Love Happens Here

by Clare Lydon

  It hadn’t happened in a while.

  “Anything broken?” Concern was printed on Dot’s face.

  Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Dot muted Delilah, then fixed Caitlin in place with her eyes. “Stay there. I’ll go make us some tea.”

  Dot was taking charge.

  Caitlin was more than okay with that.

  She’d missed it.

  Chapter 4

  Dot left Caitlin with her bruised-up knee, and went out for a walk. She needed a little space. The flat, which they’d lived in happily together before their split, was suddenly closing in.

  Caitlin wasn’t having much luck finding new flights, and she was getting increasingly concerned.

  Caitlin wasn’t the only one.

  This whole situation had thrown Dot’s feelings into a blender and processed them at speed. How was she meant to feel with Caitlin back in the flat, trying to act like the last few months hadn’t happened? That Caitlin hadn’t bailed on their relationship and put Dot’s heart through a mincer?

  Dot’s feet pounded the pavement as she tried to strike a rhythm to go with her thoughts. Caitlin was living with her again after she’d told Dot their relationship came second to her career. Dot should still be far angrier. But she was tired of being angry. It was wasted emotion. Now, Dot was all about Dot, and nobody else. At least Caitlin was cooking dinner today.

  Dot powered up the empty main road, passing their favourite curry house.

  Dammit.

  Her favourite curry house.

  Past the hairdressers, the coffee shop, Boots. All empty, with closed signs in their windows. Living in this pandemic was so surreal. Like someone had picked up her area and shaken it out. There was nobody else on her side of the street. A single beat-up black Golf raced by, its back bumper barely hanging on.

  Dot broke into a little jog. Her skin prickled, the air tinged with despair. Was the virus standing next to her, waiting to pounce? It had already killed thousands all around the world. The sooner she got to the shop, the sooner she would get back home. However, Caitlin was waiting there, and she’d attached herself to Dot’s heart before. Caitlin could easily do it again. Dot wasn’t immune to her charms.

  Her phone ringing brought her back to the present. She glanced at it. Mum. Dot hit the green button.

  “Hi Mum, how are you?”

  “I’m good sweetheart. Just calling to check on my favourite girl.”

  Dot was a 37-year-old woman with a driving licence and her own business, but to her mum, she’d always be her little girl. “I’m okay.” But even as the words left her lips, she knew she sounded anything but.

  “What’s wrong?” Her mum had always been able to sense when Dot wasn’t telling the truth. She could give Angela Lansbury a run for her money.

  “Nothing.” Dot was stalling. “It’s just… Caitlin’s back.”

  An intake of breath. “Back how?”

  Dot kicked the pavement. “As in, she’s back in the flat, living with me.”

  Her mum took an even longer pause. “Is that what you want?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s happening.”

  “But it’s your flat. You live there. She left. Surely this is your call.”

  Dot sighed. She knew that. She’d been through all of these arguments in her head. But if she’d said no, Caitlin would be homeless. She couldn’t go back to her mum.

  “It is my call, and I said yes. But please, no judgements. She’s trying to rebook her flight. It’s temporary. But still a headfuck.”

  “I can imagine.” Mum paused. “Promise me one thing? Don’t sleep with her.”

  Dot snorted. “She’s on the sofa, and that’s where she’s staying. We’re more likely to kill each other.” So far, they’d either been arguing or holding their breath.

  “Don’t do that, either,” Mum said. “It’s messy, and there’s a whole lot of paperwork. Just remember you’ve worked hard over the past couple of months to get over her. Don’t let Caitlin waltz in and rip up your progress, okay?”

  Dot nodded, stuffing her spare hand into her jacket pocket, as if pressing down her emotions. Waltzing. Funny how her mum thought Caitlin was a waltzer, too.

  “It’s temporary, Mum.” But even as she said it, Dot’s heart slammed in her chest. “Anyway, I need to get to the shop. Caitlin wants sticky toffee pudding for dessert. She likes the one Sainsbury’s does the most.”

  Dot rolled her eyes at herself. Even she could hear how that sounded.

