Fic: Inertia - Part 13 [The Closer]
Title: Inertia - Part 13 [The Closer]
Rating: PG - 13
Ship: Brenda/Sharon
Disclaimer: Not mine; never were! No copyright infringement intended. Laura's my own, but she's not a major character. The song mentioned, not mine - but it found its way into my brain about a week ago and hasn't left since. Sorry.
Summary: With Fritz gone, and her relationship with Sharon growing more serious, Brenda begins to wonder about just how close she's willing to get to the other woman.
Previous Chapters ( One) ( Two) ( Three) ( Four) ( Five) ( Six) ( Seven) ( Eight) ( 9[a]) ( 9[b]) ( Ten) ( Eleven) ( Twelve)
~
It wasn't the doorbell ringing that triggered Sharon's senses that something was off - it was the way Laura kept eyeing the door all night. Her mother too. Sharon had asked her daughter if there was something she wanted to tell her about her newfound obsession with the door, but she simply shrugged and pretended she hadn't heard her. She remembered why she was so supremely thankful once her children left for college. When the doorbell rang, she was pleased that whatever it was that had them all on edge was finally happening.
"I'll get it -" Laura said, sweeping past her mother in the kitchen making coffee, "It's just Brenda."
"Excuse me? Brenda?" Sharon asked, wiping her hands on a dish cloth, "Why?"
"Because she's sorry."
The doorbell rang again.
"Sharon, do you want me to get it?" Her mother called out from the living room.
"Grandma knows?" Sharon asked her daughter.
"Grandam knows." Laura confirmed, taking up her mother's place at the coffee machine.
"I'll get it." She sighed.
The walk to the door was a quick one, one she'd done countless times in the last twenty odd years she'd lived in this house, but every step made her stomach churn. What did Brenda want, why was she here? She placed a hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out quickly - blocking Brenda's way in - and closing the door behind her.
It was indeed Brenda, and she looked beautiful in that red and white dress. She hated how the other woman could effortlessly transform into a stunning woman. It took her hours of hair straightening, working out and wardrobe deliberation so she could look somewhat presentable, but all it took was for Brenda to NOT dress like a Georgia housewife circa 1996 and she took her breath away. "If I tell you I was stuck in traffic would you let me fall helplessly in your arms as if nothing happened?" The blond asked, producing a small bouquet of white flowers from behind her back. Sometimes she wanted to strangle her daughter - if Brenda though she was a romantic, she knew nothing of Laura - it was certainly her who told the blond about the flowers. Laura and her brother Adam practically had the florist on speed-dial when they were teenagers - she could usually guess the severity of what they'd done by the size of the bouquet they'd present her - when Adam totaled her car at 18, she woke up to freshly planted white hydrangeas in the front lawn.
"Do I need to put on my glasses for you to forgive me?" the blond joked awkwardly as they stood there.
"You didn't have to come." Sharon replied
"I know Sharon, I wanted to." She watched Sharon cross her arms and shoot a disbelieving look in her direction "Ok, Sharon honey, you've really got to help me out here." Brenda began, "I know you keep waiting for me to disappoint you, and I know sometimes I do - but you've really got to help me when I need it. When I ask you if you want me to meet your parents, it's because I don't know what you want. You just bounce things back to me and then get angry when I don't do the right thing. I don't know what the right thing is sometimes and I can't read you when you get like this." She motioned to the other woman's crossed arms stance. Sharon took the flailing flowers from her hand. "You're like a brick wall and I'm getting real tired of disappointing you because it the last thing I want to do." She sighed and looked past Sharon and into the front window where she saw a well-dressed older woman and Laura watching on in fascination. She smiled slightly as the young girl gave her a thumbs up. "Sharon, you're mama's watching."
"Brenda -" Sharon looked down into her bouquet - it wasn't a standard one that you just picked off the shelf, there were roses and lilies and daisies and some other ones she couldn't quite name.
"I wasn't sure what flowers you liked, I know Laura said no roses, but I've always thought they could be very pretty."
"They're beautiful."
"I've never bought flowers for someone that wasn't for my mama before."
"I don't know where we're going." She didn't. She really didn't. She didn't even know what they were. She knew they had danced around that particular issue for months - and it had been months - but they hadn't addressed it. Maybe she didn't need to name whatever it was she and the other woman had, but she wanted to. She wanted to be able to identify the emotions and the feelings she had towards the woman who was standing inches away from her, and what's more - she wanted to know that Brenda felt the same things for her. She was getting too old for this - her age another thing they never talked about aside from the odd joke - it never seemed like an appropriate topic to bring up. Brenda had just gotten out of her second failed marriage - she needed time to see what else and who else was out there. Time was something she wasn't sure she had to give so freely anymore.
