She got ready for the gym. Their conversation had unsettled her and walking out to the car it seemed really hot, or was it just her? The aroma of honeysuckle, which draped itself over the fence, vied with the perfume of lupins in the flowerbeds, for her attention. The day was so bright and intense, in stark contrast to her mood of heart-deep brooding.
She couldn’t wait to see Tenille again. This would be the test. Her response would let her know if she had any feeling for her.
Arriving in good time, she kept her activities light. She didn’t want to be sweaty at their meeting. First impressions. She maintained a keen watch and observed Tenille head for the cycle ramp. The light in her eyes died when she saw Tenille’s face. The mouth was a grim line; the black eyebrows drawn together. Where was that laughing openness she’d seen before? She was startled by the clarity of the recollection. The dazzling, rose-flushed face that had looked back at her. The brightness of the eyes, fringed in those impossible lashes. That beguiling, soft smile. Now her pale olive skin seemed too tightly stretched across the fine cheek bones and the dark eyes glittered with a forbidding determination. She had looked neither to left nor right.
She could stand it no longer. The urgency of her need made her set down the weights and fighting the dull throbbing in her temples, she proceeded slowly across the floor to Tenille’s corner. Her mouth went suddenly dry as she formed the words and said quietly: ‘Hello, Tenille.’ The dull throb increased to a constant drilling. She could feel the sweat trickling into her eyes and had to wipe her arm across to clear her vision.
Tenille turned her head and acknowledged the greeting with a brief: ‘Hello.’ She didn’t smile, only continuing her peddling with more force.
Sidonie was bemused. The heated flush of a moment ago suddenly subsided and her face paled. ‘I’ll leave you to your warm up … and catch you later,’ azure eyes huge in their distress. Previous doubts were now crystallizing into certainty. She had only been a passing fad. What a big mistake she’d made. Fool. This time the only response was a curt nod.
Tenille didn’t look at the girl. She couldn’t risk being influenced by those vivid eyes, so intense they could weaken her resolve. She’d been a pushover too many times.
Sidonie returned to her routine a hollowness inside, deep as a mineshaft, as she kept her watch on Tenille. She had an aching longing for her, but felt helpless against the barrier of this closed presence. She could read signals as well as the next. Tenille was indifferent. She must pull herself together, Milka was right, although she had so much wanted it not to be so. But she had to find out for sure.
Tenille, for her part, was checking up on Sidonie. She saw her chat to her friends and then help a newcomer. Watching her bend close over someone’s body, her capable hands helping with their equipment, gave her a stab of jealousy. She looked like she always did; friendly and direct. Obviously unconcerned about her. She had been going to tell her of her involvement in Caravan, now she felt: “Why bother? She wouldn’t be interested anyway.”
Sidonie deeked down to the change room, after noting that Tenille was nearing the end of her program. It would be easier in the pool area to start a casual conversation. They could sit and have a drink poolside, a better place for them, less hectic and more intimate.
Tenille picked her out immediately. There was no mistaking that speed or those strokes. She slipped easily into the water and began her laps, staying in a far lane. When she finished she climbed out to collect her towel. Like a shot, Sidonie was over to the other side, talking to her whilst treading water. It was only casual things. The whole time she watched her, standing there in the clinging swimsuit, it was as though she were naked before her. The slight indentation of her navel, in the rounded belly made her look young and vulnerable. Her eyes travelled down to the barely hidden mound of crisp curls. She felt the rush of desire swell between her legs, the movement of water against her fanning the flame. Determined to keep going, she maintained her position only with great difficulty and despite her attempts to control her eyes, they found the curves of two swelling breasts, the view from below so different. Full globes resembling ripe grapefruit, each ready for the picking. She watched their rise and fall with every breath, feeling her own breasts responding and her nipples peaked.
The exchange however was brief, Tenille bringing it to a quick end by stating she had to go, she was late. The voice was cold and distant. As she walked away she threw a casual: ‘See you,’ over her shoulder.
