Be bold I was told....

Someone recently told me that in order to succeed I needed to be bold.
Apparently fortune favours the brave.

I know I met one of my best friends when I got a) brave enough to log onto a forum - Missy Higgins Fan Forum it was, back in the day and b) to pick up the phone when same as yet unmet friend rang me. One of my best moves I think!

I also know I met BB when I was brave enough, after months of self imposed exile (there's another self indulgent blog for a future date), to allow myself to be dragged along to a soccer function with another mate and a) speak to this bloke and b) say yes when he asked me out and c) yes again when he broached the subject of moving in together a couple of months after that.

So...after a marathon day on the bike in 39 degree heat and being a bit knackered I have much to say and no energy to say it...
...I'm being bold and posting a story that has had a limited audience up until now.

Hope you enjoy...or at least consider.

Here and Now  

BK Greene

Jo looked at her with wide questioning eyes. Tears welled and a hint of colour flushed her normally pale cheeks.

“But why?”

It was the pleadings of a small vulnerable child, which made it all the harder for Tessa. She stroked Jo’s cheek with the back of her hand and smiled sadly. She sighed, searching for the right words, knowing anything she said would still cause pain.

She had come to know a Jo quite different to the public one; the literary Wunderkind, published at 18, second novel eagerly awaited by critics and public alike. At best, Jo was seen as a temperamental and flawed genius; at worst, a spoilt little brat. Step in Tessa; a senior editor at Jo’s publishing house.

“She needs your motherly touch Tessa.”

Great.

Thanks.

She guessed that was supposed to be some sort of compliment. So she nursed Jo’s brittle ego and coaxed her through to now, here, on this cold afternoon in this tiny little room – proof done, cover decided, all ready for printing.

All this time together.

Late nights, long days, Jo’s insistence all work be done at her place because she so hated coming into the city. Hysterics, paranoia, literary arguments, philosophical disagreements, self doubt, laughter, occasional tears and always, always, moving inexorably closer together.

Inseparable.

Closer.

Now, sitting next to her on the throw and cushion covered couch, an empty bottle of wine on the table, both reaching for the proof at the same time, wrists touching, there it was and she could not deny it.

Instant electricity.

Jo reaching for her hand and holding it. Tessa instinctively pulling away, immediately wishing she hadn’t. Jo reaching yet again and taking Tessa’s hand, encasing it in both of hers, kissing it.

“No Jo.”

Tessa knew this sounded pathetic, especially given that she left her hand there to be kissed, tenderly, again and again, before reluctantly taking it away as she spoke.

“Why?”

“Because…sweetheart…I’m old enough to be your Mum…and I’m married…happily married – you know that.”

Oh yes, let’s not forget that…happily married for ten years, a 12 year old son to show for it; happy, content, comfortable, but far from passionate.

She felt the sting of unannounced tears in her own eyes and looked away as her voice dropped to a whisper.

“There’s just no future in it.”

“But I don’t want a future. I just want the here and now.”

Jo put her hand up to hold Tessa’s where it still rested on her cheek, took it and resumed kissing, murmuring against her fingers.

“I just want you.”

Tessa squeezed her hand.

“We can’t. People would get hurt. You will get hurt…and I couldn’t bear that.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do. Oh Jo…please… stop this. We can’t….we just can’t.”

Jo dropped Tessa’s hand as if it had suddenly turned into something distasteful and sat back, arms folded, the beginnings of a sulk clouding her face. She closed her eyes and tears trickled down her cheeks. Tessa reached across and touched her knee.

“Please Jo, don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you cry.”

“Like you care!” she shouted, her green eyes flashing wild and accusing before she shut them away again.

“I do care! You know I do. I…I care more than I should. Her voice faltered.

“We can’t….”

A sudden stillness followed; an uncomfortable few seconds ticking away as realisation hit Tessa with the force of one of her husband’s Sunday afternoon rugby tackles. Panic consumed her as she desperately tried to force the gates shut on a flood of emotions now pouring through the gaps into every nook and cranny of her being.