"I do -" Brenda said to her, stepping up "It's inside for coffee and cake. There is cake, right?" She joked, fitting herself against the other woman.
"Chocolate." The brunette murmured, pressing her lips against Brenda's knitted brow.
"Like the one you seduced me with?" Brenda teased, leaning into the kiss.
"I wake up every morning, and before I even open my eyes, I reach out my hand and make sure I can feel you, that you're still there."
"I'm still here." Brenda whispered, wrapping her arms around Sharon's neck and placing a hard kiss on her lips.
Brenda wished she could tell the other woman that she'd always be there, but she couldn't. Not yet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to say those words. Why lie to someone, especially someone you cared so deeply about. Because she did care about Sharon - very deeply. It was like Fritz, but different. With some relationships, Brenda fell hard and fast - those were the ones that never lasted, with the men who were no good. It was like that with Will; it was like that with her first husband. But with Fritz, and now with Sharon - it was something that grew slowly, gradually until one day she realized that their lives and hers were intertwined until you couldn't pull them apart without bringing their worlds crashing down around them. These were the people who were patient with her, who waited while she figured out what they'd known all along. She had fought against these people, the ones who loved her and understood her better than she did herself, her whole life. Maybe it was time to stop fighting and just accept it?
| | |
"They do this." Martha Raydor told her, leaning in as if she was sharing a secret, "I often feel like I am a record widow when they get together."
"I can certainly see why." Brenda laughed awkwardly, following Martha's glance to where Sharon stood with her father, going over the bookshelf in the back corner of the wall. Funny, she had been here so many times, but she had never noticed that bookshelf or the hundreds of records that filled it. While Brenda wasn't above snooping, she found herself unable to do it after she found a photo of Sharon and her husband in Sharon's desk. The truth was, she didn't want to know that much about Sharon's life, she knew everything she needed to for now.
"So, Brenda..." Martha clasped her hands over Brenda's knee, "Tell me a little about yourself?"
"Oh, well..." She really hated meeting parents. She really did. They were always so nosy. Why didn't they just ask what they were thinking, which Brenda was pretty sure was somewhere along the lines of 'are you sleepin' with my baby?'. She plastered a smile across her face and hoped she hid her discomfort. "I'm not sure there's much to tell."
"Now you're being mysterious - a useful trait in a woman. Your accent - the Carolinas?"
"No ma'am. Atlanta, Georgia."
"And your parents, are they still there?"
"Yes ma'am."
"No need to call me ma'am, dear. Martha works just fine." She patted the blond's knee and took a sip of coffee. Brenda took this time examine her - she had silver hair styled in a severe bob; she had a delicate bone structure that differed from her daughter's, but Brenda could already see where Sharon got the habit of pursing her lips from. Sharon looked more like her father Paul, who was at least in his late 70's, but still had a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. He had a wide smile and broad cheeks. She had seen him smile once, from the corner of her eye at something Sharon had whispered in his ear - his face lit up. He reminded her a little of her own father - the thought that they weren't as dissimilar as they had once believed was too odd of a concept for her to think about. She still thought of them as to drastically different people brought together by unusual circumstances and wondered how long they would manage to hold together. She turned her attention back towards Sharon's mother, she was dressed simply in a flowing black tunic and white pants - she was glad Laura had warned her to dress up as she had a feeling that Martha Raydor's ensemble was possibly in the range of her monthly rent. "Is this a police thing, dear?" Martha asked.
"Excuse me?"
"This sizing up, I notice Sharon doing it when we're out - is this something you all do?"
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, ma'am. Martha." She corrected herself, blushing.
"Don't let Grandma get to you, Brenda. She's just trying to figure you out. She's a psychologist - she treats the world as her asylum."
"One - never give away all of Grandma's secrets, especially when she's in the middle of updating her will." Martha warned, a manicured finger pointed at Laura who sat across from them in the living room. "Two - we don't use the term asylum, it's so...uncouth."
"And we wouldn't want that, do we Grandma?" Laura teased.