The quick glance back caught Sidonie watching her, an unfathomable expression on her face. But she had had to make her escape. She couldn’t stay a moment longer, looking down into those brilliantly shining eyes, reflecting prisms of aquamarine from the water around her, the golden lashes so thick and attractive. Those eyes which had the power to draw her, despite the firmness of her resolutions. She had loved watching her shoulders as she’d talked, the water fragmenting into little droplets of diamonds on her skin and the breaking ripples outlining the contours of her arms. Thoughts of their strength were exciting. She had wanted them to bind her. Yes, to be crushed within their embrace. She could have died for it. She had had to get away.
Sidonie continued to swim slowly, certain now there was a problem here. She didn’t think Tenille wasn’t liking her after all. She had seen her color deepen; seen a smouldering look in her pliant eyes, which was just the opposite of disinterest. Obviously she could do nothing today, but Wednesday … Shoot. Softball practise. Okay, she would see her Friday and she would make sure they had time together. They needed to talk.
* * *
Tenille found Toronto Caravan tremendously exhilarating – to be a part of all this. The Indian and Greek pavilions were close by. The wailing strains of the sitar from one, in sharp contrast to the bouzouki of the other, both at full volume and equally demanding of attention.
The aromas were overwhelming, tangy and sometimes musty, always unexpected. Colors exploded on the eye, but above all, the dancing transfixed. There were three shows a night and in between their own performances, a group would change into street clothes then, passports in hand, set off happily to indulge their senses. The spirit of Caravan was truly multicultural and the city of Toronto was transformed for those two weeks at the end of June.
Visitors to the different venues were open and talkative, as if really on vacation, chatting in amiable informality when waiting in the inevitable line-ups. Jubilation was everywhere; a triumphant celebration of cultural difference.
This diversion was good for Tenille, taking her mind off her problems. She went to the gym on Wednesday and when she didn’t see Sidonie was not let down. She had done a good job of steeling her heart. She got on with her program and returned to the apartment in time for an early night. She telephoned Carmel, told her about Caravan and she promised they’d come take a look.
* * *
Wednesday, Softball had gone well. Everyone had been ‘up’ and the importance of friends had impacted on Sidonie that evening. They had given another dimension to her life and allowed her to realize she had placed too much on Tenille. A broader perspective provided a better balance. But this woman had stricken her with a malady from which she could not recover. Of course, she knew she couldn’t let herself be ruled only by her heart. Sadly, Milka had been right, no good could come of messing with Hets.
* * *
Thursday, Tenille went with Ingrid and Daphne to the Chinese and Indonesian pavilions. What a knock out. The bamboo dancers jumping so fast and adroitly to avoid being caught by their ankles all the while never missing a beat. Marissa joined them halfway through. She seemed more her old self. Not as friendly, but certainly no longer hostile. She had gotten over her by the looks of things. That was a relief. She didn’t like tension in any form. One of the reasons why this thing with Sidonie was so hard. At least getting out and about gave her mind a break.
CHAPTER 7
Friday, saw both of them at the gym, with Sidonie convinced she was on a fool’s errand. She
was not sure she had accurately divined the meaning of those fleeting expressions, momentarily glimpsed. She only had wishful hopes to go on, and now a dark shadow lodged in her heart. With nothing more substantial, she had become full of negative self-doubts.
They were like ships passing in the night, each sailing on a separate voyage.
Tonight Tenille finished up early and was on her way out when Nina caught her at the front desk and held her in conversation. She wanted to know if she would be ready for the three-month subscription. The week by week trial would soon be at an end and a cheaper way to go was to become a member.
Sidonie appeared in the lobby while this discussion was in progress. She hadn’t expected to see Tenille and was totally unprepared for any confrontation. Acting without thought she just passed on, pushing through the heavy swing doors to the car park.
