Puppy Love

by Smith, L. T.

  I readily spotted Emily when I entered. She’d claimed a seat in the corner, away from prying eyes and, hopefully, bat-like ears.

  Instead of going over to her, I went to the bar and got us drinks and picked up a menu that boasted “The Best Carvery in Town.” How original. And how trite was I being? I turned back to Emily, who was glaring at me from her remoteness. “You want a carvery?” I mouthed.

  Her glare didn’t change. I took that as a “yes.”

  I gave her the thumbs up before ordering two carveries from the barman, who seemed as if he would have been more at home doing his homework or updating his profile on Facebook.

  “Done.” I plonked the drinks down and the slips we had to present to get our food. “Want to eat before you rip my head off ? I’d hate for you to get filled up by chewing my ass off.”

  Emily opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again.

  I slipped onto the bench seat and moved next to her.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie.”

  What for? Leading me on or being aggressive?

  “I’ve been totally out of order.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded agreeably.

  “I just…well, I like you.”

  Huh? She liked me? God only knew how she would be acting if she loved me. I would probably be in Accident and Emergency by now, or six feet under.

  “If you like me, why did last night happen?” Listen to me and my ability to get right to the point. I think that was a first.

  “It happened because I do like you.” Emily grabbed her drink and took a gulp.

  “You leading me on, letting me…you know…and then treating me as a mistake you couldn’t wait to get rid of?” God, I felt in control. That didn’t happen often, and I wanted to revel in the sensation. Well, not really. In fact I was dying a thousand deaths, I felt so exposed. But I had to know, had to find out why.

  “I didn’t want to be a statistic.”

  “A fucking what?” That came out a little bit louder than I had intended. I lowered my voice, even though half the patrons in the pub were now looking in our direction. Even the teen behind the bar had stopped Tweeting. “A fucking statistic? What the hell do you mean by that?”

  She gritted her teeth together before she took another swallow of her drink. I was happy I’d only gotten her a Coke, otherwise, at this rate she would soon be too pissed to talk.

  “Michelle told me about your phone call.”

  Phone call?

  “The woman you were apologising to.”

  Apologising?

  “And when I asked you if you had anyone special, you said no.”

  “But there isn’t anyone special.” I watched the sadness cloud her face, and then pass as if I had dreamed it.

  “That’s obvious.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. If you didn’t want to—”

  “Too right I don’t want to. I don’t want to be with someone who sleeps with one woman one night, and is then trying to get into another’s bed the next.”

  Something was ringing in my head—a memory, a realization, an epiphany. She was talking about my fake call to my sister, the same sister I would have sworn would tell Emily what I had done. At that critical moment, I did something stupid. I started laughing.

  Important tip! Don’t laugh at a woman who wants to shove her fist down your throat to start with. It only pisses her off even more.

  “So I’m a laughingstock now, am I?”

  Fuck. She looked so mad, it made me laugh even harder.

  “Right. That’s it.” Emily bolted to her feet, tipping the table as she did so.

  My drink wobbled precariously, and I tried to stop it. Instead, I knocked it towards her, and it spilled all over her jeans.

  “Jesus! Fuck me.” Not the right thing to shout out in a public house at Sunday lunchtime.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.” I tried to wipe her off, but I only had my hands and they weren’t doing a very good job.

  Emily grabbed one of my hands and peeled it off of her. “Save it for one of your conquests, Anderson.”

  “For fuck’s sake!” I stood up and leaned towards her in fury. “Including nearly sleeping with you last night, I haven’t had sex with a woman in nearly two years!”

  Tink.

  If you are wondering what the “tink” was, it was the sound of a pin dropping somewhere in the pub.

  “Everyone is staring, aren’t they?” My voice was barely audible; pity it hadn’t been that way on the previous tidbit of information I had decided to share.

  Emily’s eyes darted past me, and she nodded. “Nearly everyone. The old bloke reading the paper isn’t… Oh, wait, now he’s looking.”

  I slowly sat down at the table and rummaged around in my pockets. “Here.” I held out a couple of tissues for her to mop some of the Coke from her jeans.

  “Thank you.”

  My. Weren’t we being civilised.

  Sounds started to filter back through the pub, and I just knew that most of the voices were discussing my admission. Although lesbianism was somewhat acceptable and more common in 2012, people still found it a riveting topic of conversation.

  As I wiped the table with the last of my tissues, Emily stilled my hand. When I looked up at her, my gaze was met by understanding brown eyes.

  “For the record, I haven’t had sex in nearly three years.” She barked a rueful laugh. “And that was the night before I found out she was sleeping with everyone else.”

  “Shit.”

  “By the bucket.”

  There was an awkward silence brought on by each of us feeling exposed. I looked around for some inspiration for conversation. “I think our carvery tickets are a bit wet.” I held up the soggy pieces of paper and grinned at her, and I was rewarded with a truly wonderful smile in return. God bless food tickets.

  “You ready for ‘The Best Carvery in Town’?”

