Binding Devotion

by Kiki Archer

  “You mean Zara?”

  “Especially Zara. I know I’m going to sound horribly conceited, but I married for life; with the ups and the downs.” She twisted the ring on her wedding finger. “I believe in marriage, Pippa. Crikey, I fight for marriage. I could never, ever contemplate divorce. My job is far too important to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Andi exhaled heavily. “I couldn’t do my job. I couldn’t preach about the importance of commitment and marriage for gay people, whilst going through my own divorce. I’d be torn apart.” She rubbed her temples. “I’d lose all credibility.”

  Pippa took Andi’s hand. “But what about love?”

  Andi squeezed the fingers in response. “I love my job. Proud Unity’s my life.”

  “And Zara?”

  “She’s my partner. She’s the person I promised to spend forever with. I’m bound to her through the promises I made.” Andi gently stroked Pippa’s arm. “I could never hurt her.”

  “So why did you do it?”

  Andi shrugged. “Because I wanted to. I selfishly wanted to touch you, to hold you,” she paused, “to feel you wanting me.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I love our partnership, our commitment, and our promise to one other. Marriage is so much more than just emotion.”

  Pippa took a deep breath, prepared for the admission of error. “So what was last night then?”

  Andi smiled. “That, was emotion.”

  “Which one?”

  Andi closed her eyes. “Last night was joy, surprise, courage, hope, wonder…” She opened her eyes and stared straight at Pippa. “That felt a lot like love.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Pippa and Andi were standing in Pippa’s hallway, fearfully awaiting the inevitable. The sound of a car pulling into the gravel driveway made their hearts beat faster. Pippa reached out for Andi’s hand and held it tightly. “Let’s remember, but not repeat,” she said with meaning.

  Andi stepped forwards and kissed Pippa lightly on the lips. “Remember, but not repeat,” she whispered, feeling a deep pain spread across her chest.

  Pippa lifted her hand to the latch, pausing for a moment as if to say one final word. She chose against it. Instead she unlocked the front door and pulled it wide, inviting a cold winter gust of air straight into her home. “It’s a taxi?” she said confused.

  Andi pulled her mobile phone from the pocket of the baggy hooded top she had borrowed and glanced at the screen. There were no messages. “Zara must have been caught up. I’ll just check it’s for me.”

  Pippa watched as Andi padded across the gravel driveway in a pair of trainers that were two sizes too big and a tracksuit that had been her old favourite at Uni. She had offered Andi a selection from her wardrobe, but Andi had insisted on being comfortable and snug, choosing the slightly faded two-piece instead. Pippa smiled at the silver sequined dress slung over Andi’s arm, and the heeled silver shoes held by the straps. “Is it for you?” she shouted.

  Andi nodded. “It’s for me. I’m fine. Stay there.”

  Pippa ignored the request and dashed across the gravel in her fluffy slippers. “Let me know you get home okay.”

  Andi stepped forwards for one final hug, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. “I will.” She pulled away and blinked quickly, stung by the cold. “Why do I feel so sad?”

  “Because your wife didn’t even bother to pick you up?”

  Andi shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” she whispered, stepping into the taxi and closing the door.

  Pippa watched the car slowly reverse and pull out into the street. She waited for it to disappear around the corner before she replied. “Well it bloody well should be,” she said to herself. “What. A. Complete. Bitch.”

  ****

  Andi dumped her dress, shoes and glittery bag, onto the backseat of the taxi, exhaling heavily and looking out of the window. “What. A. Complete. Bitch,” she said to herself, shaking her head. Not even arsed to get out of bed to pick me up. Not even concerned about my state of health. Not even bothered to pick up the phone. There had been one text message at about 9.30 a.m. saying: “I’ll get you at 10.00 a.m. Send the address.” Well she hadn’t got her … and it had been later than ten. Pippa had graciously cancelled her coffee morning with friends so they could stand by the door and await the inevitable; the end of their moment; the end of their love. Andi almost burst into tears. It sounded so dramatic hearing the voice in her head call it love. But that’s what it had been. That’s how she felt.