"How you and Sharon put up with this one is beyond me!" Martha said to Brenda, painting a faux stern expression on her face. She could see that in the Raydor family, at least with their women, teasing was a form of endearment. It also seemed that the Raydor women were all strong and intelligent - these were the people she had hated while at Georgetown, the women who made her life a nightmare in D.C. - the ones with a shoe for every outfit and a snide remark for every person. Sitting here, sipping coffee and nibbling cake, Brenda realized they didn't seem so bad. Although everything seemed easier to take when sugar was involved.
"Well it's a burden, but we try our hardest." Brenda chimed in, smiling across the table. "Tell me some more about yourself, Martha." She asked, falling on an old trick her mother had once taught her. "And if you have any potentially humiliating stories about either Laura or Sharon, please feel free to go into great detail about them."
| | |
"Well, if y'all are leaving, I suppose I should go too. It's getting awfully late." She saw the look of amusement on the faces around her. "What?"
"Well..." Paul began, coughing to cover up his laughter.
"It's nothing dear," Martha began, placing a light touch on her husband's arm. "We just assumed you'd be staying is all."
"But -" Brenda's mouth gaped open and shut. She looked over at Sharon for help, but just saw the brunette duck behind her hair. She was pretty sure she could hear her laughing. She didn't quite know how to handle this. Her parents would've never suggested it. They never would've even talked about it. Brenda liked that about them. She never had to have these awkward moments with them. Her father thought she was a virgin up until her third week of marriage when her mother had to break it to him!
"We're what you might call pretentious liberal." Paul began, slipping into his sport coat, "Forgive us?"
"What Paul means to say, Brenda is well...that we assumed you spend the night here."
"What...would give you that impression?" Brenda asked, humiliated at her inability to lie properly. She could never lie to her mama - she didn't realize she couldn't lie to OTHER people's mamas!
"Well, if Sharon's closet is any indication, you keep quite a lot of your clothes here. The last time she's had that much pink and floral in there she was still tinkling in her -"
"MOTHER!" The brunette shouted, humiliated.
"No, no - carry on Martha. I'd love to hear more." Brenda wrapped her arm around the elder Raydor's arm.
"Perhaps another time." She winked - Brenda noticed she had the same vivid green eyes as her daughter, she suddenly felt very much at ease around her. Funny how such a small detail could change your whole perception of a person. "But it was very sweet that you tried to put us at ease. Walk us out?"
"Well, it's just that I'm a little old fashioned. I suppose that's just the way my mama and daddy raised me." Brenda confessed, holding onto Martha's arm as they made their way down the walkway to the driveway, followed by the rest of the family.
"And I don't see anything wrong with that. They clearly did a wonderful job. Paul and I are old-fashioned too."
"Indeed. We believe a martini's with gin and that you don't wear white after labor day." He joked.
"Alright, she's dating mom, not you two!" Laura groaned, getting into the driver's seat. They said their goodbyes as Brenda walked Martha around to the passenger's side and Sharon helped her dad into the backseat. Plans were made for lunch. Brenda was invited over to their hotel for a glass of wine one night before they left. Sharon wrapped an arm around the other woman's waist as they stood side by side in the dark, watching and waving as the car headed down the street.
They eventually turned around went back into the house. It was quiet and dark and suddenly, they both felt very lonely. Sharon knew they needed to talk - she just doesn't have the heart to do it. "I'm going to change." She heard the blond say softly behind her as she began to clear the coffee cups from the living room into the kitchen. She wished she wasn't in this position, but she knew she only had herself to blame. If she was smarter, stronger, she wouldn't have given in, she wouldn't have kissed her here in her kitchen that night, she would've just left it the way she knew she should've. The sense of loss pressed heavy on her, it slowed her breathing, her movements - but she hadn't lost anything yet.
When Jamie died, she regretted having forgotten so many details about him. How he smelled, how he liked to mess up her hair, or how he would eat ketchup with his eggs. All the little things you take for granted when you fall in love is what you miss when it's gone.
She wondered what she'd forget about Brenda.
She wondered for how long she would find those long strands of golden hairs pressed against her suit jacket. She wondered how long it would take to get used to an empty bed again. She wondered what it would be like to fall asleep on the couch again.
| | |
Brenda took her time getting undressed upstairs.
