by Lyn Gardner
She spent the rest of her day at her computer, filling her mind with absolutes. Geometry, algebra, trigonometry, and calculus were things Brodie could always depend on to give her the answers she sought, and in a way, they provided her comfort. This was something she knew. This was something she understood, and this was something Kate would never be able to give her. Brodie needed a solid foundation on which to build their lives, where doors and windows led out as well as in. A roof to weather any storm for it was constructed with trust and compassion, each beam fortified by mutual respect and understanding, and below that would be rooms and hallways filled with warmth. True, the walls built would divide the spaces, providing areas of privacy and places to hang photos, artwork, and high-end televisions, but they weren’t there to hide behind. They weren’t there to block out the reality of life that lived just outside the door. Their purpose had never been to barricade what one couldn’t face…from what one could.
It wasn’t until everyone else had left for the evening, that Brodie trudged from her office, loaded down with as much work as she could carry. She put a note on Stevie’s desk with instructions for tomorrow, and after shutting out the lights, she locked the door and left the building. She made a few stops as she drove around town, buying things she didn’t need but merely craved, and when she pulled into Kate’s driveway and didn’t see her car, Brodie turned off the engine and waited. It was the right thing to do, and it was the wrong thing to do. Without math to keep her company, Brodie would be alone with her thoughts for almost two hours.
***
Brodie cracked the window again to let the smoke of another cigarette escape. Rain coated the windshield and tapped against the roof, and even though the chill of the night invaded the car, Brodie’s anger had kept her warm. How many times had she told herself to be patient? How many times had she reined in her temper or kept her feelings hidden to appease Kate? How many times had she allowed herself to be Kate’s dirty little secret?
Headlights lit up Brodie’s car as Kate pulled into the driveway, and taking one last drag of her smoke, Brodie rolled up the window and climbed out of the car. She flicked the cigarette into the grass and then slowly made her way toward the woman who supposedly loved her.
Kate smiled when she saw Brodie in the mirror, and gathering her attaché and handbag, she opened the door and stepped out into the drizzly night. “This is a nice surprise.”
“We need to talk,” Brodie said in a tone flat and lifeless.
“Of course,” Kate said. “Let’s get out of the rain. Shall we?”
Once inside, Kate dropped her things onto a chair and shaking the water off her raincoat, she hung it on the tree just inside the door. Turning to Brodie, Kate tilted her head slightly. “Have you been smoking? I thought you said you quit.”
“I did, and I’ll do it again,” Brodie said, blankly staring at Kate. “Just not right now. It’s been a rough day.”
“I know what you mean,” Kate said, regarding Brodie for a second. “So, I suppose you’re here to apologize.”
Brodie stiffened, and it was all she could do to speak without screaming. “Apologize for what?”
“For what you did today, of course.”
“I didn’t do anything today I need to apologize for, Kate.”
“Sweetheart,” Kate said, touching Brodie on the arm. “You came to the station.”
“Yes, I did,” Brodie said, pulling her arm away. “So what?”
“You know how I feel about those men finding out—”
“Jesus Christ, Kate, it wasn’t like I was wearing a name tag saying ‘Hi, my name is Brodie. I shag Kate.’”
“Don’t be so crude,” Kate said, and whipping around, she stomped to the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway, she looked back at Brodie. “I didn’t ask you to come there, and I do not want you to do it again. Is that understood?”
Brodie clenched her fists and trotted after Kate. “Just who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that? I’m not your bloody child.”
“Then stop acting like one!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I keep telling you I’m not ready, and you keep pushing, just like you did today. You waltzed in there, and in front of everyone, you tried to kiss me!”
“I was going to kiss you on the cheek, Kate. I wasn’t trying to shove my tongue down your throat,” Brodie yelled. “And if you could have pulled your homophobic head out of your arse for one bleeding second, you would have known that.”
“I am not homophobic! Just because I don’t feel the need to advertise who I sleep with like the rest of you, doesn’t make me a homophobe.”
“Maybe not in the true sense of the word, but you’re just as scared of straights as some of them are of us,” Brodie said, taking a step in Kate’s direction. “You’re absolutely terrified if people find out about us your world will crumble, but I’m a part of that world, Kate, and I’m crumbling. I can’t do this anymore. I have never, ever been ashamed of what I am. I have never hidden it, and I can’t, not even for you. Not anymore. Today you treated me like I was something disgusting, something that needed to be kept hidden, and that hurt, Kate. You tore my heart out this afternoon. Don’t you get that?”
“Brodie, how many times do I have to tell you I just need time?”
“I am so bloody tired of you saying that,” Brodie said, raising her voice again. “Why is it always about what you need, Kate—huh? You need time. You need privacy. You need me to be patient. It’s always you, you, you. Well, need is a two-way street, Kate, and I need to be who I am. I need to be loved for what I am, and I need you to get off this fucking carousel. Make a decision, Kate. Either I’m a part of your life, or I’m not, but I am not hiding anymore. Do you get that? I am not!”