  Andi continued to stare out of the window, mesmerised by the traffic, but unaware of its presence. All she could do was think. Ten minutes and she’d be home. Ten minutes and she had to have all of this emotion, this confusion, this uncertainty, boxed off and tidied away. She couldn’t, and she wouldn’t, dwell. She checked the time on her phone; well maybe she would … for ten minutes. She leaned her head backwards, resting it on the padded headrest and closing her eyes. Why did you do it? She asked herself.

  Because I wanted to, came the reply.

  She shook her head. Not good enough. What made you do it? She asked instead.

  The emotion of the moment. It felt right. It was too hard to fight.

  She exhaled heavily. So you’re a failure. You failed to keep your vow. You fell into bed with the first person who showed you a bit of attention.

  She shook her head again. Pippa’s not just anybody. Pippa’s special. I connect with Pippa.

  But you’re married.

  Not happily. Andi opened her eyes, blinking at the light. Shocked at her own admission. “Fuck,” she breathed quietly. “What the fuck am I going to do?” She spotted a couple of girls walking hand in hand down the Finchley Road and smiled. What’s more important? She asked herself, closing her eyes once more. The emotion of love or the bond of marriage?

  The bond of marriage, she answered without question.

  Okay, so you work on the love in your own marriage. Zara loves you. You know that.

  Do I?

  Yes. She loves you. She’s going through a hard time at the moment. You can’t just jump ship because you’ve started to feel the butterflies again.

  I know.

  But you don’t feel guilty though, do you?

  Andi bit her bottom lip. No.

  Why not?

  Because I deserve some happiness too. Andi opened her eyes and wiped away a slow tear. “You are happy, Andi,” she said quietly to herself.

  “You okay, love?” asked the taxi driver loudly.

  Andi sniffed noisily and swallowed her tears. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “You look upset to me, love.”

  Andi shook her head and tried to smile. “No, I’m fine.”

  The taxi driver shrugged and returned his eyes to the road.

  No, you’re not fine, whispered the quiet voice inside her head.

  ****

  Andi had asked the taxi driver to stop at the end of her street. She needed a moment to compose herself. She walked slowly, hoping the bracing winter air would calm her nerves and bring her strength. She rounded the corner of Wellington Place, watching as her tall and imposing house came into view. A feeling of apprehension washed over her. Have I always felt like this? she questioned, conscious of her desire to just turn around and walk away. She stopped, spotting Zara sitting on the front step. She was leaning back against the black glossy front door, holding a yellow dishcloth and some sort of cleaning spray. Andi stood still and watched. Zara was checking her watch. Andi studied her without her knowing, dressed in her tight black skinny jeans, white oversized cricket jumper, padded black gilet, and Ugg boots. Her long black hair was tied in a high pony and she didn’t seem to have any make-up on. She looks tired, thought Andi, suddenly feeling a pang of regret. Hold it together, she instructed herself. No harm has been done and you love your wife dearly. And with that, she continued her walk, passing through the tall white pillars and turning up the path towards their
house.

  Zara spotted Andi approaching and jumped up. She turned to face the door and started to rub the letterbox. “I sent you a taxi!” she snapped over her shoulder. “Why are you walking?”

  Andi continued up the path, joining Zara on the front step. “He dropped me at the end of the road. What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped. “I’m clearing off some graffiti that one of your wackos has left on our letterbox!”

  Andi dropped her handful of belongings and grabbed Zara’s arm. “Let me see.”

  “It’s almost off,” she snapped. “It said: POUR PETROL HERE.”

  “No!” gasped Andi, just about making out the faint capital letters.

  “Yes!” mocked Zara. “That’s why I didn’t come to pick you up. I’ve been out here scrubbing all morning.”

  “Please tell me you took a photo of it.”