Given the suddenly solemn mood that fell over the other woman, she wasn't looking forward to rushing down there. Brenda reached for her nightgown and then stopped, running her hand over the fold of Sharon's white cotton nightgown tucked behind the pillows. It was the one she'd been wearing the night she stormed over here and kissed her. She couldn't believe how long ago that was and how much had changed. And how little at the same time. She pulled the red and white dress up over her head and put on Sharon's gown - it was a little too roomy - Brenda thought as she wrapped the white robe around herself. She felt very far from the other woman. She sat on the bed and mulled over the fact that she knew very little about her lover. This was unlike her - Brenda liked information, her whole life was dedicated to it. She would follow boyfriends for days in college, trying to figure out their secrets - but she didn't want to look for anything in Sharon's life, she wanted to leave those secrets secret. If she knew too much, this would become harder, whatever this was. When she sat in her office earlier today she had thought about how she was completely unprepared for that to be her last blow-up with Sharon, but now, sitting here alone in the dark bedroom she wondered how much longer she could expect to stay.
She realized she would have to go down, but she didn't move. She stood there, sitting on the edge of the bed, in the dark, wrapped up in Sharon's nightgown and robe until Sharon eventually came up. She didn't say anything to Brenda when she walked in, she didn't even look at her, she simply came in and went straight to the closet where she shucked off her clothes. Brenda loved the curve of the other woman's back. It was so long and lean and inviting. It was distinctly feminine, with its tapered shoulders and small of the back and the swell of her hips. Her favorite part of the day was crawling into bed and fitting herself against the other woman's back. Wordlessly she rose from the bed and placed a light touch on Sharon's back, her fingertips fluttering down her spine. "Look at me." It took her a moment to realize she had been the one say those words, they sounded so different from her usual voice. So tired.
"No." Sharon said, shaking her head.
"Please?"
No response, just Sharon's body moving in small motions in the dark as she hung up her suit.
"Look at me." Brenda repeated, more forcefully. It didn't sound tired this time, it was commanding. She had come to realize that Sharon, as bossy as she was, liked being a Captain - she may have made empty gestures towards moving higher up, but if she wanted it, she'd have done it. Captain let Sharon lead and command, but still subjected her to orders. She may not admit it, but she liked having to listen to someone else at times, it took the burden off of her. She watches Sharon freeze, then slowly turn around - and before she knows it, Brenda's being pulled into the other woman's arms in a hug. She has never felt need from Sharon - not like this. She's felt admiration and toleration; lust and desire; rage and manipulation; she has even felt love from the other woman but she has never felt need. Brenda wraps her arms around Sharon and slowly starts to stroke her hair. There's the smell of junipers again, that astringent gin smell that has reminded her of Sharon ever since their first dinner, their first kiss. She knows something is changing between them and she doesn't know what to do beyond provide what little comfort she can at the moment. She stands there, continuing to stroke Sharon's hair and be thankful that the other woman wasn't crying. She didn't know if she had ever really seen her cry beyond the stray tears that she would wipe away fiercely at the end of movies. Brenda would never tell her, but for a woman with such pretentious tastes when it came to art and literature, it was laughable how bad her taste in movies were.
She eventually felt Sharon's grasp ease off of her and soon felt her pull away and laugh. "That's mine." She said, her hand flicking the bottom of her robe that Brenda was wearing.
"Well yes, I just thought it looks better on me."
"I see, and what am I supposed to wear then?" Sharon asked, schooling her features back under control.
"What's wrong with what you have on now?" Brenda teased.
"I'm half naked!"
"You're right. You should take it all off." She laughed, "Here, I'll help you." She reached out a hand and unzipped the side of Sharon's skirt.
"You're horrible!"
"Your parents seemed to like me just fine." Brenda shot back, "Maybe it's just you."
"Maybe it's just you?" Sharon replied, pulling Brenda back into her arms.
They stood there for a moment and Brenda could tell she wanted to say something. She knew this feeling well, this was the feeling that had seeped into the last months of her relationship with Fritz, it was the feeling of him trying to gather the courage to ask her for a divorce. "Not tonight." She whispered, placing a quick peck on Sharon's lips. "I know, I do. Let's just go to bed." She watched as Sharon nodded. "Good." She sighed. "Good.
| | |
Brenda felt herself float back to reality from whatever dream she'd been having. She didn't know, she didn't care - dreams didn't mean much to her. A quick glance at the clock told her it was earlier than she thought. She returned to her previous position, curled up agains Sharon's back, skin to skin. She knew what Sharon was talking about earlier on the porch - how the brunette would check to make sure she was still there - she did it too. She never wondered if Sharon was still there, she checked to make sure she was still real. She brushed back some of Sharon's hair and dropped a sleepy kiss against the back of her neck as she let herself return to sleep.