  Chapter 5

  Caitlin assessed the table. Candlelight. Napkins. A photo of a beach stuck to the kitchen wall. Extreme’s ‘More Than Words’ cued up on Spotify. Was this inappropriate behaviour? Caitlin wasn’t a good judge. However, the purpose of tonight was to transport them back to Cuba. More specifically one particular night, when they’d been serenaded by possibly the world’s worst guitarist, who’d turned up at their table and tried to play ‘More Than Words’. Unsuccessfully.

  Caitlin hoped it would make Dot laugh. She knew she was pushing her luck staying here. Dot was being super-accommodating. It was why she’d fallen for her in the first place. But somewhere along the way, Caitlin had lost sight of that. Now, she just wanted to make the rest of her time here bearable. To ensure Dot felt comfortable in her own home. Most of all, she wanted Dot not to hate her. Making her favourite dinner of lasagne was one way to ensure that didn’t happen for the next hour.

  When Dot walked in, Caitlin had her back to her. But she heard Dot’s laughter.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Caitlin spun around, holding up both hands. “Cuban memories. I tried to book a shit guitarist via Zoom, but they’re surprisingly popular. So instead, I’ve made us Cuba Libres and lasagne. A Cuban drink, if not strictly Cuban food. If you’ve got the sticky toffee pudding, we could have a perfect night on our hands.” Caitlin paused. “Did you get it?”

  Dot held up a carrier bag, a look on her face Caitlin couldn’t quite read.

  But whatever Dot was thinking, Caitlin’s mind was clear. With her piercing blue eyes and heart-shaped face, Dot was still beautiful. Caitlin pushed her thoughts aside and painted on a smile.

  She dished up the lasagne, the tomato sauce rich, cheese dangling in long, silky strings. Caitlin’s stomach grumbled. She held up her glass filled with rum and coke.

  “What shall we drink to?” Dot asked.

  “Not being serenaded by a terrible guitarist?”

  Dot raised an eyebrow. “As good as any.” She sipped her cocktail, and ate her first bite. Then finally, she smiled. “Of all the things I miss about you, your lasagne is right up there.”

  Caitlin tilted her head. “Not my razor-sharp wit or gorgeous face?”

  Dot pondered, then shook her head. “Nope, your lasagne trumps them both.” She turned up her smile.

  Caitlin’s shoulders unclenched. Whatever had been on Dot’s mind when she came in had been partly erased by the lasagne. Caitlin wasn’t going to end up homeless tonight, at least.

  “How’s your knee?”

  “I’ll survive.” Caitlin replayed the memory of Dot on top of her earlier. Something kicked in her chest. She ignored it. “Cuba was a great holiday, wasn’t it?”

  Dot nodded. “Our last good one.” She dipped her gaze. “Remember those Americans we met who’d been together for over 20 years? They wanted to give us all that marriage advice, but we were so sure of ourselves, so cocky?”

  Caitlin remembered it as if it were yesterday. Kim and Shantelle. They’d been on honeymoon, and they’d met them every day at the same beach.

  “What was it they said? Keep talking, and no matter where the other one goes, you go, too.” Caitlin hung her head. “I didn’t listen, did I?” Her stomach churned. She ate another bite of lasagne, but didn’t taste it.

  Nobody else would get the reference to Kim and Shantelle, would they? Nobody else had experienced terrible guitar man. Nobody else got Caitlin like Dot di
d.

  That realisation made her sit up and take a larger swig of her drink.

  Opposite her, Dot scoffed more lasagne. She was never one to hang about when it came to food. Especially food she loved.

  “You okay?” Dot asked, putting her fork down finally. “You’ve gone a little quiet, which is not like you. Especially when we’re on holiday.”

  Dot knew her. Caitlin didn’t need to be reminded again. She’d let Dot slip through her fingers.

  Caitlin still remembered how they’d laughed at the guitarist. Danced under the moonlight. Finished the night with multiple orgasms that had left them both covered in a sheen of hot sweat.

  Her skin prickled just remembering. Instinctively, she went to reach her hand across the table, palm upturned. Whenever she did that, Dot would always entwine their fingers, and they’d share a look.

