26. The Amateur
The Amateur
BETTY
Curled in Mary’s arms, I wasted the morning.
Waking by her and not having to rush away or panic felt like heaven.
She ran her index finger down my arm in the most comforting way.
Last night left me feeling so connected and safe.
Listening to her heartbeat and feeling her breath slowly rising in peaceful silence was wonderful.
“You’re amazing,” I whispered. “All of you. I could stay here an eternity.”
“I mean, I could, too. And it’s not even about the 5000 thread count sheets,” Mary said.
I snickered. “I’m serious.”
Mary kissed my forehead. “And so am I, ?lskling.
I melted at her sweet tone. “I’m relieved that is how you feel because it felt so right last night. Thanks for putting up with me being green.”
“Green?”
“Inexperienced. It’s a horse term. An amateur, maybe?”
“Stop that, Bets,” Mary said. “We’re all green with a new person.”
I looked into her eyes, seeking reassurance. “So, I wasn’t bad?”
“Not bad, but more importantly, the connection was so perfect that I want to do it all over again.” She rubbed my back. “What I have with you is like nothing I’ve felt in years, Betty. I find you utterly amazing. I crave you. So, no, you’re not an amateur. You’re a fucking goddess.”
I couldn’t believe her.
She shook her head. “Betty, you did what my body told you it wanted. You listened to my words about foreplay, and you respected them. You did things few can do.”
“Oh, same. The whole… I don’t even know what to call that. Was it scissoring? I don’t know. I’m a baby gay, okay?” I laughed, mortified.
She smiled sweetly. “It’s tribbing. Which… scissoring is a square within that rectangle. People call it different things, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is it fucking feels amazing.”
I bit my lip. “Yeah, it absolutely does.”
Mary kissed me, her hand pulling at the roots of my hair possessively. I was hers. It overwhelmed me.
Without thinking, I pulled back, focused on her soft brown eyes, sighing, “I’m trying not to obsess over you, okay?”
“You’re welcome to. I plan to obsess over you as much as you’ll let me.”
“Really?”
“Betty, I adore you. Is it not clear?”
“I… I don’t know. I just don’t want to be desperate.”
“You don’t need to pretend to be cool, baby,” Mary said. “We’re allowed to settle into new relationship energy. If anything, that’s kind of the best part of being us right now.”
“So it doesn’t like… bother you? Or does that mean you’re going to text me 500 times a day and when I don’t text back, you will freak out? Because I really like that you have been sweet and not freaked out.”
“I live life on the road—so do you. It won’t be like that for me,” Mary said. “But I’m actually really touchy-feely in person. So, tell me if it’s too much. I just like you a lot and want to be with you.”
I kissed her slowly. “That’s fine, because I gather we’re both a little more effusive than the average Scandi bear. And as much as I adore kissing, we’re never getting away with it in public—it’s just not A Thing.”
“That’s too bad because you’re a really good kisser,” Mary said. “But I get it. Honestly, that’s an idiotic thing with the press, I think.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who kisses better… women or men? I always ask this impertinent question of bi girls?”
“Oh, uh… women. Hands down,” I snickered. “Some men are great. But, on average, it’s women.”
“If I ever overstep,” Mary said, “tell me.”
“It’s fine. You can ask me any question about men. I probably have an answer. Women, if it’s below the waist, I have zero frame of reference outside of you.”
“And that’s a little sad,” Mary said. “I hate that for you.”
“Uh, you were a hell of a bi awakening, so don’t apologize.”
“I still don’t know how to feel about that,” Mary said.
I sat up slightly and looked at her. “Ms. Jensson, you should be honored. That night at the bar, I finally admitted I’ve always been attracted to women, but…
you just cemented that I wanted to kiss one so desperately and that was not a thing before you.
If you’d stayed or invited me home, I would have followed you like a horny puppy,” I giggled. “I’m sorry that’s cringe.”
“No,” Mary said. “It’s sweet and flattering. And… if it matters… I kicked myself for not getting your number.”
“Same, but I was too terrified to ask. Especially since I thought you were just being polite for rushing off.”
Mary shook her head. “No. I had to run. My mom fell. She had metastatic cancer and the more it progressed, the weaker she grew. The treatments made it worse sometimes.”
I furrowed my brow. “Wait… is this why you wrote ‘Wayside’?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you say it like a question?”
“I am not used to people I know questioning what my music is about unless they worked on it,” Mary said. “I know people dissect it, but I have never been one to read the press.”
“It’s a beautiful song. But it makes sense. Oh, Mary, that must have been so hard. I just thought it was generally about regrets—the what could be.”
“I don’t regret supporting my mom,” Mary said. “She didn’t have anyone else. I mostly regret not making some different choices.”
“Well, you still have lots of life left, Mary.”
