Give Me a Reason Pt. 01

"Are you interested?" Astrid nudged my foot under the table.

"Maybe," I muttered, "I'd need to check my bank balance first."

"We do student discounts," Robyn pointed to the smaller print at the bottom of the flyer.

"Oh, thirty percent off?"

"As long as you've got a student card of course."

"And you've got a website too I see."

"Yeah, we've got it all," she smirked, "so are you interested?"

"Definitely," I replied, "so how did you get into dressmaking? It's such a dying art."

"I've always been into dressmaking but it wasn't until I met Cindy again that I took it up."

"Who's Cindy?" I looked up briefly.

"She's the other half of the business, she taught me everything I know and we went into business together, we've got a few part timers who work for us and we've taken on a full timer now."

"Okay, I'll check out your work."

"Cool," Robyn drained her coffee cup and put it down.

"Well, ladies, it was lovely to meet you all again but I've got customers to see but we should do this all again."

Lindsay rose to let her out and Robyn nodded at her.

"Enjoy the clothes, see you on Friday."

"I'll wear one of them, promise."

"Ha ha," she grinned.

And with that she was gone but I noticed she stopped to talk to Brian, one of our pastors.

"She's barely aged since she first started coming here," a woman at the end of the table spoke.

I turned to her. Lucy was in her middle forties and hadn't spoken much.

"She used to come here?" I feigned innocence.

"Yeah, she was a regular but then she got involved with Penny, but to her credit she didn't make a big deal out of it, not like some I could mention."

"Let's not go there," Lindsay replied, "I like her style, she tells it like it is and she won't judge you for your beliefs and I've been to a few churches where they judge you on your outfit first and your character second."

It took a bit longer for us to leave and that was due partly because the women all wanted to know about Denmark, and also because Astrid insisted I say goodbye to David first and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I hope you didn't think I was being pushy," she glanced at me as we walked to the car.

"No, but he's not my boyfriend."

"What is he then? You've talked to him on the phone a bit but I didn't feel like being nosey."

"He's a friend," I folded my arms, "I mean I like him but I think he likes me more than I like him if you know what I mean."

"I do," she glanced over her shoulder, "he seems nice though."

"He is a nice guy but it's his family I can't stand, his father is ex army and his brothers are all alpha males with superiority complexes. David is the odd one out because he's doing art at school."

"And his mother?"

"She's the docile wife, although that's only when I'm around but I've only been there once, I meet him at church most Sundays and he's latched onto me because, well, I was nice to him."

"That's nice," she glanced at me, "that you're nice. He sounds like he's got troubles but if you can't get along with his family now then it's not a good idea to get too close to him."

She raised her eyebrows as I smiled.

"What?"

"Um nothing, my mum says the same thing."

"So, do you want to go to this meeting or not? I want to go but if it's not your thing then I can find another way of getting there."

"It's up the top of the mountain," I pointed to the bluish-tinged Dandenongs, "it'd be a long bus ride up there and you might not get back so I'll come to the meeting."

"Aha, so it's a date then?" Astrid nudged me playfully, "sorry, I shouldn't say that."

"That's fine," I replied as I got my car keys out.

Nevertheless, as I drove away a few minutes later I couldn't help remembering the thrill of meeting Robyn, it'd been almost sexual and yet she was with someone. She'd mentioned Penny a few times at the table. Wasn't this a bit like lusting after someone's wife?

And then there was David.

Why was I with him? Should I be a bit more assertive and guide him towards other women?

***

The question was still uppermost in my mind as we browsed the stalls at the Croydon Market half an hour later. The outdoor market is under a massive roof, which is a huge step forward from the bad old days when vendors and customers had to brave the elements every Sunday. Shobi's mum has vivid memories of having to carry an umbrella thanks to Melbourne's 'four seasons in one day' climate. My dad had always been opposed to any Sunday trading at all, believing that Sundays were only for reading the bible, reflecting on the verses and abasing yourself before a 'loving' God, who might then spare you when he wipes out humanity for not loving him enough.

I say that with tongue firmly in my cheek because looking back to that time I still considered any trip to the market or a shop for that matter as being a bit naughty, but as I was living with someone who didn't believe in God it was somehow forgiveable. I'd been there a few times with Shobi but this was the first time with Astrid and she was entranced with the amount of stuff on sale.

