A Wedding and a Funeral Pt. 04

In this last part Sandra has to come to a decision when Emma makes a move of her own. The next two stories will be about Emma and her confusing love life and a breakout story about the airline pilot, Rebecca (Beckie) mentioned in Part 3. I've always wanted to do an airline pilot story, but which one should I do first?

Author's note: To get on with someone is the Australian way of saying necking or pashing on with someone. It sometimes ends in sex but usually it's just a lot of kissing and fondling. You would say, I got on with her last night.

I didn't stay the whole night at Saoirse's joint, I left after a shower and went back home but just as I left we had our preliminary 'morning after' talk even though it was ten o'clock at night. There were no promises of a happy ever after but she promised that in the next few days we'd meet up again and talk. This was a surprise to me because I'd half expected to stay the night but I understood it at the time, but it led to an unfortunate complication with Emma. One of the rules Saoirse laid down was that our encounter was just that, a physically intimate moment, but if either of us was to have sex with another woman between now and our upcoming talk it wouldn't be considered cheating. It could however, allow a little more clarity in the cold light of day.

I can see what she was doing at the time, she wanted me to be clear about my feelings for her, but it it also confused me as well but let me continue. As I've already mentioned, I'd always associated sex with marriage or at the very least some sort of commitment and whilst that quaint idea had been somewhat eliminated after I turned eighteen bits of it remained. Granted, it was a vague acceptance of the old Christian credo but at best it amounted to a romantic ideal, it sells books and movies by the hundreds but it's not the real world.

Emma came around to see me on Sunday afternoon. I'd been at church in the morning, not because I felt guilty about Friday night, I simply wanted to see if there was any difference. Perhaps I felt a bit guilty about not feeling guilty. The only changes were internal, I felt disconnected to the women who weren't married yet because they probably hadn't had sex, but a connection to those who were married. One friend, Vicki thought I was with someone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I looked past her, "I'm just feeling good today."

"Okay, whatever, you just look... content?"

"I'm feeling a lot better now, still sad over dad but I'm getting better though."

"It can take awhile for some people but others can come good pretty quickly, I know I did after my grandma died but I was expecting that for a while though."

We didn't say much more after that but I felt slightly guilty for lying to Vicki because she's a decent person, I've always said she's a good woman going to waste.

Mum was getting ready to go out with Stan to a wine tasting out in the Yarra Valley and I could've gone with her, I was still dressed for church but I declined because I needed to take some time out and being on my own might be just what the doctor ordered.

"Can you sort out the washing, please? Don't worry about ironing, I'll do that later. Just dump the clothes on the bed, okay?"

"Sure, mum, no worries."

"Are you all right?" she peered at me over the small mirror on the table.

"You're the second woman who's said that today," I picked up the washing basket.

"I um... Saoirse and I sort of," I stopped.

"Oh," our eyes met, "okay... I get it, so you and her?"

"Maybe, we're talking next weekend. I just need time to digest everything."

"No worries," she put the eyeliner down, "if you need someone to talk to I'm here."

"Thanks," I backed away, "I'm okay though, really. I think I just went to church to see if there was a reason I didn't feel guilty."

"Understandable, guilt is a powerful motivator, it took me awhile to start dating again and I wasn't a very strong Christian before I met your father. But after we got married I developed a stronger faith, and that kind of died afterwards, but I still felt a niggling guilt."

She smiled and glanced over her shoulder.

"Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all that."

"It's cool," I replied, "just because you're my mum it doesn't mean you can't have sex, it'd actually be abnormal if you weren't having sex."

"That's my daughter, ever the practical one," she rose.

"Well, gotta love you and leave you," she stepped forward and gave me a brief hug, "Stan? Are you ready in there?" She turned towards the living room.

"I've been ready for the last half an hour, my love," he yelled back.

It was an interesting concept though I reasoned some twenty minutes later. Mum's faith was always closely tied to dad's. I remember her getting computer lessons from a Moslem woman. Fatima lived two doors down from us. She only wore a hijab when she went to Friday prayers with her husband, but dad viewed them with suspicion because of their faith. He used to warn mum against getting too involved and she'd make a joke about it, but she kept up her lessons right up until the couple moved away.

