by Harper Bliss
“It worked on me.” Nadia shot her a soft smile. “Listen, my birthday is next Monday and we’re having a small gathering on Friday. You have to come, I mean, you’re at the top of my list, Margot. I can’t celebrate without you.”
“And that won’t be awkward at all… I don’t want to ruin your party.”
“Hey, even Dominique Laroche is coming… I’m sure I can handle some initial tension between you and Claire.”
“Seriously?” Margot’s eyebrows shot up.
“If two people as unsuited for each other as Steph and Dominique can make it, I have faith that you and Claire who, let’s face it, are made for one another, can at least have a civilised conversation for my birthday.” Nadia held up her hands, as if saying it like that was all it took.
“Of course I won’t miss your party, Nadz. I wouldn’t dream of it.” A fresh set of nerves was already starting to tingle in Margot’s stomach.
“Good.” Nadia nodded. “It should be an interesting evening.”
JULIETTE
“What time’s the vote?” Juliette looked into Steph’s strained face.
“It starts at three. They’re broadcasting it live on Deux.”
Juliette checked her watch. They had thirty minutes to give Steph the day of her life. “We can watch it together later—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Steph said quickly. “We have work to—”
“This is a big deal.” Juliette didn’t let her finish. “And Dominique is our client. I like to think that if it wasn’t for Barbier & Cyr, she’d be voting against same-sex marriage today.”
“Her vote isn’t of great importance, though.” Steph looked as if she was barely holding it together, fumbling with the sleeves of her blazer, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
“Are you all right, Steph?” Claire asked. “Because we have some news for you, but perhaps you’re not in the right state of mind to receive it.”
“What?” Steph glanced at Claire skittishly. “No more personal dramas, please. I really think I’ve had enough.”
“This is business,” Juliette said. At least for Steph and Claire it would be. “I want to work less hours. Spend more time with Nadia. Re-evaluate my life.” And possibly surprise the pair of you in the process, Juliette thought. “As a consequence, Claire and I would like to ask you to take up more responsibilities at Barbier & Cyr. To gradually move into a more managerial role and, who knows, eventually become a partner.” Juliette scanned Steph’s face. She just sat there, her features frozen.
“That is if you’re not planning to become a stay-at-home step-mom, of course.” Claire broke the silence.
“You’re—you’re promoting me?” Steph twisted her head, looking from Juliette to Claire and back again. “After all that has happened?”
Juliette nodded. “Yes, because you deserve it, Steph. I, for one, can no longer judge you on who you decide to sleep with, but more than that, you’ve proven yourself above and beyond.”
“And you’re our friend,” Claire added. “We trust you to have our and our firm’s best interests at heart.”
“You’re the only one who saw through Sybille’s dirty game,” Juliette said, a fresh but unexpected dose of shame flaring in her mind.
“And you made an MLR députée stand up for our rights,” Claire said.
“The vote hasn’t even started yet.” Steph tensed again.
“Is that why you’re so nervous? Do you think she’s going to change her mind?” Juliette asked.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Steph buried her head in her hands. “I’m so proud of her, but I’m also scared for her, you know?”
“If anyone can handle herself, it’s Dominique.” Claire rose from her chair and put a hand on Steph’s shoulder.
“So, what do you say, Stéphanie?” Juliette pinned her gaze on Steph. “Do you take the job? Before you say yes, it does mean you’ll be working more closely with me.” She pulled her lips into a comic pout. “And we both know I can be an insufferable bitch sometimes.”
“Fuck yes.” Steph put her hand on Claire’s and looked Juliette straight in the eyes. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Juliette stood up and extended her hand to shake on it. She’d stashed a few bottles of Veuve in the pantry fridge, but she and Claire had decided to wait to pop them until after the vote.
“This calls for an impromptu office party,” Claire said. “Switch on your TV, Jules. I’ll ask Fred to call everyone in.”
Claire exited Juliette’s office, giving her a brief moment alone with Steph.
“Thank you for not firing me when, uh, well, you know,” Steph said, her face more relaxed.
“Despite some of the things I’ve said, I never stopped believing in you. You’re one of us. You’re family.”
“I guess that makes you my tough-love auntie,” Steph said while getting up. “Come on, auntie. Let’s hug it out.”
Juliette made her way from behind her desk and gladly accepted Steph’s hug, not a doubt in her mind that she had made the right decision.
“Hey, if all goes well, you can pop the question to Nadia tonight,” Steph joked when they released each other.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Juliette said quickly. “Dominique is coming on Friday, right?” She swiftly changed the subject.
“She sure is.” Steph’s eyes glinted with pride.
Juliette found the remote control and switched on the TV.
CLAIRE
Claire re-entered Juliette’s office carrying two bottles of champagne. “Sorry, couldn’t wait,” she said.
Juliette rolled her eyes while Steph looked on in surprise.
“Has it started yet?” Fred knocked on the open door.
“Come in, everyone,” Juliette said. “Work has been suspended for the rest of the day.”