"There's even more at the Caribbean Market," I commented as she plucked a tee shirt from a rail.

"Where's that?"

"Wantirna," I replied, "there's a lot of second hand stuff there, not so much here, I haven't been there yet though."

"Why not?"

"To be honest this place is closer, but if I went there and dad found out he'd lecture me."

"Why?" Astrid's eyes shifted as she saw another tee shirt.

"He thinks we should spend Sundays praying and reading the bible."

"Oh, I understand," she tugged at the second tee shirt, "but your dad celebrates the wrong holy day, the Sabbath is on a Saturday not a Sunday."

"I'll remind him of that the next time I see him."

"So, does your dad," she paused, "what is the word? Does your dad ever hassle you about shopping on Sunday?"

"Not anymore, even mum goes shopping on Sunday, she says it's the best time to find bargains and dad doesn't argue with her these days but when I was younger he used to lecture her as well."

"She has been standing up for herself?"

"Yeah," I pushed my glasses further up my nose, "you could say that. She still loves him but I can tell that he's lost a lot of authority in his own home."

"Some women suffer in silence for years," she took the tee shirt down, "I think I will take this one please," she handed it to a woman.

I blinked as I absorbed her words. My mother had been silent for years, nodding and acquiescing to his pleas and demands, it really was only a few years ago that she'd finally stood up to him.

"What?" I suddenly spoke up as the sale was processed.

Astrid turned to me and I spoke again.

"What did you mean about suffering in silence?"

She didn't reply until we were walking away.

"A lot of women think they have to keep silent and hold the household together. Our biggest fault is that we love too much and think that if we love an abusive partner long enough they'll change but in reality all we do is kick the ball further down the road. Men don't change until they're forced into changing in order to maintain the balance or save their relationship," she paused.

"My dad used to drink a lot when I was younger, sometimes he'd be so drunk he couldn't even get upstairs to bed and we'd find him on the couch in the morning. One day, I remember it because it was a Saturday and he was supposed to take me to handball training but he was too hungover and she screamed at him," she came to a stop and stared into the distance.

"In Danish it is, Du ligner lort, som ikke engang din egen røvhul ville levere," she smiled and then translated for me.

"You look like shit which not even your own ass would deliver."

I blinked and pushed my glasses up my nose and then giggled and Astrid's smile deepened.

"You liked that one?"

"Yeah," I recovered, "what did he say to that?"

"Oh, she had more to say. My mother told him if he didn't do something about his drinking she was going to change the locks. Dad looked as if he'd been slapped with a wet fish and walked out but that night he said he was going to Alcoholics Anonymous," she paused.

"He went to the meeting that night and hasn't had a drink since, but my mother had suffered in silence for years, putting up with his idiocy but when their marriage was in danger he was forced to do something about his drinking."

"I feel like I've been suffering in silence," I replied, "there are lots of times I felt like lashing out at him but I held back because he was my father."

"Understandable," she looked around, "are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Ah," she squinted, "hot dogs."

"How do you say that in Danish?"

"Pølse," she took a step forward, "it's my treat."

We could have eaten at one of the outdoor tables but we chose instead to eat at one of the indoor cafés in the shopping centre. At least their frankfurters didn't look withered and we took a seat by a window with hot dogs and glasses of Pepsi.

"So, why do you resent your father?" Astrid asked me.

"I guess it's because I feel like I missed out on so much in primary school, I went to a private school that's run by the Anglican church. We never got a television until I was seven and dad finally caved into my sisters, but even then it was strictly controlled. We were only allowed two hours during the week, three hours on Saturday and never on Sunday."

"Why? Did he think it was evil?"

"Something like that," I replied, "Sunday we couldn't even go out to see our friends. I had to stay in the backyard or the house. The television restrictions were only lifted when mum got a full time job and started bringing in more money. We each got our own tv and there wasn't much dad could do to stop us watching tv at night."

"He sounds like he's stuck in his own little bubble," she raised her eyebrows.

