Few Hearts Survive

by Harper Bliss

  Amber wanted this to happen with Martha, but at the same time she couldn’t shake off the prospect of possible repercussions if she allowed herself to do so. She couldn’t talk about this with Micky, because despite Micky knowing her through and through, she would only try to push her brusquely past a point of no return.

  Micky would tell her she was scared. And she would be bang on the money. But Amber felt that if she could stay here in this safe space for a few weeks longer, before she had to face regular life and all its responsibilities again, she would be more ready. She could reach that point herself without Micky having to push her too brutally toward it.

  “I think I’ll send an email to the studio. Tell them my work here is not done,” Amber said. She felt a twinge of discomfort about saying this, as the depth her practice would reach if she stayed here a few weeks longer wouldn’t only benefit the studio she worked at now but it would also be beneficial to any future studio she started herself.

  “Good for you.” Linda shot her a smile. “Care to cross the river after the afternoon session?” Linda asked.

  “Sure.” Amber had planned to get a massage, but a stroll into the nearby village with Linda sounded more tempting. “I’ll see you then.”

  “It’s not just the yoga and the retreat, it’s this place,” Amber said. “There’s something almost magical about it. Everything is different here and when you stay here a while, it seeps into you. The atmosphere becomes a part of you and makes you reframe most of our western values.”

  “Don’t tell me you want to make a new life here and never go back to Australia again.” Linda didn’t look up when she spoke. They had been on many of these strolls before and she had the uncanny habit of always staring at the ground when she walked. Amber always had to point out when she saw a stunning bird or when the sky turned a particular hue of dark pink near sunset. Then again, Linda knew all about the bumps in the road.

  Amber shook her head, then added, “No,” because Linda couldn’t see. “I’m just afraid that if I go back now the spirit of this place will leave me too quickly. That I won’t be able to hold onto it. That everyday life will erase everything I’ve learned, experienced and witnessed here.”

  “And what is that, if I may ask?”

  Amber could so easily have predicted Linda’s question. She chuckled and gave herself some time to think. Some of the things she had felt here were difficult to put into words. Linda, a trained grief counselor in her home city of Birmingham, wasn’t one to let the opportunity of a deeper question pass her by.

  “That our lives are filled with worrying about things that don’t really matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. The people in this village have no luxuries. No Netflix. No high-speed internet. Some of them don’t even have a refrigerator, yet they seem to inhabit a different plane of happiness. The here and now. Not the past, when a monsoon washed their crops away, or the future, when their rickety bike might break down.” Amber sighed. “I don’t really know how to say it yet. That’s why I think I should stay longer. It’s not part of me yet.”

  “Life is simple here. It’s not easy, but it’s simple. That’s the difference.” To Amber’s surprise, Linda looked up. “And all the colors and the vibrancy of the green leaves on the trees and the easily-given smiles, because a smile is, in fact, really easy to give. I know exactly what you mean. Yet, I will be leaving in two weeks’ time and I’m not sure I’ll be ready, but we can’t hide out here forever, can we?”

  Amber nodded and they walked on the dirt road in silence for a while, contemplating the words they had just spoken. Despite the yoga resort being across the river, the people of this village didn’t cater to tourists the way Amber had seen in other villages she had visited in India. There was a pureness about the place she would always miss elsewhere, and that was why she needed to stay here a while longer. Not because she was so afraid, even though she was; or because Martha had been intended for Micky, even though Micky was head-over-heels in love with Robin. But because this place nourished her soul in a way no other place could. Deepening her practice and looking more inward into herself—until there was nothing left to see and her ego revealed itself as exactly what it was—were just side effects of this magical place she was privileged to be able to visit.

  Amber looked at the big orange sun as it was setting quickly on the horizon. It still amazed her every single night how, like with the flick of a switch, it could become so dark. Every evening, it felt like a curtain of darkness was pulled over the sky, revealing the most brilliant stars.

  When her time came to leave, she would know. And when she did, she would ask Martha out. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be simple enough.

  Chapter Four

  “A woman can’t wait around forever,” Martha said, before biting into her grilled cheese panini. She’d been drawn to comfort foods more frequently of late.

  “I know, but Micky reminds me every single time I see her,” Sheryl said, “that Amber is worth waiting for.”

  “She might be the most thrilling, exciting, beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but as long as she’s not here, there’s not a lot I can do, is there? I barely know her, so Micky can say that Amber is worth waiting for all she wants. If I can’t verify this myself, then what difference does it make to me?”

  Sheryl cocked her head. “None, I guess. But have you bumped into any other gorgeous, intelligent, honey-voiced yoga teachers lately?”

  Martha rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, that’s what’s so frustrating. I don’t really know how to go about meeting interesting women. I mean, should I go on the internet? I could ask Stella, but we’ve only very recently gotten back to how we were before I came out. The whole thing is just so... exasperating.” Martha dropped her sandwich on her plate. She knew she was being overly dramatic. She’d been fine with Amber being gone for a month, finding herself—or even more of herself—on a yoga retreat in India. Waiting around for a month was not an issue, but now Amber had extended her stay in India for another month, Martha’s romantic future didn’t look all that rosy.