  Zara continued to rub. “No, why?”

  Andi shook her head. “For the police file! I have to keep a note of all of these incidents for the police file.”

  “What police file?” Zara looked shocked. “Just how many incidents have you had?”

  “Threats, nasty emails, graffiti. You knew about this, Zara!”

  Zara sprayed on some more cleaning fluid. “No I didn’t.”

  Andi reached into the deep pocket of Pippa’s hoody and pulled out her phone. “Step to the side and I’ll take a photo.”

  Zara gave one final rub with the yellow dishcloth and the letters disappeared. “I’ve been letting it soak in the spray. The marker they used must have been water soluble.”

  Andi crouched down on her knees and studied the shiny gold letter box; there wasn’t a single trace of writing left. “Zara!”

  “What? We don’t want the neighbours reading it and we certainly don’t need the police coming round. You just need to sort your priorities out.”

  “What do you mean?” said Andi, hugging herself from the cold. Her head had started to bang.

  “Well look at yourself. Showing yourself up at parties, bringing the weirdos to our door. It has to stop, Andi, all of it. Look at you, crawling home in the morning in someone else’s clothes.”

  Andi bent down and lifted her dress, heels and bag from the step. “Can we just go inside?”

  “Fine,” shrugged Zara.

  ****

  Andi lifted her knees onto the sofa in their front lounge and hugged her mug of hot chocolate. They had been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes. Andi broke first. “Pour petrol here. That’s pretty threatening, isn’t it?”

  Zara was sitting upright, with folded arms, in her brown leather recliner. “Of course it’s bloody threatening. It’s a threat from one of your weirdo bigots who’s found out where you live, and who now wants to burn you alive.”

  Andi shivered. “And you didn’t think to report it?”

  “No. If they were going to pour petrol into our letter box then they would have done it there and then, not just written about it.”

  “Maybe,” said Andi quietly. “Can we chat about last night first?”

  “What’s there to chat about? You got pissed and left over three hundred guests fending for themselves.”

  “Oh stop it, Zara. No one noticed I was missing.”

  “Isn’t that worse then?”

  Andi put her mug of hot chocolate down on the coffee table and lifted her hands to her eyes, conscious of her emotion. “Why are you so mean to me?”

  “Oh don’t start that again,” said Zara with a raised voice. “You’re the one that’s causing this, not me.”

  Andi blinked quickly and wiped away a tear. “Don’t you love me?”

  “Why do you always ask me that?” shouted Zara in frustration.

  “Because love isn’t meant to feel like this.”

  “Oh, and what’s it meant to feel like?”

  “It’s meant to be caring, thoughtful, exciting-”

  “I don’t excite you? I don’t care for you? I don’t think about you? Cheers!” shouted Zara. “Thanks for that!” She stood up and started to point in Andi’s direction. “I’ve given you everything. This house, my money, my cars-”

  “I just want your love,” whispered Andi.

  “Sorry, what was that?” shouted Zara.

  “I just want your love.”

  Zara rubbed her temples and started to pace. “You’d be nothing without me, you know that don’t you? Remember how much money I put into Proud Unity to get you off the ground?” She continued to shout. “Remember that? That was love.”

  “Love’s an emotion, not a thing.”

  Zara jumped down onto the sofa next to Andi and folded her arms. “Oh sorry, doctor June, enlighten me. What am I doing wrong?” She raised her eyebrows and waited in silence.

  Andi sniffed away a tear. “You used to love me.”

  “Used to? So me organising a huge birthday party with a wonderful array of guests, isn’t love? So me making excuses for your whereabouts so you didn’t lose face with your guests, isn’t love? So me getting up early to prepare the veg for a wonderful roast dinner today, isn’t love? Shall I go on?”

  Andi wiped her cheeks. “Thank you for doing those things.”

  “It’s okay,” shrugged Zara. “I do them because I love you.”

  “I would rather just be held and hugged and feel like you meant it.”

