Sophie took her shirt off, and held it out. Jo looked at her, confused.
“If you want to blow your nose,” Sophie said.
Jo just sat there.
“It’s your shirt,” Sophie said. “So go on.”
Jo got up, and took a box of tissues down from on top the fridge, and came back to the couch. She blew her nose.
“Oh,” Sophie said. She’d never known those were there.
“Thank you,” Jo said. “For staying around. For not running away.”
Sophie shrugged. “I’m not going to run away.”
“Thank you anyway,” Jo said. “You help.”
“Do you want anything?” Sophie said. “Water?”
“A drink.” After a moment. “Not water.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say.
“I really want a fucking drink,” Jo said. “And I have none in the house, so that’s lucky.”
Sophie sat there, thinking. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Sophie said. “Like, right now. Should I stop you going anywhere?”
“Probably.”
“Can I stop you? Will you hit me or something if I do?”
Jo looked at her for a while, then shook her head.
“Okay,” Sophie said. “Then I’ll stop you.”
“I’m not trying to go anywhere.”
Sophie thought about that, and everything Jo had told her about her drinking. “Yet,” she said.
Jo looked at her, then nodded. “Yet.”
They sat for a moment longer.
“Is there anything you need to do?” Sophie said. “Like family, or your mum?”
“The hospital, later. I’d like to go and see him.”
“Friends?”
Jo shook her head.
“No other family?”
“No.”
“Your mum?”
“They split up ages ago. She won’t care.”
“Oh,” Sophie said, and just hugged her again.
“Could you come to the funeral with me?” Jo said. “I kind of need someone to. I need you to.”
“Of course.”
“And could you get drunk for me?” Jo said. “I feel like someone needs to do that too.”
Sophie nodded.
“Really,” Jo said. “Like for dad. Like, one day, drink until you fucking pass out for him? So someone has, because I can’t?”
“I will, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Jo was quiet again, for a while. “I need you to stay,” she said in the end. “I really fucking need you to stay.”
“I will,” Sophie said.
“Don’t let me out of your sight.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t let me go anywhere.”
“All right.”
“I mean it, I fucking mean it. I need you here every second for the next few days.”
“I promise,” Sophie said. “I’ll even pee with the door open so you can’t sneak out.”
“Yeah,” Jo said. “That might be a good idea.”
That was when Sophie realized how serious it was. She didn’t leave for a three days, until the funeral, and by then Jo had stopped staring at walls and shaking with tears every few hours.
*
They went to the funeral, Sophie in a black dress, Jo in the jeans and tee-shirt she happened to have on.
Jo had paid for the funeral. She hadn’t wanted to decide anything, and hadn’t known what to say, but Sophie had overhead her talking to someone and saying she would pay.
The funeral was older men, and no-one seemed to know who Jo was. Sophie and Jo stayed up the back, and a few people glanced over, but when Sophie asked if Jo should say something, Jo just shook her head.
“I can’t go to the wake,” Jo said, as people began to leave.
“Okay.”
“I just fucking can’t. I won’t make it if I do.”
“Of course,” Sophie said, and led Jo out.
They sat in a park instead, in the hot sun, and Jo started to cry again. And Sophie held her, and told her it would be all right, and after a while Jo said, “I love you too. And this time I’m saying you can’t leave me, not for a week.”
Sophie looked at her.
“I mean it,” Jo said. “I really fucking need you. And this is a shitty thing to ask, but please don’t leave me for a week.”
“I’m not going to leave you.”
“For a week.”
“For any time as long as I can see ahead.”
“But not for a week? You promise?”
“Not for a month. Not for three, okay? I absolutely fucking promise, no matter what, I won’t leave for three months.”
Jo nodded slowly, and hugged Sophie again a little desperately, and whispered, “Thank you.”
“I love you,” Sophie said.
“Me too,” Jo said, into her neck.
# # #
Hi, this is Tess, who wrote this story.
I hope you enjoyed it. And thank you for reading!
If you’d like to read some more, here’s how! But just to mention it, I also do straight erotica. Just so no-one gets a fright.
Then, when enough single stories are written to make an anthology, everything recent is collected together into an anthology book to sell.
But just to be really, completely clear, so no-one is upset when they realize later on - the anthology books collect the same stories as are already around the place for free. Exactly the same! So if you would like to buy a book, I would really appreciate it, and that would be fantastic! But please don’t feel obliged! Because if you’d rather try reading things first, or would just rather not pay for whatever reason, then please don’t!
So if you would like to have a look at the anthologies, they are this one, this one, and this one. Otherwise, there are single ebook stories here.
And either way, thank you for reading!
Something About Love (This Is Not Erotica) Page 5