Give Me a Reason Pt. 01

PART ONE

This story is a reader request, I do requests from time to time and this one drew my attention. I can't give the reader's name to avoid violating Literotica standards but you know who you are. Thank you for the idea and I hope this story is everything you hope for.

July 2022

Time is a thief. I'm not the first person to say that and I don't know who said it but it says a lot about our world today. It's a world struggling with a climate catastrophe, the rising cost of living, and the end results of several wars that have seen a few populist leaders harking back to the good old days when things were, 'good.' I've always been suspicious of people using the line, 'when I was young things were better.' What they fail to see is the origins of that line can be traced back to Socrates and have been repeated in one form or another ever since.

The truth be told, our memories are selective. We focus on a few monumental events in our lives and blur the rest out of focus. My mother grew up in the '70s when things were a lot cheaper and men opened doors for women. Australia was emerging from the devastation of the Vietnam war, backyard abortions were taking a deadly toll on women and organised crime was making inroads into the community. The younger generation were rising up against the conservative values of their parents. The music was wild, the fashions even wilder and women, gays and Aboriginals were all demanding equality. My mother wasn't one of the progressive feminists, she was on the other side, looking down her nose at the 'burn your bra' brigade.

However I must admit, like many people, that things were better before 2020 when the Coronavirus shut the planet down. Australia suffered the most stringent lockdowns in the entire Western world. My job survived because I could work from home but my marriage disintegrated and I'm looking after our daughter Anna on my own but at least Rodney's out of the house. Spending so much time here though has enabled me to think through the past and relive old memories. It's also given me time to reconsider my sexuality, for so many years I was bisexual but married to Rodney. Now that he's gone I've been able to revisit my first love and reconnect with her via Facebook, Instagram and Zoom.

My name is Susan and I'm the youngest of five children, all girls. I was born in 1992 in Maroondah hospital, Ringwood to Iris and John Goodman. There are six years between the next younger child, Hannah and a further eleven years between me and the oldest child, Mary. I am also the only child born in Australia. Mary, Sarah, Ruth and Hannah were all born in the Philippines, I'm the only child who doesn't have a biblical name. I was named after a friend of my mother's who had died the year before, apparently. I was born with my mother's black hair and my father's poor eyesight. Like all my sisters, I've worn glasses ever since I was a kid.

My father was a missionary for twenty years before returning to Australia in 1990. I was called a miracle birth due to the fact that mum was forty one and there were complications. She had to have a caesarian section and one of my earliest memories is of her pointing to the scar to indicate that I came from that part of her. My mother was a maternal stay at home mum for the first nine years of my life, but dad was often out ministering to people and when he was at home he would either stay in his study or fall asleep on the couch.

There are other memories, Sunday school and the talks my father gave at our home. He was a pastor at a church in Ringwood but he hosted fortnightly Sunday barbecues or lunches depending on the changeable Melbourne weather. My dad would talk about things that couldn't be mentioned from the pulpit. The Baptist church was modernising and ours had a head pastor whose son was gay, he also refused to support the Israeli regime. It raised eyebrows among some who think the end times will start in the Middle East just before God rescues us, leaving billions to die in a nuclear war for the cardinal crime of not loving him enough.

It sounds weird reading that because I used to believe it right through primary school but when I got to high school things changed when I discovered teachers who were more progressive and boys. I must explain that prior to high school I did go to an Anglican private school but the year I started at high school the church leadership finally decided that dad's traditional views on marriage, equality and other things were scaring people away. He was dropped from the pastoral team but kept on in a voluntary position. This meant that dad actually had to go out and do some regular work and he got a job at a Christian charity as an administrator. Mum had been working since I was nine at a new and used car dealership. Mum reentering the workforce was a visible sign that my dad's iron grip on power was weakening.

As a consequence of dad being dropped from the pastoral team we had to move out of the manse, it was one of three houses owned by the church. We moved from Warrandyte to Croydon and I went to Croydon High. Going from a Christian school to a state school was a positive culture shock as everything was different. We didn't have to wear the full school uniform for a start, which included the tie and blazer, we did have a winter uniform, the blouse and jumper, but most girls wore trousers or skirts. Another major change was no religious instruction, there was a Christian study group but they met at lunchtime.

