by Harper Bliss
“I hope you’re right.” There was a hint of relief in Jane’s words.
“Sometimes it takes someone else to see what’s going on deep inside of you.”
Jane shrugged and held on to Annie’s hand a little tighter again. “Maybe I’ll have another go tomorrow morning.”
Annie knew that statement would signify the end of the discussion on Jane’s writing. They turned into a side street until they reached one of the leafy streets away from the main road, where it sometimes felt they’d left the city altogether, even though they were only a stone’s throw away from their house and the shop and the hustle and bustle of King Street.
Jane took in a breath in a way that, Annie knew, was the precursor to her having to say something that was difficult to express. She waited patiently for Jane to find the words.
“I’ve been thinking about last night’s conversation,” Jane said. “Which was necessary and very… civilized.”
We’re always civilized, Annie wanted to say, even when we fight, but she held her tongue and let Jane speak her mind.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel…” A few seconds passed. “I guess angry is the best word to describe it, even though it’s not only anger. It’s mixed up with jealousy and a sort of dread that reminds me of how I used to be when we first met, when I couldn’t believe a woman like you would be interested in the inexperienced, wet-behind-the-ears likes of me.”
Annie waited until she was sure Jane was done speaking. “What you feel is completely normal. Your life and your habits and routines have been upended. We both need time to adjust.”
“I feel like we have so much to talk about all of a sudden, whereas before life was just peacefully floating along. A state I much prefer to this one. I have so many thoughts in my head, I feel it might explode if I don’t get them out soon. On the other hand, I’m so bad at talking things through properly, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Babe.” Annie pulled her close. “You’re not bad at anything. Having difficult conversations is hard for everyone. The kind where you have to expose yourself more than you’re comfortable with. You’re doing fine just now.”
Jane pointed at a bench by a small patch of green at the end of the street. “Let’s sit for a bit.” She looked around and Annie looked with her. The street was near empty, which was one of the great things of having Mondays off and going on a stroll like this. Most people were either at work or in school.
“One thing at a time,” Annie said after they’d sat down. “Let’s make a list to empty our heads, and then we’ll discuss one thing at a time.”
“I’ve made the list,” Jane said matter-of-factly—a reply Annie had expected. “It didn’t help much. In fact, once I started making the list, it kept getting longer and longer.”
Despite a tightening in her stomach, Annie kept her voice steady. “I’m sure that, if you show me the list, I can delete a few items from it straightaway.”
“No, Annie, that’s not the point at all. The point is that it’s my list, my issues, my problems that need solving. They’re not for you to dismiss with your typical Annie-ness.”
“I hope that by that you mean my optimism.”
“The gist of it…” Jane’s voice had shot up a bit. “Is that because of this business with Kristin, and me not being able to write, and… some other things… it has made me feel like I’m not enough. Like I’m not holding up my end of the bargain in our relationship and this has led you to develop feelings for someone else.”
Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Like I said, I never meant to hurt you. None of this is down to you. It’s my fault.”
Jane shook her head. “How can you even say that? Besides, it’s hardly a matter of fault. And of course it has to do with me. When it has to do with us, it has to do with me. I just… I wonder if I hadn’t been so reluctant to, er, have sex lately, maybe you wouldn’t have started fantasizing about another woman.”
“Come on, babe. Every book you write is basically you fantasizing about another woman. Having a fantasy about someone else is hardly being unfaithful.”
Jane scoffed. “That is the worst comparison ever.”
“Well, then I must have misunderstood.”
“You must have. Or I must have not made myself clear again.”
“You made yourself perfectly clear.” Annie knew she was contradicting herself, but this was hard. Having this kind of conversation with Jane could be so frustrating because of Jane’s tendency to retreat into self-pity. Annie took a deep breath. “You did not drive my thoughts in the direction of someone else, just like I was not responsible for you kissing Beth Walsh. Human emotions are much too complex for this simple cause-and-effect explanation.”
“Why then?” Jane blurted out.
“Why? Because I’m human, I guess. Or because of pheromones or hormones or whatever science has available to explain this. I don’t know how to explain it and I don’t really see the need for it either. But if it’s your ego that needs placating, I’m happy to oblige.” A rush of memories washed over Annie, punctuated by the image of Jane and Beth face-to-face a few weeks ago. “But please don’t forget, I’ve been in your situation, and I was much worse off than you are now.”
“So it was revenge.” Jane seemed to have shrunk a few inches—and her voice with her.
“It was no such thing. It was nothing. Just one of those things that happen.” A man and a dog on a leash walked past on the other side of the road. Annie took the time to inhale deeply and rearrange her thoughts. This conversation was not going in the right direction at all.
“It was not nothing, Annie. Just because nothing happened between you two, doesn’t mean it was nothing. And at the very least, it was—is—a symptom of something going wrong between us.”
“I disagree.” Annie tried to look Jane in the eye, but Jane couldn’t meet her gaze. “There is nothing wrong between us.”
“Things aren’t exactly hunky-dory either.” Jane’s voice had grown louder.