I carried my clothes through to my room and after folding them and putting them away I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at myself in the mirror. Outwardly I looked the same, I wore one of the mandarin blouses Robyn had made weeks ago. It was tucked into a blue three-quarter length pleated skirt with an elasticised waistband. People had commented on my outfit that morning and I thought at least three people might even check out the website.

I fiddled with my belt. It was a wide black one with two small buckles placed side by side, it'd been picked up at an op shop a couple of years ago when Emma and I finished our classes. A necklace of black and white beads complemented the belt but I'd discarded the high-heeled boots for sheepskin moccasins earlier. I was just about to undo the belt when my phone rang and I picked it up and slid my finger across the screen.

"Saoirse," I flicked at one of the belt ends, "what's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just about to head out to see an old friend. What's happening with you?"

"Just putting away the washing and then I might get changed out of my glad rags and into casual clothes and chill out, or go for a drive. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Sounds like a plan of sorts, listen. How's about we get together on Friday night? We can talk about what went on last Friday and see if we still feel the same about each other."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I mean, I love being with you but at the moment everything's so new, and and I'm still trying to process it."

"You and me both, it wasn't exactly unexpected. I kind of thought it was coming eventually but not for a few more weeks or even a month or two. When you started kissing me it surprised me, it was a bit of a reversal for me, I'm usually the one who takes the initiative."

"It's been on my mind," I rose and walked around the bed to my window, "I just didn't know if it was a wild fantasy or something that might happen but Emma kind of tipped the balance," I parted the curtain and peered out at the backyard.

"Have you seen her yet?"

"Not yet, she's been seeing Roxy although the last I heard it was all up in the air because her ex has been charged with assault. Emma's still trying to get over Valerie as well, so who knows?"

"It'd be a good idea to sort it out between you two though first, before we have our talk."

"Okay," I let go of the curtain and turned to face the bed, "although we're just friends."

"I know, but you're friends who could've become lovers," she paused.

"I'd say it's unfinished business, it's not up to me to say how you finish it but between now and next week it might be an idea to draw a physical line under it just so as your head's clear, but it's not up to me to tell you how to run your life. I'm in the same boat, I need to make sure Ling's not going to try and get back with me as well, and I've got a few things to sort out. An old girlfriend called me from the old country wanting to get back in contact with me once she gets here."

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," I ventured.

"Yes and no, it's all about being sure of your next step. If you and I get involved I need to know my options and where it might lead to. I'll tell you right up front I'm not interested in sharing a house with anyone, even if she is Miss Right."

"Good, that was on my mind. That takes that off the table, I'm happy living here at the moment, but at some stage it'd obviously become an issue," I turned as the doorbell rang.

"No worries."

"Listen, I've gotta go, someone's at the door."

"Okay, have a good day then," she replied.

I farewelled her as I walked through to the living room and when I glanced out the window I saw Emma's car in the driveway.

"Emma," I greeted her a moment later, "were your ears burning?"

"No," she ran a hand through her hair, "why? Were you talking about me?"

"Yeah, but don't worry it was all good," I opened the flywire door, "come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," she stepped over the threshold, "so, what's up, Doc?"

"Oh, the usual, work, going out with friends, losing my religion and my virginity," I closed the door and managed a half smile but she turned around and stared at me.

"Oh," she finally replied, "wow, when did this happen?"

"Friday night," I replied, "with Saoirse."

"And you didn't tell me? Your breast friend?"

"No," I moved past her and continued with the rhyming slang, "nice bag of fruit."

"Thank you," she tugged at the black tailored jacket over a pink blouse, "I picked it up last week at Robyn and Penny's joint, "I had to wear it today to meet Paula out at this bed and breakfast joint in Warbie," she went on.

"And?" I led her into the kitchen.

"It's a goer," she slipped her hands into her trouser pockets, "eight bedrooms for guests and two for the manager and deputy manager. We work ten days on, five days off, ten days on and then ten days off, rinse and repeat every month. I get five weeks paid holiday, a clothing allowance and the wage is twice what I'm earning at the restaurant. Plus I get to stay at the place on my days off or I can go back to my stepmum's place. The actual manager lives with his boyfriend, apparently."