I learned a lot at Croydon High about secular issues and attitudes, I discovered that we had evolved from apes and the universe was the result of a big bang. I discovered that abortion was a perfectly valid choice and being gay wasn't forbidden and although I thought of myself as being straight, I had gay friends. My teenage years were where I took a stand against my dad.

It was over his decree I go to the church youth group every Friday night but that was when my friends had sleepovers. I loved my friends' parents, they were liberal and let their children watch shows that had sexual scenes in them, albeit heavily edited for television but my attitudes to sex were different to my sisters when they were my age.

My oldest sister, Mary had broken ranks first when she married a guy who wasn't a Christian back in 2002. Joe was captain of the local football team and worked as a mechanic at a local garage. I remember dad arguing with mum about that after they'd announced it to us and mum just bit her lip and said that as long as he was a decent man that was good enough for her. Encouraged by that the rest of us slowly followed suit, Sarah started dating a non Christian, as did Hannah but Ruth went out with one of the youth group leaders.

As mentioned I was the last to break ranks when I decided to spend my Friday nights with my non Christian friends. Dad objected because that meant dropping youth group but I was tired of youth group, all we did was read the bible or play bible related games. He refused to let me spend time with my friends. He'd seen his influence slipping and he was ever mindful of that verse in the bible that says a responsible Christian man should be in control over every aspect of his home. In the end however mum finally 'suggested' that perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea to let his youngest daughter hang out with her friends, even if they were non Christian. I was still going to church on Sunday and remained a Christian.

All that changed in 2011. I'd enrolled at Melbourne University in 2010 to do my Diploma of Arts, majoring in creative writing and had a part time job as a sales assistant at Coles in Ringwood. My best friend, Shobi just moved into a house in Heathmont that her mum had inherited. Because she now owned two houses she moved Shobi into the second house and Shobi invited me to move in with her as well. I was still going to church but it wasn't my parent's one, my church was out in Kilsyth and was remarkably progressive and laid back, much to dad's disgust.

This story though should begin here, everything above is prologue and with that said let me tell you about the time I met Astrid.

I must have seen her around campus the previous year but can't recall. I was doing an arts course and she was studying architecture but she did English Literature in 2010 so we must have crossed paths at some point because I did a semester of literature before deciding that Shakespeare really was boring.

It was a warm spring day, fairly typical for Melbourne in May. It starts out sunny but by lunchtime the clouds are forming and in the afternoon the showers are falling, or it's the opposite. You learn to take a jacket with you, just in case and it was a jacket that brought us together when I accidentally spilled my coffee on her jacket. I'd turned around from the vending machine too quickly and she was standing too close. My hand caught the edge of her arm and the lid popped off, spilling coffee over the light blue denim jacket. I remember saying, "shit," and she said, "shit," and then we both looked at each other and she smiled.

"Sorry, I was standing too close, it's my fault."

I looked at the spreading stain on her sleeve and then into her eyes and felt something shift, a hard lump that must've been there for years. She had the most beautiful blue eyes and long blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. She had an angular shaped face and a cheeky smile as she flicked a lock of hair over her ear, I almost expected to see elven ears because she reminded me of Galadriel in the Lord of the Rings films.

"No, it's my fault, I spilled the coffee. I turned around too quickly," I bit my lip.

"Then maybe we should... agree to disagree?"

"Maybe," I pulled my eyes from her face and glanced at her blouse, it had a pattern of leaves on a light brown background and was tucked into light blue jeans.

"I'm Astrid," she held out her hand.

"Astrid," I changed the cup to my other hand and shook hers, "I'm Susan and I'm so sorry about the jacket, I'll get some water to absorb the coffee."

"Yes, that would be an idea but I can wash the jacket and it's fine, I was miles away."

"Where are you from?" I finally asked, her accent sounded very English.

"I'm in Flemington but originally, I'm from Denmark. I'm in the last year of my scholarship."

