The Second Domino Pt. 03

This is part three of The Second Domino. I apologise for taking so long with it as I've been caught up with Delicate Touches but I've made my changes and feel I've gone as far as I can with the Domino Series. I may revisit Ruth at some point in a breakout story but that's for later. For those interested in trivia, the last part of this was actually written in Stockholm. Stora Essingen is an island on the way to Birka and it found its way into the story as well.

Thanks for your patience.

Shaima.

Having taught English for so many years I think there's one quote from English literature that sums up my marriage to Tom. It's the opening sentence from A Tale of Two Cities. 'It was the best of times it was the worst of times.' It has been used and abused by people of all political shades and who knows? Maybe I'm guilty of the same thing but it's a fitting way to open this final excerpt in my mini-biography.

One of the positives about my time with Tom were the children we brought into the world. Anna is the apple of my eye, my little rock in a stormy sea and Hans just bounces about the house looking for adventure. One's quiet and the other never stops talking, he even talks in his sleep and he gets that from me!

As I mentioned in my previous excerpt, I met Tom when he took my position and in true tradition we disliked each other. He thought I was too cut-throat and I thought he was wet. I'll cut a long story short and just say that we grew into each other and within six months we were married and if that sounds too short a time you'd be right. It was so quick it made my head spin and even my oh so stable mother asked me if I knew what I was doing. I told her I was fine and she left it at that but a few years later when everything was falling apart she asked me why I'd let it get to this stage and to be honest I still don't know. Maybe I'm more like my mother than I thought, stubborn to the end, refusing to let go even when I have nothing left to hold onto.

Speaking of my mother, she was the one who held it together when I was trying to balance my work life with my career. Tom to his credit tried to be a good father but he was too much into his books, he was a writer trying to write the next great Australian novel and maybe one of these days I'll read about him in the paper. In his defence I can't even say he was abusive, deceptive or even rude, he just had no fight in him. I'd start an argument over something he'd done or forgotten to do and he'd just hold up his hands and say sorry and do everything in his power to make me calm down. It used to really rile me up because I could see that deep down he was a good man, it's just that we weren't good together.

Tom was the dreamer, building castles in the air and then creating dragons and damsels in distress, and then noble knights to rescue the aforementioned damsels whilst around about him the house was going to rack and ruin. I'd come home to find Hans had scrawled on the walls with crayons whilst Tom was sitting writing and Anna would be trying to bandage her knee because she'd come off her bike and given herself gravel rash. I'd hit the roof and he'd apologise but a few weeks later I'd be back to my old routine, putting out fires and in the end I finally threw it all in and had mum take control of the babysitting.

It didn't start out like that of course, in the beginning I did love him, after a fashion but with the benefit of hindsight I can admit I was in love with the idea of loving him because only then could I silence the nagging doubts every time I saw a woman who appealed to me. It used to happen on a regular occasion and eventually I owned it, partially and would come out with snide suggestive comments in the company of women.

Eventually that attracted the attention of women who were that way inclined and the first was Rita, a twenty-something language teacher. She could say I love you in fifteen languages and could also curse in those same languages. Rita was also openly gay and I protected her from certain parents who wondered out loud at parent/teacher nights why a lesbian teacher was even at the school.

Rita and I never got involved but there were certainly occasions when something could have happened if I'd given over, or she'd made a move.

That was not the case with Ruth however. I first met Ruth when we moved into the place in Ringwood North, I'd been assigned to a local secondary school in Heathmont where Gail was working and with the increase in salary I decided to up sticks and move house. It was certainly a nice house in a good neighbourhood although Tom complained that the yard was too big, he hated lawn mowing with a passion.

My next door neighbour was Ruth and she was a good ten years older than me but she seemed younger, and I'm not just talking about her looks, she had an innate curiosity and a wicked sense of humour. My ex husband never knew how to take her. I remember vividly her off the cuff comment about the neighbours across the street, two gay guys.

"That's our pillow biters," she indicated them with a wave, "lovely couple and if you want your hair done cheap then Paul's the man for the job, he even gave me a Brazilian last year."