She was still real. They both were.
Rating: PG - 13
Ship: Brenda/Sharon
Disclaimer: Not mine; never were! No copyright infringement intended. Laura's my own, but she's not a major character. The song mentioned, not mine - but it found its way into my brain about a week ago and hasn't left since. Sorry.
Summary: With Fritz gone, and her relationship with Sharon growing more serious, Brenda begins to wonder about just how close she's willing to get to the other woman.
Previous Chapters ( One) ( Two) ( Three) ( Four) ( Five) ( Six) ( Seven) ( Eight) ( 9[a]) ( 9[b]) ( Ten) ( Eleven) ( Twelve)
~
It wasn't the doorbell ringing that triggered Sharon's senses that something was off - it was the way Laura kept eyeing the door all night. Her mother too. Sharon had asked her daughter if there was something she wanted to tell her about her newfound obsession with the door, but she simply shrugged and pretended she hadn't heard her. She remembered why she was so supremely thankful once her children left for college. When the doorbell rang, she was pleased that whatever it was that had them all on edge was finally happening.
"I'll get it -" Laura said, sweeping past her mother in the kitchen making coffee, "It's just Brenda."
"Excuse me? Brenda?" Sharon asked, wiping her hands on a dish cloth, "Why?"
"Because she's sorry."
The doorbell rang again.
"Sharon, do you want me to get it?" Her mother called out from the living room.
"Grandma knows?" Sharon asked her daughter.
"Grandam knows." Laura confirmed, taking up her mother's place at the coffee machine.
"I'll get it." She sighed.
The walk to the door was a quick one, one she'd done countless times in the last twenty odd years she'd lived in this house, but every step made her stomach churn. What did Brenda want, why was she here? She placed a hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out quickly - blocking Brenda's way in - and closing the door behind her.
It was indeed Brenda, and she looked beautiful in that red and white dress. She hated how the other woman could effortlessly transform into a stunning woman. It took her hours of hair straightening, working out and wardrobe deliberation so she could look somewhat presentable, but all it took was for Brenda to NOT dress like a Georgia housewife circa 1996 and she took her breath away. "If I tell you I was stuck in traffic would you let me fall helplessly in your arms as if nothing happened?" The blond asked, producing a small bouquet of white flowers from behind her back. Sometimes she wanted to strangle her daughter - if Brenda though she was a romantic, she knew nothing of Laura - it was certainly her who told the blond about the flowers. Laura and her brother Adam practically had the florist on speed-dial when they were teenagers - she could usually guess the severity of what they'd done by the size of the bouquet they'd present her - when Adam totaled her car at 18, she woke up to freshly planted white hydrangeas in the front lawn.
"Do I need to put on my glasses for you to forgive me?" the blond joked awkwardly as they stood there.
"You didn't have to come." Sharon replied
"I know Sharon, I wanted to." She watched Sharon cross her arms and shoot a disbelieving look in her direction "Ok, Sharon honey, you've really got to help me out here." Brenda began, "I know you keep waiting for me to disappoint you, and I know sometimes I do - but you've really got to help me when I need it. When I ask you if you want me to meet your parents, it's because I don't know what you want. You just bounce things back to me and then get angry when I don't do the right thing. I don't know what the right thing is sometimes and I can't read you when you get like this." She motioned to the other woman's crossed arms stance. Sharon took the flailing flowers from her hand. "You're like a brick wall and I'm getting real tired of disappointing you because it the last thing I want to do." She sighed and looked past Sharon and into the front window where she saw a well-dressed older woman and Laura watching on in fascination. She smiled slightly as the young girl gave her a thumbs up. "Sharon, you're mama's watching."
"Brenda -" Sharon looked down into her bouquet - it wasn't a standard one that you just picked off the shelf, there were roses and lilies and daisies and some other ones she couldn't quite name.
"I wasn't sure what flowers you liked, I know Laura said no roses, but I've always thought they could be very pretty."
"They're beautiful."
"I've never bought flowers for someone that wasn't for my mama before."
"I don't know where we're going." She didn't. She really didn't. She didn't even know what they were. She knew they had danced around that particular issue for months - and it had been months - but they hadn't addressed it. Maybe she didn't need to name whatever it was she and the other woman had, but she wanted to. She wanted to be able to identify the emotions and the feelings she had towards the woman who was standing inches away from her, and what's more - she wanted to know that Brenda felt the same things for her. She was getting too old for this - her age another thing they never talked about aside from the odd joke - it never seemed like an appropriate topic to bring up. Brenda had just gotten out of her second failed marriage - she needed time to see what else and who else was out there. Time was something she wasn't sure she had to give so freely anymore.
