by Harper Bliss
“Shall I guide them off the premises?” Rachel asks. “Tell them to never return?”
“Please do.” I take a deep breath, happy to have kept my tears at bay. I know I’ll have to let them out at some point, but now is not the time.
“I’ll get the remaining people to leave, okay?” Tess says.
I nod, and look her over again. She even looks beautiful in funeral clothes. “Thank you, Tess.” I reach out my hand and grab for hers. The few times I’ve held her hands I always noticed how impossibly soft they were—as though made for the single purpose of offering solace and bringing joy.
Tess looks at our joined hands, then looks up. “Maybe a glass of wine too many?” She gives the smallest of smiles, but no matter how small, it says enough.
“Maybe, but I didn’t say anything they didn’t fully deserve to hear.”
“No doubt.” The grip of Tess’s fingers around mine intensifies. “I’ll be right back. Sit down for a bit.”
“Okay.” I watch her leave the room and I sit down at my desk. I take the sketch pad that I always have lying around and start drawing. I sketch what is in my heart. The result is a loose-lined portrait of Tess.
✶ ✶ ✶
“Why don’t you move here as well?” I ask Rachel. She’s on a late-night flight back to Chicago and I already know the house will feel so empty without her, despite her only having stayed here a couple of nights.
“Because the city wouldn’t be the same without me. It might very well be in shambles already right now,” she jokes.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back, Rach.” I sip from my cup of green tea. Two glasses of red wine at the funeral were enough to get me back on the alcohol-free path.
“I don’t think you should.” Rachel is doing her best to finish the remaining bottles of wine from the reception. “I think you can thrive here, Laura. I really do.”
“Could it be, when you say that, you are referring to a lady called Tess?”
“You know I am.” Rachel looks at me over the rim of her glass. “You told her about Tracy, which leads me to believe that you must really trust her. That you opened up to her.”
I ponder this, though I don’t even need to think about it anymore. “I do trust her.”
“That’s the start, Laura. That’s a really strong foundation.” Rachel looks at me with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “I also quizzed and lectured her. My best-friend conclusion is that I approve.”
“You what?” At the reception, I as good as crashed a conversation they were having about me, so it hardly comes as a surprise. Though I feel I need to feign indignation a little.
“Oh come on, Laura. Did you really think we weren’t going to talk about you? Besides, I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I wasn’t looking out for you.”
“Did you exchange phone numbers so you can discuss my future progress as well?”
Rachel smiles that toothy smile of hers. “We did exchange contact information, but I don’t need progress reports from anyone else but you.” She sets her glass on the table. “But on a more serious note, Laura, how do you feel, now that you’ve seen your parents again and, after what happened?”
“Strangely relieved.” I lay awake until the early morning thinking about the effect of my parents’ visit and my outburst. “Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I hadn’t seen them in so long and made a shitload of automatic assumptions, and now I can stop doing that. I can stop wondering. I’ve seen them. They’re two old people. My father might have felt a tad sorry, but my mother certainly didn’t. As far as I can remember, she has never been the most affectionate woman, but all I saw when I looked at her was cold indifference. Like she didn’t care what my response would be. In a way, that makes it easier.”
Rachel nods, drinks more wine. “Do you think your father was serious about restoring the relationship?”
“I don’t know. He sounded sincere, but that doesn’t mean anything. In the end, it doesn’t matter what he wants, because I don’t want a relationship with them. I’m done with them—have been for a very long time. I may never be completely rid of them. I don’t think that’s possible, but I’m a different person now. I know that I don’t need them. I’ve been through enough without them.”
Rachel looks at the clock. “My taxi will be here soon.”
“I know.”
“There’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.”
“Better hurry then.”
“Are you going to give Tess a chance?” She narrows her eyes and scans my face.
I look away for an instant, then slowly start nodding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TESS
I meet Laura for coffee the day after Rachel leaves. I haven’t seen her since the reception—since she grabbed my hand in her office.
“I get to pick up my kitten today,” she says. “Myriam just called.”
“Exciting.” Somehow, I can’t seem to inject any excitement into my voice though, and my words sound flat and unenthusiastic.
“What’s wrong?” Laura asks, and I see genuine concern in her eyes.
“Just, er… some things Rachel said, I guess.”
“Like what?” Laura shuffles nervously in her chair.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“She told me that she quizzed you and subsequently gave her best-friend stamp of approval.” Laura quirks up her eyebrows twice in quick succession. I have no idea what her body language is supposed to suggest. Maybe she’s nervous. Well, so am I.
“Approval for what exactly?” I distinctly remember feeling like I was being put to the test by Rachel. I’d be mortified if Megan grilled Laura like that. Then again, I probably don’t need the amount of mother-hen protection that Laura does.
“Look, Tess, after that, er, thing with my parents,” Laura reaches for her bag on the floor. “After you left the room, I drew this.” She opens up her sketch pad and thrusts it in my direction.
