find the tomatoes so Carly wouldn’t see her face. “Janie? No.”

  “Not even for fun?”

  “Janie’s lovely. But I don’t think she’s right for me.” She set the tomatoes on the coun
ter and returned to the fridge for capsicum.

  “Oh.” Carly snatched a couple of cherry tomatoes. “Then who is? Not Freya, obviously. You can relax; no more matchmaking from me. You’re obviously not suited.”

  Not Freya. The one woman who had occupied her mind in one way or another since Lily had moved to Grasstree Flat. Carly was right in that respect. Or was she?

  “Why do you think we’re not suited?” Her voice was muffled by the fridge. “You were trying hard enough to get us together not long ago.” She straightened and arranged her face in a neutral position.

  “I guess because you’re so different. Personality wise. I thought you would be a good match as you have interests in common, but it’s not enough. You and Janie share many interests, and your approach to life is similar.”

  “Was Freya always the way she is? What was she like with Sarah?” Lily clenched her jaw against the rest of the words.

  “Sarah was one of those shining people, you know the sort? Softly spoken, gentle, and the goodness shone out of her like the sun. Never had a bad word for anyone.” Carly’s face softened in remembrance. “She sounds like a pious saint when I put it like that, but being around her was a lift to the spirits. And she loved life. Loved sex, too, from what she said. Sarah was touchy-feely. Always a hug, a touch, a kiss on the cheek. Freya was more like that too back then, but she always had that reserve about her. But since Sarah died, Freya’s closed in, folded over on herself, got more into this ‘strong, independent woman’ thing.” She bit her lip. “Right now, I wish I were like that.”

  “You said it earlier, Carly. You have to be yourself.”