Suddenly Jo opened her eyes and leaned forward, staring intensely into Tessa’s face, searching, probing. When she spoke her voice was soft, coaxing.

“You want to though, don’t you?”

The self-conscious silence that followed gave Jo her answer and she smiled as Tessa turned away and muttered yet again.

“We can’t.”

Jo leaned closer, her breath warm on Tessa’s cheek. The flood gates groaned before finally bursting open and Tessa felt elated and frightened all at once. She knew from the very first day it would come to this. Jo whispered, somehow knowing if she spoke too loudly the magic would be broken and Tessa would find time to quickly re-close the gates and probably build a wall as well.

“You want to Tessa, you know you do.”

Tessa replied with even less conviction. She was beginning to forget why she was saying no.

“We can’t.”

She became aware of Jo’s lips brushing her cheek. She held her breath, now afraid to speak lest she give herself away. The world reduced to the feel of those lips and Jo’s all too familiar scent of perfume, chewing gum and coffee. These past weeks she had awoken from sleep, smelling it in her dreams; dreams that here, today, in this tiny bungalow at the back of Jo’s parent’s house, merged seamlessly with reality.

What was happening to her? She had never felt this way about another woman before. A woman? What was she thinking? Jo was still a girl; mature, captivating, intoxicating and talented, but a girl just the same – at least compared to Tessa. This couldn’t be happening…stop it! Stop it right now! You’re the grown up!

But she couldn’t. Didn’t want to.

A voice, Jo’s voice, filtered through the panicked thoughts racing around Tessa’s head and stilled the noise.

“Come on Tessa. Please…It’s what we both want. Just say it.”

Tessa felt every word burning with that warm scented breath against her skin. Then Jo’s lips caressed her cheek again.

“Come on babe…” Another gentle kiss.

“Please Tess…” And another.

Tessa felt herself giving in and slowly she turned towards those beautiful warm lips and kissed them back. A little moan escaped her throat as she felt them on her own for the first time and she pulled back. Jo, gentle but insistent, took her face in both her hands and murmured,

“It’s ok. It will be all right. Trust me Tess.”

Tessa felt a hand, gentle and soft and as feminine as her own tracing down her neck, her throat, coming to rest on her breast, touching her and squeezing her in a way no man had ever done. She wasn’t gay. She was sure of that, but this felt so right, so absolutely right that she now wondered if she was mistaken, if she had been kidding herself all these years.

“Jo…I..”

“Ssh. It’s ok. Just…ssh..”

So Tessa remained silent, relieved in a way, unsure what to say or to do, and allowed Jo to take control, because if Jo was in charge, it wasn’t her fault then was it? Never mind then that she was older, supposedly wiser, 25 years worth of extra wise. Tessa closed her eyes and felt expert fingers unbuttoning her blouse and reaching behind her, confident warm hands easily disposed of her bra. She held her breath as her clothes were quickly peeled away along with any inhibitions she may have had. She felt herself being eased back on the couch. As Jo’s lips settled on her breast and a hand made its way over her belly and down between her thighs, Tessa gave herself over to the knowing touch and the seductive murmurings of someone half her age and twice as experienced. Gradually the guilt melted away with every caress and Tessa entered into a world full of denial and the voice of reason inside her head was nowhere to be heard.

That afternoon melted into days, days turned into weeks until Tessa no longer had a reason to visit, but she still did.  Her work with Jo finished, but she didn’t tell anyone – not Matthew her husband, not work, not even herself. An extra hour late home – not unusual. Always busy when a book is about to be launched.

She took to wearing fitted shirts with her suits, then knitted tops and tailored pants, revealing a figure she forgot she had. Matthew noticed and was appreciative. Tessa felt conflicted, knowing it was not for his benefit, but flattered just the same. No. It wasn’t for his benefit at all.

