A Good Woman

Checking her clock, there was just fifteen minutes left. She poured us both a glass of water and I sipped on mine. She flipped open her laptop.

"Now, I will see you next week. This time is free. But if you want a later appointment, maybe one that fits in better with work, then just ask the receptionist, OK?"

I said that I did hybrid working and that this time would be fine for now.

"Good. Now, I see I actually have a slot Wednesday. Did you want to try to fit in another session then. Sometimes it helps to have them in close proximity at the beginning."

"Work have said I can take the week off. I think it might be helpful to come on Wednesday. Thank you."

"Great. Now what I'm going to do to finish is just talk about a few things you can try to help you think in a way that is more kind to yourself and more positive. People talk about healing trauma. I don't think about it that way. If something bad happened to you, it happened, and nothing can change that. What I'd like to try to do is to help you to cope with things better. To think about things differently. Are you OK with that?"

I said that I was. She made suggestions. They were practical, things that I thought I could try. Things I could see might make a difference. I thanked her and said I looked forward seeing her soon.

Amy was waiting for me, scrolling through her 'phone, sunglasses perched on her head. She stood and hugged me.

"OK, sis?"

"Yeah. I think so. But I'm pretty tired."

In fact I felt exhausted. Exhausted but mildly hopeful.

Back in the car, I closed my eyes, but then opened them again as Amy spoke.

"You can tell me as much or as little about it as you want, once we get home. But I'm glad you went. I'll stay here until at least next Monday and take you to the fourth session."

"Thanks, Amy. You're amazing."

"Just promise me that you'll stick with it, OK? It really helps."

Both her words and tone raised a question.

"You know it helps? Amy, did you...?"

"Yeah. In San Fran. Look, I shouldn't have mentioned it OK. I really meant to avoid the topic. But yeah. And it did help me, a lot."

"Oh, Amy. What happened?"

"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to reach out to you, like you did to me. But I couldn't. Maybe you are just the braver one. And no I don't want to talk about it now. I want to focus on you. When you are in a better spot, I can make you depressed again with my problems. But not now, please. I really should have watched what I was saying better."

Her hand was resting on the gearshift and I put mine on top of it and squeezed.

"Not now, if you prefer, Ames. But before you leave, agreed?"

"OK, sis. OK."

She briefly looked at me before turning her gaze forward again. Enough time for me to see a single tear roll down her cheek.

Amy undressed me and tucked me up in bed. She sat on the side of it, holding my hand.

"You'd make a great Mom, you know."

Amy laughed out loud.

"I'd be fucking awful. You always tell me how self-centered I am."

"I do, but I don't know what I'd have done without you this week. Thank you."

"It's OK, sis. Have a nap. I'll stay here and be rude to some people on social media, it's fun."

She hopped onto the bed and sat on pillows next to me, fully clothed, her iPhone on her lap. She looked very different to the girl I had briefly seen in the car. Self-assured. In control. Normal Amy. But the other image was graven in my memory. I reached out and held her hand.

"I'm here for you too, Ames. Sisters works both ways."

Something seemed to change in her. She put her 'phone down and lay next to me.

"I missed you, Em. I missed us."

I could see tears welling in her eyes and I pulled her to me, her head against my naked breasts. I held her and felt rivulets run down between her face and my body.

"It's OK, Amy. We'll look after each other."

Raising a tear-stained face to look at me, she breathed, "I'd like that."

She rapidly undressed and got into bed next to me. Our arms and legs entwined, we both closed our eyes and let sleep sweep softly over us.

It was mid-afternoon when I woke. Amy was still sleeping. I noticed that, for once, I had not been assailed by panic on waking. Maybe it was the feeling that therapy could help. Maybe it was my friend's presence. Perhaps, for once, I had someone to feel sorry for other than myself. Most likely all three.

I kissed Amy's forehead. She stirred, shifted her position, and then squeezed me tighter, before returning to sleep. I lay on my back, watching the ceiling fan slowly rotating. The afternoon light casting its spinning shadow. I felt something I hadn't felt in weeks, a little peace. It was just a little, but that was something. It made room to think about other things, to think about her. I held Amy and listened to her breathing, waiting for her to wake.

She only slept for another twenty minutes. As she opened her eyes, I was looking straight at her.

