Outing of the Heart (111 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
Brushing her hair at the dressing table, she recalled that special time when Sid had asked if she may do it. It was etched in her memory. That precious moment. It touched deep inside to her heart, back to an innocent time and a sweet purity, now long gone. It could never be recaptured. They had been so happy then. Seemingly nothing could mar their joy. Her mouth opened in a silent cry of despair. Big tears came again, pooling in her eyelids then spilling over to splash down onto her cheeks. She put down her brush and bent her face to her hands. This time she let the tears flow, letting down all the defences she had been at such pains to construct. Now she was weeping for what might have been and for what was lost, her body racked by sobs.
Tenille's desolation was complete.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The following week must have been the worst of Ten's life. Sunday, she expected the phone to ring at any moment. Come Tuesday she knew it wouldn't happen. Lyndall picked her up as usual for her stint at the Counselling Centre. Her heart wasn't in it, but she knew it was the best thing for her at this time. On the way back, Lyndall could sense she was not a happy woman. She tried to get her to talk, but she was reluctant to open up. âYou remember, Ten, you were going to try to mend some fences?'
âNo. What are you talking about?' she asked. Lyndall could be so obscure sometimes. She was looking very sharp tonight. Soft camel tones in her sweater and pants with a russet colored silk scarf at the neck, tied on the side. Ten herself felt lacklustre, dressed in grey and black.
âLast time we talked, you mentioned that all was not as rosy as you would have wished between you and your mother,' she reminded her.
âGoodness, you do have a good memory. I'd forgotten,' she confessed.
âSo you didn't call her?'
âNo. I didn't plan to, did I?' She couldn't recall any such suggestion, but then she had been so frazzled this past weekend, anything could have gone awry.
âNo you didn't. I just wondered if you might have.' It had been a shot in the dark on Lyndall's part. She just wanted to get Tenille talking. She pulled up at the house, hoping Ten would invite her in. No luck this time.
âLyndall, I have to get an early night. Sorry. Is that okay with you?'
âNo problem.' She was disappointed, but covered her feelings. There was always next week.
Ten was in bed when the phone rang. This time she dragged herself out. It would not be Sid. âHello.'
âHi Ten, it's me. Sorry to call so late, but I knew you would be out this evening.' Devon made her excuse.
âOh ⦠hello.' Ten's voice was flat.
âI've been trying to get you. I called Saturday, I was sure I'd be lucky, but you were out.'
âOh, so it was you who called. I've been wondering.' She realized she should have thought of Devon before, but in truth, all thoughts of her had flown from her head.
âYes. I felt badly about Friday. I wanted to apologize. I'd had a fair bit to drink and I'd gotten carried away. No hard feelings, I hope?' Her voice held an anxious note.
âDev, I can't talk about that now. Some other time, perhaps. I do want to say that I value your friendship, but anything more than that will only come between us. Do you understand me?' She didn't want to close all the doors, but that one was to remain firmly shut from now on. She needed to talk to someone, but it couldn't be Devon.
âCan we get together again soon?' she asked. âGene has to go away on business for a week so I've all kinds of time,' she suggested, hopefully.
âI don't know about this week,' beginning to get that pressured feeling. âI'll let you know, okay?'
âCool. You know you can always reach me at the office?'
They said goodbye and Ten poured herself a glass of mineral water and returned to bed. On the way she collected Monty from the corner of her dressing table and gave him a cuddle. It was a comfort just to hold him. She wished Betsy could be with her, missing her a lot, imagining those devoted eyes meeting hers, filled with love. Sleep eluding her, she tried to lose herself in her book. A fruitless endeavor, this time her mind returning to thoughts of her mother. Lyndall had sown the seed. Perhaps she should be the one to make contact again. She was her mother after all and she, her only child. Now the rift between herself and Sid had developed into a chasm, her mother would feel better about the situation. As her eyelids finally began to close, she made the resolution to be in touch tomorrow.