"Wow, so you're on a pretty good earner," I flicked the button on the kettle.

"So, your manager is gay as well?"

"Yeah, she's not totally focused on gay customers but she wants it listed in the Yellow Pages as a gay friendly facility. We've got a sauna, gym, personal trainers, a meditation room, arts and crafts rooms and a hot tub."

"So, she knows you're gay?" I plucked two mugs from a stand.

"Yeah, that's what I want to talk to you about," she sat down at the bench, "it's about that night at her joint."

"Uh huh?" I unscrewed the lid of a jar of coffee.

"There were cameras outside, I knew that of course and one in the porch but I didn't know about the cameras in the living room and kitchen. There's more upstairs too, they were all put there by the old owner, that drug dealer?"

"So, she saw us getting on together," I spooned a measure of coffee into a mug.

"Yeah, she's disabled some cameras but kept others because it was cheaper to just upgrade it than rip it all out and it is good security."

"Why're you telling me all this?" I put some coffee in the other mug.

"It's just a head's up in case you know," she fiddled with the collar of her blouse, "you come up to see me and she's there at the time. Don't worry," she held her palm out, "she's cool, it's why I was offered the job in the first place."

"Because we nearly got naked on her couch?" I put the lid back on the jar, "that's the weirdest way to show your eligibility for a job that I've ever heard."

"It's about being discreet," she replied and in answer to my curious look she continued.

"Some of her clients are celebrities, so they want to know that if they turn up with their mistress or another boyfriend that they're not about to be exposed."

"I see," I added sugar to her coffee, "but how does that relate to what we did that night?"

"She asked me flat out, did I get on with you and I said no, because I was worried that she'd seen something and she asked me if I was sure and then she mentioned that she had a tape showing you and me on the couch," she paused as the kettle reached the boil.

I waited until it'd cut out and then glanced at her.

"Okay? And so what happened next?"

"She told me that that was a trick question, she needed to see if I could keep my mouth shut, even to her," she leaned on her palm, "I didn't know what the fuck to say to be honest."

"So, you're saying there's footage of you and me on the couch?"

"Yeah but she's deleted it, she did it in front of me and then emptied the trash can."

"Assuming she hasn't made a copy elsewhere," I started filling the mugs.

"Yeah, there is that but I trust her, is that a bad thing?"

"She sounds like she's really focused, and probably a bit mercenary. Why use that information to test you?"

"You think I should turn the job down?"

"I don't know her that well," I replied, "it's unusual but."

"I know, it kinda freaked me out a bit," she admitted.

"Understandable but maybe she's just unconventional. I googled her the other night, her cousin was found dead a few years ago, a drug overdose but he never used heroin, it was just cocaine, so it's all a bit mysterious."

"You think he was murdered?"

"Who knows? It wouldn't be the first time a drug dealer used that method to murder someone."

"Maybe I should google her myself," she replied.

"She's got a lot of money but," I handed her the coffee, "come on, I'm folding my clothes."

She followed me through to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

"Do you think I'm being reckless?"

"Maybe but you are that way anyway," I put my own cup down.

"But what happens if say, some guest brings an underage companion? Do you have to be discreet or should you call the police?"

"I call her, she specifically mentioned that. She won't tolerate that."

"Good to know," I replied, "so, what's happening with Roxy?"

"Ah, that's probably in the too hard basket at the moment. Things are developing but she's got to go to court to apply for a restraining order and get his guns removed. I'm interested but at the moment I think it's best I cool my heels and see what develops."

"Sounds like a plan," I started folding my clothes and for a minute or too nothing was said.

"So, what's happening with you and Saoirse?"

"Not sure, we're having a talk next Friday to see if we still feel the same about each other so I've got a week or so to sort out my feelings for her."

"How do you feel about her?"

"I like her a lot, but I guess because she's worth a quid or two I'm a bit nervous. She could get a woman more like her if you know what I mean."

"You mean a rich woman?"

"Not rich as in Paula's style but someone who has her own home. Her ex was Ling, she's got an apartment in Southbank but she's married and not about to leave her husband."

