by Harper Bliss
“Please remember I was only playing devil’s advocate. I wasn’t questioning your loyalty, Steph.” Marion smiled apologetically.
“This time last year, I was a totally different person. If there had been elections last year, I wouldn’t even have voted. Now, I get scolded for not attending a debate. The change has been impactful. I’ve had to adapt at lightning speed. But I would never leave her. I’m not Philippe.”
“I could tell that hurt you. When Dominique made that snide remark about this being Philippe all over again. She shouldn’t have said that.”
“It did.” Steph loosened her posture a little, let some of the anger seep from her limbs. “Maybe not going to the debate with her was payback for that remark. We came here together to have an open conversation, and we did, even though it was hard, but I’ve barely seen Dominique since then. I don’t want to keep on complaining about that. I just want to find a solution.”
“Talking about something doesn’t necessarily equal complaining about it,” Marion said. “And it’s the only way to get to a solution.”
“I know things will settle down a bit after the election. This is the really insane period. I just… need to find some balance. I need to be able to see my friends. And go to work. And see you, for that matter. And, honestly, I know the debate was important to Dominique, but if she fails to see my side of the story, then, yeah… then we do have a problem.”
“Before the campaign got to this stage, when you quarreled about something, how did you usually resolve it?” Marion asked.
Steph huffed out a chuckle. “Honestly? We had sex. We had lots of satisfying sex.” Steph had slept with many women, but sleeping with Dominique was something else entirely. “To set the record straight. Level the playing field. Just press the reset button. But this is different. Of course, it doesn’t help that we’re not having sex. And that Dominique probably blames me for that as well. I miss the pure intimacy of sex. How nothing else matters in those moments.” Steph grabbed her head with her hands. “I know there’s a solution hidden somewhere in this mess, I just don’t know how to find it.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Marion looked at her with those kind eyes of hers. “Whatever you do, Steph, don’t blame yourself. It doesn’t help. This is not about assigning blame. The situation you’re in is very peculiar and stressful. For both of you. I urge you to keep seeing me, and I will also urge Dominique to join you. Not always, but sometimes. And…” Marion shifted in her chair. “…about that other subject. You still haven’t been in the mood for intimate relations?”
“These days it’s not even a question of being in the mood anymore. I live at the Avenue Foch for two reasons: because then I at least see her before she leaves the house in the morning. And because I moved my cat in with her. I can’t keep dragging that poor animal back and forth.”
Marion giggled. “Your cat?”
“My fat little ginger. Pierrot.” Steph was stalling as she gauged how much she felt like delving into the issue of her faltering libido. While watching Dominique slaughter Goffin—a liberal by definition—on LGBT rights during the debate last Thursday, she had felt a strong surge of desire. So strong that she’d regretted for a brief moment not accompanying Dominique. To absorb the atmosphere and the energy. To enjoy the post-debate buzz Dominique would have been glowing from, and its glow would have infected Steph and she could so easily envision, then, that certain things could have happened. But when Steph got home, Dominique hadn’t been there. Steph had waited an hour to go to bed, watching excerpts and soundbites on TV, until she’d fallen asleep in the sofa. When she woke up in the middle of the night, to find that Dominique hadn’t bothered to wake her up and get her into bed, she’d felt that anger again, that feeling of being so misunderstood, that she’d just gone back to sleep in the sofa, Pierrot at her feet.
In the morning, she’d been woken up by Dominique stumbling into the living room at six a.m. Steph only needed to open one eye to see what sort of mood Dominique was in. Fifteen minutes later Dominique was out the door and they’d barely exchanged any words.
“I guess it is one more week, then,“ Marion said. “One more week until the biggest madness passes. But you have to talk to each other, Steph. I fully understand that coming here and unburdening yourself is a great help. That’s why I’m here. But it’s no good if you don’t start talking to each other.”
“I know. I will talk to her.” Steph was already chuckling at the ridiculous things she was about to say. “I have her for one hour today. One hour.” She held up her index finger. “Isn’t that insane?” Steph shrugged. “Of course, Dominique’s argument—and Solange’s, by the way—would be that I could spend the entire day with her. But Saturdays are my day off now. Except for next week, of course.” Steph had started rambling again.
“Do you remember what you said earlier? About balance? I think balance is the keyword here, Steph. For both of you.”
Steph nodded, then asked, “What else did she say when she called you?”
“I didn’t let her say anything else.” Marion’s voice was firm.
“Okay.” Steph took a sip from the glass of water Marion always offered her. “I do have another question for you. One I’ve been meaning to ask you since we met.”
“I’m all ears.” Marion smiled encouragingly.
“When you first heard about Dominique and me, what was your reaction?”
Marion tilted her head. “Like most people, I read about it in Le Matin.” Marion took a moment to think. “Unlike most people, I didn’t believe a word of the press conference she held then. I knew from the very beginning it was true. She was trying to hide it so well at that press conference, but her body language gave her away. When your infamous video surfaced, I was actually relieved. And proud. I was so proud of her for not hiding who she loved.”
“That’s really nice of you to say.” Steph felt the insistent sting of tears behind her eyes.