  “What’s another month?” Sheryl asked, not indulging Martha’s dramatic streak.

  “That really depends on how you look at it. Thirty-one days can be very long.”

  “Maybe if you have nothing on, but you, if anything, have too much going on, Martha.”

  “This is exactly why I shouldn’t have leisurely lunches with lesbian colleagues.” Martha reached for her wine glass. “Too much time to process.”

  “You were a whole lot less dramatic before you came out.”

  “It must be rubbing off on me then.”

  Sheryl shot her a look Martha couldn’t quite decipher. “What?” she asked.

  Sheryl cleared her throat. “You actually sound more frustrated than dramatic.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Martha let her head fall against her fingertips. “I’m comfortable talking about a lot of things with you, Sheryl, but that’s perhaps a bit too intimate a topic.”

  “Fair enough.” Sheryl plastered on her widest smile—the one that drove some of her students crazy. “Just promise me one thing, Martha.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give Amber a chance when she gets back. I know it’s a nuisance to have to wait, and you barely know her, etcetera. I see her quite often and we’ve gotten closer since Micky started working at the Pink Bean. And well... there’s that other thing I know about her.” A mischievous twinkle appeared in Sheryl’s eye.

  “What?” Martha wondered whether Micky had revealed something else to Sheryl. Or Amber had said something to Sheryl that she hadn’t yet shared with Martha.

  “I’m actually not sure I’m at liberty to say.” Sheryl sat there smiling.

  “Oh, please. When you say A, you have to say B. Those are the rules.” There was no doubt in Martha’s mind that Sheryl would divulge the secret she was keeping—if it was even a secret.

  “I have it on good authority that all that yoga makes for a s
pectacular body and a, well, er, rather excellent bed partner.”

  “What are you talking about?” Martha’s eyes grew wide.

  “Remember Caitlin James?”

  “Of course.” Martha had met her that day they’d all gone to an open AA meeting with Sheryl.

  “She was in Sydney for the Pink Bean opening a few years ago. Amber was partaking heavily of the champagne and Caitlin noticed and, well, grabbed her chance.” Sheryl arched up her eyebrows. “If you catch my drift.”

  “They slept together?” Martha had trouble picturing it. Then again, if she really tried, and got past the semi-queasy feeling it gave her in the stomach, she could see it.

  “A one-night stand,” Sheryl confirmed.

  “I have to say I’m quite surprised. For someone who is reluctant to date me because she met me at a dinner party that was kind of—but not really—a date with her best friend. She doesn’t strike me as a one-night stand sort of woman.”

  “I truly don’t think she is. I think the champagne might have gotten the better of her. Plus the elation of a lesbian-owned coffee shop opening in between her flat and her place of work.”

  “What did Caitlin say?” Martha was suddenly very curious. But Sheryl was the one who had brought the whole thing up, so Martha figured she was well within her rights to ask.

  “It happened more than two years ago. Forgive me if the details are a bit vague.” Sheryl pursed her lips together, giving the impression she was racking her brain. “I do remember that Amber wasn’t too pleased about Caitlin being, perhaps deliberately, vague about living so far away. They didn’t part very amicably.” Sheryl looked as though she suddenly remembered something else. “I’m only telling you this because since Caitlin has now moved back to Sydney, you’ll be seeing her and you would have found out anyway.”

  “Do you think Caitlin is still interested in Amber?” Faced with unexpected competition, Martha cursed Amber’s extension of her stay in India even more.

  Sheryl shook her head. “As I said, it happened two years ago. And even if Caitlin were still or newly interested, Amber is not the kind of person to make the same mistake twice—or to forgive misinformation easily.”

  “Maybe that’s what she’s doing in India. Forgiving everyone who has ever wronged her. She’ll come back reborn and ready to embrace all the people who have disappointed her in the past.”

  Sheryl chuckled. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” She drank some water. “I have a class in fifteen minutes.”

  “Me too.”

  They paid the bill and walked back to campus in silence. Martha could only guess what Sheryl was thinking, but most of her thoughts were occupied with imagining Amber and Caitlin James together—and trying to ignore how it made her feel deep down inside.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m ready,” Amber declared, the words sounding too rehearsed as they exited her mouth. “Give me Martha’s number, Micky. I know you have this dinner set up for tomorrow, and she’ll be there, but I want to call her first. I’m going to ask her out.”

  “Well, I never.” Micky clasped her hands to her mouth.

  Amber should have known her friend would make a spectacle out of this.

  “Amber Gilroy is going on the prowl.” Micky fixed her stare on Amber. “This is good,” she said, “really good.”

  “No need to make a big fuss.” Amber returned Micky’s stare. She looked great. Different. Like a new coat of confidence had been applied to all her features.

  “I’m just glad those two months in I-forget-the-name had this effect. Must have been all that sitting around silently in the lotus position, meditating about your life.”

  “It’s called Kerala.” Even after years of taking Amber’s classes, Micky couldn’t remember the proper Indian name of the most simple yoga poses, let alone the name of an Indian town with more than two syllables.