"Denmark," I blinked and pushed my glasses further up my nose, "wow, I'd love to go to Denmark but I don't know much about it."

"It's a small country of over five million people, its landmass is forty two thousand, nine hundred and thirty three square kilometres but it also administers the Faeroe islands and Greenland but don't ask me to support our rule of Greenland. It is a controversial subject," she took a step forward to the vending machine.

"I found a lot of similarities between our government's treatment of Greenlanders and yours over the First Australians," she took her purse out of her handbag.

"But we are a liberal democracy with a constitutional monarchy. Queen Margrethe the Second is our head of state, we like her but don't spend as much money on our monarchy as Britain."

"Your English is perfect," I finally spoke up, "sorry, I just had to say it."

"It's fine," she replied, "we learn English in Elementary school, our teachers got us to choose the accent we wanted to focus on. Most of my friends chose American but some of us chose English and one of my friends even chose Australian."

"Right," I watched her choose a can of Coke, "I only speak one language."

"There's nothing wrong with that," she took the can out of the bottom of the machine.

"So, how long have you been in Australia?" I asked her.

"Just over two years, I was living closer to the university in Carlton for the first year but then my flatmates moved out and I went a house in Brunswick but the guy there got drunk one night and tried to get into bed with me even though I'm gay, so I left and moved into a flat in Flemington but that is not so good now."

"Why?" I ventured as she turned back to me.

"Drugs," she pulled a wry grin, "it is just marijuana but they're always partying and because this is my last year I need to focus on my studies and so I need to get out of the house, which is why I was miles away."

"Oh," I blinked, "I totally understand but I don't know anyone out that way, I'm in Heathmont with one of my friends from high school," I looked past her.

"We've got a spare room but so far we haven't been able to find a boarder but it's probably too far out for you."

"Heathmont?" Astrid frowned, "that's out in the east, isn't it?"

"Yeah, way out in the east, the outer eastern suburbs but we're close to the station. I get the train in here every morning, I get to do my reading on the train."

"I'm interested," she replied, "how much is the rent?"

"It'd be eighty bucks a week, that's what I pay. The house belongs to Shobi, her mum owns it and lets her stay there free and we chip in for the power and gas."

Astrid looked past me and wrinkled her nose and a moment later she smiled.

"Perhaps we can have coffee together and discuss this room? Unless you are going to class?"

"I've got a class in an hour or so, but sure we can talk."

"Super," her smile deepened to expose dimples, "but first let's get some water on this jacket."

We sat down at a table some time later and she flicked at her hair.

"So, tell me about this room?"

"It's at the back, it's a little smaller than the other two bedrooms but it has a bed, a wardrobe and a desk, it's only a single bed. We share basic expenses like cleaning materials and basic foodstuffs, like bread and milk but buy our own food," I sipped my coffee.

"But we have our own cars so if you don't have a car then you can jump in with one of us for the weekly food shop."

"And you share the electricity and gas?"

"Yeah but that's not a lot of money. Shobi has a direct debit for them and it's a lot cheaper if you're on a monthly plan anyway, I moved in a few months ago. I was at home but I needed to get out."

"Why?" Astrid asked me, "you do not get on with your family?"

"I do, with mum but not so much with dad," I bit my lip, "he's nice but kind of... weird."

"Define weird," Astrid replied a moment later.

"He was a pastor at a church but his attitudes are too extreme for the church, I'm a Christian but I go to another church in Kilsyth that's a bit more relaxed."

"My mum is a priest," she replied, "but dad is an atheist, so it is not so weird."

"Wow," I pushed my glasses further up my nose, "that must have been a bit controversial?"

"Not so much, they are very much in love but some people in her church thought she should have married a Christian but they are in the minority."

"I can't imagine that happening here," I admitted, "so, do you have brothers and sisters?"

"I have an older brother, Christer and my twin sister is Anina, Christer was in the army but now he is with the Politiets Efterretningstjeneste," she smiled crookedly at the look on my face.