"It's not just religious people who're stuck in their own echo chamber, it's partly because we look for safety in others. Humans are still tribal in nature, we gravitate towards our own or people who think like us for the most part. It doesn't mean it's always a bad thing by the way but when you let that bubble stop you from evolving then it's restrictive."

"Is that why you came to church today?"

"More or less," she shrugged, "I'm not a Christian. Maybe I am agnostic, I believe in something but it is vague. It is some kind of power that can't be defined by humans. I like what my mother says, she says that the greatest sin is creating God in our own image, if there is a god then he, she or it is not bound by our petty laws and expectations."

I didn't know what to say about that and so I said nothing.

"I mean you can be gay, straight or undecided and God doesn't really care. I'm sure he's got much more important things to worry about, like saving the universe," she smirked.

I fixed my eyes on a family walking past, the woman was vaguely familiar.

"So, how did you find out that you were, gay? Was it like a bolt from the blue?"

"No, it was more a case of realising that I liked hanging out with boys but I didn't want to be with them in that way. At first I thought it was because I was trying to be different but later I realised I was different, the reason I didn't have boyfriends was because I wasn't attracted to them."

"Is it something you're born with or do you kind of grow into it?"

"Now that's a loaded question," Astrid smiled crookedly.

"My personal view is that we're fluid, sexuality is just a part of our being and like fluid it can flow to one side or the other. You might find you prefer men and then women, in time you'll discover the kind of sex you like best. For me, it was easier because I just wasn't attracted to guys."

"So you've never tried it with a guy?"

"I did once but I was very drunk and in my defence he was," she looked past me, "effeminate, he was a very pretty boy and all he did was go down on me. It was mutual masturbation if you must know the truth of the matter," she propped on her palm.

"But why do you ask? Are you questioning your sexuality?"

For a few moments I felt exposed, as if she'd read my secret thoughts but then I recovered.

"No, well not exactly. It's just that you're the first gay person I've had anything to do with, I had a few friends from the past but they tended to stick to their own. I was always curious about how it all worked of course but felt weird asking them in case they," I looked down.

"In case they thought you were coming onto them?"

"Precisely," I nodded, "there's always that fear."

"Well you can ask me anything you want, knowledge is power."

I had questions all right but I didn't ask the question that was uppermost in my mind. How do you know if you're gay? Instead I asked more mundane questions. What was it like between women? Did they take turns with each other? Did they have platonic friendships with other women? If so, how did they trust each other?

She didn't answer all the questions in the café, as we had to get back home but she answered all of the questions by the time we arrived back at home. Little did I know however that the question I had been afraid of asking had already been noticed but when it came to sexuality I really was the virgin but I'll leave that for later. I need to take Anna to her father's place for a few hours.

***

Okay I'm back. Rodney was too tired to do much with Anna. He's got supervised access because I don't feel comfortable leaving Anna with my ex husband and his housemate. Rodney has been hanging out with an outlaw outlaw bikie club for the last nine months or so, hence the supervised access but today he was wearing his nominee badge.

Nevertheless, I thought about the aftermath of that lunch at the market. I'd forgotten about the other questions I asked, I wanted to know more about sex itself. I'd already told her I was a virgin a few weeks previously and she didn't seem to care when I admitted it. I'd always felt odd admitting it to anyone. I was definitely a child of two worlds. On Sunday I went to church and mouthed prayers and songs, but during the week I was a liberal young woman and the two opposing belief systems were beginning to grate against each other. The Christian world was increasingly caving into progressive liberalism. How could I say that God was loving when he was going to burn billions in hell forever?

Similarly, the prohibition on gay sex was full of holes. There is a verse in Romans that appears to condemn homosexuality until you read it in the context of the First Century world and the Greek custom of pederasty. The only other verse comes out of the Old Testament, itself a Hebrew text and don't get me started on the Old Testament. Even back then, many of my peers were embarrassed by the Old Testament.