“Oh, I’m not decrepit. Don’t feel the least bit sorry for me. It’s just… if I went back in time, I’d probably freeze my eggs to have left that door open. I can’t very well turn things back. Don’t wait until forty to make that choice, Betty.”
“I hope I won’t have to,” I said.
“Sorry. That’s so essentialist of me. I don’t even know if you want kids. I assumed you did especially since you’ve been with men and—”
“I do,” I said. “I want kids. I am one of six and I was born when my mom was in my early forties—unplanned and caught up in a scandal. A month after they found out about me, my parents stood in the palace chapel doing the thing because that’s what you did.”
“That is fecundity,” Mary chuckled.
“It is,” I said. “But nothing is guaranteed—even if you’re with a dude. Like you said in the song— you have an idea about how life looks and it all changes. I thought I was on my way to get married. Then, he dropped the bomb he wasn’t planning to ever marry at Lars’s kid’s christening.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Please tell me you told him off for that.”
“Uh… we’re still friends. That was Hank,” I snickered.
“Hank? Really?” Her jaw dropped.
“Calm the fuck down. He’s not a bad person. He didn’t want that and I was willfully ignorant of all the signs it wouldn’t work. He never lied about who he was. I wasn’t listening. I guess I learned I needed to communicate better. That… is a work in progress.”
“Indeed,” Mary ran her fingers through my hair. “We’re trying.”
“We’re doing better. And you’re right. I’ve buried my head in the sand telling myself that topic could just… float there. In the end, it only led to heartbreak.”
“Well, I love kids. I love a crazy house. I don’t know any other way, so… that’s what I want, too,” I admitted.
It was brave and bold. We were still so new.
And it was the first time I’d considered that being with a woman and having kids was an option or that she’d want the same.
That felt so heteronormative, even though I knew better.
Watching Mary’s loving eyes and feeling her fingers gently fan my curls made me realize she wasn’t afraid.
She snickered. “As an only child, I cannot relate to the loud house. I don’t even know how people manage like three or four kids..”
“They don’t. I think after two, the kids manage you. I’d be happy with one,” I said. “But I am starting to feel the pull of ‘it is happening to everyone but me’.”
“You’re in the thick of baby announcements. It ends… eventually. And then you have a life filled with kids if you want it because everyone wants a break from their own.”
“I love my nephews and nieces,” I sighed. “So much. It isn’t the same, but it keeps me busy.”
“Busy is good, but it’s okay to be a little down when those things happen. It’s only natural to want life to make sense and be linear—even if it’s not.”
“Yeah. Honestly, sometimes it hurts a little, but it is nothing compared to the crushing feeling I am doing nothing with my life.”
Mary cocked her head. “You’re traveling around the world riding horses, right?”
“I am,” I agreed. “But, always in the shadow of greats. Ingrid is beyond talented. Cici is the best rider Norway ever saw. I am but a blip most days. God, that sounds so privileged!”
“It doesn’t,” Mary said. “Not only is it hard to be the background player when everyone around you is having wild success, but it’s jarring to swap roles.”
She’s going through this, too. Mary was just a mere mortal like myself. Yes, she was fabulous and incredibly talented, but she wasn’t completely at-ease being a frontwoman just as I often felt poorly adapted to team leadership. We had much more in common than I thought.
“I suppose that’s true. I’m trying to get there, though. In all honesty, I am having an amazing glow-up, but I get down on myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I have been doing that for months. I wish I could say it ends, but it’s just imposter syndrome, ?lskling. You must remind yourself that the worst thing you can do now is get in your own way.”
I nodded as I traced the outline of her tattoo. I tried not to let the pangs and worries of this ending in a matter of hours get the best of me. I had Mary and we had words. It wasn’t just the sex, I’d miss this connection.
“Thanks for just lying here with me,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, sweetly. “It’s what I wanted most.”
“And about that linear thing,” I said. “You make a lot of sense.”
“How so?” She looked down as I lay on her shoulder.
“Well, life isn’t so simple, but isn’t that what makes songwriting beautiful in your eyes? It’s like… when shit gets complicated, do you write? I guess I assume because that’s whenever Leah says she’s most productive.”
Mary grinned. “Yes. It’s the circular, frustrating parts that make you tear your hair out that lead to the best stuff. One sec.”
She pulled away, grabbing her phone from the nightstand.
“Oh, fuck, it’s dead,” she groaned. “Uh… can I text myself from your mobile?”
“Sure,” I replied, confused. “Here.”
I handed her my phone and she typed. Five minutes later, she was back on planet Earth.
“What was that?”
I asked. “A couple of verses. When words hit me, they hit me hard. I must write them down.”
“Was I your muse then?” I giggled.
She kissed me slowly. “A bit. More than a bit, even.”
“Hand me your phone,” I insisted.
“Why?”
“I’m going to put it on the charger while we get breakfast,” I said. “If you have time.”
“I’m all yours, skatt.”