Tenille observed her exit and shifted her weight uneasily. Her shoulders lifted slightly in a gesture of resignation, as she turned back to Nina.
‘Let me think about it. I’m not sure if I want to pursue this.’
She moved away. The interest was over for her. Darkness filled her life. She left the club with a heavy heart, following in the wake of excited new recruits who had just had a great time on their first visit. Hearing, their ebullience, it brought the contrast with her own depressed state into sharper focus. Her face pale, with a bleakness about the eyes, there were also signs of weariness around her mouth. She held her body slumped, as though it had been dealt a foul blow.
The night was soft and balmy, a few clouds floating high, but none obscured the moon which gave a romantic cast to the deepening shadows. Lost in her own abstractions she noticed nothing of the gentleness of the evening, seeing only greyness, matching her dark mood of introspection. Suddenly, roused from her reverie, she became aware of the sound of her name. She looked up and saw the Tercel parked close to the steps with the passenger door open. Sidonie’s voice was giving an abrupt command.
‘Get in.’
So taken by surprise she was left moribund and stood rooted to the spot. Sidonie observed this immobility. At least the woman was not walking on. It was time for decisive action. If they were to have any chance of working through their problems then they desperately needed to clear the air. She jumped out and, with quick strides, covered the distance between them. She grabbed the port and gripping Tenille’s arm, propelled her round towards the car. Her strides took her across the path of two women who were just leaving, not expecting a reverse turn in front of them. She walked as if she and Tenille were the only people out there, forcing the others to stop and swerve away.
Installed in the passenger seat, Tenille’s thoughts were footloose; her heart pumping unevenly. Here again, but Sidonie had been ignoring her, manifesting a cool disregard. She couldn’t figure it out.
The grip stowed in the trunk, Sidonie slipped into the driver’s seat, setting the car in motion and reversing with such a squeal of tires, Tenille was forced to hang on. She headed downtown; no one spoke, Sidonie concentrating on the road and the traffic.
She had acted on impulse, deciding enough was enough. She had to talk to this woman, just one more time. If she found she was a Het and got her face slapped, so be it. No matter, she had to seize this brief moment, stolen out of time and face the consequence. This woman was too important to run the risk of loss for lack of courage when the opportunity presented.
She’d gotten this far, Tenille was her captive, now she couldn’t think of the next step. The woman was mute, just staring stonily ahead. She could learn nothing of her feelings from quickly cast glances. No clues there as to how to break this stalemate.
The silence deepened.
Still no inspiration. By now she was almost downtown. Quick. Decide. Yes. She would take her to The Woman’s Common on Sherbourne Street. She started to speak but had to clear her throat to get the words out. In a thickened voice she asked if she would like to go somewhere for coffee.
Almost at the level of a whisper she said she would. Silence settled around them once more, blanketing and oppressive, until she parked and they walked stiffly to the restaurant.
There were still a few patrons at this late hour and the muted conversation was comfortable in the pleasant, though not lavish, surroundings. Sidonie chose a table tucked away in the corner, close to the bay window. When the waitress arrived she greeted her by name and Tenille observed the friendliness of the exchange. Obviously not her first time. Gayland turned her attention to Tenille.
‘We do all the coffees. Would you like something in particular?’
‘Thank you. A Macchiato.’
She turned back to Sidonie. ‘Your usual, a flat white?’
‘Please.’
‘We’ve still got some delicious home made carrot cake?’ an inquiring glance at both of them.
Anything more solid than fluid would choke her right now, Sidonie thought.
They sat kitty-corner rather than opposite, being more conducive to frank exchanges; avoiding eye contact if things got sticky. With Gayland’s departure they lapsed again into heavy silence. Neither knew how to start or really even what to say, but just sitting together, there was a marked easing of tension. Breathing became more relaxed. Sidonie appeared to be looking about at the diners, but she was taking note of the lines of strain which had appeared around Tenille’s troubled eyes. The molded planes of her face, so perfectly balanced, seemed more prominent and the character displayed therein more appealing now, than ever before.
