Party Wall

by Cheyenne Blue

Lily released Freya’s hand and stepped forwards. She gathered Freya against her bosom, holding her cradled against her warmth. One hand stroked Freya’s hair, the other curved around her shoulders as they trembled with the silent tears flowing down her face.

  Freya pressed her face to Lily’s breasts, taking the wordless comfort offered. Images of Sarah filled her mind: dancing at their commitment ceremony, laughing at a bad joke, serene in a meditation class, smiling with her face up to the sun as she strolled along the river.

  “I loved her so much.” Her voice was muffled by Lily’s body. “And I felt so guilty. When she died, when the grief was so consuming I didn’t know how I’d get through the next few minutes, let alone the days or weeks to come, I started reading her books. There was a pile of them, spiritual books mainly, her quest for knowledge of what would come next for her. I read them to be closer to her, to understand what she went though. Then, I found her diary. It was tucked away in the back of her underwear drawer. As well as being an outpouring of her love for me, I learnt of her inner journey.

  “I started along her path as a way of remaining close to her. If I could feel what she felt, maybe I could reach her spirit. At the least, I would be closer to her and she would remain in my head.” She raised her head from Lily’s breast. “And until recently, I have never wavered from that path.”

  Lily’s hand stroked Freya’s hair, a soothing motion that lingered at the end of each stroke.

  “And now?” The words were quiet, spoken to the warm air above Freya’s head. “Do you still want that path?”

  “It’s a part of me now. A more spiritual way of life. Accepting there are some things we can never understand, at least not until we, too, move to the next stage of our spirit journeys. But I’m grounded on earth, this town that I love. And Sarah’s path was right for her at that time in her life, but it’s not right for me, not now. Not anymore.” Her smile was tremulous. “Parts of what I learnt will never leave, but it’s time for me to try and get back all of my life. Relearn what I loved so long ago.”

  “Love.” The word was a susurration of breath.

  “Yes, love. Here in the present. In all its myriad of expression. Including physical, sexual love. Will you help me regain that part of myself, Lily?”

  Lily grasped her shoulders and stepped back a pace. Her gaze swept over Freya from head to toe and Freya shivered in its intensity. “There is nothing I would like more. Nothing.”

  Freya wasn’t sure who moved first, but they came together in a long embrace, arms seeking and finding their way around each other’s backs, to hold the other close. The setting sun was warm on Freya’s shoulders as she raised her arms to draw Lily closer.

  There was so much comfort in Lily’s embrace, so much wordless understanding. Freya rested her head on Lily’s shoulder. Lily radiated calm. Freya was glad Lily hadn’t overridden her spilling of the past in a welter of words. Lily’s gentle prompts had been enough. There would be questions later, she was sure, but for now, Lily’s quiet acceptance that, yes, that was how it had been for Freya, that had been Freya’s experience, was the response she needed. In the past, when well-meaning friends had tried to get her to talk about Sarah and Freya’s own direction in life, it had been with incomprehension, with an unspoken wish to get Freya back to normal. Whatever that was. But now, the sunlight seeping into the corners of her mind and the tingles pulsing in her fingertips reaffirmed her joy in life. Sarah was still a part of her, but now Lily was too.

  Lily released her clasp long enough to tuck a stray curl behind Freya’s ear, and smiled when it immediately sprung free.

  “That’s you,” she said. “So much life and energy. I’m glad you’re letting it loose again.” She bent her head and took Freya’s lips in a kiss that was warm and salty and damp and lingered for long moments. Her breath was warm in Freya’s mouth, her lips mobile as they touched and released before she moved apart.

  “I like being able to do that.” She turned to face where the little yellow car sat facing the sea. “But maybe we should go for dinner.”

  Chapter 20

  Lily had discovered Hideaway Café by accident. It operated out of a tin shed by the harbour in a tiny settlement of less than one hundred people, located at the end of a gravel road that wound its way through the banksia and wildflower plains of coastal vegetation to the sea. A small fleet of trawlers berthed there, and the café sold seafood caught that day straight from the boats with fresh salads and hot, crispy chips. There were also a couple of vegan dishes. The seating area outside under a shelter had long shared wooden tables and benches overlooking the water.

