18. Tess #2
It’s a cute little house surrounded by forest. Both of Ali’s parents are part of the La Cloche artists’ community. His mother is a photographer, and his father does some kind of metal working.
Shel fidgets with the zipper of her coat while we stand waiting on the doorstep. Her mouth is a tight line. The high of the guitar lesson seems to have worn off enough for her to remember how nervous she’s been about this play date.
“You’re gonna do great, baby,” I tell her, ruffling her hair. “You two are going to have so much fun.”
Ali’s mother, Jamilla, swings the door open a second later.
“Hello, new friends!” she says, swishing her waist-length, jet-black braid over her shoulder. “Come in, come in.”
I was planning on a quick drop-off, but Jamilla already has tea and coffee ready. She thanks me about fifty times for the snack plate before we’ve even sat down at the small round table in a corner of the sunny kitchen.
The kids are already long gone, headed for a fort in the woods Shel has been dying to see. I sip my tea, the warm spices of the chai a perfect complement to the crisp fall day, and try to focus on what Jamilla is saying without zoning out to think about Jacinthe.
I haven’t made many mom friends. Even back in Guelph, I always felt awkward at the typical mommy meet-ups.
No one expects an aggressively butch lesbian at those things, and even though I was always welcomed, the inevitable moment of recalibration people had to do when I showed up set me apart in a way I couldn’t shake.
Jamilla wasn’t fazed to see me at all, so I sit up a little straighter in my chair, take one of the biscuits she offers me, and order myself not to screw up this opportunity.
We spend a half hour discussing our jobs, my move to La Cloche, and how we both think the principal at the kids’ school has an uncanny resemblance to Bart Simpson.
“It’s the forehead,” Jamilla says, both of us cackling.
“Really? I think it’s his eyes,” I counter, “or maybe it’s just his outfits. Does he even own anything other than blue pants and white shirts?”
We’re still laughing when she walks me back to the front door. Shel is staying for dinner, and Jamilla invites me to do the same, but I know Shel would be mortified if I hung around for her entire play date.
“You’re adjusting okay, though?” Jamilla asks while I’m pulling my coat on. “To life in La Cloche?”
“I am,” I answer. “Much faster than I thought, actually. Like, scarily fast, if I’m being honest.”
She lets out a chuckle that’s more understanding than I expected.
“I know exactly what you mean. This place, it’s…”
She sweeps her arm out like she’s trying to capture everything: the rolling mountains painted in a kaleidoscope of rich autumn hues, the tiny town bursting with art and life, the winding country roads that always seem to lead to adventure, and above it all, that beckoning dome of bright blue sky.
“It’s like it takes hold of you,” Jamilla says. “For some people, it’s just a cute two-hour stop on a road trip, but for others, for us, it’s like La Cloche reaches out and grabs you by the heart.”
Without thinking, I place a hand on my chest, pressing my palm to my sternum.
“I think you’re right,” I say.
She chuckles again. “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you for tea again sometime soon?”
We make some vague plans to meet up in town next week before I finally head out the door. I switch the radio on to drive back to La Grange Rouge, but my thoughts are too jumbled to enjoy the music, and I end up driving in silence.
Jamilla’s words echo in my head.
It’s like La Cloche reaches out and grabs you by the heart.
I can feel that grip tightening a little more every day. Even though I desperately wanted a place for me and Shel to belong, I know it should scare me to feel so tethered this fast.
I am scared. I’m supposed to be rational. I’m supposed to keep a clear head and be ready to make tough decisions for my family. I can’t do that if my feelings are galloping fifty miles ahead of my thoughts.
Still, I can’t bring myself to slow down.
It feels good to fit in like this, for everything to be so easy, so right.
I don’t just feel tied to La Cloche; I feel anchored.
I feel like all the doubts that have latched onto every decision I’ve made since Shel was born might slink away into the night if we stayed here long enough.
It’s too conflicting. It’s like my head and my heart are scattered planets orbiting in a crash-course collision around a single point of gravity with the power to explode it all.