If Claire hadn’t been in the same room as Juliette, she would never have believed she’d actually spoken those words. But, whether they believed in the institution of marriage or not—and Claire knew full well how Juliette thought about it, having sat through many of her rants against it—today’s vote was important. Barbier & Cyr was founded by two lesbian women, and they’d just promoted a third. This was a huge deal for all of them.
Claire waited until Fred had deposited enough glasses on the coffee table in Juliette’s office to pop the first bottle. To her chagrin, most of her co-workers—Steph and Juliette included—refused to drink until the vote had actually passed. Claire didn’t have the patience. She retreated to the furthest corner and sipped because, in her own way, she had reason to celebrate.
Inez Larue was leaving Saint-Vincent. She didn’t know exactly what it meant yet, what the direct consequences on her life would be, but just the fact that she was leaving was enough cause for a little burst of joy to course through her every time she thought about it—and she had done so often since Juliette had shared the news.
Juliette’s office went quiet as the president of the Assemblée announced the vote.
“A bill granting same-sex couples the right to marry…” Claire heard the man say. Steph had positioned herself right in front of the TV.
“Turn it up,” Fred said and Juliette instantly obliged.
“Will all those in favour please raise their hand,” the man on the screen said.
A joint rush of tension swept through Juliette’s office. Only three of them in there knew the truth about Dominique Laroche. For how much longer, though?
As far as Claire could see, a great deal more députés raised their hand than not. The camera zoomed in on the MLR députés and there sat Dominique. Her arm stretched rigidly, her face stern. In that particular wing of the room, most hands had remained lowered.
Claire watched as Juliette curved an arm around Steph’s neck. The office broke out in a cheer for her—for their client. When the députés who were against the bill were called to raise their hands,
a loud boo noise resounded in unison. But it didn’t matter anymore. The bill had passed. A tear ran down Claire’s cheek. Then another. As if weeks of emotions were trying to make their way out in that cathartic moment.
And if Claire knew anything in that instant of pure happiness that came with administrative acceptance of what was, basically, her human right, it was that she had to at least instigate a conversation with Margot.
Steph walked over to her, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders, and clinked the rim of her glass against Claire’s.
“You’d better let her fuck you with the biggest strap-on she can find tonight,” Claire said, bursting into laughter, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“And you better make sure that, let’s say three years from now, Dominique and I can attend your wedding, you know, when you marry a certain doctor who has a penchant for leather.”
Claire was too stunned to reply.
“I’m not saying that just for shock-value, boss,” Steph said. “I’m saying it because you’re my friend and you’re miserable without her. Because it needs to be said.”
“It’s not that simple,” Claire heard herself say, going into automatic—and typical—instant defense mode.
“Of course it is,” Steph said. “Do you know what is complicated? That woman on that TV over there raising her hand for us, for me.” Steph’s voice broke a little. “Love won today. Remember that.”
Then Steph’s phone started ringing. By the look on her face, Claire could tell it was Dominique. Steph was right. She was the last person Claire had ever expected to hear those words from, but it didn’t make them less true.
She looked around her. Everyone was hugging and breaking out into spontaneous toasts about the power of love. Would Margot be watching this? Perhaps on a TV in the hospital with Nadia? Did Claire even know who Margot really was anymore? Because, yes, three hundred and twenty-nine députés might have just voted that love is love, but what was the love she felt for Margot actually based on?
Perhaps there was only one way to find out.
STEPH
“My boss instructed me to let you fuck me with whichever size strap-on you want,” Steph said into Dominique’s smiling face. “And she said that after she gave me a promotion.”
“They promoted you because I voted for same-sex marriage?” Dominique kept one eye on her phone, which kept buzzing on the table. “Gosh, these lesbian-owned firms…” She shook her head and pulled Steph close. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” She’d barely spoken the words before her teeth sank into Steph’s earlobe.
“I’m so proud of you,” Steph whispered. And she was. Pure euphoria had rushed through her veins on the way to Dominique’s apartment. So much so that, on the Métro, she had wondered if people could deduct her level of happiness from the way her skin glowed, and from that smile that seemed etched on her lips forever.
But now, as they stood in their embrace, Dominique’s ringing phone a loud reminder of the consequences—because despite the Marriage-for-All bill passing being the headline news, any journalist worth his or her salt would be desperate for a quote from one of MLR’s three rebels, and Dominique was still the poster child—Steph’s rush soon petered out into a deflated anti-climactic sensation because, as ever, the question remained: now what?
Because yes, lesbian couples could now get married, but Dominique still couldn’t come out. The effects of the care-free seven days they had spent together in Juan-les-Pins had worn off—along with the budding confidence Steph had regarding their viability as a couple. Steph was touched by the stand Dominique had taken, but where would they go from here?
“What’s wrong?” Dominique asked, when Steph didn’t respond to her advances.
But Steph didn’t want to bring it up again, not tonight. “Have you heard from your father?” she asked, instead.
