Something About Love (This Is Not Erotica)

by Tess Mackenzie

  “They’re probably just forgetting because they’re pissed.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  They sat a little longer. They watched a boat go past on the river.

  “I stopped seeing people for a while too,” Jo said. “Like fucking people. I decided it would just complicate everything, and it was simpler not to.”

  “I can see why.”

  “You’re the first, since I stopped drinking.”

  “Like the first you…”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh.” Sophie sat there for a while. “Am I doing okay?”

  Jo looked at her.

  “Shit,” Sophie said. “I don’t know. Should I be doing anything particular.”

  Jo grinned. “You know what else? You’re the first person in years I’ve slept with who I wasn’t pissed the first time we hooked up.” She sat there for a while. “Actually, you’re probably the first ever.”

  Sophie smiled.

  “You’re my first I remember,” Jo said. “I was kind of a virgin when I found you.”

  Sophie leaned over, and kissed Jo, and said, “Thank you.”

  “It’s there. That’s all.”

  Sophie sat for a while, waiting, but Jo didn’t say anything else. “When did you stop?” Sophie said.

  “Few months ago. Sixish before I met you.”

  “Six?”

  “Or so.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to know like the day and hour?”

  Jo shrugged. “I can’t remember. Not within about three days. I have a first day sober, but I have no fucking idea when my last drink was. I can guess, but then my memory’s kind of fucked up for a week or so and everything’s a bit confused.

  Sophie looked at her, worried again. That sounded worse than she’d thought it was.

  “And I don’t want to live the rest of my life obsessing over how long I haven’t been doing something can never do again,” Jo said. “If that makes sense.”

  Sophie nodded. It did. “Is it hard?” she said. “Not drinking?”

  “Not always. Sometimes, though, yeah. Like it depends what else is going on. Some days I go a bit crazy, but then whole weeks are fine.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  Jo shook her head.

  “Do you have like a sponsor or meetings or anything?”

  “Like AA? Nah. Half my thing is I hate meeting new people when I’m not pissed. So going and meeting a room full of fucked-up addicts the day I stop drinking, so we can sit around and talk about how much we all miss drinking? Really not a fucking good idea, that one.”

  “I suppose.”

  “It’s good for lots of people though. Just not for me.”

  “Phone me. Like I was that.”

  Jo looked at her.

  “Fucking seriously. Any time, for any reason. I’ll do my best.”

  “Nah. It isn’t your shit.”

  “I want it to be. Phone me if you need anything. Fuck or talk or whatever. You need someone, and I want it to be me.”

  Jo sat there for a while.

  “Have you talked to anyone about this,” Sophie said. “At all?”

  “Ah. No, not really.”

  “How did you stop? Like a clinic or something?”

  “Went home and tipped out everything I had in the house and stayed there for a week. And watched TV. That helped a lot. And most of the time my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t really have gone anywhere even if I wanted to.”

  Sophie looked at her.

  “Seriously,” Jo said. “Not fun, but not that bad compared to a really shitty hangover. That isn’t the thing. Like, with me, it’s not the first few days that are a problem, it’s the long-term that’ll fuck me up, if anything does. Like, a month into it was really fucking hard. When I stopped remembering all the bad shit.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Jo nodded, thinking. Then she said, “Really? Can you?”

  “Don’t be an asshole, I can. You’re telling me, and I’m listening.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

  “So phone me. For anything. Okay?”

  Jo nodded. “Thanks.”

  They sat a while longer. Watched people walk past.

  “It turned out okay, though,” Sophie said. “Right? In the end, all of this?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “After all of it, in the end, you went to a thing, and you met me, and now everything’s fine. Something like that?”

  Jo grinned. “Something like that.”

  “I think you’re hotter than me,” Sophie said.

  “I don’t.”

  “I do. I think you are, and think you just don’t want to admit it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Would you have, gone off with me, before?”

  Jo sat there and looked at her. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “What used to happen, that doesn’t matter.”

  “But would you?”

  “Don’t…” Jo said.

  “I just want to know.”

  “And I don’t want to remember what I used to be like. Even to guess whether I’d have gone home with you.”

  Sophie looked at her. “Oh.”

  “I probably would have. But nothing about that me really makes sense, now. Like I don’t know why I did shit, or half of what went on. It’s like some completely different person was me, okay? So going home with you, I have no fucking idea. I don’t know what she’d have done. But probably. You’re hot. You’re the right kind of interesting. You’re just fucked up enough I want to hold your hand and tell you that you’ll be fine, and I think I always would have.”

  “Just slurry?” Sophie said.

  Jo looked at her, then smiled a little.

  “Sorry,” Sophie said. “I shouldn’t have teased.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  Sophie nodded.

  “But can we stop talking about this now?” Jo said. “Please?”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean, thanks,” Jo said. “That sounded kind of ungrateful. Thank you for caring, fucking really, and I haven’t talked about it before, to anyone, ever, so I’m glad you nagged at me to, and it helped, but I’m done now.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said.

  Jo stood up, and kissed her and said, “Come on.”