Jo was unbelievably compelling to look at. Dark hair, questioning, confronting green eyes, pale, almost translucent skin and impossibly full and, at times it did seem, permanently pouted lips. Coupled with her restless, inquiring mind and thirst for new experiences, her parents had long since given up keeping track of the procession of people who trekked past their kitchen window to the converted garden shed in the back yard where Jo set up residence when she was 15. They were proud of her but slightly scared of her intellect and her temper and knew better than to question her comings and goings or those of the people wandering down to the bottom of their garden. Tessa rarely saw them but for an occasional wave as she passed by and so the guilt she felt over exactly what she was doing with their daughter on such a regular basis ceased to trouble her. At least for a while.

Then one day, weeks into the fling, (because, after all, that’s all it was, wasn’t it?) reality came with a rush into that bungalow and consumed them both.

“Don’t.”

Jo sat up. The bedclothes fell away and Tessa felt herself gazing at the clear skin and the firm youthful breasts with a mixture of envy and longing. Jo frowned. Her mood had suddenly darkened. Tessa didn’t understand.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk about him!”

“Matthew?” Tessa smiled and gave an incredulous little laugh.

“Jo…are you jealous?”

“Of course I’m bloody jealous! You…you…leave here and you go home to him and he gets to have you all fucking night and you…do you still have sex with him?”

Tessa blushed and looked away. Jo continued.

“So…so you do! You leave me, you leave our bed and you go home to him. Does, does he know? Does he get turned on by the idea of us? Can he smell me on you? Do you both have a bloody good laugh?”

Tears fell freely as Jo’s eyes flashed with anger and hurt.

“Oh Jo no! No! Matthew doesn’t know. I will never tell him. Never!”

Tessa paused, the next words difficult to say. “But he’s my husband…of course we still make love.”

“Is he better than me? Do you come with him the way you do with me? Hmm? Does he go down on you? Does he make you cry out the way I do?”

Tessa sat up too, embarrassed and horrified.

“Jo stop, please! Stop this right now!”

“Why? Does it disgust you, what we do? Do I disgust you?”

“No! No… of course not.”

Jo hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face, her arms covering her head, sobbing. Tessa knelt beside her, for the first time unashamed by her own nakedness and the signs of age her body wore. Her fingers touched Jo’s shoulder. The younger woman flinched. Tessa felt tears well up inside her and she started to tremble. A knot of fear grew tighter and tighter within as she tried again.

“Jo?” she whispered tenderly. “Jo…sweetheart? Come on, what’s wrong? What brought all this on?”

 “Th…this was never meant to happen. It’s, it’s never happened before…it’s..it’s…not supposed to be like this.”

“What? Jo…what is it sweetheart?”

Finally Jo lifted her tear stained face and looked at her, clearly in pain and distress. Tessa’s knot snapped like a steel cable as Jo struggled to get the words out. She did not want to hear this any more than Jo wanted to say it. Then it came out in a rush.

“I…I…never meant to fall in love with you.”

There was no putting the genie back in the bottle now and Tessa wasn’t sure she wanted to even if she could.

One lazy Spring afternoon when she was allegedly at lunch with friends, Tessa instead lay back against Jo’s chest, her eyes closed as Jo played with her hair. She had something she needed to talk to Jo about and she’d avoided it all afternoon. It was now or never.

“They want to talk to you sweetheart. About a book tour.”

Jo appeared not to hear, but rather continued running her fingers through the soft silver blond locks.

“How young were you when your hair turned grey? It’s beautiful you know.”

“In my 20’s I think. Did you hear me? They want to talk to you.”

“Mmm. Maybe you should get it cut, funk it up a bit. It would suit you.”

“Jo you can’t ignore marketing your book…”

“Worked for me the first time.”

“Well it won’t now. Shall I set up a meeting?”

“Maybe you should get a bob, just to the jaw line. That would look fabulous.”

“Jo….”

