Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Danika
Danika lies awake for what seems like a long time after Kim has left. Her finger taps on her lips. The buzz of that almost-kiss still thrums in her veins.
Now she’s alone in what is actually a very uncomfortable sofa bed—the mattress too thin, the springs uneven, and her head is lower than her feet—she replays the almost-kiss. Did she instigate it?
No. Not directly.
Did Kim instigate it?
No to that too. Not directly.
Both of them went for the platonic cheek-kiss, and then it got awkward.
Kim obviously no more wants to kiss Danika than Danika wants to kiss Kim.
Except she does.
She licks her lips. Okay. She didn’t expect to be admitting that tonight, not even to herself. She examines her response from every angle, mentally circling it like a seagull around the Arts Centre spire.
Is she attracted to Kim? She must be to want to kiss her like that.
Does she want to kiss Kim? Yes, but…it’s not that simple.
Is it because Kim is a woman? Duh, no. That’s never worried her. She’s just never wanted to kiss a woman before.
Only Kim.
So what’s the problem?
Right. How na?ve she is to think it’s just one problem. There are so many potential issues and problems with kissing Kim.
The girls. Danika and Kim are building their relationship around the girls being sisters. Cami and Bella come first here. That’s the first reason.
The second, well, she is still grieving. There’s still a hard nugget of sadness for Chris’s death, and now there’s an extra, complicated layer as she navigates the rearrangement of what she’d thought was true. And Kim is grieving the same events, but in the opposite order.
It would be messy to kiss and walk away. Awkward.
What if they didn’t walk away from each other? What if they found they wanted more kisses?
Wanted sex.
Wanted a relationship?
What then?
What?
She presses her knuckles to her forehead. How would the girls take it?
And the big one. It’s just plain weird to be contemplating something with her dead husband’s partner.
Danika turns over on the lumpy bed and hugs the pillow.
Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it though.
She hears Kim humming in the kitchen a little before seven. Danika rises, dresses in the casual shorts and t-shirt she brought with her, and goes for a pee before making her way to the kitchen.
Before falling asleep, she’d resolved to treat Kim as usual: friendly, casual. No awkwardness. No mention of the almost-kiss.
“Hi, sleep well?” Kim, barefoot, her wild hair in a rambunctious ponytail this morning, turns to her. “Please don’t be polite. If the bed is as bad as I think, the more votes to take it to the tip, the better.”
Danika laughs. “I slept okay considering the bed is so awful. I vote for the tip.”
“Next time, use Bella’s bed,” Kim says. “Unless I’ve replaced the sofa bed before then.” She pulls two mugs out of a cupboard. “Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please.” Danika watches as Kim presses buttons on the pod machine. She holds up two pods, and Danika picks the smoother blend.
“That was a fun night,” Kim says once the coffee is hissing and spitting into the mug.
“It was,” Danika agrees. “I love that wine bar.” She shoots Kim a rueful smile. “I think I enjoyed their fine wine a little too much.”
Kim nudges her companionably as she passes on her way to the fridge for the milk. “We both did. But that’s allowed. You weren’t drunk or out of order.”
“Good,” Danika says. “I haven’t been need-two-Panadol-and-a-Berocca drunk since university. I don’t want to start again now.”
Kim hands her a coffee and shunts over the milk. “Breakfast?”
“Thank you,” Danika says. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
They’re being polite, friendly, with no awkwardness. She breathes easier.
“I was going to have a veggie omelette. Mushrooms, tomatoes, basil, some feta cheese.”
“That sounds great,” Danika says. “Really tasty.”
“Bella insists on more cheese, but even she likes it.” Kim gets busy, putting a pan on the stove, washing and slicing mushrooms, pulling basil leaves from the stem.
In a few minutes, she slides a perfect omelette over to Danika, then prepares her own.
Danika slices it. It’s as good as it looks. She adds a sprinkle of Tabasco, and it’s perfect.
Their phones beep simultaneously with a text.
“Mirza,” Danika says. She reads it out. “Everyone—even me—had an energetic and late night. Girls sleeping. No rush to collect.”
“That’s good,” Kim says. She tilts her head and regards Danika. “Fancy a walk and a coffee on the way over there?”
“That sounds good. Do you have anything in mind?”
“Karkarook Park is more or less on the way. I like the path around the lake. There’s a nice coffee place in Rowville afterwards.”
“I know the park.” Danika nods. “I used to go there with Chr—” She jerks to a halt. Somehow, with their budding friendship, it seems…unnecessary…to mention Chris.
And she doesn’t want to.
They amble around the lake at Karkarook Park. The paved path is busy with walkers, families, joggers, and gambolling dogs.
Danika watches a springer spaniel slip its leash and leap into the lake with a splash. Waterbirds hustle out of its way. “Cami desperately wants a dog. I’ve agreed in principle, but done nothing about it.”
“What would you get?”
“Something small to medium size. A puppy, I guess, so we have it for a long time. Our little family needs no more loss and heartbreak.”
Kim moves closer and slides an arm around Danika’s waist. “You can’t control things like that.”
Her arm rests lightly, but there’s a warmth and reassuring solidity to it. “I know. But we can shorten the odds. I always thought we’d get a rescue, though. A senior dog, maybe.”
The spaniel emerges, dripping, from the lake and runs over to its owner and shakes. Water droplets fly everywhere, but the owner just laughs and recaptures it, tightening the harness and refastening the leash.
The morning sunlight warms Danika’s shoulders.