  Lily and Freya ordered chickpea-and-kale fritters with a basket of chips and a salad to share. Lily produced a bottle of white wine from an esky in the boot of her car, and they took it to one end of a long table where they sat side by side so they could look out at the water. A man and woman with a small child settled next to them, their giggles and quiet chatter almost unnoticed.

  Lily poured wine and shooed away a hopeful seagull that perched on the end of the table.

  After the catharsis of her confession, Freya sat silently, as if polite conversation had drained away with her earlier words. Lily glanced sideways at her. If Freya was worried she’d shared too much, said things that couldn’t be recalled, then she might retreat into her brittle shell. But Freya sat with a small smile on her lips, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she watched a trawler chug out of the harbour entrance, a noisy flock of seagulls swooping in its wake.

  “I’ve been here once before, but it was only a takeaway then. It’s grown and changed.”

  “Like us.” Lily clinked her glass against Freya’s.

  Freya shifted on the bench so she was angled towards Lily. “Yes. Like us.” She set her glass down and rested her hand on top of Lily’s free one. “Thank you for persevering. It would have been easier to let me maintain the space between us.”

  “I guess that’s not my style.” Lily turned her palm up and entwined her fingers with Freya’s. “If you live so close to someone, it helps if you get along.”

  “It helps if you like the same type of music,” Freya said deadpan, “when the party wall is so thin.”

  “Cushion barricades work.”

  “Ever heard of earphones?” Freya’s smile flickered. “We might have to do some negotiation around music choices.”

  Lily tilted her head on one side. “I seldom hear any music through the wall. Just those meditation soundtracks.”

  “I like Bach. Vivaldi. Judy Garland.” Freya swirled the wine around in her glass, and the glance she shot Lily was pure mischief. “And AC/DC and the Sex Pistols.”

  “I haven’t heard any punk coming through the wall.”

  “Dorcas hates it. She screeches louder than Johnny Rotten if I play it. I love my cat, so my headbanging days are over.”

  “Poor Dorcas. Does she sleep on your bed?”

  “Of course. I’m not quite the crazy lesbian cat lady, but I like the feel of her snuggling in.”

  Lily leant in so her mouth was close to Freya’s ear. “I like the feel of you snuggling in too.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  Lily inclined her head to her other side. “I don’t want to put ideas into little heads.” A wide-eyed pre-schooler stared up at them, chips crushed in his hand.

  The child leant against Lily. “My mummy and daddy snuggle in bed too,” he informed them. “I’m not allowed in with them when they are having special cuddles.”

  Lily’s mouth twitched. “That’s probably a good idea, sweetie. Special cuddles are for big people.” She glanced across at the child’s mother.

  The mother grinned. “Sorry. I swear Eli’s ears are the longest in Queensland. The lady’s right, Eli,” she said. “Special cuddles are for mummies and daddies.” She smiled at Lily and Freya.
“Or for mummies and mummies.”

  Eli carefully put his squashed chips down on the table. “Are you mummies?”

  Freya’s shoulders shook with amusement. “No, we’re not.”

  “If you have special cuddles you will be,” Eli informed them solemnly. “That’s how my mummy got me. Why don’t you go home and practice, so that you can have a little boy like me?”

  His mother rolled her eyes. “Eli, we are going to have a conversation very soon about what you say to strangers.”

  Eli’s father leant past his wife. “Sorry. I hope he hasn’t embarrassed you.”

  “Not at all. It’s rather cute actually.” Lily waggled her fingers at Eli.

  “Not so cute when he’s banging on the bedroom door asking for ice cream when we’re trying to have a special cuddle.” The mother stood. “On that note, we’ll leave you to your evening. Enjoy yourselves.”

  The family gathered up their things and a reluctant Eli and departed.