"So, are you going to tell me about San Fran?"

"Oh fuck, Em. I just woke up."

"Do I need to repeat the question?"

"OK. Shit, Em. I said later. What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong is that I told you every single fucking thing about me. Why won't you trust me?"

Amy rolled into her back and spoke without looking at me.

"Because I came here to help you, not me. Because you'd decided to leave. Long before I decided to go to San Fran. I don't know, maybe because I'm the one who is meant to have their shit together."

She breathed heavily. Overcome with emotion.

"Because I was ashamed, OK? I was fucking ashamed to let a guy do that to me. We were meant to be business partners. My parents trusted him. I trusted him."

"Oh God, Amy. Did he...?"

"Yeah. He's in San Quentin now. But yeah. He was too big, too strong. I couldn't fight him off, not like you did. I... I kinda just shut down. I stopped fighting. I stopped fighting, Em. Not like you. Not like you."

"I'm so sorry, Amy. So sorry."

"Me too. Me too."

We rolled towards each other. I held Amy and we both sobbed. United by grief and the memory of fear. United by damage. United by survival.

You can only cry so much and eventually we wiped away each other's tears. Caressing cheeks became holding them as we pushed our lips together. I stroked Amy's shoulder and moved down to run my fingers around her breast. Amy pulled me to her, her palm in the small of my back. I felt her push my lips open and welcomed her into me, sucking softly on her probing tongue.

And then she pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Em. I'm sorry. I don't feel right. I lied about my busy sex life. I haven't, I haven't at all since... since him."

She broke eye contact with me.

"Oh Amy, it's alright. My turn to make lunch. Then how about we hit the mall? Some retail therapy maybe?"

"Yeah. That sounds good. Look, I'm not maybe the greatest advertisement for therapy right now. But it did help."

She took two deep breaths.

"Em, I... I took pills. I couldn't bear it any more. I'd been drinking and I threw up.

Otherwise I wouldn't be here. The therapy stabilized me, I don't feel like that anymore. But... I feel like sex is wrong. I feel like he took that from me. That I can't get it back."

"It's OK, it's OK. Just hold me."

We clung together a few moments more. I kissed Amy softly on the cheek and cupped her face, our eyes meeting.

"Amy. We are going to get through this. We are not going to let assholes break us. We're better that that, right."

"It's not that simple, sis."

"I know. We both know. But neither of us is alone. We can do this together."

Amy nodded. An uncertain nod, but a nod.

"Have you been seeing anyone since you came back?"

"No. I tried, but I couldn't find the right person. I Zoomed with my woman in San Fran, but it's not the same."

"Shall we see if Dr Chen has a slot for you as well on Wednesday?"

"Maybe, that makes sense."

I called. She has a midday appointment only, which would leave a gap between our sessions. But I figured we could go get a coffee.

"That's sorted out. Let's clean up and then shopping, OK? We'll grab something unappetizing at the food court."

"OK, Em. Thanks."

We headed out in my car. The mall was at the next junction off the interstate. We were silly, like the two teenagers we had once been together. Trying on dresses and hats, taking selfies, pouting at the camera. The food was as awful as predicted, but we got ice creams. We must have hit half of the stores, but didn't buy a thing. A stop at Whole Foods on the way home let us restock the kitchen.

Amy cooked for us, clam linguine. This seemed mostly an excuse to drink white wine. We giggled as we swigged straight from the bottle. Opening a second bottle after food was probably a bad idea. We watched a movie and went to bed rather more drunk than might be advisable.

Instead of a panic attack, I woke to nausea and and headache. So stupid. I got us both water and Tylenol. Leaving Amy's next to her slumbering form and curling back up in bed. Mid-morning, I made us coffee and we both felt more human. I suggested a local spa and Amy agreed. We lay on adjacent tables, exotic perfumes filing our nostrils and relaxed into our deep tissue massages. Back home, we made hoagies, and then crashed on the couch.

We talked more. About the last two years. About the future. Cautiously, about what had happened to her. We spoke about tomorrow's sessions. What we hoped for, what we feared.

The day was warm again and we decided to enjoy the sun in the communal garden. Sunbathing wasn't strictly allowed, but not many people were around in the afternoons. We changed into bikinis, grabbed some beach towels and sunscreen, and relaxed for a couple of hours.