It’s relaxing, walking in the sun with a friend, knowing there’s coffee—and maybe cake—to come.
That their daughters are safe and looked after by Mirza.
That soon, Cami will be in the car with Danika, no doubt chattering away a hundred words a minute about Bella and Sylvie, how late they stayed up—“All night!” Danika guesses—and what they had for dinner, for breakfast, for a morning snack.
The dog tows its owner over to them to say hello, and Kim removes her arm from Danika’s waist to pat it.
Danika feels the absence of that arm as she also bends to pat the dog. It grins up at them, tongue lolling. Its owner smiles, apologises, and continues on.
They stop at the small jetty that pushes out into the water, and for a few minutes watch a family fishing.
The kids are serious about it, casting with enviable professionalism.
Although when the smallest boy hooks something, he shrieks and drops his rod, and it’s his dad who removes the fish from the line and throws it back.
Danika pushes her hands into the pockets of her shorts and enjoys the breeze stirring her hair. “Coffee?”
“Mm.”
Together, they turn and head back to the car.
The coffee shop Kim takes her to is small—just three or four small tables and a high counter by the window.
They take their drinks to one of the small tables. There’s artwork for sale on the walls—bright pastels of fantastical creatures.
The coffee arrives, along with some macadamia slice. It’s not long since the breakfast omelette, but it’s too good to resist.
“We should go out again sometime,” Kim says. “Maybe try some of the laneway bars in the city.” She sips the foam from the top of her coffee, and it leaves a line of froth on her lips, which she licks off.
“We should. I haven’t been out in the city proper since university days.
” Danika’s pulse judders when she thinks of last night.
The part that sticks in her memory, despite her logical mind telling her to forget it, is the awkward near-kiss.
She touches her fingers to her cheek, resting on the side of her mouth, where Kim’s lips landed.
A quick touch. She doesn’t want to draw Kim’s attention to it, to make it into something it isn’t.
If she closes her eyes, she’s sure she could remember the feel of Kim’s lips. She does, just for a moment, and yes, that light touch, that softness, that warmth, that overpowering urge to turn into her and make it a proper kiss, overwhelms her.
Her breath hitches, and her eyes fly open.
Kim is watching her with an inscrutable expression.
“So,” Danika says, “this is great macadamia slice.”
Kim glances at Danika’s plate. She’s barely taken a bite. Kim’s lips twitch, as if she knows exactly what Danika was thinking—and maybe she does.
Danika stares at a picture of a blue-and-gold dragon on the wall. It’s easier than looking at Kim right now.
Kim takes a breath, leans in and touches Danika’s hand. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. When I kissed your cheek.”
Danika turns and looks at her. She hadn’t expected Kim to talk about it. Her lips part in a silent exhale. “You didn’t.” It’s a knee-jerk response. It’s also untrue.
Kim says nothing, simply waits.
Danika exhales slowly. “Okay, you know I’m not being honest here.
You did make me uncomfortable, but almost certainly not for the reason you think.
” She takes a deep breath, and her heart slams against her ribs.
The words she wants to say are caught in her chest, roped and tied down in knotted skeins of what-she-should-dos.
Last night, she’d decided she would pretend the almost-kiss hadn’t happened. It was the sensible, uncomplicated option. But she doesn’t want sensible, and while she’d love uncomplicated… Well, things are already complicated. How much worse could it get?
“I wanted you to kiss me.” The words tumble out, breaking free of their knotted cage almost without her own volition.
Kim’s eyes widen, and her fingers, still resting on Danika’s hand, twitch once.
Danika manages a tremulous smile. “And now, I’ve made you uncomfortable, as I realise you didn’t mean to kiss me, it was just us both being awkward.
But I didn’t want you to think I was in some…
gay panic. That I was repulsed because you’re a woman.
I may not have kissed a woman romantically before, but I’m not…
that is, I guess I’m open to the possibility. ”
Kim still has said nothing. Danika closes her eyes. Can this get any more awkward? “I’m not expecting you to respond; I’m not expecting you to fall into my arms—things are complicated enough between us as it is—I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you,” Kim says. “I appreciate your honesty. I know these things aren’t always easy to say. For what it’s worth”—she looks down at her fingers, still resting on Danika’s hand—“although it wasn’t deliberate, when we so nearly kissed… Well, I wanted it to happen too.”
“Thank you,” Danika says. “That can’t have been easy to say, either.”
“Maybe easier for me than you,” Kim says. “But Danika, please don’t think I’ll act on this now. We’re still friends. There are our daughters.” A shrug. “Queer women are world champions at unrequited anything. So don’t think I’ll make this awkward for us. I won’t.”
A pang of disappointment flashes. Danika ponders that. She should be relieved at Kim’s words. Relieved that their messy, complicated lives weren’t about to gain another layer. Kim’s right. They don’t need this.
Whatever “this” is.
“Me neither. You won’t have a bi-curious straight woman hassling you.” A quick grin. “Well, you might. But it won’t be me.” She takes another sip of her coffee.
“I hope we’ve moved past the strangeness of our situation,” Kim says.
“I’d like to make our friendship about you and me and the girls.
Not have it revolve around Chris. I don’t want to shut his memory out completely; I want Bella to feel she can talk about him.
But I don’t want him to define us. Our relationship. ”
“I want that, too,” Danika says. “That’s good we’re on the same page.”
Kim nods. “We are.”
Danika sips her coffee. She should feel happy they’ve cleared the air between them. Smoothed over any discomfort.
So why does she feel she’s letting something good slip through her fingers?