The call wasn't a huge success, but her mother didn't hang up. She wanted to talk to her dad too, but Doris made some excuse that he couldn't come to the phone. Ten suspected he wouldn't be told she'd called, her mother could be like that. However, once it was understood that she was living on her own, Sidonie away studying, the mood softened perceptibly. Doris opened up about their âdoings'. By the end, the tone of the exchange was cordial. They had come a long way from: “I never want to speak to you again.”
It did make Ten feel better. Lyndall had been a great help after all. Perhaps she could be the one to confide in? Yes, Lyndall was already a counsellor; had taken her under her wing so to speak. She was also mature.
âLook dear, this must be costing you,' her mother said, full of concern. âI'll call you next time. I'm so glad you're walking properly again. I hated seeing you on those crutches. They made you look so ungainly. Not like my graceful girl at all.'
âYes, Mother.'
Thursday, Ten found a letter in her mailbox. It was from Sid. She couldn't wait 'til she was inside, but tore open the envelope where she stood, heart pounding fair set to burst her rib cage. It was brief.
This was it. The final slap in the face and she didn't need to be made to feel any more worthless. She would write a note of her own suggesting she take on the apartment herself. Now she was working full time she could probably come to some arrangement with Rani and Moira. Get someone else to share, even. Rage rose inside her against this attitude of Sid's and she was left feeling furious. The final insult. For so long to be carrying the heavy burden of remorse ⦠she would cast it away; no longer be heartsick over a lost love. Too many tears had been wasted over Sidonie Henderson. She could live without her. Perhaps Karen Olhovski had been right all along. In the face of her drunken outburst she had felt so self-satisfied. Full of confidence that she had all the answers; would succeed where she had failed. What a laugh. She berated herself with the realization that she'd not even lasted as long as Karen. What had Karen said?
“You'll find out about her and she'll break your heart, too.”
Something like that.
Turning slowly, she walked up the path to the side door. Having stood so long, she was cold and shivering and she looked up. The sky, which had been clear and blue earlier, was now washing over with a dark, forbidding grey. A choking silver mist clung to the rooftops. A grey, dark day, she thought, and shivered again, pulling her jacket close about her neck, quickening her pace. She curled her lip and took a deep breath to buttress her resolve, reflecting rebelliously that she wasn't going to let her break her heart; hostage to that golden smile. Her spirit had been too heady and intoxicating, but oh no, she could remain remote and elusive, sharpening the focus of this fresh understanding. She could harden herself just as easily, but her soul was weeping silently within her.
Bone weary, feeling utterly spent, she climbed the stairs. This wasn't the life for her to lead. She didn't deserve this. Had done nothing, only loved blindly. Truthfully, she hadn't known this girl at all. Well, she did now. Sidonie was hard and selfish; saw only what she wanted to see; tough, with no compassion. Perhaps for animals, she conceded, but where human beings were concerned â¦. everything had to be her way.
Despite Ten's resolve, her evening was horrible and miserable. Nothing went right and she couldn't wait for it to end. She thought to call Lyndall, but having only just seen her, she couldn't bring herself to do it. An alternative. Pop down to Moira's, but again, there was no heart for that either. If she'd been a drinker she would have gotten herself a bottle and tucked in a few belts. Once there had been a belief in pure love and blissful togetherness; now that part of her was in the process of dying and the wake should have been accompanied by something more appropriate than coffee. She needed a Prozac.
Sitting alone in the apartment, the evening light was just beginning to streak across the floor as the sun made its descent, but she didn't turn on the lamps. She remained still, but her thoughts were spinning in a kaleidoscope of impressions: Sidonie at the gym: playing softball: driving the car: poised above her, ready to bring her lips to hers for a lingering kiss. Despite every effort and all her strength of will, the tearing pain of grief yet again attacked her. Uncontrollable tears returned and in her haunted loneliness she wept; wept with a despairing hopelessness that could see no end. After a long time the acuteness of her suffering blunted itself until all that remained was a forlorn hollowness and eventually, spiritless resignation.
