by Jade Winters
He chuckled at her, a good hearty one that made his belly wobble in the process. “I should do, you’ve been like a daughter to me for over ten years.” He poured himself a large measurement of scotch and drank some before screwing the lid back on.
“I went to see Hannah today.”
He gave her a surprised stare. “What! Are you kidding me?”
She reached over and took the scotch bottle by the neck. “No, I’m not kidding you.”
His eyelids flickered, hooding his dark grey-green flecked eyes. “Why the hell would you do a thing like that?”
“I gave her Naomi’s script.”
He shifted his weight to the edge of the seat. “You did!? And what did she say?”
Alisa gave him a levelled look before turning her attention to pouring herself a drink. “She basically threw me out.”
“Oh, hun, like that wasn’t to be expected,” he said, with a significant lift from his thick dark brows.
Her face remained serious. “No, no it wasn’t.”
“I’m surprised there’s anything left in the bottle, considering—” he said, nodding towards the scotch.
“Believe me, there won’t be by the end of the day.”
“So do you think you did the right thing?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “What do you think I should have done? Kept it to myself?”
He lapsed into a thinking pause, hands clasped under his jowly chin. “I don’t know, I really don’t.”
“Well, she has it now and what she does with it is up to her. She wouldn’t even give me the chance to try and make amends with her. I’m not going to grovel. If this is the way she wants it, that’s fine by me, no skin off my nose.”
He smiled and sipped at his drink. “Really? If I didn’t know you better I would say you just gave an Oscar winning performance with that little speech but I do know you and I know you’re hurting. Just give it time. She might come round.”
With no trace of emotion she said quietly, “It’s her loss, not mine.”
“So, how’s she doing? Does she still look delicious enough to eat?”
Alisa feigned annoyance. Yes she had, even more so than the last time she’d seen her a year ago. Hannah’s green eyes still had the gentleness of a child. Her slender, finely shaped face was still beautiful, but she kept these thoughts to herself and instead said, “Get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty old man.”
He pushed his wiry black moustache upwards off his lip and gave her a narrow stare. “What? A man can dream can’t he?”
“Yes— if you’re dreaming about a woman your own age.”
“Now, now, no need to get catty. Anyway, back to you, I actually have some great news that might brighten your day a little, if that’s possible.”
“Oh, yeah and what’s that?”
Bobby’s mature and handsome face became all smiles and smugness. “You know that script you were absolutely dying to read for?” He paused for effect. “Well, I got you a slot. Now, please tell me, am I the best agent ever or what?” He sat back and opened his arms expansively.
“Yes, you are, Bobby, but I can’t do it.” Noting his dumbfounded expression, she added softly but firmly, “Seeing Hannah again has just brought it all back to the surface. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
She had been in the middle of filming when Naomi died and only managed to finish it with the help of a daily dose of Valium. That was a road she didn’t want to go down again—ever.
Bobby shifted his chair closer to hers and took both her hands in his. When he spoke, his voice was tender, almost a murmur. “Look, I more than anybody know how hard these past few months have been for you, I really do, but there has to come a day when you just have to move on.”
She knew his intention was coming straight from his heart. He knew all about grief. She had been with him through some of his darkest days when he had also lost his best friend to the grim reaper.
“I know, but I just can’t at the moment. My mind isn’t in the right place.”
His eyes grew sombre. “Until you make peace with Hannah it isn’t going to be, and I’m afraid it doesn’t look like that’s going to be happening any time soon, does it?”
Before she could answer, her mobile phone began to vibrate against the table. She ignored it and took another sip of her drink.
“Aren’t you going to answer it? It might be important,” he asked, gesturing to the phone.
“If it’s important they can call back.”
As if on cue, no sooner had the phone stopped moving, it started vibrating again.
Inwardly sighing, Alisa flipped it open, only saying hello before her eyes flew open in surprise. She listened intently to the caller for a few seconds before snapping the phone shut.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
She slowly closed her phone as she bit her lower lip, teeth sinking into the wet pink flesh. “That was Hannah, she wants to see me.”
Chapter 5
Hannah tentatively smoothed her hands over the crisp white paper resting on her lap. Naomi has touched these pages, she thought as she brought them to her face and rested her cheek against them. She had re-read the whole story, the script playing in her mind as a finished movie. She breathed in every word that was written. They were some of the last thoughts Naomi ever had and she wanted to treasure every last syllable.
She still felt somewhat hurt that Naomi hadn’t shown it to her first but was sure there was a reason for it. But why would she have given it to Alisa? She hadn’t even known she was still in contact with her after what they had been through.
What she also found confusing was the fact that the script was a lesbian romance. Even though Naomi was never coy or secretive about her sexuality, she always insisted she wrote to make a living, not for fun, and she didn’t think there was a market for lesbian movies in the mainstream. Perhaps she wasn’t looking for this one to be produced.
So many questions and seemingly no way of getting any answers. That’s why she’d called Alisa and asked her to come over. Despite the conflicting animosity she felt for the woman, she knew she was the only person that could provide her with what she needed to know. She had to find out what Naomi’s intentions were for the script and if it meant swallowing her pride, then so be it.