Tom just stared at her and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. She was right about Paul though, he was a fantastic hairdresser although I wasn't into the Brazilian trend.

Ruth had three children, Damien was the oldest at fourteen and her youngest, Helen was the same age as Anna and went to the same school. She'd been married for sixteen years and divorced for three years but she openly admitted she'd been a single mother throughout her marriage. Her ex had been a long distance truck driver who was only ever home once a week and was usually too tired or too drunk to play any part in raising the children. She and I bonded straight away, she calls a spade a spade and isn't afraid to speak her mind. She was originally from a town in northwestern Victoria, commonly referred to as the Mallee country. She left when she was seventeen and only ever goes back to see her parents on their farm. She's always said that the only good part of the Mallee is the road that leads out of it.

Ruth took over some of the babysitting duties because she was an accountant who worked from home part of the time and taught business finances at a Tafe college a few hours a week. Ruth was stable, controlled and above all else, elegantly dressed. I rarely saw her in anything else than business attire or a dress, even the tracksuit pants she wore to the gym were designer labels.

Ruth had one other quality though, she understood my situation better than I did. Probably because she was next door and could plainly see what was going on under her nose.

Her ex husband was not like Tom, he'd cheated on her from the moment he said 'I do.' I never learned his real name, she just called him the working sperm bank or that bastard. That last word has a unique double meaning in Australia. In everyday usage it's friendly and congenial, everyone's a bastard, we have nice bastards, bad bastards, sick bastards, funny bastards and then there's 'that bastard,' which is a way of referring to someone who actually is a bad bastard.

I remember the afternoon it all started. I'd come into her house to collect Anna and Hans but I was busting for a piss and headed straight for her bathroom. Too late I saw my mistake when I heard a gasp and turned to see Ruth in the bath, she'd thought it was her oldest son, Damien.

"Oh, shit, you startled me."

"You and me both," I glanced at the toilet, "maybe I'll go next door."

"Park your arse," she replied, "but lock the door for fuck's sake, Damien's started puberty and while he's not the Oedipal kind he does like you."

"In what way?" I locked the door and moved back to the toilet.

"The fourteen year old boy way," she smirked, "I remember my brother at that age, he walked around with his hands in his pockets playing pocket billiards. I'm surprised he didn't fuck an apple pie to be honest."

"Tell him I'm gay then," I pulled my knickers down and sat down.

"Oh no I won't," she snorted, "that'll just make it worse, you should see the pictures he's got on his computer and I've installed every fucking child lock invented as well as one's yet to be invented but the little bastard finds a way to get around them."

She studied me for a moment and then suddenly the penny dropped.

"Are you really?"

"Gay? No, I'm bisexual but the longer I'm married to that useless sack of shit the gayer I get," I stared straight ahead, "don't worry, I'm not perving, I'm," I looked down as my flow started, "I'm pissing."

"Well I'll be fucked," she sat bolt upright and glanced at the door, "huh, you didn't seem like the type but then again neither am I," she looked down as the suds slid off her breasts.

"So, tell me," she slid back down again and washed the suds over her breasts, "what is it like with a woman?"

"It's," I frowned, "different, there's no mess, no fuss and you can take as long as you want."

"Unless you want a cock."

"Have you seen the size of my dildo? I had to lock it away because it made Tom feel inferior and then there's the vibrating one with the clitoris stimulator."

"Ouch," she winced, "now that's one thing I do miss about the walking sperm bank, now and then he'd go down on me before he whacked out his wally."

"Maybe I should put it to good use," I mused, "if I could get a half hour to myself."

She shrieked with laughter at that and I managed a smile as well.

"Half an hour? I'd be done in fifteen minutes if I could find fifteen minutes."

"Mum, are you okay?" Damien's voice sounded on the other side of the door.

"I'm fine, son, just laughing."

"Who's in there with you?"

"Helena," she shouted back, "she's on the toilet and I'm still in the bath. Haven't you got something else to do apart from lurking with intent?"

"Sorry," he replied and we heard him moving away.