âOh, no,' escaped her lips as protest fought within her. She loved her too much. How could she let her go? No matter what she had said earlier, she couldn't live without her wonderful Sid. Those piercing blue eyes: that mischievous grin, so full of life and excitement: Sid's beautiful, strong body: the muscles rippling in her thighs as her legs straddled her: the feel of her rounded buttocks under her hands. She felt herself grow hot and moist between her legs. She longed to feel Sid's hands lifting her breasts, her tongue leaving a wet trail across her nipples. She didn't want to do it, but in her sorrow she could not hold back. She raised her skirt and slid her hand inside her panties. With this welling up of throbbing desire, images of Sid came thick and fast; it was almost like she was here, her touch on her tumescent clit, her tongue deep within her mouth, as she took her to the heights. With these thoughts came her orgasmic release ⦠powerful and intense. In the silent darkness of the room her breathing, the only sound, was loud, fast and ragged. Gradually it returned to normal and she drifted off to sleep, as her skirt slipped down to cover her legs and her arms draped over the sides of the chair.
When she awoke it was way past nine, her neck stiff from the crooked position into which she'd fallen. She rose stiffly and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She should make herself something to eat, but she had no appetite. She would go to bed and read. Perhaps things would be a little easier tomorrow.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
In the end Ten didn't contact Lyndall, nor did she speak to her landladies. She could find no energy for anything, just drifting through the days, doing what she must, nothing more. Still too bruised, her heart trampled into chards of dejected grief, there was no spark left to ignite an interest in anything.
Her belief in the intrinsic fairness of doing good, of receiving good in return had been corroded. Feeling betrayed, she had retreated into a protective shell. Despite brave words, she was an empty vessel. Signs of weight loss were beginning to appear, but these changes not withstanding, her countenance had taken on a greater beauty. Her sadness gave deeper meaning to the grave, soft eyes and the finely shaped brows followed their line. Now the eye was drawn to the sorrowful curves of her lips, looking more vulnerable and kissable than ever. Embrace her to comfort her and be overtaken by the immediacy of her defencelessness. Suffering had matured her and, at the same time made her more desirable.
Saturday morning Ten determined to be gone from the apartment all afternoon. She would do her weekly shopping at Loblaws's then eat out. Food had lost its appeal, but she could put in the time; be sure their paths didn't cross. First she would clean. She wouldn't betray a neglected house. Sidonie might think she was having an effect on her.
By noon everything was spotless, even the taps had received the toothbrush treatment. She had checked each room to her satisfaction and was now sitting at the table, making her shopping list. The rasping sound of a key scraping a lock. She stiffened, panic rising like an engulfing tide. Nowhere to run ⦠no escape. How had this state of affairs come about? It was too late to leave. How would she handle this?
“Stay cool. Stay seated; continue doing what you're doing.”
Sid stepped over the threshold then stopped dead in her tracks. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again.
Ten looked up from her writing: âHello.' Caught off guard by her own breathless reaction to the impact of Sid's presence, her heart fell to the pit of her stomach in a painful lurch. She was wearing her short waisted, leather bomber jacket; the old, scuffed brown one, loosely opened over a black, polo-necked sweater and her new, light brown cords. She looked strong and powerful and every bit the unrelenting dyke Ten felt her to be. Her face remained closed and uninformative, the eyes told her nothing.
Sid swallowed hard. âI didn't expect to see you here,' she managed to get out. The words were painful in her tightened throat. She had been steeling herself against this possibility, feeling too fragile to cope with a confrontation. She had hoped Ten would take the hint, only to make it easier for her to go through with this. Since she was last here she had thought of little else, but that dreadful scene. How could she have said those hurtful things? She had cast her chance of future happiness to the four winds by a reckless disregard for another's feelings, all through the heat of her own jealousy and anger. These past days had been a torture; unable to keep her mind on anything. It was filled with this woman. She was in her dreams and when she awoke it was to an unbearable emptiness.