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

Tessa froze, her silence uncomfortably palpable. Any mention of their age difference or their gender similarity stung. Tessa preferred not to think about or be reminded of either.  Jo kissed the top of her head and hugged her.

“Sorry Babe. I’ll ring your little friends tomorrow, or maybe the next day,”

Tomorrow, Jo. Tomorrow.”

“Yeah alright…tomorrow Babe.”

When Tessa left work the next day she prayed Jo had behaved true to form and put off making that call. Now that she knew what they had mapped out for her…now that she had seen the marketing plan for herself…

Tessa feigned a headache and left early. She drove randomly through the streets, pulled into a carpark and sobbed at the wheel before pulling herself together enough, she hoped, to get herself and Jo through this. One word from her and she knew Jo would throw it all away; one word from her and life for both of them would never be the same. And even though she wanted it so badly she ached, she knew what they both would have to give up would eventually poison what they did have.

As Tessa approached the door to the garden shed she clenched her teeth and tried to steady her breathing. The door flung open and one look at Jo’s tear streaked, stricken face told Tessa everything. She knew.

“Jo…sweetheart…”

“Did they tell you? Do you know what they want me to do? Twelve months Tess! They want me to relocate for a year – a whole year! I said no way and they said – they said I would be in breach of my contract – that I could stuff up the whole marketing plan for the book and they wouldn’t publish – and I couldn’t go to anyone else for three years. Three Years! Babe I don’t want to go. I can’t go. I…I…don’t want to leave you.”

She flung her arms around Tessa’s neck and gasped great gulps of air as she held on tight.

“I can’t go. I won’t….fuck the book.”

Tessa tried to compose herself as she stroked Jo’s hair.

“Ssh sweetheart. Ssh. Calm down. Listen to me. You’ve got to listen to me. They don’t offer this chance to everyone you know. It’s…it’s a wonderful opportunity – marketing your book in the UK and the States. Magazine work – the lot.”

“I don’t care! What about us?”

Tessa felt the pain as surely as if a knife had been plunged deep inside her as she heard herself say,

“There is no us.”
She felt Jo tense then push away.

“What do you mean…no us? What’s the last six weeks been about?”

“Exactly what you told me it was – the here and now.”

Jo was wide eyed in disbelief.

“Are you saying it’s meant nothing?”

“Not at all, but it could never go anywhere, surely you knew that?”

“But Babe…I love you. I love you.”

“And I love you too…just...” Tessa paused.

“I’m in love with you! He…he can’t possibly love you the way I do.”

“You don’t understand…”
Jo took Tessa’s face in her hands the way she did that first afternoon and kissed her fiercely, passionately, stifling any more talk. She whispered frantically into Tessa’s neck.

“I can’t do this without you. Please Tessa, come with me, please…”

Tessa was conscious once again of warm lips on her throat. She felt Jo’s tears on her neck and the floodgates opened. She wept openly.

“I can’t…I can’t...”

“But you want to…”

“Yes I want to. Of course I want to! I want to spend every moment of every day with you. I want to fall asleep in your arms. I want to wake up next to you. I want you so bad I ache when I’m not with you but…but…”

Tessa felt Jo physically slump against her as her legs gave way. Panicked and frightened she eased her onto the nearby bed. Jo sat there stoney faced and staring at the floor.

“Jo…sweetheart?”

When Jo finally looked up the agony of realisation was etched deeply into her face.

“You love him more don’t you – more than me?”

“No, darling. It’s just…different. You’ve got to understand we have a history together – we have a son. He’s done nothing wrong – nothing. He’s a good man and he loves me. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“And I do?”

“No! Of course not.”

“You have a history…and you have a future…” She took a deep breath and sighed a shuddering sigh. Tessa was unaware of the tears tumbling down her own face as she wiped them tenderly away from Jo’s cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Jo…so very sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I wish…I wish…”

“Wish you’d never done this? Wished we’d never…”

Tessa looked at her squarely.