Jacinthe.
She’s the rogue part of the equation. She’s the element I can’t control.
By the time I get back to La Grange Rouge, I know I have to talk to her. We can’t go on like this. The whole ‘ignore the kiss’ plan isn’t working. I have no idea what Plan B is, but I have to at least try to figure this out.
Gabrielle’s car is still gone when I pull up at the house. Jacinthe is down in the yard working on her tack cleaning. She lifts her head from where she’s bent over a saddle when she hears me coming.
I have no idea what my expression looks like, but it’s enough to make her eyes widen and keep her from calling out a greeting. Instead, she just stares.
I stride across the barnyard, the gravel crunching under my feet, until I’m standing right in front of her.
“We need to figure this out.”
Jacinthe sets down her sponge, her face shifting from surprised to cautious.
“Figure what out?”
I jab my finger at her and then at myself.
“Us.”
She gulps hard enough that I see her throat bob.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
I can’t back down. I can’t run away. I have to take this thing between us head-on and wrestle it to the ground.
“Ever since that night…”
I drag my gaze up from her lips to her eyes. Now is not the time to think about how soft her mouth is.
“Since then,” I begin again, “I’ve been trying to go back to normal, like we said, but there was never a normal for us, was there?”
She inhales like she’s about to argue, but then she shakes her head.
“No.”
I plant my feet a little wider and prop my fist on my hip.
“So I need us to figure out what the hell to do with that, because…”
I glance around at the barn, the fields, and the horses that are already starting to feel like old friends.
“Because I don’t know if I can give this place up, and I don’t think I could do that to Shel either. I heard you talking in the hayloft,” I admit.
Jacinthe’s eyes flare wide all over again. She holds her hands up like she’s surrendering.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing, or too much, or whatever. I didn’t mean to?—”
“You didn’t say anything wrong,” I interrupt.
I take a deep breath, and then I tell her the truth.
“You said everything right. You helped her in a way I can’t, and that’s hard for me to handle, but I’d never let it stop me from wanting her to have someone in her life who understands her so well.”
We’re quiet for a moment, just the rustle of wind in the tree branches filling the silence as the solemnity of my words washes over us both.
“Being here, in this town, at this house…it’s good for her,” I explain. “It’s good for her in ways I was scared to even hope for. I’m still scared. I’m scared it won’t work out. I’m scared I’m going to ruin it for her. I’m scared I won’t be able to do what I have to do.”
My voice cracks, my resolve crumbling. I squeeze my eyes shut like that will somehow bring it back.
I hear Jacinthe step closer.
“What do you have to do?”
I can hear her breathing now—short, sharp bursts, like she’s fighting the same pressure squeezing me from all sides.
“I have to stop…wanting you like this.”
She stops breathing altogether, and so do I. I’ve still got my eyes closed, but it’s almost like I can feel the vibrations of her body even from here, like a magnet tugging on my senses.
My body is screaming at me to crash into her, while my judgment is urging me to run the other way and never look back.
She takes another step.
“I think about it too,” she murmurs. There’s a husky edge to her voice that makes me shiver. “That night. I try to stop, but Christ, just seeing you every day…it makes it really fucking difficult.”
The curses on her lips sound delicious, like liquor locked in a bottle I’ve been ordered not to drink.
“I’m scared of that too,” I whisper. “I’m scared of what happens…if we can’t stop.”
My hands are desperate to reach for her. My mouth is aching to taste her again. I can feel the heat between my legs spreading across my skin.
She’s a fire, and I’ve run out of ways to put her out.
I was supposed to be stronger than this. I was supposed to be smarter.
All of a sudden, a sob lodges in my throat.
“I’m just so fucking scared, Jacinthe.”
A tremble wracks my body. My knees shake, threatening to give out under me, and a split-second later, I’m in her arms.
She holds me tight. She keeps me standing.
“I know,” she murmurs, one of her hands pressing between my shoulder blades as another shuddering sob rips out of me. “I know.”
