Up on the Roof

by A. L. Brooks

  Okay, this was good. Megan hadn’t given up on her. Not yet.

  Megan felt as if she were walking on eggshells this week. And for a big woman like herself, that was no mean feat. She and Lena had only seen each other on Tuesday evening, eating a simple supper at home that they’d prepared together. It had been okay, but Lena had seemed reluctant to talk about what happened on Sunday, and Megan didn’t want to push. It was frustrating, but they had at least had a sensual—and long—kiss goodnight that had calmed Megan’s nerves a little. She was worried Lena was pulling away, giving up before they’d even got started.

  On Thursday night, Megan hung out with Jen at the bar.

  “So, how’s things going with Alisha?” Megan asked as she sipped a cold pint of pale ale.

  Jen’s eyes glazed over and a big smile split her face. “So good. So, so good.”

  “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jen nodded. “And I ain’t just talking about the sex, you know. Which is hot. With a capital H.”

  “Jesus. TMI, Jen.”

  Jen snorted and disappeared for a minute or two to serve a customer. When she returned, she leaned on the bar and stared at Megan.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  Megan looked away from her intense gaze and took another gulp of her beer. Which nearly choked her because her throat was suddenly so tight from an upwelling of emotion mixed with frustration.

  “Come on, Megs. Talk to me.”

  When she looked back at Jen, she was throwing her the puppy eyes, that look she had perfected over the years when she really wanted something from Megan. Usually it was something far more mundane than Megan opening up her heart and spilling out all its secrets.

  Megan took a deep breath, then spilled. In between a slow stream of customers needing drinks, she told Jen everything, from the first date to the aborted intimacy on Sunday night.

  “Whoa,” Jen breathed. “I had no idea it had been such hard work.”

  “See,” Megan said, “until Sunday, it wasn’t that much hard work. Yeah, I know, to you she seems high maintenance. But to me, she’s just Lena. Someone who has a certain way of thinking, and I don’t know, somehow I get that and I can work with it. But Sunday…”

  “Are you sure she’s worth all this?”

  “Yes,” Megan said automatically, and realised in the next moment it was absolutely true. Lena was. Apart from what happened on Sunday, they fit so well together—Lena never demanded more of Megan than she was capable of giving in terms of her time, not like Julie had done. Lena cared for Megan in ways she’d not experienced yet in a relationship, but none of it felt smothering. And Lena looked at Megan like she was the best thing since sliced bread, and every time she did, a thrill ran through Megan’s body that left her breathless and wanting. And, of course, she kissed like a total dream…

  “Yes,” she said again. “She is.”

  Jen shrugged. “Then maybe you need to tell her that. Make it clear. Not like laying down the law, but just to emphasise it.” She paused, fiddling with a bar mat. “I know you, you don’t do much talking in relationships, and maybe with her, that’s what she needs to hear, you know?”

  Megan stared at her friend. Sometimes Jen could be as rough as sandpaper. Other times, like now, she had the smoothness and clarity of a diamond.

  “Thanks, Jen,” Megan said quietly. “You’re a legend.”

  Jen buffed her nails on her T-shirt. “I know.”

  On Friday evening, Lena pushed open the main front door and came face to face with Dorothy, who was vacuuming the carpeted area in front of her own flat. She had pushed back the dust sheets, it seemed, to get at what was underneath. Dorothy spotted her and used her foot to switch off the vacuum cleaner, before meeting Lena’s eyes and smiling at her.

  “Hello, child,” she said. “You are just in time. Why don’t you run upstairs and see what that nice Mr Patel has for you.”

  “What?” Lena was trying to process what Dorothy had said when one of the older woman’s surprisingly strong hands gripped her forearm and turned Lena around in the directions of the staircase.

  “Up. Go on.”

  “O-okay,” Lena stuttered, and her feet moved of their own accord, up the stairs, following the bend round to the front door of her flat, where Mr Patel stood with a beaming smile on his face.

  “Lena, good afternoon,” he said. “Please, follow me. I have a proposal for you.”