"Sounds dodgy," she replied, "an affair with a married woman?"

"It is but the good thing is that she only called time on it after I said something about it not being a good situation. I wasn't speaking about her, oddly enough, just me but that was what the call was all about the night you and I got on together."

"So, you influenced her," she put her cup down again.

"I'd hardly say that," I folded a pair of jeans, "I'm not even twenty one, and she's twenty eight, I'm not exactly in her league."

"I disagree, you were certainly a massive influence on me."

"In what way?" our eyes met, "I was straight and you're gay."

"You accepted me for what I was, a reluctant lesbo," she grinned.

"I used to hold you up as an example," she continued, "if she came up to your standard then she was a possibility. Valerie came close in that way, she's very accepting, or was until she found out about you and then it all changed."

"Yeah, you mentioned that already," I put my jeans into a drawer.

"So what'll you do about Saoirse? Go for it or back off?"

"It depends on a lot of things, she's got shit to sort out too. She doesn't want me to move in with her at the moment, which is something we both agree on but the bottom line is we both have choices," I shut the drawer and pulled another one open.

"Which has to be a good thing considering my situation," I picked up my tee shirts, "I couldn't go to church anymore if she and I were involved," I frowned.

"I went today as a matter of fact and it felt weird."

"In what way?"

"I thought I'd feel guiltier but no one really noticed. I guess they're too tied up with their own stuff but one friend thought I'd met someone and I lied and said I was feeling better now after the drama with dad's funeral."

"I was going to come to that funeral but I had to work," she replied, "sorry."

"Don' t be, you never met him anyway," I put my underwear away and knelt on the bed.

"How was the funeral?"

"Sad, and odd. None of the people from his church turned up, just his widow but Robyn came and so did Saoirse and Annalisa, and a few people from my church."

"All people who never knew him," she picked up her cup.

"Yeah but don't worry about that. It was just bizarre that lesbians paid their respects to a man who used to preach sermons about the evils of homosexuality. And then he's found dead in one of his wife's dresses and a bottle of Scotch," I moved further onto the bed.

"That's the part that bugs me the most. How could he have hidden it so well for so bloody long? I had no idea he was a cross dresser and neither did his wife for that matter."

I laid down on my back and locked my hands behind my head.

"The tragedy is that if he'd just admitted it, I'd have supported him, in the same way I backed you, I didn't have to understand anything about being gay and I don't need to know why men want to put on women's clothes either. It's just the way we are," I stared at the ceiling.

"At the end of the day our brains are just biological computers firing off neurons. We know more about actual computers than the human brain."

"I love those little pearls of wisdom," she laid down beside me and rolled onto her side, "like the day you said capitalism is the extraordinary belief that the nastiest of men for the nastiest of motives will somehow work for the benefit of us all."

"John Maynard Keynes," I smirked, "I didn't think of that one."

"Even so," she tugged at my necklace, "it's still a bloody good statement."

"I collect them," I looked down at her hand, "little statements to sum things up."

"It's been awhile since you wore this," she tugged at it.

"It's just been fixed, I broke it and put it in the bottom of my jewellery box but I when I was talking to Robyn just before Christmas she mentioned one of her customers had a repair business. She gave me the number and she fixed it. Ellie's transgender," I continued, "she's getting surgery next month I think, or next month, I forget."

"You're amazing," she let go of the necklace, "you go to church but you make friends with lesbians and trans people, you've just tried out sex with a woman but you don't go shouting it from the roof tops. You're just chilled out and easygoing."

"Yeah, I'm my mother's daughter all right, she's the chill one. You should see old photos of her, she looked like a rock star with her tight jeans and big hair but then she married dad and tried to settle down but after ten years or so it was kinda obvious she was struggling."

"In what way?" Emma fiddled with my collar.

"Just the smartarse comments she came out with a lot. She's got a huge collection of CDs and tapes and whenever dad said something about her music collection she'd take lines from songs and string them all together. Once when we went out she left a note for dad. I climbed the wall and reached the dark side of the moon, I'll be dancing in the streets while you have a momentary lapse of reason," I glanced down as she thumbed the top button.