"I do -" Brenda said to her, stepping up "It's inside for coffee and cake. There is cake, right?" She joked, fitting herself against the other woman.
"Chocolate." The brunette murmured, pressing her lips against Brenda's knitted brow.
"Like the one you seduced me with?" Brenda teased, leaning into the kiss.
"I wake up every morning, and before I even open my eyes, I reach out my hand and make sure I can feel you, that you're still there."
"I'm still here." Brenda whispered, wrapping her arms around Sharon's neck and placing a hard kiss on her lips.
Brenda wished she could tell the other woman that she'd always be there, but she couldn't. Not yet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to say those words. Why lie to someone, especially someone you cared so deeply about. Because she did care about Sharon - very deeply. It was like Fritz, but different. With some relationships, Brenda fell hard and fast - those were the ones that never lasted, with the men who were no good. It was like that with Will; it was like that with her first husband. But with Fritz, and now with Sharon - it was something that grew slowly, gradually until one day she realized that their lives and hers were intertwined until you couldn't pull them apart without bringing their worlds crashing down around them. These were the people who were patient with her, who waited while she figured out what they'd known all along. She had fought against these people, the ones who loved her and understood her better than she did herself, her whole life. Maybe it was time to stop fighting and just accept it?
| | |
"They do this." Martha Raydor told her, leaning in as if she was sharing a secret, "I often feel like I am a record widow when they get together."
"I can certainly see why." Brenda laughed awkwardly, following Martha's glance to where Sharon stood with her father, going over the bookshelf in the back corner of the wall. Funny, she had been here so many times, but she had never noticed that bookshelf or the hundreds of records that filled it. While Brenda wasn't above snooping, she found herself unable to do it after she found a photo of Sharon and her husband in Sharon's desk. The truth was, she didn't want to know that much about Sharon's life, she knew everything she needed to for now.
"So, Brenda..." Martha clasped her hands over Brenda's knee, "Tell me a little about yourself?"
"Oh, well..." She really hated meeting parents. She really did. They were always so nosy. Why didn't they just ask what they were thinking, which Brenda was pretty sure was somewhere along the lines of 'are you sleepin' with my baby?'. She plastered a smile across her face and hoped she hid her discomfort. "I'm not sure there's much to tell."
"Now you're being mysterious - a useful trait in a woman. Your accent - the Carolinas?"
"No ma'am. Atlanta, Georgia."
"And your parents, are they still there?"
"Yes ma'am."
"No need to call me ma'am, dear. Martha works just fine." She patted the blond's knee and took a sip of coffee. Brenda took this time examine her - she had silver hair styled in a severe bob; she had a delicate bone structure that differed from her daughter's, but Brenda could already see where Sharon got the habit of pursing her lips from. Sharon looked more like her father Paul, who was at least in his late 70's, but still had a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. He had a wide smile and broad cheeks. She had seen him smile once, from the corner of her eye at something Sharon had whispered in his ear - his face lit up. He reminded her a little of her own father - the thought that they weren't as dissimilar as they had once believed was too odd of a concept for her to think about. She still thought of them as to drastically different people brought together by unusual circumstances and wondered how long they would manage to hold together. She turned her attention back towards Sharon's mother, she was dressed simply in a flowing black tunic and white pants - she was glad Laura had warned her to dress up as she had a feeling that Martha Raydor's ensemble was possibly in the range of her monthly rent. "Is this a police thing, dear?" Martha asked.
"Excuse me?"
"This sizing up, I notice Sharon doing it when we're out - is this something you all do?"
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, ma'am. Martha." She corrected herself, blushing.
"Don't let Grandma get to you, Brenda. She's just trying to figure you out. She's a psychologist - she treats the world as her asylum."
"One - never give away all of Grandma's secrets, especially when she's in the middle of updating her will." Martha warned, a manicured finger pointed at Laura who sat across from them in the living room. "Two - we don't use the term asylum, it's so...uncouth."
"And we wouldn't want that, do we Grandma?" Laura teased.