  Sophie stood up too, and they walked back to Sophie’s work together, holding hands. Sophie was happy. She was glad she asked. It felt like a good day, a day that mattered. And for once, hardly anyone looked at them as they walked along together. That was a good thing too.

  *

  The Fifth Night: Several Weeks Later

  A few weeks later, Sophie met Jo for a drink after work.

  Jo had phoned, and said a drink, and told Sophie a bar she said she’d wanted to try, and Sophie had gone, worried, not sure what to think. Sophie didn’t understand why Jo had said a drink particularly, rather than visit or dinner or just to hang out. She wasn’t sure why Jo wanted to try a bar.

  She wondered if Jo was going to say she’d started drinking again, or didn’t want to see Sophie any more, or something else horrible.

  She found the bar, and found Jo inside, and Jo seemed normal, just said hi and kissed Sophie.

  “What’s up?” Sophie said in the end, still worrying.

  Jo looked at her, then looked more carefully, then said, “Oh fuck, what did I do?”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “There’s something, though, isn’t there? What’s wrong?”

  Sophie shrugged.

  “Hey,” Jo said. “What’s up?”

  “Why are we meeting for a drink?”

  “Why not?”

  Jo was either faking well, or really didn’t understand.

  “Why a drink? Why a bar you wanted to try?”

  “I just thought you might want to. I’d heard good shit about the place. I don’t get what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong? F
or you? Nothing bad’s going on?”

  “Of course not. Why should there be?”

  “It’s you. It’s a bar.”

  Jo kept looking at her.

  “I thought there must be some problem,” Sophie said. “That you’d started again. That you’d changed your mind about me.”

  “No,” Jo said. “Shit no, of course not.”

  “Oh.”

  “Really, honest to fuck Soph. No.”

  Sophie was actually surprised. “Okay, that’s good.”

  “Maybe just thinking we should try and I was ready, but that’s all.”

  “It wasn’t really the drinking that worried me,” Sophie said. “It was the other.”

  “That I’d just break up with you? Out the blue?”

  Sophie shrugged.

  Jo looked annoyed for just a second. Annoyed Sophie would think this. Then her face changed, and she was sympathetic. “Hey,” she said. “No. I wouldn’t.”

  “I know that. I just don’t know that all the time.”

  Jo was looking at her. “You’re that insecure?”

  “Around you? Ah, yeah.”

  Jo kept looking.

  “I know. And sorry. But I am. You really mean a lot to me, and this whole situation is weird.”

  “Weird because of me?” Jo said.

  Sophie shrugged.

  “Fuck,” Jo said, and looked upset. Looked terribly guilty, like her problems had hurt Sophie.

  “No,” Sophie said. “It’s not you. It’s just like this horrible fear you’ll realize you could do better then me, that you could have someone normal, and you won’t want to see me any more.”

  “Normal?” Jo said, then, “No, fuck. Soph…”

  “I know. I’ve heard it before.”

  “Stop it,” Jo said, and kissed her.

  “I…”

  “Just stop. I want you.”

  Sophie looked at her. Jo kissed her again. “Just no,” Jo said. “And stop.”

  Sophie nodded slowly. “Okay. I have.”

  *

  Later, walking back to Jo’s house, Sophie thought about Jo wanting her, and about the things she’d been wanting to say to Jo for a while, and hadn’t yet.

  They had been walking in silence, hugging sometimes, staying quiet. Sophie had been thinking about how to say everything so it came out right.

  “I want you,” she said suddenly. “I want you around for a long time. And I’m not going anywhere. Even if you do.”

  “Okay,” Jo said. “But I’m not going anywhere either.”

  “That isn’t what I mean. This is just so you know. In case that helps with everything.”

  “Everything?” Jo said, a little sharply.

  “Yeah,” Sophie said. “Everything. All you have to deal with, and all the complications I add to that. And one more thing. I’m falling for you.”

  Jo didn’t answer.

  “You don’t need to say anything,” Sophie said.

  “I know.”

  “It would be nice if you did.”

  Jo grinned. “Me too.”

  “You are?”

  Jo shrugged.

  Sophie wanted to hug her, but didn’t. “Yay,” she said in the end. That seemed to be enough.

  *

  Later, sitting on Jo’s sofa, after they’d kissed for a while and had sex for a while, Sophie still felt all warm and happy. They were just sitting there, hugging, comfortable. Sophie still had her hand down the front of Jo’s jeans.

  “Why do you do that?” Jo said after a while.

  “It feels nice. Yours feels nicer than mine.”

  Jo looked at her. After a while she said, “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “Ah, no. I like how you feel better than how I feel.”

  “Right,” Jo said. “Of course.”

  “Why did you stop drinking?” Sophie said. “You never told me.”

  Jo moved enough Sophie had to pull her hand away. Moved, kind of slid down the end of the sofa and looked over at Sophie. “That’s kind of out the blue,” Jo said.

  Sophie shrugged.

  “Someone close to me basically said I needed to fix this, or I’m out her life,” Jo said. “That she couldn’t have me around like this. So I stopped.”

  “Who?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not if you don’t want to say.”

  Jo sat there for a while. “My ex,” she said.

  “Oh.” Sophie thought for a moment. “What, like a sort this out and we’ll get back together deal?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I met you.”

