The Obstruction of Emma Goldsworthy

by Sean Kennedy

  “Now you know,” said Jess, and she started pulling Emma along to leave.

  “Wait!” Trish said, before they could push past her. “I’ll just say this to you now—”

  “What?” Jess stopped, and Emma bumped into her. She had the distinct feeling she was looking like a bumbling idiot drifting in her wake and remaining mute about the whole situation.

  “I talked to Emma earlier, and I also wanted to tell you.” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry because I didn’t treat you the best when we were going out. I really am sorry about it.”

  “And what makes you think I even care?” Jess asked. “It was last year, and believe me, I haven’t been obsessing over it.”

  “I’m not saying you did, and maybe it’s arrogant of me coming here to apologise thinking that maybe you still did, but I wanted to do it anyway.”

  “Because of your own guilt,” Jess accused her. “To make yourself feel better, not me.”

  “That’s fair,” Trish admitted.

  Emma really just wanted a sinkhole to appear under her and drag her into the bowels of the earth. Jess and Trish could remain up there. Maybe get their delayed happy ending.

  “Well, thanks for making the effort.” There wasn’t a scrap of sincerity in Jess’s tone. “See ya.”

  She made to drag Emma away, but she finally found her voice.

  “What are you up to?” Emma demanded of Trish, and she looked taken aback. “What is this, the Great Apology tour of 2017? Trish Webber, on the road again! With special guests!”

  “There’s no agenda,” Trish said. “Just trying to make up for some damage I caused.”

  “We’ve moved on. So, apology accepted. See ya.” This time Emma dragged Jess away.

  But Emma couldn’t resist looking back. Trish cast a rather forlorn shadow by the gate, but she couldn’t see her face. So Emma looked ahead, Jess’s hand still in hers.

  Chapter 9

  “DO YOU think we were maybe a bit mean back there?” Jess was slightly out of breath as they hurried along the street, wanting to put distance between themselves and Trish.

  “Mean? How were we mean? Honest, maybe.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t help thinking that maybe we did look like we cared. Both of us sounded pretty angry.”

  Emma stopped, and Jess’s hand slid out of hers. “Maybe. But you can still be angry and not care.”

  Jess’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m pretty sure angry is an emotion that means you care about something.”

  “What I mean is you can be angry about things that have happened in the past but in the long run you really don’t care. Because it doesn’t matter if that person is still in your life, you still don’t want to create any new problems with them.”

  “Like getting back with them?” Jess asked.

  Emma’s heart practically exploded. “Are you thinking of getting back with her?”

  Jess actually laughed, as if such a thing had never occurred to her. “Are you crazy?”

  She seemed legit. Maybe Emma could relax.

  “Why, do you?” Jess asked.

  Emma obviously couldn’t laugh and just be a copy of her own reaction. So she simply shook her head.

  Jess frowned.

  “What?” Emma asked.

  “It’s just… you don’t seem as convincing.”

  Emma knew she probably didn’t.

  “Believe me, I don’t want to get back with Trish.” She tried to make it sound as believable as possible. Because it was true. But now Emma felt like she was lying, because the doubt had obviously been planted in Jess’s mind.

  “Okay.” Jess started walking again.

  She hadn’t reached for Emma’s hand this time.

  THEIR SECOND date was in no way like the first. The spirit had seemed to be sucked out of the both of them. Dinner was filled with small talk. The weather may have even been discussed. It was that dull.

  Afterwards, Jess suggested cutting the night short because she was tired.

  “Are you sure?” Emma asked.

  Jess was sure.

  There was a halfhearted kiss at the door (no tongue—Jess’s mouth was closed like a London park after ten at night) and they said their goodbyes without making plans for the next date.

  On the way home, however, there was a text from Micah:

  Finally heard from Kyle. He’s done it!

  He followed that with about a dozen hearts and six gay couple emojis. That was an awful lot of emojis for a professional football player.

  At least someone was happy tonight.

  EMMA SUPPOSED she should be happy that Kyle had finally done the right thing, especially for Richard’s sake, and it was better for everybody if the world had a happy Micah in it than an unhappy one.

  But it still burned that she was going home miserable, and that Micah and Kyle—who had actually done damage to some really undeserving people—would be sleeping in their respective beds on opposite sides of the country completely blissful now they were getting what they wanted.

  Yeah, so Emma was bitter. But she was allowed to be, occasionally. After having to live through Micah’s problems for years, didn’t she deserve a break?

  It was mean and petty. After all, Emma wouldn’t have been contacted by Sports Illustrated if Micah hadn’t given them her details—and it would get her name out there far quicker than anything she had done in the past two years.

  She should be thankful for the things she had and not sweat about the things she didn’t. Even if they included the lovely Jess Harpy. Better to sweat out on the hockey field.

  “Emma!”

  She turned to find Jess running along the road towards her. Her hair was flying behind her—she almost looked like a cartoon. She skidded and caught Emma by the arms to stop herself.

  “What’s the matter?” Emma asked her.

  “We couldn’t end the night like this,” Jess said between gasps. “Oh my God, I’m really unfit.”