It was my turn to cook and I made stir-fried shrimp. We decided alcohol might be a bad idea and opted for an early night before our Wednesday meetings.

Holding and kissing, both naked in bed, still felt good. But there was a block. Explicitly for Amy, but also something for me. Something I didn't quite understand. I thought to myself that these problems were preferable to anxiety. I still had that periodically, but it was less debilitating. Amy fell asleep first, her head nestled to my breast as I lay on my back, my arm around her. I stared at the ceiling, but with no real thoughts crossing my mind. Soon I too slipped into sleep.

I drove us to the center. My session was helpful. We talked about how things had been going over the last couple of days. I updated Dr Chen on where I had been able to use her ideas and where it had been less successful. I gave her a dump of my very mixed feelings. I tried to explain why Amy was coming to see her later, but Lei stopped me. She said that Amy was a patient now and that we could only discuss her with her explicit consent. It made sense. I told her that it was OK for Amy to talk about me and she made a note in a different file that had been on her desk.

I said that worrying about Amy had maybe given me a little perspective. Beyond this, I felt a bit more settled. We spoke more about learned, but unhelpful behaviors. About different ways of thinking. Some of what she had previously suggested had worked. I was keen to do more. Lei actually warned me not to get too excited about progress and said that it was typical to have an early burst of optimism. In her experience, things took time. I tried to listen, but part of me did feel things were slowly improving. The time seemed to past quickly. I left equipped with a few more ideas. Some different thought patterns to try to embrace.

Amy was waiting, head in her 'phone, as on Monday. Dr Chen waved and said she would see her shortly. There was a coffee place a hundred yards away and we walked in the sunshine. Amy was not her normal, energetic, positive self. I guessed that she had been playing a role since arriving. That made me sad, but I also loved her for trying to put me first.

"You asked me before if I was OK about therapy. How are you doing, Ames?"

She took some time to respond, stirring her coffee with no real purpose, eyes cast down. Eventually she replied.

"It helped before, I hope it will help again. You said the woman is good, so I'll give it a go."

She paused. Clearly deliberating how or whether to say something.

"I just thought I was further along. I thought I was doing better. I've been fine. Doing work. Going to parties. Just being me. I've not felt like having sex. So I haven't. I just told myself to give it time. And then... Well this is going to sound messed up. Then you got in contact. And I wanted to help. But I think I also just wanted to see you. It's been, what? Twice in two years? You used to be my world."

I couldn't credit what she had just said. Amy and I had been close, really close. We had been lovers. Though I had had sex with women before, she was my first female lover. But her world? Amy? I had thought it was the other way around. I had thought, for her, that it had been fun with a friend. Even when I had been at my lowest. Even when she had been the one caring for me, helping me try to recover. Even then, it felt like she was the one in control. She was the leader, I was the follower. It was reflected in the roles we played sexually. Her world? This couldn't be.

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. Amy raised her eyes, to see me doing a passable impression of a goldfish. She squeezed my hand.

"We need to talk, sis. But I think it's time for my appointment now."

We walked back. My head was swirling with things I had never thought before. What had the two of us been? What were we now? What might we be? But, above all other thoughts, why had I been so blind?

When Amy emerged from her meeting with Dr Chen, my mind was still not any clearer. I almost felt in shock. I was quiet driving home. Amy put her hand on mine and I was glad of that. I pulled a tight smile at her.

When we got back, Amy seemed to want to talk about anything but our coffee conversation. What she thought of Lei. What she had told the doctor. About giving permission for me to talk about things to do with her. The ideas the she had been given. I didn't push the issue, I was still totally confused about it myself. Amy seemed almost to be rambling, spewing out a stream of consciousness. She spoke hurriedly.

"There is one thing, Em. My shrink in San Francisco had suggested maybe watching lesbian porn as a way to reconnect with my sexuality. I thought it was an odd suggestion, but I tried. It's all made for guys though. Most of the girls seem focussed on their paychecks, not each other. It doesn't have the heat. Not like you and me."

As she said the last sentence, her eyes dropped down and her voice became quieter. When, lost in my own thoughts, I made no effort to reply, she continued.

"So, I talked to Lei. And she suggested reading erotica. She said you bring your own feelings to that much more. You engage on your own terms."

I still said nothing.