When I look at what she drew, I see me. “That’s beautiful.” I find her gaze. “Why did you draw that?”
“Because I had a rare moment of being able to look past all the bullshit and grief in my life, and what I saw was you.”
“And now? What do you see now?”
“I’m sitting across from you.” Laura gives a nervous chuckle. “So I’m seeing you now as well.”
I clear my throat. “Rachel said some things that made me think. Nothing that I didn’t know yet, I guess. But there were definitely some mixed signals in there. I mean, by now everything is one big mixed signal in my head. She told me that you’d mentioned me many times and that she could clearly see you had feelings for me, but she also told me that my patience would need to be tested for quite some time longer. And I have patience, Laura, because I care for you. But you told me explicitly not to wait for you, though waiting for you is exactly what I’m doing. And this confusion is starting to do my head in. I’m doing my best to not put any pressure on you, because I know it’s unfair, but what I’m trying to say is that I have feelings too.”
“I know that. And for the record, I don’t feel pressured.” Laura goes silent for a few seconds, while my heart thunders in my chest. Did I overstep? “But I don’t really know if I can tell you to wait for me if I have no idea how long. There’s a war raging inside here too, Tess.” She taps a finger against her temple. “I care greatly for you too. I would love to go out with you, but I’m so afraid of what it might do to me. I’m also afraid of putting myself out there. And that’s just the emotional part. Physically I, er, I really don’t know if I’m ready for any of that.” She stares into her tea. “I guess I don’t want to fuck it up. Your friendship means too much to me and it’s not something I can afford to lose.”
“You will never lose me, Laura.” I know it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words come out of my mouth.
Laura gives me a skeptical look. “Of course I will. You have a good and big heart, Tess. I know that much. But if we go out a
nd it doesn’t feel right or something happens or gets said and it ends badly, not even you could get past that.”
“But what could possibly happen?” My voice sounds way too exasperated.
“I know it might be hard for you to wrap your head around this. I totally get that. I know I’m not easy to deal with, especially when it comes to this… to having feelings for someone. But certain things happened to me that I can’t even say out loud. Things I’m so ashamed of I couldn’t even tell Rachel. I came to Nelson to heal. That has always been my first and foremost objective. And then I met you, and you’re so wonderful, but that doesn’t change what happened to me. I know very well I sound like a broken record when I endlessly repeat that I need time, and that must be very frustrating for you, but it is how it is. This healing process I need to go through can’t be rushed. As much as I would like to rush it, and be ready to go out with you, I just… can’t.”
“I’m sorry, Laura. I did pressure you.” I don’t even know where to look, though Laura did just sound a tad patronizing.
“No, it’s fine. It’s important for us to talk about this. I really need you to know how I feel about you. I just… need some more time.” Laura’s words are coming faster now. “Like you said after I tried to kiss you, I want it to be the right time for us too.”
“But you kissed me, Laura. You drew that portrait of me. How should I interpret that?”
Laura buries her head in her hands briefly. “I know,” she mumbles from behind her hands. “I’m sorry.” She lets her hands fall away. “But to date you, I would need to be completely open with you, and I have no idea how to do that. I can’t repeat the things Tracy said to me and turned me into this… damaged person I am today.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” I reach for Laura’s hand on the table. “I will gladly wait for you, just tell me I have a chance.”
Laura tries to look me in the eyes, her gaze skittering away and back to me. “Of course you have a chance. I just don’t know how to give it to you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” As far as romantic declarations of intent go, this one is very stunted and rather limited, but it makes me hopeful nonetheless. “That’s all I need to know.”
“I just need to ask one more thing of you.” Laura’s playing with my fingers now, letting them fall between hers on the table.
“Anything.”
“Don’t ask me out. I will ask you when I’m ready.” She looks at me from under her lashes.
“Deal.” I close my fingers around hers.
“One more thing.” Her gaze softens. “Where can I find a litter tray and a food bowl for my kitten?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAURA
“When do you think I’ll be ready?” I ask Socks, my brand new housemate. He’s mostly ginger, but his paws are white. His ears perk up a little at the sound of my voice, but not a whole lot. I had believed it would take him much longer to get used to his new surroundings but a few hours after I brought him home, he was already purring on the sofa. “Do you remember that pretty lady who was with me when I picked you up? She’s the one I’m talking about.” I scratch Socks under his chin and he purrs loudly again. His furry presence effortlessly lifts my spirit.
It’s been a few days since Tess and I talked at Mary’s. Over the phone, I told Rachel about what she’d said, but she only confirmed Tess’s words: she will wait for you.
“Why would she, though?” I ask Socks, who turns onto his back and smacks his tiny paws against my hand while I rub his stomach. “Why would she wait for me?”
Though Tess clearly stated that she didn’t want to pressure me, having the conversation equaled applying pressure. I fully understand why she said the things she said. But, as a consequence, I am feeling the pressure. The ball’s in my court. I will ask her out when I’m ready—whenever that will be.
