by Harper Bliss
“We’re glad you called,” my father starts. “And we’re glad to see you.” The thing about my father is that, because of his profession, he can make the biggest bullshit sound like the most genuine words you’ve ever heard. “Glad to see you’re doing well.”
Doing well? What a joke.
“I heard you live here now,” my mother says. “Is there any particular reason you came here?”
“A relative in need of company and help.” I try to keep my voice firm. I could do with another glass of wine. As far as uncomfortable situations go, this one is right up there with being questioned by a police officer after Tracy’s death. I don’t want to be here, I keep thinking. I don’t want to sit here with these people and exchange words with them. It’s all too little too late.
I look at neither of them, but just stare through the window inside. I can make out Rachel and Tess, though I can’t see their features clearly. Then, I realize that I don’t have to have this conversation. I can walk away any time.
“We should have come to your wedding,” my father says then, and it feels like being kicked hard in the gut. Like all life just rushes from me in a wave of pain. “We’re sorry about that.”
They don’t even know Tracy is dead. I sent them a wedding invitation but no notification of my wife’s untimely demise. They don’t know anything. These people who created me, raised me, and tried to mold me into their image.
“Why did you come here?” I ask.
“She was my sister,” my father is quick to say.
“Fat load of good that did her.” My nerves have no way out of my system, so I start tapping my heel against the floor.
“I’m almost eighty, Laura, and, lately, I’ve started to realize that throughout my life I’ve made a few grave errors.” He tries to find my gaze, but I look away. When I glance back at him, however, I see too much of me in that sad, old face. I inherited his eye color, and that dimple in his chin, and a bunch of other features that conspire together to reveal we are related.
My mother remains silent. Maybe they agreed that the pastor would do the talking—for maximum impact.
“Your mother and I are very sorry for casting you out the way we did.” His tone is exactly the same as I remember from the endless hours of services I had to sit through as a child. “Times have changed. We even have some gay folks in our congregation these days.”
“Oh really?” I stare him hard in the face. “And what did you tell them? You’re very welcome here. Our daughter is a lesbian. We were too stupid and cold-hearted to accept her, but we’d like to make up for that by embracing you into the bosom of our church.”
“Laura, we know what we did was wrong,” my father again. “We’re not here to ask for your forgiveness, because we know that’s too much to ask. We’re here to try and make a start of, perhaps, rebuilding our relationship with you. Before it’s too late.”
“You mean before you die?” Nerves are quickly transforming into anger. “It’s been fifteen years. And I called you. I’m not buying any of this. If Aunt Milly hadn’t died, you wouldn’t even be here.”
My dad utters a sigh, while my Mom finally speaks. “Which one is your wife?” she asks, her voice as icy as ever. “The tall blond or the short African-American?”
That’s it. I’ve had it. I push my chair back and stand up. “I would like you both to leave now.”
“Laura, come on.” I witness how my father gives my mother a scolding look. At least now I know which one of the two instigated their trip here. “Let’s talk a little longer. We came all this way.”
“Oh, the sacrifices you’ve made for me.” I don’t care that I’m raising my voice. I don’t care who hears what I have to say. I look at my mother. “Neither one of them is my wife. My wife is dead. And please stop pretending you care one iota. I will never have a relationship with you. Why would I spend even a second of my life considering whether to forgive you, my parents, the people who hurt me the most in my life. Do you have any idea what it feels like to cease to exist for your own kin? Every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, every birthday, every single year, was never a celebration for me, just a brutal reminder of how cruel you were. Yet, for the first few years, every single time, I had hope. Foolish, ridiculous hope that you’d see past your bigotry. But it never happened. Not a word. Nothing in fifteen years. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”
“Laura.” A voice comes from behind me.
“You’re fifteen years too late, Daddy,” I say.
“Laura.” I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look to my right. It’s Rachel, Tess right behind her. “Come on, let’s go inside,” Rachel says.
I look at my parents’ flabbergasted faces one more time—and some part of me hopes it’s the last time I see them—then let Rachel coax me inside, into the room I use as my office.
“Are you all right?” Tess is there as well, of course.
My breath is coming quickly, my pulse is pounding. “I lost it when my mother asked which one of you was my wife.” Whereas it enraged me before, the statement now sounds so ludicrous, I burst out into a silly giggle. When I come to, I say, “It was just such blatant evidence of how they know absolutely nothing about me. Of how family is not always who you’re born to, but who loves you.” I look at Rachel, then at Tess. I love them both in my own way. “I don’t have many people left, but I have you two.” Emotions are quickly starting to catch up with me and my eyes are getting itchy.
“You will always have me,” Rachel says as she grabs my hand.
I glance at Tess, who stands there looking as though she doesn’t know what to do. But she doesn’t have to say or do anything, I know she has my back. Sometimes, you just know. Even when the most horrible things have happened to you, and the person you loved most in the world, the person you were so in love with that you married her, tried to take the last speck of your dignity with her fists. Even then, you can still know. Because I know now, while Rachel holds my hand, and I stare into Tess’s eyes, I know she won’t hurt me.
“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?”<
br />
“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.
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 and 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?”
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.