  “Er…what?”

  Mr Patel chuckled. “Trust me, Lena. Come.” He turned and walked up Lena’s stairs, and once again she followed on autopilot. When they reached the top of the stairs, Mr Patel turned back to her.

  “As you can see,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “we are mostly done. We managed to bring in some extra men from a job elsewhere that had to be delayed. And I knew how keen you were to have this finished, so…” He shrugged. “Here we are.”

  Lena looked around, her heart rate increasing as she took in what she saw. The ceiling was back in one piece. The skylight was back where it belonged, and new carpet had been laid throughout the living area. She couldn’t quite see all the kitchen area, but she could at least tell from this vantage point that the counter had been replaced and looked immaculate.

  “Oh,” she breathed, her jaw aching as her smile widened. “Oh, Mr Patel.”

  He nodded, his smile revealing all his teeth. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Now, the insurance company came this afternoon, and they have declared the flat fit to live in again.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “We have switched all the services back on, and everything appears to be in working order. Now, what is left is the painting of the walls. The ceiling we did before the carpet was laid. It seemed sensible.” He chuckled, and Lena gave him a weak smile, her brain not quite caught up with all the information he was imparting. “We have just the walls in here to do. Two days’ work, maximum.” He looked at Lena, tilting his head slightly. “If you like, if you are comfortable with this, I am proposing that we could help you move back in here tomorrow, and we will simply work around your furniture as we paint on Monday and Tuesday. By Wednesday, we will be done.”

  “Seriously?” Lena blurted. “I can move back in?” It was too much to hope for. Just when she really needed some space around her to figure out what she was doing with life—and, mostly, with Megan—Mr Patel was handing it to her on a plate.

  “As long as you are okay with us still coming in during the day while you are at work. I promise we will cover all of your furniture and the new carpet very carefully to avoid any issues with paint spilling.” He stared at her. “Well?”

  “Yes!” Lena practically shouted. “Yes. Thank you!”

  With hindsight, choosing a pizza place on a Friday night wasn’t the best idea Lena had ever had. She’d just been thinking of somewhere quick, and local, where she and Megan wouldn’t have to stand on ceremony for what was sure to be an awkward date. If it still counted as a date. The noise level in the restaurant was ridiculous and made conversation all but impossible.

  “Sorry,” Lena said, for about the fifth time, as they neared the end of their pizzas.

  Megan smiled, but to Lena’s eyes it looked forced. “Like I said, it’s no problem. Look, we’ll be finished soon and then we can get home and relax a bit.”

  Lena’s stomach knotted. She still hadn’t told Megan about Mr Patel’s news. It had all happened in such a rush, and within minutes of Mr Patel leaving, locking up Lena’s flat behind him, Megan had come home and they’d got changed ready for their date. She knew Megan could tell Lena was distracted, as she gave half-hearted answers to any question Megan asked. The trouble was, she couldn’t think of a way to tell Megan she was moving out the next morning without it sounding like she wanted to get away from Megan. Which she did, but not for the reasons Megan might presume.

  Okay, so honesty was going to have
to be the best policy. Only, not here, she thought, glancing around at their loud surroundings.

  “Shall we go?” she blurted out.

  Megan stared at her, but wiped her mouth with her napkin, threw it across her nearly-finished pizza, and nodded. “Sure,” she said, waving over the waiter. “Can we get the bill, please?”

  They walked back in silence. Lena’s pizza was not sitting well in her tense stomach but as they turned up Jackson Road, she thought she had the words rehearsed in her head. By the time they’d settled on the sofa, she was about as ready as she thought she’d ever be.

  “Lena,” Megan began, but Lena held up a hand.

  “Do you mind if I say something first?” she asked politely.

  Megan shook her head, but her shoulders tensed and she shuffled a couple of inches back further in her seat.

  Lena swallowed. “So, um, I have some news. I haven’t had a chance to tell you because it all happened in a rush this evening.” Lena thought she was probably talking too fast, so took a deep breath and tried to slow down. “Mr Patel was waiting for me when I got home from work.”