  Caitlin almost sat on her hands.

  “How’s your work going?” Dot had her own business as a gardener. She’d built it up from nothing, and served the local community. Caitlin hadn’t taken enough notice of that, either.

  Dot got up and put the desserts in the microwave. She keyed in the time and pressed start.

  Caitlin watched her fingers the whole time.

  “I’ll be back at work next week as normal. The virus hasn’t changed much. Nature carries on, needs tending. This week is anything but normal, because I’m on holiday.” Dot glanced up, snagging Caitlin’s gaze. “With my ex, which is unexpected.”

  Their gazes locked. Caitlin’s stomach flipped. She still found Dot attractive. Being back had driven that point home. She looked away, curling her toes in her trainers. She’d picked a side. She’d chosen New York over Dot. But she’d made the decision without talking to Dot.

  Dot grabbed the dessert from the microwave and dished it out. “Not exactly like Cuba, but it’ll do.” She delivered it to the table.

  Caitlin took a bite and swooned. “This is so good. Cuba or Mexico can’t rival a sticky toffee pudding. It reminds me of that dessert we had at that restaurant not so long ago, too. Remember the one? Sticky Christmas pudding?”

  But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Caitlin wanted to scoop them back in. Because while the dessert might have been delicious, the night had been a disaster.

  December 17th. A date etched in Caitlin’s memory. They’d drunk too much wine. They’d had an incredible meal. And then Dot had asked her the question that neither of them had been brave enough to ask. “If you go to New York, are we doing long distance?”

  Caitlin hadn’t replied right away, because she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She didn’t want to hurt Dot, but she also didn’t see how she could live in New York and have a girlfriend in London. Dot couldn’t move because she’d just started her business. Caitlin had tried long distance before and it hadn’t worked. She knew how it grazed your emotions and left you exhausted. She’d been certain if she was going New York to follow her dreams – which she had to - the only way she could do it was to go alone. Even if it snapped her heart in two.

  Something slid down Caitlin’s cheek. She raised a hand to her face. It was wet. She was crying? Shit. This was meant to be a holiday, not a trip down Love Failure Lane.

  She jumped up, her spoon still resting in the half-eaten pudding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. It was just, I was remembering that night, and the dessert, then what happened afterwards.”

  Dot’s gaze was steely. Unreadable. “It was a lot,” she replied. “You hurt me. You threw us away like we were nothing.” She indicated the table. “But we could have been something if you’d have just tried. You let your past cloud your future with doing long distance. You were a coward.”

  Caitlin let the words hit her one by one. As if Dot was throwing stones. She didn’t put a hand up to stop them. She deserved them. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter, blew her nose and sat down again. Her tears were still falling.

  “I know I was.” Caitlin’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She’d put it on alert in case a new flight became available. Now, it seemed imperative she got away as quick as she could.

  She tugged it from her jeans. “It might be a flight.” She gave Dot a weak smile. But when she clicked on her email, the title of the first message made her heart sink.

  ‘Due to the current pandemic, we are taking back our offer of a job at Dreamscape TV…’

  Bile worked its way up Caitlin’s throat. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She looked up at Dot, then squeezed her eyes tight shut. She couldn’t tell her. Not just yet. She couldn’t be a total failure in Dot’s eyes.

  Caitlin jumped up, shaking her head. “I’m going out for a walk.”

  Dot stared. “Now?”

  Caitlin gave her a nod and ran out of the room.

  Chapter 6

  Dot hadn’t slept well after clearing up the dishes of their abruptly abandoned Cuban night, emotion swirling inside her. She hadn’t missed the drama that always followed Caitlin. The next morning, Dot rolled over and stared at the empty pillow next to her. The woman who used to occupy it was asleep on the sofa. Was she still crying? Was she preparing breakfast, as she’d promised she would?

  Dot jumped out of bed, and almost collided with Caitlin in the hallway. Her face was drawn, her hair matted. Dot’s eyes fell to Caitlin’s bare legs. It was a shameless habit. They were still long and smooth. She’d always loved Caitlin’s body. She’d always loved… Dot stopped her thoughts and forced her eyes upwards to Caitlin’s face.