  She nodded, a comical smile on her face. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

  So I did.

  Conversation over lunch was more relaxed. We actually spoke to each other instead of trying to rip each other’s head off. I wanted to ask Emily more about the woman who had cheated on her, but I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to ask. I would wait until she wanted to talk about it. That was the thing to do after all—show my sensitive side.

  “Ellie? Can I ask you something?” The tone of her voice gave away the fact that what she wanted to ask me wouldn’t be good for me. “Who was on the phone yesterday morning when you were talking to Michelle?”

  Told you.

  “Abbie.”

  I watched her face twist into a look of horror, and I realised she must be thinking I was doing unnatural things with my sister. It was time to confess.

  “I assumed Michelle was your girlfriend and…and I didn’t want to seem so…so…”

  “Single?”

  “Single” sounded better than “desperate,” which is what I was going to say, so I nodded. “Yes. Single.” Desperate actually was more honest. “Also, I didn’t want Michelle to think I had tickets on her girl.”

  A soft smile lit Emily’s face. “But I told you about Tania. What did you… No! You didn’t think I was in a relationship with someone who would sleep with someone else and tell me about it, did you?”

  Once again, I nodded.

  “Bugger.” Then she laughed. “Wait until I tell Michelle. She will pee her pants.”

  My look of mortification was easy to read, and she laughed again. “No worries. I’ll keep mum.”

  After we had finished eating, I drove her home with the promise to be at her place bright and early the next day. It would be the beginning of a new week, hopefully a new chapter, in my life. This time without crossed wir
es and lack of communication.

  I could hope, couldn’t I?

  Chapter Seven

  Nearly a week had passed since the episode in the pub, and nothing was ever mentioned about it again. We still went to see Charlie every day and then went back to Emily’s for lunch before we each got on with our own work for the rest of the day. I found myself daydreaming a little too frequently to actually get a spark on and finish the jobs on Emily’s garden that I set out for myself each day. There were way too many times I came around from some mind fart with my head resting on the handle of my spade. Oddly enough, it always seemed that when that happened, Emily was doing something in front of me. If she ever saw me spacing out, she never said anything about it.

  I wanted to bring up things. And when I say “things,” I mean things like asking her out on a date. But since the fiasco of the previous week, she had not given any indication that she wanted to pursue anything further. She knew I wasn’t a Lady Killer—far from it—unless you can bore someone to death by talking about plants and dogs, then I am guilty as charged. We each knew the other was single, were attracted to each other, had nearly made the beast with two backs six days ago and thoroughly enjoyed it—at least I did, until I realised I was on my own in that experience, although now I knew why the fire had been dampened for her. So why nothing since?

  Although I wanted her—God, I wanted her—I don’t think I was ready for anything to happen. That’s my excuse for not bringing it up, although I wanted to bring “things” up. Jesus Christ. I’m confused, so God only knows how you feel.

  Maybe it was Charlie. No. I don’t mean that he pulled me to one side and said in his best kindly doggy way, “Don’t bother asking her out. She’ll shoot you down.” It was more that if I allowed myself to become attached to Emily, to date her, then what would happen when the month was up and we had to decide who Charlie was going to live with? Could I let myself become all loved up and then say, “No. Charlie is my dog. Fuck off.” I doubted it.

  So, here I was digging a hole for a fence post—one of many in my life, both literal and metaphorical—and daydreaming about asking out a woman I would never ask out.

  Yep. I’m an idiot.

  A few days later, I went to see Abbie. Lily was concerned about me arriving on my own and not having Emily with me, so she didn’t give me the time of day. She decided to play with her pooch instead. Poppy was well-established in their household by now and had everyone in the palm of her paw. For some reason, I was feeling a little over-sensitive. I wanted to cry, drop to my knees and holler, “My beloved family. Come to me.” At one point I had to mentally count the days until my period to make sure I wasn’t ovulating.

  After cadging a cuppa, I suggested taking Poppy for a walk, and Lily shouted for Jessie J. I had to grin inwardly, not because she had named the dog after the singer, but because the pup completely disregarded being called by that name by running in the opposite direction.

  “Watch this, Aunty Wellie.” Lily unclipped the lead from Poppy. “Sit.”

  Poppy sat.

  “Staaaaaaaaay.”

  The dog stayed as Lily backed away from her. “Staaaaaaaaaaaaay.”

  Poppy looked expectant.

  “Come here, Jessie!” Lily slapped her hands on her thighs; the pooch stood up, but then sat back down.

  “Jessie!”

  Except for a slight twitch, the dog stayed.

  “Try using her name.”

  “I am.”

  “Her real name.”

  Lily tutted and stared hard at Poppy as if she was sending a message telepathically. Lily sighed. “Poppy!”

  The little Jack Russell ran over and jumped up to lick Lily’s hands, which were now waving excitedly in the air.

  I clapped and cheered, telling Lily how clever she was for teaching Poppy so well.

  The little mite just glared at me before cuddling Poppy to her. “I didn’t. She came like this.”