Checking her wristwatch, she realised Alisa would be here soon. Should she offer her something to drink or just get straight to the point? She couldn’t be outright rude to her, considering she’d agreed to come over as soon as she was asked. Maybe she should just play it by ear and see how things pan out.
Glancing down at her creased shirt and jeans, she thought she would have a quick shower before Alisa arrived. Hauling one of the large suitcases from the hallway cupboard into the living room she unzipped it, retrieved a pair of jeans and T-shirt and headed for the downstairs shower room. Quickly undressing, she switched the power shower on and waited for the water to warm up before stepping underneath the darting needles, enjoying the sharp stabbing sensations that battered her shoulders. As she soaped her breasts and stomach, her thoughts turned to the many showers she had shared with Naomi. Oh, God, I miss her so much.
With her eyes closed she felt around until she located the thick shampoo bottle and squeezed a small amount onto the palm of her hand. The tension that had built up throughout the day eased as she massaged her scalp with the tips of her fingers. Tilting her head back for a final rinse she heard the faint sound of the doorbell chime.
“Oh shit,” she said, suddenly flustered. Stepping out of the shower in a hurry, she wrapped a large white fluffy bath towel around herself. She didn’t have time to get dressed and if she didn’t open the door straight away, Alisa may think she had changed her mind. Running a comb through her tangled hair she ran to the front door and opened it a crack.
Alisa stood tall and proud. Her glance slid rapidly to her towel. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“No, not at all. It’s just th
at I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Her gaze travelled over Hannah’s face searching her eyes. “Do you want me to come back later?”
“No, it’s fine.” Hannah widened the door and pulled her towel in closer, suddenly feeling naked under her gaze. “Come in.”
“This reception is a lot warmer than the one I received earlier,” Alisa commented as she walked slowly past her and down the hallway.
Ignoring her statement, Hannah called after her, “Do you want to pour yourself a drink whilst I get dressed? I won’t be a minute.”
“Sure, take your time.”
Minutes later, with her hair still wet but pulled back into a ponytail, Hannah entered the living room to find Alisa standing by the wall unit, drink in one hand and a picture of Naomi in the other, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Hannah stood quietly for a few seconds just watching her. Why did their friendship have to take such a wrong turn? It had been such a close one. . .
“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” Alisa said without taking her eyes off the picture.
At first Hannah thought she was just talking aloud to herself, but when Alisa turned to look at her, it was obvious she knew she was standing there all along. Alisa gently replaced the frame on the shelf. “I remember the day that photo was taken. It was as if it was yesterday.”
“You should do—you took it,” Hannah said without malice.
“I know. That was a great day, her first award for best newcomer of—”
“Alisa, I didn’t ask you here to come over to reminisce about old times. I asked you here because I have some questions about the script you gave me.”
Alisa ignored her rebuff. “Fire away. Do you mind if I sit?”
Hannah shook her head and waited until Alisa ensconced herself in the striped smug chair. She wondered if that was a deliberate manoeuvre or a subconscious one—most probably the latter. It was, after all, the only chair she had sat in whenever she came over to visit.
“When did Naomi give you the script?”
Alisa unzipped her jacket and crossed one leg over the other. “A week before she died.”
Hannah sat on the edge of the sofa opposite her. “It just doesn’t make sense. I mean, I didn’t even know she was writing anything, especially not a gay story. Did you know anything about it before she wrote it?”
Alisa took a slow sip of her drink before replying. “Nope, she just called me up one day and asked if I’d give her my honest opinion on something she’d just written.”
“Did she say what her plans were?”
“Nope. I don’t think she was going to make a big deal of it, if I’m honest with you. She just wanted to try her hand at writing something new.”
Hannah couldn’t help but feel a sense of exclusion for being kept out of the loop. “But she never said a word to me about it.”
“Maybe if she hadn’t. . .” They both knew what she was going to say. There was no need to say it out loud.
Alisa’s tone became soft, almost intimate. “How have you been coping, Hannah?”
Though Hannah said nothing and shrugged non-committedly, the pain still flickered in her eyes.
“I tried to contact you after the funeral but I kept reaching dead ends. Not even Leah would tell me where you were.”
“I just needed to be alone.” That’s strange, Hannah thought, Leah never mentioned it to me. Maybe it was because she knew that I wouldn’t want to speak to her.
On impulse Alisa uncrossed her legs and outstretched a hand to her. “I wanted to be there for you, to help you get through—”
Hannah sat upright, out of reach. “I managed just fine, thanks.”
Alisa’s eyes clouded as she put her glass on the coffee table and stood up. “Okay, well if there isn’t anything else, I think I’ll make a move. It’s quite obvious that you don’t want me here.”
“Alisa, I’m sorry but I’m just going to need some time.”
“Do you think this is easy for me? Coming here, seeing you, knowing that you’re hurting but won’t let me in.”
“I can’t open up to you, Alisa, I just can’t.”