Thinking back to the arguments they’d had over the past several weeks, Kate knew this one wasn’t going to end with unbridled sex on the floor, sofa, or stairs. This one was coming dangerously close to words that no apology would undo, and knowing she needed to defuse the bomb that was Brodie Shaw, when Kate spoke, her voice was soft. “Brodie, sweetheart, this promotion means a lot to me. All I need you to do is just wait—”
“Christ, you haven’t heard a single word I’ve said.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Kate said, taking a step closer to Brodie.
“Yes, I am. I hear you, Kate, loud and clear,” Brodie said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You’ve got a plan for yourself, and it doesn’t include me, not in the way I need to be included. You want a road easily followed, with no potholes or speed bumps to get in your way, and I’m a bump. Aren’t I? Hell, I’m a bloody sinkhole.”
“Brodie—”
“Kate, I need to live life, not hide behind walls and watch it pass by. I had no intention of doing anything today that would have given anyone in your office cause to question our relationship. All I was trying to do was take the woman I love out to lunch because I was proud of her, and that’s where you and I differ so drastically. You see, I’m proud to have you in my life, Kate…and you’re humiliated for me to be in yours.”
Brodie turned and schlepped from the room. It took all the strength she had to put one foot in front of the other, and hanging her head, she headed for the door.
Kate gave chase, and catching up with Brodie, she grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “Please don’t do this, Brodie. Please just stay. We can talk.”
Brodie slowly shook her head. “It’s over, Kate. I’ve never been in love before, but I’m fairly certain it shouldn’t hurt this much.”
“But I love you.”
“No, you don’t,” Brodie said, her eyes luminescent with unshed tears. “I was just a detour, Kate. A roundabout that you took by mistake, but now you’re back on track and traveling down a one-way street toward a promotion which I truly hope you get.” Brodie leaned down and placed a light kiss on Kate’s cheek. “Goodbye, Kate. I wish you all the best. I really do.”
Chapter Tw
enty-Seven
Kate sat alone in her lounge, thinking whoever said silence was golden was full of crap. There was nothing golden about listening to the thrum of an empty house. There was nothing golden about a phone that wouldn’t chime with a text saying Brodie got home all right. There was nothing golden at all.
Her tears had started and stopped a dozen times over the past two hours, and wads of tissue littered the coffee table and floor. Kate looked over at the mess, but she didn’t see it for what it was. She saw it as shrapnel, bits and pieces of a relationship destroyed…but by whom?
Kate picked up the bottle of wine and tipped the remaining few drops into her glass. Giving the spoonful of Chardonnay an evil look, Kate pushed herself off the sofa and went to the kitchen to open another bottle. She didn’t really need the alcohol’s ability to numb because Kate had already been anesthetized by Brodie’s words and paralyzed by her actions. She had walked out the door, and she had walked out on them. So, was this Brodie’s fault?
With a freshly-opened bottle of wine, Kate returned to the lounge and sank onto the sofa again. She filled her glass to the rim, and after taking a gulp, she leaned back and sighed. It wasn’t Brodie’s fault. Not totally. Not really. Not at all? She simply wanted something Kate saw as impossible, or rather…unnecessary?
Why was it so important to wear it on her sleeve? Just because others draped themselves in rainbows, why did Kate have to do the same? In the heat of a moment, Kate had found the strength to tell her mother, but if she could go back in time, would she do it again? Kate nodded to herself. Yes, she would do it again for Devon. Not for Brodie though. It hadn’t been for Brodie, and it surely wasn’t for herself…or was it? When do lies become truths?
If logic were applied, would the finger of fault indeed point toward Kate? It wasn’t as if Brodie didn’t know about Kate’s fears. It wasn’t as if it had been a secret recently uncovered. And why couldn’t Brodie understand how important Kate’s career was to her? Kate had never complained about Brodie’s, never whined when a few hours on nights or weekends were spent with Brodie at her drafting table while Kate puttered about. It was what partners did, wasn’t it? When does the rational become the irrational?
The answer was easy, yet Kate couldn’t see it. The truth is always invisible when you’re looking to blame someone else.
***
Stevie sprang to his feet when Devon walked in the door. “It’s about bleeding time! What did you do, take the slow boat from China?”
Devon pursed her lips as she took off her coat. “We weren’t in China. We were in Madrid on holiday, which you know, and we didn’t get back until late last night.”
“Didn’t you get my text?”
“Yes,” Devon said, holding up her phone. “‘Get to the office now. 999.’ I saw it as soon as I woke up, and here I am. So what’s the problem? What did you do to your computer now?”
Stevie took a step in Devon’s direction. “This isn’t about my computer. It’s about Brodie.”
“Brodie?” Devon said, glancing at the door leading to Brodie’s office. “What about her? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Stevie said, lowering his voice. “While you were down in New Milton wiring up the Hirshfeld’s cottage a couple of weeks ago, she worked from home, and last week, while you guys were on holiday, she did the same thing. She’s churning out designs, don’t get me wrong, but today’s the first day she’s actually been in the office for two weeks…and she looks like shit.”
“Has Ethan seen her?”
“With the school conversion contract signed, he decided to take a ten-day holiday before all hell breaks loose with it. He won’t be back for a few more days,” Stevie said, moving even closer to Devon. “And honestly, Dev…she doesn’t look like she has a few more days. Someone needs to talk to her, find out what’s going on because—”
“All right,” Devon said, holding up her hands. “All right. Make us some tea, will you? I’ll go talk to her.”