“No. I will go to my grave never regretting this time. Never. I just wish I could take away the pain…for both of us.” She sat down next to Jo and put her arm around her. Jo rested her head against Tessa as Tessa murmured over the top of Jo’s head.

“You have a future Jo – a bright, glittering future…it’s just not with me.” She choked on the last words and stood up quickly, her back to Jo, her arms hugging herself. Jo could see her shoulders shaking. Tessa cried uncontrollably. Jo stood and walked to her, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“Tessa…Babe?”

“Don’t…please…”

Jo leaned forward and nuzzled her neck.

“No Jo…please don’t... it hurts too much…”

Jo put her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“Babe…it will hurt even more if we don’t.”

She turned Tessa around and kissed her gently. Then, eyeing her head-on as she did so, Jo began to unbutton her own shirt, then Tessa’s. Tessa closed her eyes, blinking away the last of the tears and reached out for Jo’s hands, pulling them to her and kissing each one gently in turn before letting go to peel off Jo’s shirt and leading her back to the bed.

There was no more conversation that afternoon, just silent if sometimes tearful lovemaking. Joy and sadness, lust and longing; all strange bedfellows in the sun filled bungalow.

When Tessa opened the door to leave she turned to face Jo who was still tangled, naked in the bedclothes, her dark hair tousled, her eyes red rimmed and puffy, but dry.

“You take care now. Be everything you can be. I know you can do this. I want you to do this. Make me proud.”

Jo smiled, her face world weary beyond her years, and nodded.

“It would never have happened without you.”

“Rubbish. Talent like yours always shines through.”

“I…I’ll see you when I get back won’t I? We’ll keep in touch?”

Tessa smiled too even though every fibre in her being screamed in anguish.

“Of course,” she lied. She hesitated before saying, “I...I probably won’t see you before you go…”

“Of course. I’ll write though.”

“That would be lovely. Well…see you.” Tessa turned to walk out the door. Jo flung back the sheets and ran to her.

“Tess!”

Tessa shut the door quickly on the outside world and the pair embraced before sharing one last lingering kiss. Finally Jo stepped back, not bothering to cover herself. She breathed fast, her eyes had a hard, glazed expression.

“Goodbye Babe. Remember won’t you? Always?”

Tessa looked at the face, the body and the beautiful complex mind which had all but consumed her and managed to rasp out “Always.” Before turning and stumbling blindly out of the door and into the afternoon sun.

Within the week Jo was on a plane to London, never to return. Tessa drove herself home and with barely a word of explanation took to her bed for a fortnight. When she emerged she quit her job, announcing she’d had enough and, flying in the face of everything she espoused the staunch feminist stated she wanted some time at home being a proper wife and mother.

Her husband merely said “She took a lot out of you, that last one, didn’t she?”

Tessa paused for the longest time, searching his face before saying softly, “Yes. Yes she did.”

After that, nothing more was said. Eventually she returned to part time work on a suburban newspaper. Both her husband and son would quietly refer to it as ‘Mum’s little episode.’

When Tessa died some thirty five years later, two years after her husband and six months before her 80^th birthday, her son Robert was left with the job of going through her things. In a large locked trunk, the key long since lost so he had to jemmy it open, he found a complete set of 1^st editions of the works of the celebrated left wing novelist, Joanna Young. Inside the cover of the second and subsequent editions was the dedication – always the same – for my muse, remember me always.  There was also a collection of UK literary magazines. Robert frowned. His mother never hoarded magazines. As he skimmed through he saw the common thread – articles, short stories and poetry – again by Joanna Young. An envelope bookmarked one particular award winning short story entitled ‘Here and Now’. On the envelope was his mother’s name and address and an English stamp. The story was a rather infamous piece regarding an illicit and ill fated love affair that he was aware of as it had been made into a film some years earlier. Robert sat slack jawed and wondering when he opened the envelope and read the note it contained.

“It’s in this month’s lit journal – When I was just Jo and you were mine. For us babe. Always.”