“Hasn’t Naomi’s death taught you anything? Life is too short. I don’t want our friendship to end like this. I don’t want any more regrets.”
“And I can’t give you want you want at this moment in time. Maybe one day, but not now—not while everything is still so raw.” Hannah felt sadness tug her heart, if only things were different. She’d missed Alisa in more ways than one but could never forget the disloyalty.
“So where do we go from here? When I walk out the door are you going to ignore me like I don’t exist? If I call you will you get your guard dog to lie to me?”
Hannah let out a sigh. “Patience was never your strong point, was it?”
“And seeing things for what they really are was never yours. Thanks for the drink. I’ll let myself out.”
Seconds later she was gone and Hannah was left pondering Alisa’s last words. Seeing things for what they really are. Was that just an off the cuff remark or was she trying to tell her something?
Chapter 6
“Well, how did it go?” Bobby asked, his eyes a shade curious as Alisa eased herself into the car.
“The next time I try to play the part of Florence Nightingale, please remind me that I’d fail miserably,” she said, her gaze focused straight ahead as she clipped her seatbelt into the holder. Her face became flooded with a white light from an oncoming car revealing a pained expression.
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before starting the engine. “That bad, huh?”
Alisa gave a choked, desperate laugh. “Yes, that bad.”
“I take it she didn’t want to kiss and make up?”
“No—all she wanted to know was how I came to have the script and what Naomi’s intentions were.”
“And did you tell her?”
She stared at him with a hint of annoyance. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”
“I told her Naomi didn’t tell me what her plans were.”
“You can’t do much more than that. Where do you want to go now?”
“Home, please.”
“Do you want me to spend the night?”
“No. I’ll be alright. Thanks, anyway.” Her throat ached with defeat. Why hadn’t she just told her the truth? The whole rotten truth. Blow the lid off the lies and let the pieces of truth fall wherever they land. Why was it up to her to carry the burden? Because that’s what friends do, a little voice inside her head told her.
Twenty minutes later, Alisa let herself into her houseboat and headed straight for her bedroom. Within seconds she was naked under the covers enjoying the softness of the satin sheets against her skin. Why did she let herself care so much? She’d reached out to her and been rebuffed. From now on, the ball was in Hannah’s court.
She felt stupid to even consider there was any hope for them. What did she really think Hannah was calling her for? To start afresh? To put everything in the past? For one moment she thought they could but who was she kidding, their friendship was never going to get back on track—the sooner she accepted that, the better for everyone.
It didn’t surprise her that Leah had not told Hannah she’d been trying to contact her. Why would she? That would be the last thing Leah would want.
She clapped her hands together and in an instant the room turned dark as the lights automatically switched off.
She snuggled further down the bed and pulled the covers over her head. She didn’t know if it was the effect of the alcohol but every time she replayed the evening over in her mind she kept seeing the same thing—Hannah with nothing on but a towel covering her smooth fair skin. Some friend I am, thinking about my dead friend’s partner being half naked, Alisa thought, trying her best to dismiss the image but having great difficulty.
Maybe she should return to work, focus her mind on something more productive. Though sh
e was loathed to admit it, seeing Hannah today had forced to her admit to herself how much she still missed Naomi. But what shocked her to the core was the realisation that she was still madly in love with Hannah Richards.
Chapter 7
“Miss Richards? Doctor Cross is ready for you. Just through the door on the left.”
Hannah sighed nervously and tossed the Reader’s Digest onto the waiting room table. The two-year-old booklet struck the cheap chipboard surface with a heavy slap that seemed to echo through the cramped lobby. She clutched her bag to her chest as she approached the plain grey door. The receptionist, a perky young blonde woman with an artificial smile, gave Hannah a brief nod of encouragement as she reached for the handle, but quickly returned to jamming buttons on her oversized phone with an unsharpened pencil before studying her immaculate manicure.
Stepping into Dr Cross’ office from the waiting room was like walking from dreary old London into Alice’s wonderland. In contrast to the lobby’s slate grey walls and tiny bolted-down seats, Hannah found herself surrounded by pink and orange pastels, ceiling murals of clouded skies and rounded covers on everything, with barely a sharp corner in sight. On a far wall hung a large mesh net full of foam toys. It was the giant beanbag chairs that really drew her attention, though, huge and white like massive marshmallows and completely out of place in a therapist’s office.
Well, perhaps this is normal for a therapist’s office, Hannah thought as she eyed the room’s occupant who stood in the centre of the beanbag circle. Doctor Cross was a tall, thin woman in perhaps her late sixties, with a long aquiline nose and hair so red it might have been forged of molten iron. She was dressed in a brown cardigan two sizes too big for her, green leggings and black worn Ugg boots.
She smiled warmly and welcomed Hannah into the room with a soft Irish accent. “Hello, Hannah, it’s so good to meet you. Please, have a seat,” she said, accepting her own invitation by plopping down into one of the fluffy bags with a large notebook and small digital recorder resting in her hands.
Hannah lowered herself apprehensively onto her own cushion.