  What was she? A new gadget? Where are the instructions?

  I grinned at Lily. “But she wouldn’t do her tricks for just anyone, now would she?”

  Lily became even more excited, and proceeded to tell Poppy to sit and stay about forty times.

  By the time we got back to the house, Poppy and Lily were beat and decided “they both” needed to watch TV. Rob was at work, so that gave Abbie and me a chance to have a catch up session in the kitchen.

  “What’s up?”

  I don’t know how my sister does that. She wasn’t even looking at me at the time.

  “Why should anything be up?”

  Abbie snorted as she continued to brew the tea.

  “Why’re you snorting?”

  She snorted again.

  “There’s nothing up. What makes you say that?” Was I being too insistent? Was that the reason she could read me like a book? “Abbie?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Elles, I was just inquiring how you are. But by the sounds of it,” she turned with the mugs in her hand and sporting a huge grin, “I think you need to talk to your older, and very understanding sister.” The mugs hit the table. “Spill.”

  “There’s nothing to spill.” I pulled the drink over to me and held onto it as if it could shield me from my sister’s powers of perception.

  Abbie snorted again.

  “Have you got a cold?” I asked.

  Abbie disregarded the comment and looked me squarely in the eyes. “Look, sis, no offence, but when was the last time you came to see me in the middle of a work day?”

  I stared at her blankly.

  “I’ll tell you when—when you lost Toby five years ago.”

  That couldn’t be right. I came to visit all the time.

  “Don’t get me wrong, you come to see us.”

  See.

  “Just not when you should be working.” Abbie leaned over and took the cup from my hands and placed it on the table. “So, you can see why I am a little concerned.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “How’s Charlie?”

  “Good. Great. Actually, more than great.”

  “How’s the arrangement between you and Emily padding out?”

  “What do you mean by that?” How could she get me to expose my thoughts so easily?

  “I actually meant about you going to see Charlie together, but I think maybe…” She cocked her head to the side and one eyebrow raised. “You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”

  I made a pfffft sound and reached for my drink, but she moved it away from my grasp.

  “You have! You’ve fallen for the gorgeous Ms Carson!”

  Abbie threw her head back and laughed out loud—or loled, as modern language dictates we say. At least it was better than her snorting, although not by much.

  “No I haven’t!”

  “Ellie fancies Emily!”

  “No I don’t!” Even I didn’t believe me.

  “You like Aunty Ems?” Lily had appeared just in time to witness my transformation from human to beetroot. “You gunna marry her?”

  Poppy skidded around my niece and hopped up onto my knee and stared intently into my eyes.

  Somewhere in the background I heard the doorbell chime, but was too mortified to move.

  Abbie was pointing at me and laughing, just like she used to do when we were kids. And just like when we were kids, I hated it.

  I could hear Lily talking to someone and telling them her Aunty Wellie was going to marry Emily, and then I realised Abbie had suddenly stopped laughing. I saw the colour drain from Abbie’s face, and I didn’t get why. It seemed as if everything had slowed down, like when a video tape is showing each screen shot.

  “What?”

  My face took an age to turn from my sister’s ashen appearance to the reappeara
nce of Lily coming through the doorway, her mouth still moving but the words seemingly unintelligible. She was holding a hand. An older hand. She was totally animated, in slow motion. Her face turned towards me, and I could see the happiness beaming there. Lily nodded in my direction, and then looked up again. My eyes followed the trajectory of her gaze, and I came eye to eye with my mother.

  Thirteen years.

  That was how long it had been since I had last looked into her eyes. I wish I could say the expression was softer, the eyes more understanding, the hatred gone. But I can’t. The look she gave me clearly showed me that it didn’t matter how much time passed, she would never forgive me for being who I was and not what she expected me to be.

  It still hurt. Fuck. More than hurt. Although I had spent the last thirteen years not expecting a hearts and flowers reunion, it was like a kick in the gut to know that it wouldn’t matter if it was thirty years; I would still not be accepted for being me.

  “Mum? What’re you doing here?”

  I could hear panic in Abbie’s voice. I knew she still saw our parents, my mother didn’t have a grievance with the ones who conformed to her idea of propriety, but it was still a shock to see her in my sister’s kitchen, holding hands with my niece.

  “Aunty Wellie is g’ttin’ married to Emily.”

  No, Lily. Not now.

  “No, Lily. A woman can’t marry another woman.”

  Yes they can.

  “It’s unnatural.”

  No, it isn’t. Love is love. And if I wanted to marry Emily Carson, I bloody well would.

  “I should go.”

  “Ellie!” My sister’s voice was pleading. “Don’t. Stay.”

  “I’ll speak to you later, sis.”

  I was amazed that I could say anything, considering the size of the lump in my throat. Abbie opened her mouth to say something else, but I leaned over and kissed her cheek. I ruffled Lily’s hair. “I’ll come again at the weekend.”

  She let go of her grandmother’s hand and clung to my leg. “Stay. Poppy needs you.” Her grip was constricting. “Me needs you too.”