  “Special cuddles. Maybe I can use that as a marketing trick.” Lily sipped her wine, and her eyes sparkled wickedly over the rim of the glass.

  “Maybe I can dream up a yoga pose with that name.”

  “Maybe we can try it out alone first.”

  She had always thought Freya’s eyes were the piercing silver of a blade, but now in the subdued lighting and gentle mood, they were the muted softness of beaten pewter. Lily couldn’t move; her limbs were heavy, transfixed in the warm gaze of the woman next to her. Desire coiled sweetly in her belly, and her breath hitched in her throat. “Freya, later, this evening—”

  “Number forty-seven? Vegan fritters?” The server stood there with a full tray in his hands. “I’ve been calling your number for ages. Thought I’d bring it over.”

  At Freya’s nod, he set the tray down.

  “Thanks.” Freya turned a brilliant smile on him.

  Lily went to get cutlery and napkins, and when she returned she sat opposite.

  “Don’t you want to look at the view?” Freya pushed her plate and glass over to her.

  “The view’s better this way.” The hokey line was worth it to see Freya blush.

  “Thank you.”

  “I thought you were intriguing the first time I met you. I’ve always fallen for people who interest me, rather than simply attract me.”

  “Like Inga?” Freya’s words were hesitant, as if Inga’s name might spoil the mood of the evening.

  “Yes. Like Inga.” Lily picked up her knife and fork. “You can mention her name. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’ve reached the fond-memories stage of a breakup, and she’s still my friend.” She nodded at the bottle of wine on the table between them. “This is another of her wines.”

  “You’re obviously better than me at moving on.” Freya’s words were wistful and her gaze followed the path of a small boat out on the calm water.

  “Hey.” Lily put down the fork and touched the back of Freya’s hand. “There’s never been any predetermined period for grief and healing. And because I loved Inga, I now truly feel glad she’s found happiness. Of course, that conclusion took a while to arrive at. There were plenty of tears and angry words and grief. It was different for you, though, with Sarah. Different situation.” She took a deep breath. “But now, I have a difficult question for you.”

  “Will I like it?”

  “Depends.” Lily held up a small bottle. “Do you put chipotle sauce on your fritters? Think carefully. This could be a deal breaker in our potential relationship.”

  “Only if you take the last of it and there’s not another bottle. Now, share that sauce, or it will be war.”

  Lily poured a generous amount over her fritters. She shunted the bottle to Freya and reached for a handful of chips. “Heaven. Hot chips and spicy sauce.”

  The fritters were tasty, the chips deliciously satisfying, and the salad fresh.

  Lily’s fingers collided with Freya’s as they both reached for the last chip. She snagged it away and held it up triumphantly. “Mine!”

  “If you must.” Freya’s grin was rueful. “I’ve eaten enough. More than I usually eat in an entire day.”

  Lily ate half the chip and handed the remainder to Freya. “It’s allowed. Especially when it’s good food like this.”

  Freya wiped the chip in the remainder of the hot sauce. “I don’t buy chips often. Too greasy. These are good, though, nice and dry.” She ate the potato. “Dorcas eats chips. She sits on my lap and nudges one off the plate with a paw. Then she crouches on the table and stares at it until it’s cool enough to eat.”

  “I’m horrified!”

  “About what?”

  “I’m not sure which is worse: that you let her on the table or that you let her eat chips. She’ll teach Mabel bad habits.”

  “Mabel might teach Dorcas good ones.” Freya paused and her head tilted to one side. “The food is gone.”

  “Yes.”

  “The wine too.”

  “I know.” The softness in Freya’s face warmed Lily to her belly, stirring the simmering pit of desire.

  “Shall we go home?”

  In answer, Lily stood and held out her hand.

  It was a shorter drive home along a different route that took them down a gravel road through the scrubby inland vegetation. Freya watched Lily’s hands, sure on the wheel, handling the little car with an easy skill. The headlights flickered off silver-grey trunks of gum trees and the tangled understorey alongside the forest road. A wallaby watched them pass, and although Lily slowed, it stayed put.