“Then please enlighten me with what you think is wrong.”
“Your sarcastic tone isn’t helping me to open up about it.” Jane was beginning to sound snippy—as snippy as Annie was being?
“I’m sorry,” Annie said. “Let’s start this conversation again.”
“I know I’m not much of a talker and you’re not used to having to listen to me, but I need you to hear this.”
This was beginning to sound like a match to measure who could be most passive-aggressive. Perhaps, Annie thought, it was as much par for the course in a long-term relationship as having the occasional crush on another woman.
“Last night when we went to bed, I was glad we talked and I felt better. But I was awake a large part of the night trying to figure all this out and then this morning, you… had the audacity of trying to have sex and it all felt so off. As though we’ve lost the ability to read each other the way we used to. We’re not on the same wavelength anymore. Something is broken here and I can’t believe you can just sit here and say nothing is wrong while I have the exact opposite feeling, which pretty much proves the point I’m trying to make.”
“You can’t hold it against me that I don’t feel the same way as you do. I’m not you. And yes, I do agree that things are not stellar right now—how could they be? But they’re not as bad as your mind has made up they are. I can assure you that. You see things differently. Circumstances have made you see them differently, and I totally get that, but we shouldn’t lose perspective. We should focus on what we do have instead of what we think we lack.”
“Again, you make it sound as if it’s you versus me. Versus us. Because all this time you were lusting after Kristin I had no idea of what you were thinking. If it weren’t for Caitlin bloody James, I might never have known.”
“Would that have been so bad? Honestly, Jane, you are the kind of overly sensitive person who would be better off not knowing things like this.” Annie knew she’d gone too
far as soon as the words had left her mouth. Jane was—quite literally—too sensitive to have her sensitivity criticized. “I’m sorry. I take that back. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine. I know I’m hopeless when it comes to dealing with certain things.” Jane’s voice trembled with desperation.
Annie put a hand on her wife’s knee—the first physical contact since they’d sat down.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You are not hopeless, babe. I wasn’t being very tactful,” Annie said. Her hand on Jane’s knee soothed a little. Again, Jane wondered whether she would have preferred not knowing. Or whether the fact that she did know—that she was given no choice in the matter—had been a necessary evil to deal with some other things that were going on between them. Or even to simply stop and undergo a “relationship health check.”
Jane had used that term once in one of her books and, as always, Annie had been the first to read it. Thankfully, Annie had long ago grown out of the habit of questioning whether anything Jane wrote was mined from their life together, but after she had read that particular phrase, she had asked Jane if she believed they needed a so-called relationship health check.
All Jane had to do was give her wife a look—one corner of her mouth titled down, one eyebrow raised—to let her know no such thing was necessary. Most of the time, it was impossible for Jane to distinguish between what was truly made up and what had bubbled up from the depths of her subconscious mind. Nothing was ever fully made-up, just as nothing was ever literally drawn from her life. But the fact of the matter was that, now that she wasn’t writing and she didn’t have the outlet for her emotions, she needed to find another way to process the events of the past few weeks. If writing was off the table, talking was the only option left. First of all, she had to stop blaming Annie for pointing out the obvious about some fundamentals about Jane’s personality.
“Even though, objectively speaking, me kissing Beth was much worse than you having your crush on Kristin, it seems to me you were just much better equipped at dealing with it. I think I may need some pointers.”
Annie shook her head. “I think we need to leave Beth Walsh out of this.” A silence. “I was not equipped to deal with that at all.” Annie suddenly didn’t sound like Annie any longer. “I was just better at hiding my feelings, because if I didn’t, I’m not sure we would have made it through.” Annie didn’t remove her hand from Jane’s knee. “But you always take the smallest things so hard, babe. And I’m not claiming this is a small thing, although I do believe it’s being blown way out of proportion. Try to think of it in another way. We could have lost the shop. If Kristin hadn’t come along, I would have been out of a job.”
“And this is the price we pay?” Jane asked.
“It’s just another way of looking at it. A way that still allows us to be grateful for how things turned out.”
Jane looked at Annie. “You really are too optimistic.” A tiny smile pulled at her lips.
“No, there’s no such thing as too optimistic. It’s just the belief that everything will work out in the end. I was this close to selling to Pages, and in swoop these women. How amazing is that? How amazing is life if something like that can happen?”
“So what you’re saying is that I should see you falling for Kristin as a mere side-effect of the book shop being saved?” Jane shifted on the bench. Annie’s hand was beginning to feel too hot and sweaty on her knee.
“It’s another way of looking at it. Her coming along as my lady-knight in shining armor might have had something to do with my feelings for her.” Annie slanted her head. “I’m just trying my best so you don’t get too hung-up on this tiny bump in our road. And yes, I let it build up in my head way too much. Perhaps I should have spoken about it sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt you. Perhaps I should have kept my behavior more in check. Perhaps I could have done many things differently, but really, nothing has changed. The shop is still saved. We’re still happily married.”
“And Kristin is banned from the shop, I’m not writing, and, well… other things.”