“No. Knowing him, he’ll wrap himself in silence for a while, expecting me to make the first move. To make it up to him. Because, of course, he’s going to take this as a personal affront.” Dominique reached for her phone. “But look at this.” She scrolled through a few messages and showed Steph the screen. “From my mother.”
I raised you well. As your mother, I could not be more proud.
“How sweet.” Steph hadn’t even told her own mother about Dominique yet. She didn’t even know if it was allowed. “Is she a secret Socialist?”
“God no,” Dominique said with a huff, as if anything was better than that. “But we share some liberal views.”
“I’d love to meet her some day,” Steph said without thinking.
“You will, darling. You will.” Dominique drew her face into the same expression she had used when raising her hand to vote. Steph didn’t know if it was a well-worn mask or a show of determination. She chose to believe the latter.
“How much time have you got?”
Dominique checked her watch. “They want me on the evening news. I’ll be appearing next to Goffin. How’s that for getting one over on the Socialists?”
“And here I was thinking you’d voted with your heart.”
“I did.” Dominique stepped closer. “But this makes it doubly sweet. And I strongly believe that, in the end, MLR will benefit—”
Steph stopped Dominique mid-sentence by kissing her. She wasn’t so naive to believe that Dominique had voted against her party’s instructions solely out of the goodness of her heart—and based on her feelings for another woman. This was as much politics as anything else she did. But Steph would already have to sit through a TV interview later tonight, in which Dominique would recite all the reasons why she’d voted for the bill, while the only reason that truly mattered would be hiding in the shadows of her own living room.
“I have an hour,” Dominique whispered when they broke free from the kiss. “Let’s celebrate.”
Against Steph’s expectations, Dominique pulled her towards the bedroom, where she undressed her slowly—as opposed to the frenzy of the living room quickie Steph had anticipated.
“I won’t be using any toys tonight, sweetheart,” she said. “I want to feel you.”
And then Steph felt it too, because this was the real Dominique. The woman she’d fallen so hard for. The woman only she knew. Not the calculated politician, the divorcee looking for PR advice, or the daughter of Xavier Laroche, but a woman who, with one glance—with one bat of her eyelashes, really—made Steph believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was the only thing she wanted in life. That all the rest could go to hell.
After they’d both stripped off their clothes and lain down on the bed together, Dominique stared down at Steph for a long moment. For a woman of many words, she said it best without.
Every time Steph stretched her neck to kiss her, Dominique pulled back, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Wait for it,” she said.
But Steph had waited long enough and instead of following Dominique’s orders, she threw her off of her, spread Dominique’s legs with her knee and let her hand wander down. When her fingers found the wetness between Dominique’s legs, a cloud of desire enveloped her, and she lost herself—again.
NADIA
“Are you thinking about taking the plunge?” Nadia’s mother asked. “Now that you can?” The news had dominated the conversation at Nadia’s birthday dinner with her parents. They had even eaten dessert while watching the evening news, not a common practice in the Abadi household—Juliette and Nadia both sunken into a deep silence when Dominique appeared on screen.
“You know we’re not really that way inclined,” Nadia said quickly, to keep Juliette from having to say it in front of her parents.
“Sure, but perhaps that was mostly out of necessity. Because it wasn’t an option anyway.” Apparently, she wasn’t going to let it go so easily.
“We could have done the whole civil union thing years ago if we’d wanted to,” Juliette said. “But it’s just not for us.” Under the table, she squeezed Nadia’s knee.
>
“I don’t want to be a cliché, but I only have one daughter. Don’t tell your brother, but being mother of the groom just isn’t the same.”
“Arrête,” Nadia’s father said. “Don’t listen to her, chérie. She’s having one of her episodes. I don’t particularly believe in marriage either.” This remark cost him a slap on the head from his wife.
“Why don’t you get off your lazy married behind and pour us another cognac. It’s your only daughter’s birthday. Behave.”
Nadia had always admired her parents’ marriage. After more than forty-five years together, their love seemed as strong as ever. She knew it stood in stark contrast to Juliette’s parents, whose marriage had fallen apart when Juliette was fifteen. The divorce hadn’t gone very smoothly either—but still decidedly smoother than the process of accepting that they had produced a lesbian daughter. Juliette had cut all ties with her parents before she’d even met Nadia, and Nadia had never been introduced to them—only heard about them in unflattering terms.
She also knew it was one of the many reasons why Juliette would never marry her. Because, at a young and impressionable age, she’d witnessed first-hand that a piece of paper doesn’t mean anything.
Doing as he was told, Nadia’s dad poured them more drinks. “Good boy,” her mother joked, and play-punched him in the bicep.
“This is the sort of stuff I’ve had to put up with for years,” he said, while planting a kiss on his wife’s hair.
“I feel for you,” Juliette chuckled. “These Abadi women are not easy to live with.” Juliette squeezed Nadia’s knee under the table again. “But what can we do? We love them anyway.”
Nadia’s mother winked at her. Nadia hadn’t really given her an update on the state of her relationship, but she hoped it came across sufficiently that she and Juliette were doing much better than the last time they had visited together.