  Zara exhaled heavily. “Oh Andi, I do love you!” She reached out and put an arm around Andi’s shoulder. “We’ve been married for seven years, of course it’s not going to be all sparks and butterflies, and I know I’m an old grouch, but okay, I’ll admit it … I’m scared.”

  Andi sat up and widened her eyes. Zara had never once admitted to any weakness … ever. “Of what?”

  “Of losing you.”

  Andi reddened. “To who?”

  “No, to work!” laughed Zara. “Look at you flattering yourself!” She paused and spoke seriously again. “It’s your work that’s coming between us and I want you to stop.”

  Andi frowned. “What? Why?”

  “Remember when we first met? We had time for wining and dining, dinner dates and trips out. Andi, we had fun. You were carefree and funny. I’d go off to work and you’d do your odd bits of Proud Unity stuff, but you’d always be home when I got back and we’d always have the evenings and weekends together.” She shrugged. “I want that back. I didn’t marry a lesbian icon, Andi. I married you, and I think you’ve forgotten who you really are.”

  Andi rubbed her eyes. Her head was banging and she felt confused. “Why haven’t you said this before?”

  “I’ve dropped hints. But it has to be your decision.” Zara exhaled. “But if you’re not even willing to give up when your life’s under threat, then I guess you never will.”

  “I’m making a difference, Zara.”

  “Not to me you’re not.” She stood from her seat. “But I’ll tell you one thing, the fact that you’re not even concerned now that my life’s under threat, speaks volumes.”

  “Oh Zara, sit down. I hadn’t thought-”

  “You never do. You never think what it must be like for me, going to bed alone most nights while you tap away on your computer. You never think what it’s like for me, seeing other people fawning over you, hailing you as some lesbionic hero. You never think what it’s like for me when all anyone ever wants to talk about is you.” Zara walked to the doorway and reached for the handle. “I married you, Andi, and I want you back.”

  Andi closed her eyes and started to cry.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Andi was sitting at her work desk, anxious and apprehensive. Not only would she have to get that potentially awkward first meeting with Pippa out of the way, but she’d also have to face the questions from Janet, Elizabeth, and the other Proud Unity folk, about her disappearance from Saturday night’s party. She twisted in her black padded swivel chair and looked out of the large office window at the high rise building opposite. No doubt it w
ould be filling up with city workers, all assuming they too, had the most important job in the world; they too, were irreplaceable. Zara had in fact given a very convincing portrayal of what life could be like if she left Proud Unity, full of fun times, frolics, and family. She had actually uttered the words family. Zara had said, ‘a family for us.’

  The knock on the door snapped her out of the daydream. She swivelled back around and looked at the entrance to her office, watching as Pippa gingerly stepped into the room. “Knock, knock, only me.”

  Andi stood up and walked towards her. “You never knock!” she said, reaching out and pulling her in for a big hug. “Crikey, you didn’t even knock when you were on interview!”

  Pippa laughed. “I know!” she said, squeezing in response. “Coffee?”

  Andi nodded and let go, leaving Pippa to walk to the machine.

  Pippa smiled. “I did do a good interview didn’t I? I think we could do with a song now, just to break the ice.”

  “Go on then,” laughed Andi, “Make it a good one.”

  Pippa placed Andi’s mug under the two spouts and pressed a combination of buttons, sending the machine into a grinding and whirring frenzy. She reached for the half empty, small bottle of water, discarded on the worktop, and spun around. She lifted the bottle to her mouth like a microphone and flicked her mass of curly brown hair. “Close your eyes, make a wish. And blow out the candle light. For tonight is just your night. We’re gonna celebrate, all through the night.”

  Andi laughed at the perfect rendition of the Boys II Men classic. “Stop it!”

  “No, I’m just getting to the good bit.” Pippa lunged forwards and upped the volume. “I’ll make love to you. Like you want me to. And I’ll hold you tight. Baby all through the night.”