Tenille was wearing a short sleeved blouse, unbuttoned at the neck. She could see the soft expanse of her throat where it joined her upper chest and in the ‘V’ of the shirt, the beginnings of the swell of her firm breasts. The short sleeves showed off the perfect curve of her arms. As she rested her forearms on the table it was possible to see how delicately the wrists were shaped, leading to soft hands featuring long, tapered fingers. She kept her nails of medium length and unpolished. She liked that.
Tenille was in the grip of feeling foolish. She wanted to speak to this girl, but was too conscious of her proximity. She felt helpless to do or say, anything. A lassitude seemed to have overtaken her, the inertia insurmountable. Tension from the past two weeks was slowly ebbing away and with it, all ability to make a decision. Reflecting on this, she realized what a nightmare she had just lived through, in contrast to sitting here, the dying pieces of her heart fluttering away, leaving it whole. She looked across at Sidonie and caught her eye. There was an instant, gentle smile to the lips, transforming the rather dour expression she had worn previously. She was overcome by the golden dazzle of that smile, as though lit from inside. She experienced an insane, crazy desire to kneel at her feet and thank her, from the bottom of her heart, for lifting this monstrous, ugly oppression from her.
“Goodness, how shocked she would be by such bizarre behavior. She’d think you some sort of nutcase, for sure.”
By the time the coffees arrived Tenille was able to look at the world without passing through an iron barrier of hurt and she noticed all the other patrons were female.
Sidonie, on the other hand, knowing what she had to do, still couldn’t bring herself to the point of no return. She didn’t want to have to face a ‘no go’. In the end it was Tenille who was the first to speak.
‘It’s very agreeable here, isn’t it? I didn’t notice the name of the place as we came in.’
‘It’s called The Woman’s Common.’ No further observation forthcoming.
At the risk of sounding trite, but she was doing her best to get the ball rolling, she asked: ‘Do you come here often?’
Sidonie smiled briefly at this. Tenille saw it but took no offence. It meant she was beginning to unbend.
‘I used to. I’ve not been here of late.’ She felt her resolve strengthening. ‘It’s a good place to talk, but I’ve had no one to talk to much … until …’ She swallowed hard, unable to finish, scared of the reaction it might evoke.
Tenille digested this
answer while she sipped her coffee. The ‘until’ hung in the air. She didn’t know how to respond.
‘Until?’ Good grief, this was heavy weather. Why couldn’t people just be themselves, leisurely and undisturbed
Clearing her throat again and swallowing down an awkward lump, Sidonie plunged on: ‘ …You came into my life.’ She stopped abruptly, choking on the words that now quivered between them … revealing, committing. At least they were out.
What to say? She had to get something going here. ‘Am I in your life?’
A pause: ‘It’s where I’d like you to be.’ The lump got bigger as the treacherous thought insinuated itself … “and under me too, if I had my way. Stop it Sid,” she chided. This was hard enough without straying into that dangerous territory.
It was obvious tension was gradually flowing from Tenille. Her deep set, expressive eyes were opening up. That previously grim, determined shape to her mouth was softening, returning to her lips those deliciously tender curves she so delighted in watching. Positive signs. She would pursue her objective more directly.
‘Tenille.’
She tilted her head as she turned to look, her glossy, raven hair shimmering with inner light as it swished round her enquiring face. Sidonie was drowning in the thoughts rampaging through her mind. She needed distraction and drank from her cup, returning it carefully to its saucer, as she tried to quell the fierce beating of her heart. She clenched her hands tightly, under the table.
‘Tenille. It’s … uh … been hard … not seeing you at the gym these past weeks.’ She had to break off; a deep flush colored her cheeks. She couldn’t continue to look at the woman beside her, so swivelled her gaze to the window. The traffic passed by in a blur.
Outing of the Heart Page 33