  Emma had to laugh.

  “You’re gorgeous when you smile,” Jess said.

  Emma wanted to kiss her, but she was already babbling further.

  “I’m sorry things were so awkward over dinner. I guess I was being stupid because I didn’t think you had responded fast enough about Trish. It just brought back some bad memories. I mean, you broke up with her too. There must have been some bad memories, right?”

  Emma didn’t want to tell her that things had been really good with Trish and her until the actual night of their breakup. But she didn’t want to lie, either.

  “Do you want to come back for a coffee?” Jess asked.

  THEY SAT out on the veranda, huddled up on the decrepit couch. It was a typical freezing Canberra night, but they had warm cups of coffee acting as mitts and a huge fleecy throw blanket stretched over them.

  “I didn’t even think we were going to break up,” Emma said. Jess’s attention was focused on her as she peered over the top of her mug. “I guess I was naive enough to think that we would still be together. Trish was a year older than me, so I still had Year Twelve to finish. I didn’t think Canberra was that far away. I thought the whole thing was doable. I know it was pretty naive, but I thought I loved her.”

  “Your first love,” Jess murmured.

  “First relationship,” Emma corrected her.

  “Even then, that feels like love.”

  “Was Trish your first love?” Emma asked.

  “No,” Jess said and took a sip of her coffee.

  Emma guessed this was the kind of thing they’d discover about each other if they kept going out. All the little secrets and the not-so secrets. But it already sounded like Emma would have less to divulge. So far Trish had been her only relationship, the only woman she’d slept with, and the only woman she had truly kissed. A few drunken pashes on the dance floor with strangers since their breakup didn’t really count. No wonder Jess thought she looked like she was waiting around for Trish’s return.

 
; Emma just hadn’t met someone she was into. Until “Mal.”

  And now Mal sat next to her, her thigh warm against her own. Emma wanted to plant her legs across hers, entangled, staking a claim like Neil Armstrong planting a flag on the moon. This is Jess. She’s really cool, world, and I want to spend more time with her.

  “Maybe at the time I thought Trish was my first love. Maybe when you… well, do things with someone for the first time—”

  Jess burst out laughing. “Do things?”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “I never took you for a prude.”

  “I’m not a prude!”

  “Then say it,” Jess teased.

  “Say what?”

  “You know!”

  “Fine! We had sex!” The last sentence carried out into the empty night air, reverberating off the weatherboard houses surrounding them. A couple of dogs started barking in chorus.

  Jess was hysterical but trying to hold it in. She was snorting uncontrollably, and tears were running down her cheeks.

  “That’s not a very attractive look,” Emma told her.

  It was a lie.

  Jess wiped away her tears. “I’m sorry… you were just so Edwardian!”

  “Yeah, well, it was something important.”

  She sobered immediately. “I’m sorry.”

  Emma flashed her a smile to let her know it was okay and she did have a humorous side. But she began to giggle.

  That only started Jess again. “So, what kind of things did you do?”

  “A lady never tells. And I’ve lost my train of thought now.”

  “You were opening up about Trish, and I was being a dickhead and derailing it.”

  “Oh, yeah, you were.”

  Jess laughed and whacked her. Emma caught her arm before she retreated and pulled Jess against her. Jess settled comfortably with her back to Emma’s chest, and Emma cradled her in her arms. Emma didn’t want the sun to come up, even if all they did tonight was lie together on the couch.

  “Anyway,” Emma continued. “To cut a long story short, she broke up with me, got the exchange to LA halfway through her first year, got an American girlfriend and came out for her. When she wouldn’t for me, because it would jeopardise her career or some shit.”

  “She wouldn’t come out for you?”

  “Nope, she was locking the closet from the inside and staying in there.”

  “Wow.”

  “What about you?” Emma asked. “Was she out for you?”

  Even though Emma couldn’t see her full profile, she could tell she was frowning. “I’m not sure. Looking back, I don’t think so. We didn’t go out for that long, really. And because we met outside the campus and I never stepped foot on it, I never knew if she was or not. I just assumed she was. She never had problems going on dates, but they were always low-key.”

  “Sounds like her MO.”

  “And then she got her exchange, and it was over between us. Really, I wasn’t that heartbroken. It had never felt like a real thing, you know?”

  Her casual dismissal of the relationship concerned Emma. Did she never take it seriously to begin with? Was she taking them seriously at all?

  When it came down to it, Emma knew nothing about her. Jess seemed wonderful and hit all her buttons, but this was only their second date. She was such a cliché. If Australia had U-Hauls, one would have been arriving on Jess’s doorstep any minute now to unload all of Emma’s shit.

  “So you didn’t love her?”

  Jess stretched herself up off her and turned so they could see each other properly. “We weren’t together long enough for it to be love.”

  But love could be instantaneous. Emma wasn’t deluding herself into thinking she was in love with Jess—calm down, Emma, it’s been three days—but she was flattened by the strength of the feelings she already had for Jess. And maybe Emma just hadn’t had enough experience in this department. Maybe she didn’t know what it was like to have a fun short-term fling without any expectations of where it could lead, if it led anywhere at all. But she hoped Jess wasn’t expecting this to be a fling. Emma was superstitious enough to believe in self-fulfilling prophecy, that if she believed this wasn’t going to be anything serious it would never become so.