But I'm rambling again. Astrid had opened a window into another world, one that I had looked at in the past but never ventured into as yet. That week however was marked as the moment I started to become more curious about the gay world when Robyn dropped in to measure Astrid. She brought a laptop with her and whilst she measured Astrid I browsed the clothes for sale. It felt somewhat odd to have her in our living room a mere three days after I'd seen her at church and in hindsight she was the first girl crush that I actually admitted to privately. I'd admired women in the past but I had always been quick to emphasize exactly what I liked about them, their outfit, achievements, or their brains. With Robyn however I was temporarily disempowered partly because I'd let down my guard a couple of weeks previously. She had a grace, sensuality, brains and looks, all rolled together and in my haste to clear a space for her laptop I knocked over an empty coffee cup.

"Don't worry about it," Robyn smirked, "it's fine."

By the time I returned with a sponge and a cloth Astrid had unbuttoned her blouse and I focused on wiping up the remains of the spilt coffee.

"Do you want a coffee or tea?"

"Coffee," she decided, "white and two, or black and none, I'm a girl of opposites."

"I'll have one too," Astrid grinned as she pulled her jumper over her head.

By the time I came back through Astrid had stripped down to her jeans and bra, the curtains were closed and the main light was on. I set the cups down and perched on the edge of the couch. I was drawn to the laptop. It was open at a web-page that showed a huge variety of garments for sale from dresses and tops through to blouses, trousers, fetish wear, and children's and menswear section, the pictures had all come from scanned pattern covers.

"Lindsay has done a lot of scans for us," Robyn glanced over her shoulder as she measured Astrid's legs, "before that we only had a few pictures but she's quite the graphic artist."

"Can I have a look?"

"No worries," she replied, "go right ahead."

I was grateful for the opportunity to look through her website because it was a distraction from the obvious. I'd seen Astrid in her underwear before but they were fleeting glimpses. However, now it was different, I'd admitted that I felt attracted to women and there was a part of me that thought she and Robyn could read my mind. Nevertheless, the site was quite intriguing.

"That's the offline site," Robyn perched on the cushion beside me, "some of our clients are way out in the bush and wi-fi can be a bitch but the site is a mirror of the actual website."

"I see," I clicked on another link, "there's a heap here."

"See anything you like?"

"Plenty," I murmured.

"So, why don't you let me measure you up then?"

"I um," I blushed and nudged my glasses.

"Go on," Astrid picked up her pink blouse, "do it."

"Okay," I had a mouthful of coffee, "so, I have to strip."

"Yeah," she ran an eye over my blouse and skirt, "in your case you'll have to strip down to your bra and knickers if you want pants."

"Oh," I put the cup down, "okay, sure."

It felt somewhat odd stripping down to my bra and panties but Astrid and Robyn were focused on the website and some three minutes later I was standing practically naked.

"Okay, let's get started," Robyn rose.

"How much will this cost?"

"Two hundred and fifty for the cheapest plan," she picked up the measuring tape, "that'll give you a choice of six garments every month, it's a quarterly payment."

I nodded as she started measuring me.

"So, what made you get into dressmaking?"

"My nanna's best friend, Cindy was a dressmaker," she replied.

"Is your grandmother a dressmaker as well?"

"No, she was never into that but she took me to meet Cindy when I wanted a suit. Nanna died of cancer a few months later and I lost contact with her until I met Penny out at the office," she wrote down a measurement.

"I was putting up flyers for the church coffee shop and Cindy's poster was on her board, I knew who it was right away," she wrote down another measurement.

"One thing led to another and I wound up at one of her women's meetings and Cindy was there, she invited me to help her out in exchange for materials and tuition and here I am," she measured my torso, "full time dressmaker extraordinaire."

"You went to my church?"

"I did for years," she wrote down a measurement and then squatted on her haunches to take my leg length, "although after Penny and I got together it kind of died a death," she smirked.

"The only time I go out there is for the weekly dressmaking classes and when I'm dropping things off for clients like last Sunday but there's no way I could sit still in church now."

I flinched and it wasn't because her hand was so close to my crotch, she'd inadvertently awakened a very similar thought. I was finding it hard to sit in church, despite its liberal nature. My friends were all on the hunt for the perfect man and whilst I could appreciate that up to a point I found it to be a little short-sighted. I was doing an arts degree in university with hopes of making money out of it in the future and they were trying to find a sugar daddy, for want of a better phrase. Someone who had more money and better opportunities. It seemed that despite the advances of feminism it was lost on my peers at church.