  “Anyway, you’ve had her number in your phone for months. I put it in there once when you weren’t looking,” Micky said. “Because I always believed this day would come. I knew you would come around eventually.” Micky gave her a meaningful look. They both knew that Amber’s initial reluctance to act on that massive spark of chemistry between her and Martha had more to do with Amber’s unsuccessful romantic past than with the principle of not wanting to date someone who had first shown interest in Micky.

  Amber shook her head. “I can’t trust you with anything. I can’t even trust you with my purse for five minutes.” She had to suppress a smile nonetheless.

  “I, on the other hand, have entrusted you with the lives of my children, so I figure there’s enough trust between us for the both of us.” These days, Micky sometimes said things that made Amber do a double-take. Things that mere weeks ago would never have come from her best friend’s mouth. Amber had to admit that this new version of Micky was part of what spurred her on to, finally, ask Martha out.

  Micky was thriving since she and Robin had gotten together. Coming face-to-face with the evidence of new love every single time Amber as much as spoke on the phone with her best friend made her painfully aware of what she’d been missing out on.

  Amber stifled a yawn while she reached for her phone. She had only arrived at Sydney Airport the day before and, despite rigidly following all the tips she could find on beating it, her brain was still woozy with jet lag, her limbs heavy with an unfamiliar fatigue. She scrolled to the letter W in her Contacts and, sure enough, found Martha Waltz’s name in bold black letters.

  “I can’t believe you,” she hissed.

  “In my defense, Olivia, your goddaughter who adores the pants off you, was in on it.”

  “Olivia? Come on, Micky.”

  “Hey, I have to grab any bonding opportunity with my daughter with both hands these days. You know that.”

  “How’s Liv doing?” Amber was always astounded by the amount she missed her godchildren when she went away for more than a few days. Olivia, especially, would call her regularly, just to talk about her day, or to confide in Amber something about her mother she didn’t agree with—which was a lot at the volatile age of fourteen.

  “You’ll see her after school, so no need to change the subject. Why don’t you give Martha a call now?”

  “When did you become so bossy?” Amber put her phone on the table between them.

  Micky stared at the phone as though it was a ticking bomb, the seconds on the timer quickly counting down. “You’re not going to call her now?”

  “Not here in front of you and with all these people around.” Amber looked around the Pink Bean. It was the middle of the afternoon and apart from Josephine behind the counter and a man mesmerized by his own phone at a table a few feet away, there was no one around.

  Micky held up her hands. “Hey, I’m just glad you made the decision. A woman like Martha... well, you don’t want to keep her waiting too long.”

  “What do you mean?” All sorts of things could have happened during Amber’s absence from Sydney. “Do you know something?”

  Micky shook her head. “No, I just don’t know if Martha’s the sort of woman who would sit by the phone waiting for you to call. She’s getting on.” Micky painted a big smirk on her lips.

  Though it was said in jest, Amber suddenly felt like she was on the clock. “Then I’d best get home and give the fair lady a call.” Amber drained the last of her green tea. She looked at her friend. Oh yes, lady love was definitely agreeing with Micky. And she’d been the one who’d had to push and push until Micky was finally ready to take that leap—until she stopped being so afraid. Amber was ready to let go of some of her own fear. She had made Martha wait long enough.

  “I’ll see you later.” She rose and kissed Micky on the cheek.

  “Good luck,” Micky said, a sparkle in her eye.

  Amber had to think really hard to remember when she’d last called a woman to ask her out. Truth be told, she preferred to be asked, which happened occasionally, though it had been a while. Micky always said it was
an uninviting vibe Amber was giving off. Amber always shrugged that off as nonsense, but perhaps there was more truth to Micky’s words than Amber cared to admit.

  But there she stood. Phone in hand. Nerves doing something to her stomach. Amber remembered the first time she’d met Martha at the dinner party. How she’d felt instantly attracted to her, to the pale determination in her eyes and what that could mean. But Amber had to immediately push that attraction away because Martha was intended for Micky— for her best friend. And to Amber, it didn’t matter that Micky was besotted with Robin. It was the principle that mattered. Or so she liked to make herself believe.

  “Enough,” she muttered under her breath. It was time. Amber was ready. Of course, it wasn’t a given that Martha was even still available, though if she weren’t, and had met the love of her life while Amber was away, surely Micky would have heard rumors at the Pink Bean. Martha was Sheryl’s colleague at the university. Sheryl’s wife Kristin was Micky’s boss at the Pink Bean. God, when had they all become such a typical group of lesbians? Everything so intertwined; everyone so up in each other’s business.

  Just call, Amber thought, and she did. Her palms sweated and her heart beat a little faster, but more than anything, it felt freeing to finally take this step. To do something.

  “Hi, Amber,” Martha said.

  Amber was taken aback. Martha must have already had her number in her phone as well. She really hadn’t quizzed Micky enough on all the things that were said while she was gone. God knows what Micky had said about her.

  “Hey, er—” Amber suddenly remembered all the reasons why it had been so long since she’d called someone to ask her out. The whole thing always so quickly reached a level of awkwardness she didn’t know how to deal with.