"You realise he probably thinks we're having an affair now," she eyed me.

"We're not."

"I know that and you know that but a teenage boy's mind is fixated on two things, sex and food, not always in that order."

"So that's what I have to look forward to with Hans."

"Pretty much," she smirked and then sat up and looked straight ahead, "but I'll say one thing for you, you're a dark horse and that's for sure. Hand me that towel once you're finished."

While she was towelling herself dry I closed the toilet lid and perched on it.

"So one question," she finally spoke.

"If you're that way inclined why the fuck are you with him? There must be heaps of women out there who'd give their eye teeth to be with you, not that I know that many lesbians but I don't exactly move in those kinds of circles," she wrapped the towel around herself and tucked it in, "hell I might consider a spot of finger play as long as it didn't go further than one night."

I opened my mouth to say something and then shut it again.

"Okay, I'm joking about the last part, I'm curious but not about to go exploring but seriously, I see the way you are, you're miserable, you work hard all day and then come home and do another few hours work while that lazy bastard just sits around writing the next Australian novel," she leaned against the door.

"Look, it's probably not my place to say but if you find someone you like or if I bump into some woman who is that way inclined we could have a girl's night out. I'd be the third wheel and if the chemistry's there I can always go home, I'd even mind the kids for you."

"Thanks," I finally managed, "really, it's touching."

"No worries," she unlocked the door, "my door's unlocked most of the time and when it's locked you know where I hide the back door key," she opened the door and nodded at the bath.

"If you want to have a bath, feel free. I can mind the kids for half an hour or so but lock the door if you do," and with that she exited the bathroom leaving me staring at the wall outside.

It was like the light had come on in my head. For years I'd been struggling with my marriage, work and child rearing, and yet behind it all there lurked an issue I'd never really resolved, my sexual orientation. Was I really bisexual or had I been gay all along? Maybe I'd just been sleeping with men to fit in with some hidden desire to conform.

I never took up her offer for a bath but we did stay for dinner and afterwards as I sorted through the daily laundry pile I resolved to put my best foot forward and do something about my situation. And now that I've come this far it's time to head out to my old stomping ground and catch up with Ruth, she's heard we're leaving and I promised her a night out from hell.

***

I just came back from Ruth's place with the kids and it was an emotional farewell for all concerned but she has an open invitation to visit us in Sweden. She agreed on the condition that it wouldn't impact on my situation and I reassured her that it wouldn't. This was said while we were in the kitchen and our kids were outside playing. She then dropped a bombshell.

"Well maybe it wouldn't, especially if Ina comes too."

"Who's Ina," I asked.

She took a few seconds before coming out with the truth.

"She's a woman I've been seeing a bit of lately," she closed the dishwasher, "it's early days but we're working on it. The kids don't know although I suspect Damien knows something," she grimaced.

"We haven't been too careful of late," she finished.

There's more to tell of course, Ina is a single mother and former client and the two of them have been doing it old school as they say, discreetly and out of sight. The issue they're both working through involves the kids, they're both anxious about the effect it might have on their kids and so she was anxious to get my perspective on it. Broadly speaking, kids are adaptable and adjust to sudden changes much more readily than adults, providing they have the basics like security, shelter and food. They need to know that the parent charged with looking after them isn't going to leave as well.

When I told her about my mini-biography she laughed and came out with the immortal line.

"My fifteen minutes of fame."

It was considerably longer than fifteen minutes I can assure you but it was a one off for reasons you'll understand soon.

Our one night stand happened not long after the bathroom incident, on the Melbourne Cup weekend. I've had Kristina and her family either in stitches or stunned amazement that we dedicate an entire four day weekend to a three minute horse race on Tuesday. For some unknown reason, Tom decided to give me the weekend off and take the kids off to see his parents at Lakes Entrance in East Gippsland. I've never been on good terms with my in laws, they're country folk who think a woman's place is either at home or in the local Country Women's Association making Anzac biscuits for charity and organising fundraisers. I was the evil feminist who corrupted their baby boy with her socialist ideals.