Before Devon reached Brodie’s door, she had a feeling she knew exactly what was wrong. Other than one phone call from Kate telling Devon about a possible promotion a couple of weeks back, Devon hadn’t heard from her sister. A few texts had been exchanged, simple touching-base words to let the other know they existed, and thinking back on those, Devon frowned. There hadn’t been a mention of Brodie in any of them, and there hadn’t been any talk of plans or dinners or restaurants or movies. They had only contained one or two words. Yes. No. Fine. Okay. All right.
Devon took a deep breath and opened the door. She walked inside and closing the door behind her, her eyes remained glued on the back of the woman sitting at the drafting table. “Hey, boss. How’s it going?”
“It’s going, Devon. What do you need?” Brodie stayed focused on the dual monitors in front of her for a few more seconds before she pushed the keyboard away and spun her chair around. “I said, what do you need?”
Devon took a half-step backward, giving herself a moment to regroup. Brodie usually didn’t need any makeup to enhance what came naturally to her, and what she did use was minimal, but right now, Brodie needed a hell of a lot more than minimal. The deep shadows under her eyes made them appear sunken, and the hollows of her cheeks were even more pronounced due to the weight Brodie had lost. Her face was pale, and her hair was dull and mussed as if she’d climbed out of bed, put on her clothes, and left her house without ever looking in a mirror.
“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Devon said, walking across the room. “Because you look like crap, Brodie. You look worse than crap.”
“I’ve just had a couple of bad weeks,” Brodie said, staring at the floor. “That’s all.”
“Bad, how?” Devon said, resting her hand on Brodie’s arm.
Brodie pulled in a shuddering breath and raised her eyes, hating herself for the tears that appeared in them. “I ended it with Kate, and it’s for good, this time. No going back. No trying again. It’s over.”
“Are you sure? Maybe—”
“Devon, I’m sure. We’re at an impasse, a stalemate. I’ve already given all I can give and Kate…Kate can’t get past her fears,” Brodie said quietly. “I thought maybe she’d try to call, try to convince me to change my mind, give her yet another chance, but when a week went by, and she didn’t, that told me all I needed to know. So, now I’m just trying to move on.”
“She could still call.”
“She won’t, Devon. Trust me. We’ve been a dog chasing this tail for way too long, and I think she’s finally realized that.”
The despair in Brodie’s voice cut Devon like a knife, and she blinked back the tears trying to form. “I’m so sorry, Brodie. I really, really am.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You’re awesome…and so is your sister. She and I just can’t be awesome together. We see the world differently, opposite-sides-of-the-spectrum differently, and I got tired of fighting a battle I could never win. Hell, I couldn’t even come close.”
“So, instead of calling me, you starved yourself for two weeks?”
“I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right after…right after it happened. I just needed space, and then you went on holiday,” Brodie said. “And I didn’t starve myself on purpose. I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to work, so I put everything I had into that...and into fags. Jesus, my place stinks.”
A thin grin appeared on Devon’s face as she considered Brodie’s wrinkled, untucked Oxford and a pair of jeans that had seen much better days. “Well, you don’t stink, but you’re not exactly dressed for success.”
“I don’t have any meetings today.”
“Maybe not, but I think a long, hot shower and some clean clothes may make you feel a little better.”
“I doubt it.”
“How about we go find out?” Devon said, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s take you home, and you can get cleaned up. If you feel like coming back afterward, we will.”
“Honestly, Devon, I
think I just need…” Brodie stopped and then chuckled under her breath. “I just need some more time. Now, where have I heard that before?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Devon said, pulling Brodie to her feet. “What matters is Stevie is out there worried sick about you, and I’m in here doing the same thing. You need to eat, Brodie. You need to sleep, and you need to heal, and between Gina and me and Stevie and Ethan, we’re going to make sure that happens.”
“What about taking care of your sister?”
“I’ll be there for her, too, if she needs me. I won’t lie to you about that. I love her like I love you, except right now, you’re the one standing in front of me looking positively dreadful,” Devon said, guiding Brodie toward the door. “Now, let’s go. Time to get you home.”
Brodie pulled up as Devon opened the door. “I don’t want to know.”
“What?”
“About Kate. I don’t want to know how she’s doing or…or if she gets the promotion. I need to cut all the ties, Devon. If I’m going to get through this, I can’t have things reminding me of her. I have a brain full of those. All right?”
“Where does that leave me…and Gina?”
“It leaves you where you’ve always been,” Brodie said, placing her hand over her heart. “You’re in here, Devon, and you’re my best friend. When I look at you, I don’t see Kate. I see you. I see your funny grins and that unibrow you make when you’re concentrating way too hard. I see a woman who’s become so much more over the past few years. She’s smart, and she’s kind. She’s hardworking, yet she can be a real loafer at times, and she has a beautiful partner named Gina, who I hope to know better as the years go by. You do not remind me of your sister, Devon. You remind me of everything that’s right in the world…not everything that’s wrong.”