Then the bell rings, startling Socks. He rolls over and stands with his little ears fully perked up now.
“Shall we see who that is, little fella?” I pick him up and cradle him in my arms. He really couldn’t be a more perfect kitten. He seems to love humans as much as we adore cats.
I open the door and see the postman. “Special delivery for you, Miss Baker. Please sign here.”
“I told you before, Gunther. The name’s Laura.” I shoot him a grin as I take the pen he offers. I get a lot of mock-ups and other graphic design samples delivered, so we’ve become acquainted enough to be on a first-name basis.
“Sure thing, Laura,” he says the exact same thing he always says, but always goes back to Miss Baker at his next visit.
He hands me the package, which is just an envelope. At first I think it’s a bill I forgot to pay, but when I look at the label I see it’s from Mr. Caan, the town lawyer.
“Must be something to do with Aunt Milly,” I tell Socks, as I realize that it didn’t take me very long to pick up the habit of talking to my pet out loud.
I put Socks on the sofa and he starts mewling immediately. He’s such a sucker for affection—at night he sleeps on the pillow, right next to my head. “I thought it was your nap time.” I give him a few quick scratches on the top of his head which seem to satisfy him. “You’re such an attention whore.”
Inadvertently, he makes me smile. He lies down with his head on his paws but doesn’t close his eyes, as though he wants to keep tabs on what I’m doing.
I sit down next to Socks and open the envelope. Inside, I find a letter from Mr. Caan’s office and the envelope Aunt Milly asked me to drop off there not long after I moved to Nelson.
The letter says that Millicent Johnson wanted me to receive this letter two weeks after she passed away, which reminds me that it has been two weeks already.
I tear it open and read. It’s written in minuscule handwriting, the lines of the words jagged, as though written with a shaky hand. The ink color changes in the middle of the page. It must have taken her a while to get this down on paper.
Dearest Laura,
Some things are better said in a letter. I feel my time here is quickly coming to an end and I want you to know two things. These are my beliefs. They are things I didn’t feel entirely comfortable talking to you about in person, but they need to be said.
1) My brother, your father, is not worth one single minute of agony. I have made my peace with the fact that he and I are no longer on speaking terms (also because of someone I loved!) a very long time ago. This may be harder for you but as you get older, it will get easier. I want you to know this. You will care less and less until you’ve cut that man out of your heart completely. I truly wish you can accomplish this because there is nothing wrong with you, Laura. It’s all him and Phyllis. They’ve brainwashed themselves and I’m sure they’re convinced that, through some twisted logic, they’re doing good by following God’s word. But it’s not you who is not worthy of them, it’s they who are not worthy of you. You are a beautiful person, and I can surely attest to that, and it’s THEIR incomprehensible, giant loss.
2) This one is harder for me to put into words, but I will try. I don’t have children, but I consider you one of my own. I want for you what I would want for any of my children. I want you to be happy. Though I know that’s hard after everything that has happened to you, you must try. This may require you to take a leap of faith, but I’m convinced that you’ll know when the time is right. Healing is important, but you can’t let your life pass you by. You have so much more life left to live and I, for one, refuse to believe that what happened to you decreases your chances at happiness. Take the leap, dear Laura. Do it for yourself. You deserve it.
All my love,
Aunt Milly
I stare at the letter for a long time. I gave Aunt Milly very broad strokes of what happened. She knew about the accident, but not about the abuse. The way it’s written, however, feels as though she looked straight into my soul and knew everything. And then proceeded to tell me exactly what I needed to hear. I read the letter a few more times, let
the words sink in deeper and deeper with every pass, until I can’t ignore its message any longer. I’m taking the leap. The time is right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TESS
“I couldn’t believe it when you called.” I still can’t believe it. “Are we still officially calling this a date, Miss Laura Baker?” Below my chair, Laura’s kitten pushes himself against my shins time after time.
“It’s a date,” Laura confirms. When she called me two days ago to ask me out, no hesitation in her voice at all, she said that it would have to be at her house because she couldn’t bear to leave Socks alone yet.
“Wine?” she asks. She has dressed up in a white blouse, a step up from her usual t-shirts.
“I don’t have to drink,” I reply. Though I’m much more nervous than I thought I would be and I could do with a drop.
“I bought it especially for you,” she insists. “I may have a tiny sip myself.” She pours me a glass, then sits. “Why is this so nerve-racking? We’ve known each other for months now.”
“Because we’re calling it a date,” I say, knowing exactly how she feels.
Laura busies herself with pouring us each a glass of water. I relent and pick up the kitten.
“He needs a lot of attention,” Laura says. “But he’ll get tired soon enough.”
Socks purrs like crazy and I can’t help but press him against my chest. After I’ve put him back down, I search for Laura’s gaze, and hold it for an instant. “I’m nervous too,” I admit.
“First date jitters. That’s normal, right?” Laura stands again.
“Laura, please, just sit down for a second.”
“We should have done this at a restaurant,” she says, a gasp in her voice.