"The Police Intelligence Service, in English you would call it Pet, they deal with national security for the most part."

"Cool," I replied, "and Anina?"

"Anina is doing an arts degree in London but she will be coming back home in September once she has graduated."

"And you? Are you going back home after you finish school here?"

"I probably will, at the end of the year but it all depends on whether I can get my visa extended, the rules here are a bit, strange," she finished.

We talked a little more about our families and our goals. My oldest sister had two children with one on the way and worked part time as a teacher. Sarah worked at a bank as a loans officer, Ruth was a biologist at Latrobe University and Hannah was a policewoman. Astrid and I had similar goals, we had a thirst for knowledge and a sarcastic sense of humour. At the end of the lunch break we agreed to meet after school and go back to my place.

"Don't worry about getting back to Flemington, I'll drive you back afterwards but if you're serious about moving in then you need to meet Shobi first," I looked up as I sent my number to her phone and she glanced down at her phone.

"Cool, well it's been a fantastic lunch. I am looking forward to seeing this room."

"How do you say that in Danish?"

"What?"

"It's been a fantastic lunch."

"Det har været en fantastisk frokost," she grinned.

I tried to repeat it back to her but mangled it horribly and she chuckled.

"Don't worry, it's a very hard language to learn, which is why we tend to use English whenever we can," she flicked her hair out.

"Okay, I will see you later," she rose.

I nodded and watched her leave, and for the first time in my life I felt something I'd never felt, the desire for sexual union with a woman. It came from nowhere and made me blush and Astrid turned at the same time and waved goodbye.

***

The train ride from the Melbourne central business district (CBD) has to be one of the most boring train rides on the planet. The Melbourne loop sprouts several arms that spread out like a spider's legs to the outer suburbs, passing through dozens of suburbs until they terminate at a ghost of a station in the middle of a suburban wasteland. Nevertheless, because Astrid was relatively new to Australia I told her about the suburbs and to my surprise she seemed fairly interested.

I told her that Richmond was once a gangster's paradise and it probably still was if you hung around certain pubs. Just past Richmond the track forks at Burnley and ends at Glen Waverley. It splits at Camberwell for the Alamein line and continues past Laburnum, Box Hill, Blackburn, Nunawading, Mitcham and finally Ringwood, where we changed trains. The track splits again for the Belgrave and Lilydale lines respectively.

"It is like a timeline," she said as we waited for the Lilydale train, "architecture tells a story but the houses out this way seem more... expensive," she finished.

"That's because the richer people settled in the east," I replied.

"Why?"

"That's because the sun is always at your back whether you're going to work in the city or coming back home, silly I know," I pushed my glasses further up my nose.

"It is not so silly," she inclined her head, "what is Ringwood like?"

"We do our shopping here, Heathmont isn't far away by car but we're within walking distance of the station. Heathmont is the next station by the way."

"I think this is it?" Astrid looked past me as a train pulled into the station.

"Yeah, it is," I turned around, "good old Belgrave."

"What's Belgrave like?"

"It's okay, I guess. I've got a couple of friends out there, but it's just another suburb but you can go on a steam train at Belgrave. They reopened the older line past Belgrave and turned it into a tourist railway if you're interested."

"I've heard of that," she frowned, "Puffing Billy?"

"Yes, that's right, we went on a school excursion to Puffing Billy once."

The train ride to Heathmont took a few minutes and I led her through the carpark and onto Heathmont Road. I lived a stone's throw from the station and when I turned into our driveway she glanced over her shoulder at the station.

"It's very close to the station."

"Yeah, it was a bit noisy at first but you get used to it but this is boring old Heathmont, it doesn't compare to Copenhagen though."

"Oh I don't know," she smiled gallantly, "you should see the way we stack houses together, it's a bit like a giant Lego construction."

Our house was a fairly typical three bedroom, brick veneer house with a smallish front yard and a big backyard. At some time in the past a local developer had been pressuring Shobi's mother to sell up so as he could bulldoze the house and build tiny housing units but she'd refused outright because she hated 'developers' with a passion. I mentioned that as I led her into the living room.