  Sophie sat there for a while, not sure how to respond. “Do you want her?” she said, in the end. “At all?”

  “Not any more.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. “Because of me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” Jo said.

  Sophie leaned over, and hugged her. “I love you, you know that, right?”

  Jo looked at her, seemed surprised.

  “I mean, I’m in love with you.”

  “Fuck, Soph, don’t be an asshole.”

  “I am. Just so you know. It doesn’t change anything, but I am.”

  “Because I told you a nice story about my shit?”

  Sophie shrugged. “You trusted me with that, so I’ll trust you with this.”

  Jo kissed her. “Me too. But I’m not saying it yet.”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.”

  Sophie sat there for a while, thinking. “Are you okay?” she said. “Right now?”

  “How do you mean.”

  “With this. With what I said. With everything. Are you okay? Does being around me make it harder?”

  “No.” Jo kissed her. “Never. You make everything better.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And now I’m done talking about all that, okay?”

  Sophie nodded, and kissed her again. Kissed for a while. They still kissed like they had the first night, all intense and involving and like nothing else mattered in the world. There was a lot going on, and a lot that was difficult for them, but as long as they kissed like that, Sophie thought, they would be all right.

  Sophie sat there for a while, holding Jo. “I love you,” she said, just to try it out.

  “Don’t,” Jo said. “Please. Not yet.”

  *

  Later, lying in bed, Jo said, “So there’s one other thing I think I should tell you. Just so you know what you’re getting into.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “It never goes away. It’s always there. Like this potential to end up back where I was. It’s always there for the rest of my life, and I don’t know that’s fair to put that on you.”

  Sophie didn’t know what to say.

  “So yeah,” Jo said. “Anyway. I’m mostly okay now, but there’s a chance I end up back there if something goes wrong for me. Basically.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m not fixed. I’m just on hold, I suppose. Like forever. Life is good at the moment, so I’m fine, but I have no idea what happens if something gets really fucked up.”

  “So what, don’t break up with you?”

  Jo looked at her. “Really don’t be an asshole. And don’t fucking flatter yourself.”

  “Hey,” Sophie said, and looked at her, almost angry.

  “Sorry,” Jo said. “Shit, yeah that too. But I meant if something bad happens at work, or a friend gets cancer, or some big, real shit happens, I don’t know where I’ll be. And in fairness you need to know that if you’re going to be anywhere nearby.”

  Sophie nodded. “I’m fine. But thanks.”

  “Okay then.” Jo lay there for a while. “Shit, Sophie. I wouldn’t have said anything if I meant don’t break up with me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Fucking should be.”

 
*

  The Sixth Night: Six Months After The First

  Sophie woke up. She could hear someone crying. She was at Jo’s, and still a little confused with sleep. She didn’t understand what was happening, because Jo didn’t cry. Jo didn’t seem like someone who ever cried. Sophie wasn’t sure what the noise she was hearing was. She got up, and pulled on one of Jo’s tee-shirts, and went out into the hall, listening. Then into the lounge.

  Jo was sitting on the couch, crying. She was naked. Still naked, Sophie assumed, from how she’d been sleeping. She was sitting curled up, holding onto her phone. Like she was holding herself, like people did when they were hurt, badly hurt, or really upset.

  “Hey,” Sophie said. “Jo, shit, are you okay?”

  Jo shook her head.

  “Yeah,” Sophie said. “Obviously not. Fuck.”

  She sat down next to Jo, put her arm around Jo’s back and hugged her. Jo leaned into Sophie and cried onto her neck. Jo’s tears were hot and wet and tickled slightly as they ran down Sophie’s skin.

  Jo cried. Then, after a while, she sniffed and wiped her face and said, “Sorry I woke you up.”

  “No, I… What’s up?”

  “My dad died.”

  Sophie sat there for a moment. “Oh fuck, that’s awful.”

  Jo nodded.

  Sophie thought. They’d never really talked much about family, because Sophie’s were a long way away and hadn’t been likely to meet Jo, and because Jo just didn’t talk. Sophie had assumed it was the same for Jo, or that there was some fight in the past Jo didn’t want to deal with, but she hadn’t thought to ask, when asking about drinking had got so complicated.

  “Fuck,” Sophie said. “I mean, were you expecting it? Was he sick or something.”

  Jo shook her head.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sophie said, hugged her.

  Jo started crying again. She was really upset, was clinging to Sophie, sobbing like she was going to die of it.

  Sophie held Jo and wasn’t sure what else to do. She didn’t know enough about Jo’s family, and what might have happened, to say anything that would help. She didn’t know nearly enough about Jo’s family for the serious partner she was meant to be. She had no idea what would help, so she did nothing. Just sat with her hand on Jo’s back, stroking her gently, letting Jo cry into her neck, and feeling helpless.

  Jo stopped crying after a while.

  “Okay,” she said. She wiped her face with her hands. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

  Sophie didn’t think she was, but also didn’t think disagreeing right then would help.

  Jo had tears down her face, and her nose was running. She was sniffing when she breathed. Sophie looked around for tissues. Jo liked women and didn’t wear makeup, so she never seemed to have tissues around the house.