Tenille's desolation was complete.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The following week must have been the worst of Ten's life. Sunday, she expected the phone to ring at any moment. Come Tuesday she knew it wouldn't happen. Lyndall picked her up as usual for her stint at the Counselling Centre. Her heart wasn't in it, but she knew it was the best thing for her at this time. On the way back, Lyndall could sense she was not a happy woman. She tried to get her to talk, but she was reluctant to open up. âYou remember, Ten, you were going to try to mend some fences?'
âNo. What are you talking about?' she asked. Lyndall could be so obscure sometimes. She was looking very sharp tonight. Soft camel tones in her sweater and pants with a russet colored silk scarf at the neck, tied on the side. Ten herself felt lacklustre, dressed in grey and black.
âLast time we talked, you mentioned that all was not as rosy as you would have wished between you and your mother,' she reminded her.
âGoodness, you do have a good memory. I'd forgotten,' she confessed.
âSo you didn't call her?'
âNo. I didn't plan to, did I?' She couldn't recall any such suggestion, but then she had been so frazzled this past weekend, anything could have gone awry.
âNo you didn't. I just wondered if you might have.' It had been a shot in the dark on Lyndall's part. She just wanted to get Tenille talking. She pulled up at the house, hoping Ten would invite her in. No luck this time.
âLyndall, I have to get an early night. Sorry. Is that okay with you?'
âNo problem.' She was disappointed, but covered her feelings. There was always next week.
Ten was in bed when the phone rang. This time she dragged herself out. It would not be Sid. âHello.'
âHi Ten, it's me. Sorry to call so late, but I knew you would be out this evening.' Devon made her excuse.
âOh ⦠hello.' Ten's voice was flat.
âI've been trying to get you. I called Saturday, I was sure I'd be lucky, but you were out.'
âOh, so it was you who called. I've been wondering.' She realized she should have thought of Devon before, but in truth, all thoughts of her had flown from her head.
âYes. I felt badly about Friday. I wanted to apologize. I'd had a fair bit to drink and I'd gotten carried away. No hard feelings, I hope?' Her voice held an anxious note.
âDev, I can't talk about that now. Some other time, perhaps. I do want to say that I value your friendship, but anything more than that will only come between us. Do you understand me?' She didn't want to close all the doors, but that one was to remain firmly shut from now on. She needed to talk to someone, but it couldn't be Devon.
âCan we get together again soon?' she asked. âGene has to go away on business for a week so I've all kinds of time,' she suggested, hopefully.
âI don't know about this week,' beginning to get that pressured feeling. âI'll let you know, okay?'
âCool. You know you can always reach me at the office?'
They said goodbye and Ten poured herself a glass of mineral water and returned to bed. On the way she collected Monty from the corner of her dressing table and gave him a cuddle. It was a comfort just to hold him. She wished Betsy could be with her, missing her a lot, imagining those devoted eyes meeting hers, filled with love. Sleep eluding her, she tried to lose herself in her book. A fruitless endeavor, this time her mind returning to thoughts of her mother. Lyndall had sown the seed. Perhaps she should be the one to make contact again. She was her mother after all and she, her only child. Now the rift between herself and Sid had developed into a chasm, her mother would feel better about the situation. As her eyelids finally began to close, she made the resolution to be in touch tomorrow.
The call wasn't a huge success, but her mother didn't hang up. She wanted to talk to her dad too, but Doris made some excuse that he couldn't come to the phone. Ten suspected he wouldn't be told she'd called, her mother could be like that. However, once it was understood that she was living on her own, Sidonie away studying, the mood softened perceptibly. Doris opened up about their âdoings'. By the end, the tone of the exchange was cordial. They had come a long way from: “I never want to speak to you again.”
It did make Ten feel better. Lyndall had been a great help after all. Perhaps she could be the one to confide in? Yes, Lyndall was already a counsellor; had taken her under her wing so to speak. She was also mature.
âLook dear, this must be costing you,' her mother said, full of concern. âI'll call you next time. I'm so glad you're walking properly again. I hated seeing you on those crutches. They made you look so ungainly. Not like my graceful girl at all.'