Thus, I was only too happy to wave goodbye to the kids and enjoy some me time, once I'd blitzed the housework on Saturday. I was not the only left to her own devices, Ruth's sister had put some money together with Ruth and their mother to fly the kids up to Surfers Paradise for the weekend. We spent Saturday night getting steadily pissed at her place and she even broke her own rule and smoked inside, she usually smoked outside. We both agreed that this was the most relaxed we'd been in ages and eventually the subject got around to sex, and as it often does when men and children aren't present!

"I've got some old DVDs that belonged to the bastard," she peered blearily at the telly.

"What are they? Footy highlights?"

"No," she giggled, "porn, and," she reached out and grabbed my leg, "there are a couple of girl on girl ones."

"Okay?" I contemplated my toenails that badly needed repainting, "and where are your filthy movies?"

"In the shed, buried at the back where his royal smugness can't find them, but now that the kids are away it might be the perfect time to muck out the shed and haul it all onto the nature strip for the hard garbage collection."

Which is precisely what we did. There was all kinds of crap in there, a couple of broken down bikes, the engine from a lawnmower, half empty tins of paint, a mouldy mattress that she pulled onto the raised pile of dirt that sufficed for an open fireplace where she doused it in kerosene and set it alight, much to the chagrin of a huntsman spider who escaped the flames only to be turned into a pancake by the spade in her hand.

"Fucking spiders," she screwed up her face, "did you know there's eight million of these fuckers for every person on the planet?"

I only mumbled a reply because I was flicking through the box she'd found behind the mattress, it was an old cardboard beer case, the beer was long gone but it was full of dirty DVDs and videos, and these weren't the standard R rated movies. For those outside Australia, the only place you can legally buy XXX porn over the counter is the Australian Capital Territory (ACT). It's the only real reason to go to Canberra in the first place because there's fuck all else there but tired monuments and a Parliament house so ugly they had to bury it underground.

And sure enough there were six girl on girl DVDs, they looked to be the usual lust in the dust movies with an '80s twist. One couple looked as if they'd just stepped off the set of Dynasty or perhaps these actresses hadn't made it through the auditions for Dynasty.

"So, why didn't he come back for the DVDs?" I asked some time later as we surveyed the rubbish we'd dragged out onto the nature strip.

"Because of that," she pointed to a baseball bat that was split down the middle, "I used to keep it by the front door just in case he decided to pay me a visit and he knew I'd use it too because I used on his brake lights when he tried to drive away."

"I'd hate to get on your bad side."

"My bad side?" Ruth put her arm around my shoulders, "I'm a pacifist at heart until you threaten my kids or cheat on me and he had it coming."

"So, it's a dirty movie night tonight?"

"Sure is," she turned to look at the house, "I'm gonna grab a shower and start dinner, you bring the dessert and whatever the hell you're drinking tonight and I'll see you in a couple of hours," she kissed me on the cheek and sauntered towards the house.

I stared after her twitching buttocks and felt a distinct sense of déjà vu.

In some ways it almost felt like a first date, I too had a shower and donned a white, short-sleeved blouse tucked into tan cargo shorts and added a dark brown belt and brown sandals. My hair was starting to get thicker now that Paul had taken over as my hairdresser and the bob cut he'd given me months earlier was paying dividends in thicker hair. Satisfied with my appearance, I sauntered down my driveway with a pavlova from Safeway in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other I walked down beside her house and into the back yard where I came to a dead stop.

Ruth was standing under the pergola with a spatula in one hand and a wineglass in the other. She was singing away to herself but I couldn't hear the song because she had her earphones in, they were plugged into the phone tucked into the back pocket of her black leather trousers. She also wore a Western style shirt similar in style to that worn by an actress on the cover of one of the DVDs we'd taken from her shed, a pair of cowboy boots completed the outfit. I let out a wolf whistle and she raised her wineglass in salute as she turned around. My eyes dropped to the ornamental belt buckle with a miniature cow skull in the middle.

"Hey there," she pulled one of the earphones out, "don't worry it's not country music. I had enough of that shit when I was growing up."