  “Oh?” Megan’s eyebrows crept up.

  “Yes. It’s good news. The flat, my flat, has been declared fit to live in again. It’s not quite finished yet, but close enough. So Mr Patel and his team have offered to move me back in there tomorrow. And I, um, I accepted.” Megan opened her mouth to speak, but Lena plunged on. “I know this might seem quick, and after what happened on Sunday night you might construe this as me, well, running away. I promise you that isn’t it. I really appreciate you letting me live here all this time. And I know that through that, you and I have become…close.”

  She paused for breath. “But as I said on Sunday, I think I need some more time, to get used to being in a relationship again, to being…intimate with someone again. And I truly think that being back in my own space will help me do that. So, although it’s a little sudden, and we didn’t think this would happen for a couple more weeks, it’s, well, that’s it really.”

  It hadn’t come out quite how she’d planned in her head, but it sounded okay. To herself, at least. She waited, watching Megan for her reaction.

  Megan exhaled slowly and leaned back against the sofa properly. Her gaze drifted away from Lena, but Lena waited, as patiently as she could, for Megan’s thought process to run its course.

  After a couple of tense minutes, Megan returned her gaze to Lena’s face, meeting her eyes and taking a moment to keep the contact. Lena tried not to squirm.

  “Okay,” Megan said, her voice soft. “Okay. I-I’m pleased for you. I know sharing my space has sometimes been difficult for you. And yes—” she held up a hand when Lena made to interrupt “—I know that is not anything I have done. I accept that. As much as I am trying to accept what you said about not running away…”

  She leaned forward suddenly and took Lena’s hand. The touch sent a shiver coursing through Lena’s arm. “Please promise me you won’t shut me out, Lena. I…care about you. I really want us to continue dating and see what we can make of us. I’m…ugh, I’m rubbish at saying these kinds of things.”

  Megan looked at the ceiling then back down again. “But I really like you, Lena. You’re gorgeous, and funny, and kind of cute with all your little habits and the ways you like things done. You’re an amazing cook, and I’ve loved sharing your books with you, and talking to you about, well, everything. I think we’ve had a lot of fun, and I don’t want that to end.” She squeezed Lena’s hand a tad tighter. “So please, if you feel the same way, at all, please don’t shut me out. Okay?”

  With Lena’s heart pounding beneath her ribs and her throat tight with emotion, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. She wrapped her other hand over Megan’s and enclosed it. “And yes, I d-do feel the same way. About all of that.”

  Megan smiled tentatively, and exhaled loudly. “Well, all right then.” Then, slowly, carefully, she leaned in to Lena and kissed her, the barest touches of lips. She pulled back an inch and looked into Lena’s eyes. Lena could barely breathe for the sensuality of the moment. She too leaned in and returned the kiss, firmer and longer, and trembled when Megan’s tongue brushed against hers. They kissed for some minutes; slowly, tenderly, not touching, just kissing. When they pulled back finally, and Megan rested her forehead against Lena’s, she breathed in the scent of Megan, of her shampoo, her face cream, and a hint of perfume that, in her worry about sharing Mr Patel’s news, she hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “So,” Megan said, sitting up slowly, smiling. “Let me know when I can take you out again. You know where I live—just knock on the door.”

  She grinned, and Lena chuckled.

  Chapter 27

  Lena stood near the kitchen of her flat, hands on hips, and surveyed her domain. Her face ached from smiling. Everything was back where it should be. Well, nearly everything—she’d need to buy a new sofa, and also a bookcase and the books to fill it, but she knew that would take some time. She had the insurance money, but it hadn’t made sense to go shopping until she knew when she was moving back in. For now, two large cushions borrowed from Megan would do for sitting on to read, or to watch the new TV that would be arriving later that week, and she could at least sleep in her own bed, in her own bedroom.