  “I’m just jumping in the shower, then I’ll make breakfast.” Caitlin paused, her intense hazel eyes on Dot. “You need to use the loo first?”

  Dot shook her head. “You go. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  The kitchen floor was cool under her feet, a hint of tomato and Italian seasoning still coating the air. In the sink, the lasagne dish was soaking, the water cold and grey, bits of burnt cheese floating on top.

  Dot filled the kettle and flicked it on. In the corner, the boiler spluttered to life, telling her Caitlin was under the jets, water cascading down her naked body. Dot blinked once, twice, then shook her head. Not helpful.

  She was just getting two mugs from the cupboard when she heard a crash. She raced out into the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. “Cait? You okay?”

  No reply. But the shower was still going.

  “Caitlin?”

  A few more seconds passed, then finally, “Yes, I’m okay.” A long pause. “But I just slipped and fell out of the shower.”

  Fuck. Dot tried the handle. It was locked.

  They never used to lock the door.

  That was then.

  “I’m going to force the door, so stay back from it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Her voice was barely audible.

  It took Dot four shoulder charges to break the lock, but on the fourth it gave way and she staggered into the bathroom, narrowly stopping before she trod on Caitlin. When she saw the full extent of her, Dot’s breath caught in her chest.

  “Fucking hell, you’re bleeding!” Caitlin’s nose was a bloody mess, red streaks splattered across her cheeks and down her neck. She was tangled in the shower curtain, her face contorted in pain. Her breathing was shallow, too.

  Dot grabbed a towel from the shelving above the loo, then dropped to her knees, giving it to Caitlin for her face. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere?” Caitlin’s voice wobbled. “I was just thinking this morning that my knee felt better after you’d fallen on me. Then the bathroom decided to fall on me.”

  At least she still had her sense of humour.

  Caitlin glanced up, then promptly burst into tears.

  Dot put a stiff arm around her, soon melting into her familiar shape.

  Caitlin clutched her arm, pressing the side of her head into Dot. She shivered, which only made Dot grip her firmer.

  “Did you bang your face?” Dot just wanted to make it all better. All of it.

  Caitlin move
d her head from side to side. “I don’t think so, my nose just started bleeding.”

  It could have been so much worse. Caitlin could have smashed her head on the sink. She could have broken a major bone. Dot’s stomach lurched. She still cared, didn’t she? Now Caitlin was naked in her arms, a crying mess. Were Caitlin’s tears just about this morning?

  “Is anything broken?” Dot asked for the second time that week.

  Caitlin groaned as she sat up.

  “I don’t think so, but I’m still in shock.” Caitlin blew her nose on the white towel, now covered in blood. She let out a few more guttural sobs before taking some long breaths.

  “You’re going to be okay.” Yes, it was a platitude, but it was needed.

  Caitlin cracked a wry smile, looking up at Dot. “This bright side you’ve developed while I’ve been gone is disconcerting.” She rolled her wrist, then felt her knee. “I think maybe I’ve buggered my knee a bit more.” She clutched her side. “Plus my ribs and wrists.” She shook her head. “What a fucking state. I can’t even take a shower without falling out of it.”

  Dot helped Caitlin up, then grabbed her dressing gown so Caitlin could cover up. Dot put an arm around Caitlin and led her into the kitchen.

  It felt like the right thing to do.

  It also felt right.

  After dinner, they sat over a glass of chewy Rioja, a distant look in Caitlin’s eyes. They’d called 111, and Caitlin was told to get some rest and take painkillers. She’d followed that to the letter, but Dot could tell she was holding something back. If she was going to make a grand declaration over dessert, Dot wanted to tell her it was only tinned peaches.

  “Maybe we should order some jigsaws for the lockdown. I heard they’re getting very popular.”

  Caitlin lifted her gaze to meet Dot’s. “Aren’t there other things we could be doing? Plucking our eyelashes? Planing our shins?”