"How you and Sharon put up with this one is beyond me!" Martha said to Brenda, painting a faux stern expression on her face. She could see that in the Raydor family, at least with their women, teasing was a form of endearment. It also seemed that the Raydor women were all strong and intelligent - these were the people she had hated while at Georgetown, the women who made her life a nightmare in D.C. - the ones with a shoe for every outfit and a snide remark for every person. Sitting here, sipping coffee and nibbling cake, Brenda realized they didn't seem so bad. Although everything seemed easier to take when sugar was involved.
"Well it's a burden, but we try our hardest." Brenda chimed in, smiling across the table. "Tell me some more about yourself, Martha." She asked, falling on an old trick her mother had once taught her. "And if you have any potentially humiliating stories about either Laura or Sharon, please feel free to go into great detail about them."
| | |
"Well, if y'all are leaving, I suppose I should go too. It's getting awfully late." She saw the look of amusement on the faces around her. "What?"
"Well..." Paul began, coughing to cover up his laughter.
"It's nothing dear," Martha began, placing a light touch on her husband's arm. "We just assumed you'd be staying is all."
"But -" Brenda's mouth gaped open and shut. She looked over at Sharon for help, but just saw the brunette duck behind her hair. She was pretty sure she could hear her laughing. She didn't quite know how to handle this. Her parents would've never suggested it. They never would've even talked about it. Brenda liked that about them. She never had to have these awkward moments with them. Her father thought she was a virgin up until her third week of marriage when her mother had to break it to him!
"We're what you might call pretentious liberal." Paul began, slipping into his sport coat, "Forgive us?"
"What Paul means to say, Brenda is well...that we assumed you spend the night here."
"What...would give you that impression?" Brenda asked, humiliated at her inability to lie properly. She could never lie to her mama - she didn't realize she couldn't lie to OTHER people's mamas!
"Well, if Sharon's closet is any indication, you keep quite a lot of your clothes here. The last time she's had that much pink and floral in there she was still tinkling in her -"
"MOTHER!" The brunette shouted, humiliated.
"No, no - carry on Martha. I'd love to hear more." Brenda wrapped her arm around the elder Raydor's arm.
"Perhaps another time." She winked - Brenda noticed she had the same vivid green eyes as her daughter, she suddenly felt very much at ease around her. Funny how such a small detail could change your whole perception of a person. "But it was very sweet that you tried to put us at ease. Walk us out?"
"Well, it's just that I'm a little old fashioned. I suppose that's just the way my mama and daddy raised me." Brenda confessed, holding onto Martha's arm as they made their way down the walkway to the driveway, followed by the rest of the family.
"And I don't see anything wrong with that. They clearly did a wonderful job. Paul and I are old-fashioned too."
"Indeed. We believe a martini's with gin and that you don't wear white after labor day." He joked.
"Alright, she's dating mom, not you two!" Laura groaned, getting into the driver's seat. They said their goodbyes as Brenda walked Martha around to the passenger's side and Sharon helped her dad into the backseat. Plans were made for lunch. Brenda was invited over to their hotel for a glass of wine one night before they left. Sharon wrapped an arm around the other woman's waist as they stood side by side in the dark, watching and waving as the car headed down the street.
They eventually turned around went back into the house. It was quiet and dark and suddenly, they both felt very lonely. Sharon knew they needed to talk - she just doesn't have the heart to do it. "I'm going to change." She heard the blond say softly behind her as she began to clear the coffee cups from the living room into the kitchen. She wished she wasn't in this position, but she knew she only had herself to blame. If she was smarter, stronger, she wouldn't have given in, she wouldn't have kissed her here in her kitchen that night, she would've just left it the way she knew she should've. The sense of loss pressed heavy on her, it slowed her breathing, her movements - but she hadn't lost anything yet.
When Jamie died, she regretted having forgotten so many details about him. How he smelled, how he liked to mess up her hair, or how he would eat ketchup with his eggs. All the little things you take for granted when you fall in love is what you miss when it's gone.
She wondered what she'd forget about Brenda.
She wondered for how long she would find those long strands of golden hairs pressed against her suit jacket. She wondered how long it would take to get used to an empty bed again. She wondered what it would be like to fall asleep on the couch again.
| | |
Brenda took her time getting undressed upstairs.