"On Sunday, you talked about reading things. I wondered if you could maybe suggest something. It seems like it could be worth a try."

Again I said nothing. New thoughts now racing through my head. This time Amy didn't fill the vacuum. She waited, maybe I was giving off the vibe that I was going to say something.

"OK. So, yes, I did read porn. I still do. But, here's the thing... I... I started writing it too. I've written a lot. I even... oh Christ, I realize now I should have asked. I wrote about us Amy. Us at college."

I waited for this to sink in. I waited for the flash of anger that I knew she was capable of. She took some time to speak. It felt like long minutes.

And then she burst out laughing.

"Emily Miller, that is probably the most you thing ever. I need to read it. You had better have made me look good, or boy are you in trouble."

I felt a surge of relief, immediately followed by trepidation. I thought about making excuses, but knew that wouldn't work. I picked up my 'phone, my hand shaking, and sent her a link. Amy settled back on the couch, legs crossed, and started to read. It was the happiest she had been all day.

I scanned The Atlantic while Amy pored over her iPhone. Well I pretended to scan it. I was mostly watching her face for some sign. The piece was six pages long. Sooner than I expected, she put her 'phone down. This didn't seem like a good sign.

Amy stared straight ahead, her face contorted in a strange manner as if puzzled by some question. Then she gave her verdict.

"So I stopped at the threesome. Not really my thing anymore. But you are wicked, Em. That was like a week or more of sex condensed into a few hours. You make us both seem like we had insatiable libidos."

"It's an exaggeration, not a lie."

"Yeah, probably. But the stuff you included. You had me by the heartstrings at the beginning. The stuff that really happened. That was... it was beautiful, Em. Then you went into batshit crazy territory and you lost me. I guess that's just you though."

"We did do all that stuff, well most of it, just not all in one evening."

"I guess that's fair. Maybe it would read different to someone who wasn't there. Some old dude masturbating in a basement. Perfect for him."

I hit Amy on upper arm. Not hard, but she pulled a face suggesting agony.

"Want to know what I liked best, sis?"

I nodded.

"Two things. You looking at my neck in class. That's just a dreamy image. And..."

She looked steadily in my eyes, silent for a couple of seconds.

"And the other thing was maybe what I was trying to say over coffee. The way you wrote about me made me feel that I was your world too. Did I get that right, Emily?"

There was a note of pleading in her voice.

"Yes. Yes of course. Did you not know? I didn't know what you felt. You never said."

"That I love you, Emily? No I guess I never said that. But I did. Back then I loved you so much."

Fuck! The L word. Fuck!!!

I was too shocked to speak for some seconds and then blurted out the obvious question.

"And now...?"

"Now? I don't know, Em. It was a long time ago. And I thought we were over. I got on with my life. I think it's just too much to think about now."

I embraced her and held her tight.

"It's OK. Really. We both have other things to think about now. But I feel the same. I don't think I realized it back then. But now I see I was in love with you. Really in love with you. But, just like you, I tried to move on. And I have no real clue what I feel now. Let's not talk about it today. Let's just take care of each other."

I felt Amy nodding against my shoulder and we squeezed each other tight.

Love? This was the last thing I could have imagined.

We ate lunch. Then Amy had a Teams meeting. Something she said she couldn't get out of. I let her use the computer room upstairs and lay on the couch.

Love? Love was something I had decided to remove from my life. I did so surgically. Romantic relationships had brought me nothing but problems. Sex had brought me enormous pleasure. So I dropped the former and focused on the latter. Except, had I? I told myself so. But the last few days had shown me that love had crept stealthily back into my life. I didn't know what I felt about that. Scared of getting hurt again mostly.

Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

I was feeling tired again. A reaction to the therapy and what had followed it, I assumed. I closed my eyes, but found it hard to rest. Then I heard Amy walking down the stairs. Then I saw Amy... And my heart stopped for a few seconds.

"Hi, beautiful. Remember this?"

She was wearing a bright red, close-fitting PVC boob-tube that was at most four inches deep, and a short, black leather skirt with a split up the right side that exposed a lot of flesh. Her dark hair was drawn back in a loose ponytail, showing off her bare shoulders to full advantage. A black choker further accentuated her beautiful neck. The boob-tube did little to disguise her equally shapely breasts.