I don’t know how long we stand there. At some point, it gets easier to breathe. Her hand is rubbing circles on my back now. At first, the sensation is soothing, but soon, a prickling awareness spreads from the heat of her palm.
We haven’t touched at all since that night, and now we’re chest to chest, arms encircled around each other like a knot pulled tight.
I sigh, and she shivers when my breath hits her neck.
Her other hand finds the small of my back. Mine slide to her hips.
I feel like I’m in a dream, like everything has gone hazy and blurred.
“Why do you feel so good?” I murmur. “It’s only been a couple months. Why do I already need this so bad?”
Her hands fist the back of my shirt.
“I don’t know.” Her husky voice has turned hoarse now. “I don’t understand it either.”
“I wish we could…”
I tighten my grip on her hips and press into her, grinding like an animal. It’s primal and desperate enough to make my face flare with shame, but the friction sends a wash of relief coursing through me.
That only lasts a second before the desire comes roaring back to life, even stronger than before.
Jacinthe gasps in my ear, and I know if I don’t stop this now, I’m going to back her up against the wall of the barn and fuck her right here in the yard.
It’s a damning thought. The image of her head thrown back and her fingers clawing my shoulders is enough to send a stabbing jolt of need ricocheting through me with so much force it hurts.
I stumble backwards, releasing my hold on her.
We face each other, wide-eyed and panting, like survivors of the same explosion.
“I just can’t…”
I start pacing, tugging on my hair as I fight to find even a thread of sense somewhere inside me.
“I can’t see a future where this works out. I can’t put that much at risk, but I can’t keep going like this either.” I shake my head, my boots skidding in the gravel as I whirl around to face her. “I’ll go crazy, I swear. Wanting you this bad all the time. I’ll lose it.”
Her jacket is rumpled, her face flushed. She looks as desperate as I feel.
“I think I am already losing it,” she says.
She takes a step closer.
I do the same. It’s like I have no choice. It’s like there’s nowhere else to go except to her.
We stop when we’re just inches apart. Her gaze drops to my mouth. I watch her watch me. The hunger on her face is almost threatening, like she’d tear me apart with her teeth if I moved any closer.
I lean in.
Her fingertips brush my wrist.
“I need…”
Her voice is ragged. Her grip slides up my arm.
I close my eyes again. The dreamy haze is back. The whole world turns thick and slow.
“Just touch me,” I say, my eyelids fluttering when her palm cups the back of my neck. “Just like that.”
Maybe if I let myself have this, the electric tingle of her thumb tracing the top of my spine, I can forget about needing more.
“You feel so fucking good,” she mutters. “What if we just…?”
She trails off, her thumb going still. I crack my eyes open.
“Just what?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s a stupid idea.”
“Tell me.”
She lets go of me, dropping her arm back to her side, and it’s almost like the sun itself grows darker.
Everything is brighter when she touches me.
She stuffs her hands in her pockets and takes a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“We both do not have room in our lives for relationships, right?”
My brain is sluggish enough it takes me a moment to process her question. Then I nod.
“Right.”
“And we know this is too complicated to work.”
She gestures between us. I wince at the finality of the statement, but again, I nod.
“Right.”
She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut, grinding her jaw for a second before she gets to the next part.
“But we can’t stop…wanting each other.”
My gaze flicks up and down her body. “No. We can’t stop.”
She licks her lips. “So what if we just…had each other?”
Somehow, all it takes is that one phrase to make my throat go dry.
“Just…just this,” she adds, staring at my mouth again. “Nothing else.”
Just this.
Just her skin and her sweat and those soft pink lips gasping my name.
It’s nothing and everything all at once.
“You’re right,” I say. “That is an incredibly stupid idea.”
She takes a faltering step back, like I’ve slapped her.
“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “I should not have even said?—”
“It’s stupid,” I cut in, “but I don’t know what the fuck else we’re supposed to do.”
I clamp my hand around her wrist and pull until her mouth crashes against mine.