“Maybe it’s time we broached the other things subject.” Annie let go of Jane’s knee and angled her body so they could see more of each others’ faces.
“Yes, well, you know.” Jane was more than happy to let Annie take the lead on that.
“No, babe, I don’t know. You wanted me to listen. Here I am listening. Tell me.”
Jane glared at Annie. She usually came to her rescue when she was tongue-tied like this. Now she sat staring at Jane, an expression on her face that was already getting on Jane’s nerves because it was too audacious, too demanding, too judgmental. Even though all of that was probably only in Jane’s head.
“I know I haven’t really been fulfilling my wifely duties,” Jane started.
“No, don’t say that,” Annie was quick to say. “You don’t have any wifely duties to fulfill. This is not the Middle Ages.”
Jane hoped the old trick would work. She would say a few words and Annie would just take over and do most of the talking.
“Maybe I used the wrong words,” Jane said. “But, you’ve been there… well, maybe not exactly there, but near enough.”
Annie painted a crooked smile on her face.
“What?” Jane asked.
“It just astounds me that someone who can articulate emotions so precisely in writing, someone who writes some of the most scorching sex scenes on the face of the earth, has so much trouble even saying the word sex. Just say it, babe. Or are you waiting for me to say it for you?” She shook her head. “I’m not going to bail you out this time.” Annie pursed her lips together.
Jane took a deep breath. Sometimes she wondered if she included such explicit scenes in her books just because she had so much trouble talking about it in her real life. “I googled the symptoms of peri-menopause and a decline in sex drive is one of the most prominent ones.” If she could manage to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl during this part of their conversation, Jane would consider it a win. “I know that wasn’t so much the case with you, but as you said earlier, we’re different people.”
Annie nodded. “What other symptoms did you find on the internet?”
Jane racked her brain. The list had been so depressing, she’d been trying hard to forget the symptoms, but they kept popping up in her head at random times, reminding her that her life was about to change for good. “Mood swings, trouble sleeping, hot flashes, dryness… all the fun stuff, really.”
Annie smiled and took Jane’s hand in hers. “But you have me by your side to pull you through.” Annie stroked Jane’s palm with her thumb. “I expect some of these things to affect you more than they did me because of who you are. But I don’t want you to feel bad about it, not even for one minute. This isn’t a contest of who deals best with menopause, okay? We’ll go see Doctor Moore together and see what she advises. Meanwhile, I took the liberty of ordering an extra-large batch of lube.”
Jane did giggle now and she didn’t really care that she did. Quickly a new silence descended. Lube might be able to help them make love, but it was hardly an arousing thing to think of.
“I—I just don’t really know how to get myself…” Jane tried to scrape the necessary words together, but failed.
“In the mood?” Annie offered.
Jane nodded.
“There are ways.” Annie shuffled a little closer. “We could watch something sexy together. Or I could read you something. Or I can hang your office full of Xena posters.”
They both chuckled.
“Shall we go home?” Annie asked, tugging at Jane’s hand.
“It’s a lovely day. Let’s walk a little longer.” Jane rose. She didn’t want to go back to the flat just yet. She needed some air to process their conversation.
Annie had gone swimming and Jane was minding the shop—again. She was beginning to feel more like a book seller than a writer. It was just her and Mia in the shop and they’d sat down for a coffee.
“How was your day off?” Mia asked. She had stopped inquiring about Jane’s next book, for which Jane was very grateful.
How had her day off been? They’d walked some more, bought a new salad bowl in a shop near their home, and cooked dinner. Jane had taken a long bath and when she’d gone into her office after to check her emails, she’d found a printed picture of Robin Wright in her leather Wonder Woman costume hung on the wall above her desk, with a post-it stuck to the corner that read: How about this?
“Not too bad.” Jane certainly wasn’t going to give Mia any details, even though, after her wife, Mia was the person she spent most time with these days. “How’s the house hunt going?”
“As I suspected, Jo’s old pad won’t do for Princess Louise. And now she has come up with the insane idea of converting a few rooms of her parents’ house into a place for us. Have you ever heard of such a silly thing? I’m crazy about Lou, and I’m dying to move in with her, but that does not include living with her parents. Rita and Reg are great, don’t get me wrong, especially with the history we have, but that is one step too far. I just want us to have a place of our own. That’s all. Is that really so much to ask?”
“I don’t envy you. Annie and I would never be able to afford a place like this if we wanted to buy it today. Property prices are through the roof.”
“But we’re not even looking to buy. We just want to sign a lease. We’re two decent girls. Why does it have to be so hard? Lou saw a place in Pott’s Point the other day and, yes, the photos were lovely, but it’s either living in a place like that and not having any money left for food, or cramming ourselves into my tiny studio apartment and being able to afford the luxury of a regular meal. Sydney has just gone insane. Whatever happened to quality of life?”
“Would you have space at Lou’s parents?”
“Well, er, yes, much more than we could ever afford between the two of us, but the idea of a shared back yard doesn’t really make my heart sing, you know?”