Given the suddenly solemn mood that fell over the other woman, she wasn't looking forward to rushing down there. Brenda reached for her nightgown and then stopped, running her hand over the fold of Sharon's white cotton nightgown tucked behind the pillows. It was the one she'd been wearing the night she stormed over here and kissed her. She couldn't believe how long ago that was and how much had changed. And how little at the same time. She pulled the red and white dress up over her head and put on Sharon's gown - it was a little too roomy - Brenda thought as she wrapped the white robe around herself. She felt very far from the other woman. She sat on the bed and mulled over the fact that she knew very little about her lover. This was unlike her - Brenda liked information, her whole life was dedicated to it. She would follow boyfriends for days in college, trying to figure out their secrets - but she didn't want to look for anything in Sharon's life, she wanted to leave those secrets secret. If she knew too much, this would become harder, whatever this was. When she sat in her office earlier today she had thought about how she was completely unprepared for that to be her last blow-up with Sharon, but now, sitting here alone in the dark bedroom she wondered how much longer she could expect to stay.
She realized she would have to go down, but she didn't move. She stood there, sitting on the edge of the bed, in the dark, wrapped up in Sharon's nightgown and robe until Sharon eventually came up. She didn't say anything to Brenda when she walked in, she didn't even look at her, she simply came in and went straight to the closet where she shucked off her clothes. Brenda loved the curve of the other woman's back. It was so long and lean and inviting. It was distinctly feminine, with its tapered shoulders and small of the back and the swell of her hips. Her favorite part of the day was crawling into bed and fitting herself against the other woman's back. Wordlessly she rose from the bed and placed a light touch on Sharon's back, her fingertips fluttering down her spine. "Look at me." It took her a moment to realize she had been the one say those words, they sounded so different from her usual voice. So tired.
"No." Sharon said, shaking her head.
"Please?"
No response, just Sharon's body moving in small motions in the dark as she hung up her suit.
"Look at me." Brenda repeated, more forcefully. It didn't sound tired this time, it was commanding. She had come to realize that Sharon, as bossy as she was, liked being a Captain - she may have made empty gestures towards moving higher up, but if she wanted it, she'd have done it. Captain let Sharon lead and command, but still subjected her to orders. She may not admit it, but she liked having to listen to someone else at times, it took the burden off of her. She watches Sharon freeze, then slowly turn around - and before she knows it, Brenda's being pulled into the other woman's arms in a hug. She has never felt need from Sharon - not like this. She's felt admiration and toleration; lust and desire; rage and manipulation; she has even felt love from the other woman but she has never felt need. Brenda wraps her arms around Sharon and slowly starts to stroke her hair. There's the smell of junipers again, that astringent gin smell that has reminded her of Sharon ever since their first dinner, their first kiss. She knows something is changing between them and she doesn't know what to do beyond provide what little comfort she can at the moment. She stands there, continuing to stroke Sharon's hair and be thankful that the other woman wasn't crying. She didn't know if she had ever really seen her cry beyond the stray tears that she would wipe away fiercely at the end of movies. Brenda would never tell her, but for a woman with such pretentious tastes when it came to art and literature, it was laughable how bad her taste in movies were.
She eventually felt Sharon's grasp ease off of her and soon felt her pull away and laugh. "That's mine." She said, her hand flicking the bottom of her robe that Brenda was wearing.
"Well yes, I just thought it looks better on me."
"I see, and what am I supposed to wear then?" Sharon asked, schooling her features back under control.
"What's wrong with what you have on now?" Brenda teased.
"I'm half naked!"
"You're right. You should take it all off." She laughed, "Here, I'll help you." She reached out a hand and unzipped the side of Sharon's skirt.
"You're horrible!"
"Your parents seemed to like me just fine." Brenda shot back, "Maybe it's just you."
"Maybe it's just you?" Sharon replied, pulling Brenda back into her arms.
They stood there for a moment and Brenda could tell she wanted to say something. She knew this feeling well, this was the feeling that had seeped into the last months of her relationship with Fritz, it was the feeling of him trying to gather the courage to ask her for a divorce. "Not tonight." She whispered, placing a quick peck on Sharon's lips. "I know, I do. Let's just go to bed." She watched as Sharon nodded. "Good." She sighed. "Good.
| | |
Brenda felt herself float back to reality from whatever dream she'd been having. She didn't know, she didn't care - dreams didn't mean much to her. A quick glance at the clock told her it was earlier than she thought. She returned to her previous position, curled up agains Sharon's back, skin to skin. She knew what Sharon was talking about earlier on the porch - how the brunette would check to make sure she was still there - she did it too. She never wondered if Sharon was still there, she checked to make sure she was still real. She brushed back some of Sharon's hair and dropped a sleepy kiss against the back of her neck as she let herself return to sleep.
She was still real. They both were.