âYes, Mother.'
Thursday, Ten found a letter in her mailbox. It was from Sid. She couldn't wait 'til she was inside, but tore open the envelope where she stood, heart pounding fair set to burst her rib cage. It was brief.
University of Guelph
Mon. Sept. 27th
Tenille,
Please find enclosed a cheque to cover the rent for next month. I plan to pick up my things from the apartment on Saturday afternoon. It will probably be better if you are not there at that time. I will contact you again about my future plans.
Sidonie.
A sharp exclamation with the sickening impact. She could only stand and stare, unable to believe she was reading this. That was all there was? Like a letter to a stranger. Worse. She didn't even want her to be in the house. What was this about âfuture plans'? Anger and animosity bristled from the page like a chill wind, numbing her heart. Did she hate her that much? Well, she would be damned sure she wasn't around.Mon. Sept. 27th
Tenille,
Please find enclosed a cheque to cover the rent for next month. I plan to pick up my things from the apartment on Saturday afternoon. It will probably be better if you are not there at that time. I will contact you again about my future plans.
Sidonie.
This was it. The final slap in the face and she didn't need to be made to feel any more worthless. She would write a note of her own suggesting she take on the apartment herself. Now she was working full time she could probably come to some arrangement with Rani and Moira. Get someone else to share, even. Rage rose inside her against this attitude of Sid's and she was left feeling furious. The final insult. For so long to be carrying the heavy burden of remorse ⦠she would cast it away; no longer be heartsick over a lost love. Too many tears had been wasted over Sidonie Henderson. She could live without her. Perhaps Karen Olhovski had been right all along. In the face of her drunken outburst she had felt so self-satisfied. Full of confidence that she had all the answers; would succeed where she had failed. What a laugh. She berated herself with the realization that she'd not even lasted as long as Karen. What had Karen said?
“You'll find out about her and she'll break your heart, too.”
Something like that.
Turning slowly, she walked up the path to the side door. Having stood so long, she was cold and shivering and she looked up. The sky, which had been clear and blue earlier, was now washing over with a dark, forbidding grey. A choking silver mist clung to the rooftops. A grey, dark day, she thought, and shivered again, pulling her jacket close about her neck, quickening her pace. She curled her lip and took a deep breath to buttress her resolve, reflecting rebelliously that she wasn't going to let her break her heart; hostage to that golden smile. Her spirit had been too heady and intoxicating, but oh no, she could remain remote and elusive, sharpening the focus of this fresh understanding. She could harden herself just as easily, but her soul was weeping silently within her.
Bone weary, feeling utterly spent, she climbed the stairs. This wasn't the life for her to lead. She didn't deserve this. Had done nothing, only loved blindly. Truthfully, she hadn't known this girl at all. Well, she did now. Sidonie was hard and selfish; saw only what she wanted to see; tough, with no compassion. Perhaps for animals, she conceded, but where human beings were concerned â¦. everything had to be her way.
Despite Ten's resolve, her evening was horrible and miserable. Nothing went right and she couldn't wait for it to end. She thought to call Lyndall, but having only just seen her, she couldn't bring herself to do it. An alternative. Pop down to Moira's, but again, there was no heart for that either. If she'd been a drinker she would have gotten herself a bottle and tucked in a few belts. Once there had been a belief in pure love and blissful togetherness; now that part of her was in the process of dying and the wake should have been accompanied by something more appropriate than coffee. She needed a Prozac.
Sitting alone in the apartment, the evening light was just beginning to streak across the floor as the sun made its descent, but she didn't turn on the lamps. She remained still, but her thoughts were spinning in a kaleidoscope of impressions: Sidonie at the gym: playing softball: driving the car: poised above her, ready to bring her lips to hers for a lingering kiss. Despite every effort and all her strength of will, the tearing pain of grief yet again attacked her. Uncontrollable tears returned and in her haunted loneliness she wept; wept with a despairing hopelessness that could see no end. After a long time the acuteness of her suffering blunted itself until all that remained was a forlorn hollowness and eventually, spiritless resignation.