“You’ve been through a lot. The pair of you. The fact that you’ve made it this far can only mean that you share a great love. Perhaps the kind that only comes along once in a lifetime. Give yourself some credit for at least not letting it go. It will take work. All great things require a lot of work and effort. But I’ve seen you together now, and I can see it. You have that chemistry. There’s a certain charged quality to the air when you’re together—even when you’re not agreeing about something. I have full faith that you’ll make it.”
Christ. Steph had to catch a tear dangling from her eyelashes. “I love her. I love her like I’ve never loved anyone before in my life.”
“I know you do,” Marion said.
✶ ✶ ✶
“We need to talk,” Steph said the second Dominique arrived home for their hour of time together.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s been a change of plans. I only have time to change into a fresh set of clothes. Solange is waiting for me in the car downstairs.”
“But…” Steph couldn’t believe this. “This is our time together.”
“You can come, if you like.” Dominique was already heeling off her shoes. “It’s a last-minute MLR thing, though. I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much, unless you’re dying to see my father.”
Steph went to stand right in front of Dominique, who had just unbuttoned her skirt. “Five minutes then. Can I have five minutes of your time?”
Dominique exhaled a large breath and looked her in the eyes. “You can.”
But Steph felt like she was on the clock and how could she possibly say all that she wanted to say in five minutes? “I love you,” she said, then grabbed Dominique by the neck and pulled her close. “I love you,” she said again, before kissing her. It was a soft, closed-lipped peck at first, but soon their tongues met each other, and Dominique’s hands were in Steph’s hair
When they broke for air, Dominique said, “Fuck it. I’ll skip the MLR meeting.” Then her phone rang. Dominique reached for it in her bag. “It’s Solange.” She smile
d apologetically. “Don’t move one inch, babe.” Then she took the call.
Steph knew Dominique couldn’t afford not to answer her phone. She also knew that once Dominique hung up the phone, the moment would have passed. She looked at Dominique while she spoke agitatedly into the device. She always appeared so calm when she spoke to anyone in person, but on the phone, her personality seemed to change. Steph took a tiny bit of pleasure from the fact that it was Solange Dominique was yelling at. Not that the woman had ever done anything directly to her, but she symbolized the distance that the campaign had thrown up between her and Dominique.
A simple life, Steph thought. All she’d ever wanted was a simple life. But then she looked at Dominique again. At how she gestured with those majestic hands of hers, even when nobody could see her. And at how her skirt was unbuttoned. And at how she was shorter than Steph when she took off her mighty heels. Steph knew life with Dominique would never be simple, but it was the life she chose nevertheless.
NADIA
“Do you ever think about leaving me?” Juliette asked.
“What?” Questions like that offended Nadia greatly. “No. Of course not.”
“But I’m so flawed,” Juliette insisted. “And you’re so perfect.”
“For Christ’s sake, Jules. Are you wearing your negativity goggles again? No one is more perfect than anyone else, okay?” They’d gone for a walk in the neighborhood. It was a beautiful spring evening. Juliette and Claire seemed to have broken some ground on salvaging their friendship.
“I’m sorry.” Juliette’s arm was looped through Nadia’s and she leaned into her a bit. “It’s just that, you know… you never fall apart.”
“I do,” Nadia said. “I just fall apart differently than you do.” When she felt particularly low, Juliette always got these kinds of crazy ideas in her head. That everyone was better than her. That she was worthless at everything. That Nadia was some sort of flawless goddess, while she was decidedly not.
“Like how?” Juliette insisted.
Nadia inhaled deeply. “Let’s go for a drink on that terrace over there and I’ll tell you exactly how.” It had been an emotional weekend so far, but Juliette had become livelier and livelier—especially after her chat with Claire—though an air of melancholy still surrounded her. And Nadia still had to apologize about something vital.
They sat down at a small table on the sidewalk and ordered a bottle of rosé. While they waited for the waitress to come back, Nadia studied her wife’s face. Life had never been particularly kind to Juliette, nor had she been kind to herself. Yet, Juliette, at times, managed to look like the most angelic creature Nadia had ever laid eyes on. Now, just before sun-down, with the late light catching her eyes, when she so quintessentially looked like the woman Nadia adored, Nadia didn’t know if she would be able to work up the nerve to apologize. But she had to. She had to clear the air between them. If she’d learned anything from everything that had happened between them, it was that honesty would always be the best policy. And she hadn’t been honest.
When they both had a full glass of the fruity Côtes de Provence they both loved to drink when spring came around in front of them, Nadia finally said, “I owe you an apology, Jules.”
“You do?” Juliette scrunched her lips into a pout. “I’m quite sure you don’t, but I’m listening,” she said wistfully.
“I led you on. I made you believe that I was on board with us having a child and I, cowardly, let Dr. Dupuis do my dirty work for me. That wasn’t fair on anyone.”
Juliette shook her head, her lips drawn into that characteristic asymmetrical pout of hers. “Let’s not compare what’s fair or what isn’t, babe. I understand why you did that. I know what I’m like. Once I get something into my head, it’s very difficult to get it out.”