  The move had gone well. Mr Patel’s men had clearly been under the strictest of instructions to be very careful with Lena’s things; sometimes it paid to have a reputation. She’d now re-hung all her clothes, cleaned the bathroom—obviously—and sorted out the kitchen. It was three in the afternoon, and she was ready for some tea before thinking about what to cook for the evening.

  She shifted slightly, a small frown creasing her forehead. While everything looked sorted and she was pleased to be back, something felt…off. Not quite right. It was quiet, and there was no other presence in the flat. She was on her own. She closed her eyes for a moment as an image of Megan, smiling at her from a position on the sofa they had shared for the past three months, flashed across the front of her mind. The image warmed her. Settled her.

  She wondered how Megan was doing. Lena knew she was working all day and she had disappeared around nine that morning, briefly wishing Lena a good move and waving good-bye, but there’d been no hug, no kiss. Maybe—

  Stop! Stop always thinking the worst!

  She could almost imagine Madhu standing in front of her, waving her finger in Lena’s face. The thought made her smile, and she inhaled a deep breath before letting it out again. She shook out her hands and rolled her shoulders a few times. Come on, you can do this. Think about all the good things you and Megan have shared. Don’t focus on the things that went awry. Megan isn’t, so you shouldn’t be either. You can do this relationship…thing, you know you can. Okay, so the first time didn’t go so great. Doesn’t mean this next one will fail too.

  The internal pep talk did her good, bringing back a sense of calm. She walked into the kitchen, admiring yet again her gleaming new countertop, filled the kettle and switched it on. As she began pouring the steaming water into her mug, her door buzzer sounded.

  Puzzled, she walked over to lift the handset for the intercom. “Hello?”

  “Leelawati, this is your father.” His voice was unmistakeable, and the sound of it sent a shockwave through Lena’s body. The room actually swam before her eyes. She leaned against the nearest wall for support, and sucked in a huge lungful of much-needed oxygen.

  “W-what?”

  “Leelawati.” Her mother’s voice this time, strident and piercing even over the less-than-perfect intercom line. “Open the door.”

  Hands trembling, Lena replaced the handset and pressed the button that would release the main front door.

  Like a condemned prisoner being led to their fate, Lena walked slowly down the narrow staircase to her own front door, unlocked it, then opened it. She waited, palms damp, as she heard the heavy tread of her parents’ f
ootsteps ascending ever nearer. She was trying to breathe evenly, but it was proving difficult. Why were they here? How had they managed to get here?

  Why was she shaking like a leaf?

  Her father appeared first, her mother two steps behind him. They hadn’t seemed to age much in the four years since she’d last seen them. Her father’s hair maybe had a little more grey at the temples, but that was all. He was wearing one of his suits, perfectly tied tie, crisp white shirt. Her mother wore a sari, as always. This one was a deep blue with gold highlights. Over it she wore a thick navy-blue coat, and she was peeling a pair of woollen gloves off her hands as she ascended the stairs.

  “Leelawati,” her father said, tone solemn.

  “Father.” The word sounded strange, not only because her voice was slightly strangled, but because it had been so long since she’d actually been able to address him.

  “Well?” Her mother’s eyes were narrowed, her mouth set in a thin line that she opened only enough to force her words out. “Will we go in?”

  “Um, yes, of course,” Lena stuttered, stepping aside so that they could pass. She trembled as she closed the door behind her, watching the backs of her parents as they climbed the stairs to invade her home. Dimly, somewhere deep inside herself, she wanted to be angry at the intrusion, but for now, fear overrode everything. Fear of what they might say, and how it might be said. Fear of where their relationship would be once they had said it. Although, she rationalised as she followed them up the stairs, wherever they ended up after this visit probably couldn’t be worse than where they were before her parents turned up on her doorstep.

  “I-I was just making tea,” Lena said. “Would you like some?” If nothing else, her mother had brought her up with impeccable manners, no matter the occasion. One never lost face by forgetting manners.

  Her parents stood in the living area, their eyes taking in their surroundings, deep frowns marring both their faces.