âOh, no,' escaped her lips as protest fought within her. She loved her too much. How could she let her go? No matter what she had said earlier, she couldn't live without her wonderful Sid. Those piercing blue eyes: that mischievous grin, so full of life and excitement: Sid's beautiful, strong body: the muscles rippling in her thighs as her legs straddled her: the feel of her rounded buttocks under her hands. She felt herself grow hot and moist between her legs. She longed to feel Sid's hands lifting her breasts, her tongue leaving a wet trail across her nipples. She didn't want to do it, but in her sorrow she could not hold back. She raised her skirt and slid her hand inside her panties. With this welling up of throbbing desire, images of Sid came thick and fast; it was almost like she was here, her touch on her tumescent clit, her tongue deep within her mouth, as she took her to the heights. With these thoughts came her orgasmic release ⦠powerful and intense. In the silent darkness of the room her breathing, the only sound, was loud, fast and ragged. Gradually it returned to normal and she drifted off to sleep, as her skirt slipped down to cover her legs and her arms draped over the sides of the chair.
When she awoke it was way past nine, her neck stiff from the crooked position into which she'd fallen. She rose stiffly and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She should make herself something to eat, but she had no appetite. She would go to bed and read. Perhaps things would be a little easier tomorrow.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
In the end Ten didn't contact Lyndall, nor did she speak to her landladies. She could find no energy for anything, just drifting through the days, doing what she must, nothing more. Still too bruised, her heart trampled into chards of dejected grief, there was no spark left to ignite an interest in anything.
Her belief in the intrinsic fairness of doing good, of receiving good in return had been corroded. Feeling betrayed, she had retreated into a protective shell. Despite brave words, she was an empty vessel. Signs of weight loss were beginning to appear, but these changes not withstanding, her countenance had taken on a greater beauty. Her sadness gave deeper meaning to the grave, soft eyes and the finely shaped brows followed their line. Now the eye was drawn to the sorrowful curves of her lips, looking more vulnerable and kissable than ever. Embrace her to comfort her and be overtaken by the immediacy of her defencelessness. Suffering had matured her and, at the same time made her more desirable.
Saturday morning Ten determined to be gone from the apartment all afternoon. She would do her weekly shopping at Loblaws's then eat out. Food had lost its appeal, but she could put in the time; be sure their paths didn't cross. First she would clean. She wouldn't betray a neglected house. Sidonie might think she was having an effect on her.
By noon everything was spotless, even the taps had received the toothbrush treatment. She had checked each room to her satisfaction and was now sitting at the table, making her shopping list. The rasping sound of a key scraping a lock. She stiffened, panic rising like an engulfing tide. Nowhere to run ⦠no escape. How had this state of affairs come about? It was too late to leave. How would she handle this?
“Stay cool. Stay seated; continue doing what you're doing.”
Sid stepped over the threshold then stopped dead in her tracks. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again.
Ten looked up from her writing: âHello.' Caught off guard by her own breathless reaction to the impact of Sid's presence, her heart fell to the pit of her stomach in a painful lurch. She was wearing her short waisted, leather bomber jacket; the old, scuffed brown one, loosely opened over a black, polo-necked sweater and her new, light brown cords. She looked strong and powerful and every bit the unrelenting dyke Ten felt her to be. Her face remained closed and uninformative, the eyes told her nothing.
Sid swallowed hard. âI didn't expect to see you here,' she managed to get out. The words were painful in her tightened throat. She had been steeling herself against this possibility, feeling too fragile to cope with a confrontation. She had hoped Ten would take the hint, only to make it easier for her to go through with this. Since she was last here she had thought of little else, but that dreadful scene. How could she have said those hurtful things? She had cast her chance of future happiness to the four winds by a reckless disregard for another's feelings, all through the heat of her own jealousy and anger. These past days had been a torture; unable to keep her mind on anything. It was filled with this woman. She was in her dreams and when she awoke it was to an unbearable emptiness.
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