Chapter Thirty-Three
Saskia
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
She’d heard the song before. Who hadn’t?
But never in context. The words had always just been lyrics, objective imagery that cast a pretty picture, but one that she had always dismissed as mere idealism.
And while young Judy Garland had had a lovely voice, fitting the song very well, it had never particularly connected with Saskia. She hadn’t had time to dwell on it.
Now she did. Now she was hearing it in context.
And even though they were only five minutes into the film, her heart actually felt as though it was breaking for Dorothy.
Being sidelined and ignored and dismissed – all these were things with which Saskia had become painfully familiar, thanks to her father.
And hadn’t she wished for the same thing herself, during those excruciating endless hours with her grandmother?
An idyllic place, where nothing bad happened and there was no reason to worry or stress?
She’d written an article for the fiftieth anniversary of Judy Garland’s death four years ago. It had once been said that she could ‘wring tears out of hearts of rock’. And that was what was happening now.
Don’t cry, Saskia. Do NOT cry!
But the tears continued to burn her eyelids, no matter how hard she swallowed or how deeply she breathed.
And they strained even harder as Judy Garland concluded her song and Saskia realised…
she’d found her place. Her ‘beyond the rainbow’.
It was here. In Miltree. This perfect little place in the back of beyond, with its perfect blend of cottagey countryside and luxurious ocean.
And with Kivi.
At that moment, Kivi looked over at her. Saskia knew what she was seeing – her lips were pressed together, her eyes would be red, and her customary serene facade was long gone. She gritted her teeth. Don’t say anything, Kivi. Just let the moment pass, just…
Kivi reached for her hand. Surprised, Saskia let her take it.
And then Kivi leaned over, pressing up against Saskia’s side until her head was nestled in the divot of Saskia’s neck.
Saskia could feel Kivi’s hair, soft on her skin.
And her hand was warm, and so was the rest of her body that was now settled up against hers.
Just to seal the deal, Kivi wrapped her free arm around Saskia’s middle.
The cumulative warmth spread the whole way through Saskia’s body, and she had to force herself to relax.
If she tensed up, Kivi might move, and that was the last thing she wanted…
“This okay?” Kivi whispered over the film.
“Mm-hmm,” Saskia replied, fearing that even the slightest vocalisation would burst the bubble.
“Good,” Kivi murmured.
And that was how they stayed for the rest of the film.
They both shifted positions a couple of times – Saskia with much trepidation, fearing that Kivi might move away from her – but they stayed nestled close, like baby birds in a nest. Toto joined them about halfway through, taking advantage of the space on the sofa Kivi had vacated, stretching out and resting his big head in her lap.
Kivi had let go of her hand by this point, so Saskia reached over and stroked his head until he fell asleep, at which point she – heart pounding – rested her hand on Kivi’s leg.
They both continued to stare determinedly ahead.
It was an engaging story, particularly when it burst into technicolour – and it was darker than she’d expected, too. But only half of her brain was really on it. The other half was on Kivi.
Don’t look too much into it, she told herself. Friends sit like this. Friends even snuggle like this.
But this didn’t feel like friendship any longer.
The ending brought tears to her eyes again. Of course it bloody did. And what with the proximity to Kivi, and Dorothy’s fervent exclamation of ‘I’m not going to leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all!’ – and the wine, and Kivi’s warmth, and the music, and Kivi…
“Here,” Kivi murmured, and Saskia came back to Earth to find her holding a tissue a few inches from her face.
Kivi was sitting up now – not enough that she had completely lost contact with Saskia, but enough that she could see her face, and the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks without her even noticing.
“Oh God,” Saskia laughed, dabbing them away. “Sorry. I don’t know what it is about you – you make me have emotions.”
“Sorry,” Kivi laughed as well, nervously. “Well – you make me feel all sorts of crazy things, so call it even.”
“I do?”
This time it was Kivi’s turn to press her lips together into a nervous line. “Mm-hmm.”
“Like…” Saskia’s mouth went dry. “Like what?”
“You really want to know?”
“Mm.”
“Well, like… like I want to kiss you, if you must know.”
All of the heat in Saskia’s body seemed to travel to her face. Of all times to blush like a teenager! But she fought it valiantly, and scrabbled for some of her former poise as she said, as nonchalantly as possible, “You can.”
“Don’t be silly.” Kivi gave another nervous laugh. “You’re not gay.”
“I know,” Saskia said. “But I’m attracted to you.” A slightly bemused chuckle. “For… for what it’s worth.”
Kivi’s expression registered surprise, but then softened as Saskia looked at her. Then, she leaned in, until her lips were just a hair’s breadth from Saskia’s.
“For what it’s worth?” she whispered. Saskia could feel her breath on her mouth, and it made her lips tingle. “It’s worth everything.”
And then the gap closed between them.