“That might be so.” Nadia could hardly argue with that very accurate self-assessment of Juliette’s personality. “But I just want to make very clear that I’m by no means the perfect woman you sometimes take me for.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not an angel for sticking with me for so long.” Juliette was very generous with the compliments tonight.
“I need you to hear me, Jules. I’m sorry for how I handled it. And I’m also sorry that you had to hear that news. I know how badly you wanted to try…”
“I did. But you never really wanted it. So, um, I guess me not being able to carry a child is just fate’s way of making sure.” This was strangely philosophical for someone like Juliette.
“You’re being very zen about this.”
“How else can I be? There’s nothing I can do to change it. I don’t even want to change it. I should never even have put you in that position, Nadz.”
“I disagree,” Nadia said. “If that was how you felt, then you had every right to bring up the subject of having children. And I should have communicated better.”
“But what could you possibly have said? You made it clear from the start. I knew you didn’t want it, yet I kept pushing. If anything, you handled me well. Perhaps not the situation as such, but who am I to judge you because of that? You knew how to deal with me, because you know me and you love me. What more can I ask for?”
“Complete honesty, I guess,” Nadia said.
Juliette shook her head again. “No. Complete honesty is overrated.”
“Oh really?” Juliette might be a handful at times, and have a very up-and-down personality, but Nadia had never, not for one second, been bored by her wife. “What are you not telling me then?”
“Nothing. I’ve just… grown to believe that even spouses don’t need to know every tiny detail about each other’s inner life.” Juliette held her gaze for an instant, then looked away. “I could give you an example, but I don’t want to ruin our evening.”
Nadia was intrigued. When Juliette was in a mood like this, there was little chance of their evening being ruined. “Tell me,” Nadia insisted.
“Well…” Juliette looked into her wine glass. “You know I had a chat with Claire yesterday.”
“Yes.” Claire had called Nadia after the chat and made some inquiries about a present she wanted to get for Juliette that needed Nadia’s blessing.
“I told you about most topics we discussed, but I omitted one.”
“Ah.” Nadia knew where this was going.
“Marie Dievart.” Juliette drew her lips into a hesitant grin. “I’m not going to make a scene about her anymore. I’m just using her as an example.”
Nadia nodded. What had Claire said? Nadia remembered the conversation she’d had with Claire about Dievart the other day. Juliette should not have heard anything about that. Nadia had made Claire promise.
“Claire explained to me what it was exactly that drew her to Dievart. And that made sense to me, because I’ve known Claire for a long time and I know what she likes in the bedroom.” Juliette paused. “I’ve also known you for a very long time and I know even better what you like in the bedroom.” Juliette tilted her head.
“Look, Jules…”
Juliette held up her hands. “No. That’s what I mean, Nadz. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t need to know. I don’t even think I want to know.”
Nadia didn’t know if she was feeling relieved or guilty. She had long forgiven Juliette her transgression with Sybille. She’d moved on. Of course, Sybille was out of their lives now. Juliette had a lovely new assistant, with a perfectly nice husband, whom Juliette and Nadia had invited over for dinner a few times already. Nadia could understand Juliette’s hang-ups about Dievart perfectly.
“If you’re sure.” Now that the whole drama with Claire had almost passed, Nadia was eager to put the whole Dievart business behind her. If it required her to explain to her wife what had drawn her to Dievart, she was willing to try.
“I am, Nadz. I’m sure.” Juliette stretched her arm out over the table. “All I ever want is to be a better wife to you. I know I’m not doing the best job of it, but I’m trying. I’m really, really trying.”
“As Claire so eloquently advised me yesterday, I get by. I’m not there yet, but I’ll get there.” Juliette had told Nadia about the life lessons Claire had given her. Nadia could have sworn she’d detected some of Margot’s influence in the words Juliette had spoken.
“Who knew Claire had all that wisdom in her.” Nadia said with a chuckle.
“Don’t go calling her wise now. Let’s not forget what she did,” Juliette replied, her voice not overly serious.
“So… do you think you’ll be able to go back to how you and she once were?”
“Maybe not exactly there, but to somewhere close enough.” Juliette shrugged. “She’s my sister. The only sibling I care for. And sisters forgive each other.” She painted a smile on her face. “It will also depend on the present she gets me. I mean, she can’t give Margot a motorcycle as a token of her friendship and leave me, her best friend of twenty-five years, in the cold. It’s going to require a really big gesture on her part to match that.” Juliette’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Ah, yes, the present…” Nadia was under strict instructions to not let anything slip. She hadn’t even given Claire her blessing yet because it required a little time for Nadia to think about.
Juliette quirked up her eyebrows. “She’s actually going to give me a present? I was just joking.”
“I know nothing, babe,” Nadia said and leaned back in her chair.
“You so do.” Juliette squeezed her hand, pressing her thumb into Nadia’s palm hard. “Tell me what it is.”
“I just told you. I don’t know anything.” Nadia couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re a pretty bad liar.”
Now that Juliette had sussed her out, Nadia wouldn’t have any choice but to green-light this present. She might as well. She’d text Claire later. Right now though, she needed to change the subject. She knew exactly what to do. “Finish your wine, Jules. We’re continuing our walk.” Nadia’s tone was firm.