  Freya’s stomach twisted. Part of her wanted this drive to be over so they could move into the next stage of their lives, but part of her wanted it never to end. She stole a glance at Lily, who was intent on the dark road. Lily must have sensed her gaze as she flicked a glance to Freya and reached over the gearbox to squeeze her knee. “We’ll be home soon.”

  Home.

  She took a breath and it settled the butterflies dancing polkas in her stomach. How long since she’d gone home with someone knowing how the evening would end up? Anticipating the touch of skin on skin, of hot, wet kisses, of fingers and tongues on each other’s bodies? Three years since Sarah died. Ten years since she’d made love with anyone new. But even as the doubts twisted in her head, she drew a calming breath, banished them for the pleasure of the moment.

  This was what she wanted. This was her chance. Moving on. She closed her eyes and in the darkness of her head, the light of passion flared, coiling its way down to between her legs. The hollow ache of need settled low in her belly. Her breath shuddered.

  Would this drive never end?

  It was twenty minutes before Lily parked in front of their shops. In the shared entranceway, Lily pulled Freya closer. Her arms clasped around Freya’s waist, and her breath stirred her hair. When Lily bent her head to claim Freya’s lips, Freya opened underneath that soft touch like a flower. Her nipples ached with the need to be touched. When Lily’s tongue traced Freya’s lower lip, the touch sent a path of white heat to her nipples. And lower.

  Lily drew back. “What shall we do? We can say goodnight now, if that’s what you want.”

  “No.” It was a heavy, drawn-out word. “That’s not what I want.”

  “Do you want to come up?”

  Freya was silent. Lily’s place, Lily’s bed, the big wide bed where she had already slept. Another time. But now, for this cycle in her life to close, that wasn’t what she needed. “My place.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Considerate Lily. She must know the enormity of that choice.

  “Yes, very sure. I need to make this our time.” She unlocked the door and led the way through the darkened shop, stepping unerringly around the displays, Lily’s soft footfalls behind her.

  He
r flat was in darkness. The balcony door was part open and the soft night sounds were muted. Dorcas met them in the living area, winding her body sinuously around their legs. A soft mew, and a second smaller furry shape appeared.

  Lily picked up Mabel and the little cat butted her under the chin. “I left the balcony door ajar for her too. She must have found her way across.” She set the cat down and Mabel scampered over to Dorcas, and the two of them jumped up on the table where they sat and regarded their owners unblinkingly.

  “Dorcas has taught her bad habits already.”

  Now that Lily was here, Freya didn’t know where to begin. She moved to the kitchen. “Water?”

  “Please.” Lily watched her with slumberous eyes as Freya filled two glasses.

  “Some more wine?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Something to eat?”

  “After all those chips? Freya, all I want is right here in front of me.”

  Her pulse jumped like a wallaby caught in the headlights. She couldn’t do this; it was too sudden, too soon. But then Lily caught her hand and raised it, pressing it to her breasts. Her fingers caught the judder of Lily’s heartbeat.

  “It will be okay.” Lily’s words fell softly between them. “And if it’s not, we’ll stop. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It will be more than okay. This is our time. It starts here.”

  “Here.” Lily echoed and her fingers tightened over Freya’s, holding them to the soft, dark skin of her chest.

  Her calmness seeped into Freya’s bones and with it came the reassurance. This was the right thing to do. She lifted her fingers from Lily’s breast, and turning her hand over, pressed a kiss to the palm. In silence, she led Lily to her bedroom.

  The room faced west, and the evening star still hung in the sky, visible through the window. A eucalypt brushed the glass with silvered moonlit leaves, the dry foliage scratching the pane. Freya’s bed was only a double, and her sheets were an austere white. She tried to see the room through Lily’s eyes and ran her glance over the white sheets, the thin doona folded to the foot, and the two pillows side by side. The room was adorned only by a single nightstand with a couple of books and a water bottle resting on the surface. Her clothes hung on an open rail, with woven straw bags underneath for the small items.