  “What are you thinking?” Jess asked.

  Like Emma could ever tell her the mental diarrhoea of her mind! That would be enough to send her packing. But Emma believed Jess. She didn’t think she had any worries when it came to Trish wanting Jess and Jess reciprocating the feeling.

  So Emma told her, “I tried to find you for ages, did you know that? Every party, on the street, I looked for a cute gender-bent Malcolm Reynolds, hoping that I would recognise you when you weren’t a Browncoat. I asked all the people I knew at the party if they knew who you were, but when I described Mal they looked at me as if they had no idea who that was.”

  “Bastards.” Jess shook her fist.

  “I know, right? They just don’t appreciate Firefly.”

  “It’s like people who don’t like cats. You know you can’t trust them.”

  “So true!”

  “I looked for you too,” Jess said. “But I kind of had the same response when I asked people about Kate Kane.”

  “Idiots!”

  “And when I said she was Batwoman, they usually said ‘There’s a Batwoman?’”

  “They’ll be the first up against the wall when the revolution comes.”

  Jess giggled. “We found each other eventually.”

  “By pure accident. But at least that happened. I even especially went to the last ComicCon in hopes of finding you there.”

  She shot straight up. “I was there!”

  “You were?”

  “Yes! And I was looking for Batwoman!”

  “How did you not find me?” Emma almost sounded accusatory.

  “Why didn’t you find me?”

  “I saw a bunch of Malcolm Reynolds, but none of them were you!”

  Comprehension dawned on her face. “Oh shit, that’s right!”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t go to the convention as Malcolm Reynolds!”

  “Well, that’s pretty daft if you were hoping we would run into each other.”

  Jess admitted it with a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t think that one through too much.”

  “So who did you go as?”

  “A lesbian Marge Simpson.”

  “Isn’t that just her sister Patty?”

  “That’s what everyone kept telling me. But no, I was like alternative universe lesbian Marge Simpson.”

  “We must have been running around in alternate dimensions if we didn’t see each other.” Emma honestly could not remember anybody dressed up as Simpsons characters. She was sure yellow body paint and a blue beehive would have made Jess stand out.

  “I did see one other Batwoman, who I scared shitless by chasing after him.”

  “Him?”

  “Yeah. Hot body, except for the whole penis thing. And of course, he was family as well, so a lesbian Marge Simpson was definitely not high among his romantic interests.”

  “No. Oh God, tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Did he look better than me in the costume?”

  Jess smiled. “No fucking way.”

  Emma grinned back. “Good answer.” There was a charge in the atmosphere now—things had turned a corner. Their arms were touching along the headrest, and Jess now took the opportunity to run her fingers under Emma’s sleeve and along her wrist.

  “You’ve disappeared somewhere again,” she whispered. “What are you thinking now?”

  Time to pull out the big guns. “About how much I want to kiss you.”

  Her hand reappeared from Emma’s sleeve and caressed her cheek. “I want to do more than kiss you.”

  And the kisses were so sweet that fire spread throughout Emma’s body and she no longer felt the cold. “I want you to do more than kiss me.” It came
out of her before she even knew it, a brutal honesty that had no shame at being revealed.

  “Are you sure?” Jess asked.

  “Yes.” Said without hesitation.

  “Then stay the night.”

  It was an invitation Emma couldn’t refuse. Jess’s ran her hand beneath Emma’s jumper and stroked the flesh of her belly.

  “Are you really sure?” she asked again.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice. Ask me a third time and I’ll think it’s you who isn’t sure.”

  “I’m zipping my lip.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t. They were the sweetest things Emma had ever tasted.

  JESS LED her by the hand, up the stairs, and into her room. She lit some tea light candles in Moroccan tea glasses, and a subdued light was refracted throughout the room.

  “Is this okay?” she asked. It was. It was beautiful. Soft shades of purple, blue, and orange danced across the walls and the ceiling. It was muted, however, and she was little more than a silhouette against the flame.

  Emma breathed some sort of assent, and in one fluid motion Jess removed her jumper and shirt. Had Emma even noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra that evening? How unobservant of her. Jess pulled Emma’s jumper off her, and she reached behind to unclip her bra. All nervousness was gone. Emma had never been more ready.

  Jess bent over her, and Emma ran the back of her hand softly over Jess’s nipple.

  Jess shivered, and as she moved closer she blocked the light of the flame entirely and Emma fell beneath her in the darkness, Jess’s lips against hers.

  JESS WAS still asleep when Emma woke up. In fact, she was like one of Dracula’s wives during the daytime, completely dead to the world. She didn’t even twitch when Emma stroked her cheek. She also slept unabashedly, the doona somewhere down around her hips, the light coming in from the window making the tiny hairs on her skin glow.

  Emma closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

  This, of all things, managed to wake Jess. When Emma opened her eyes again Jess was staring straight at her.