Where We Belong

by Fox Brison

  But I was finding it impossible to be happy for them because I couldn’t help thinking it should’ve been me in Elisha’s arms, not Sam.

  ***

  I wasn’t certain what woke me. I had grown accustomed to silence when I slept, and being in a city again every little noise made me jump. I got up to fetch a glass of water. Sam wasn’t beside me so I presumed they were still out clubbing. Stumbling in the dark, I passed through the living room and switched on the kitchen light. Turning with my drink in hand I paused, the glass half way to my lips. I lowered it, unable to believe my eyes.

  Sam and Elisha were spooning on the sofa bed.

  Rooted to the spot for a good thirty seconds or more, I finally managed to drag myself back to bed. I didn’t lie down, I remained in an upright position and drew my knees up to my chest. I rocked back and forth.

  That’s when I realised I was crying again.

  Chapter 27

  Elisha

  I left Kate and Shannon’s flat before anyone else had risen from their pillows. I felt like a louse; opening my eyes and finding Sam draped over me was one hell of a wake-up call. What the fuck did we do? I stared, aghast. We were both fully clothed, but that didn’t necessarily mean we didn’t…

  Jesus, I must have been locked out of my tree like a monkey who forgot her keys!

  ***

  “I knew I’d find you here,” Shannon said from the doorway of Joe’s greasy spoon. She ordered coffee and a bacon roll, then joined me at my table.

  “Our morning after café,” I answered with a smile.

  “We kept Joe going for a good few years,” she reminisced fondly.

  “That we did.”

  “I miss you, Leesh.”

  “I’m in Sligo, not Australia,” I chuckled at the sombre tone and gravitas she had given those four little words. “And you’ll be home for the bank holiday to see the family.”

  She brightened immediately. “I will! And speaking of family, how are things at home?”

  “Good.”

  “Really?” she feigned shock. Okay, so it wasn’t feigned. “You and Isabella are getting along?”

  “So you got me. It’s been… amicable.” I chose my words carefully, nonetheless it was the truth. We hadn’t crossed swords for a while, perhaps because we’d hardly seen each other recently! I’m sure should I ever set up home with a woman there’d be hell to pay, but I was more likely to marry Red the way my love life was going.

  “Amicable? So was the fight between Aries and Diana.”

  Wonder Woman was Shannon’s new favourite movie and she’d managed to reference it at least twelve times in forty-eight hours. I was growing fed up of it, to be honest, and if I was goodness knows how Kate was coping. Sure, Gal Godot was a babe, and double sure it was great to finally see a superheroine. And come on, who didn’t love when those Amazons whupped butts on the beach? However, there are so many other films with strong women in their leads. And I said as much to Shannon. “How about Atomic Blonde? Charlize Theron and a kicking soundtrack! Or Star Wars. Crikey even Lara Croft!”

  “Yes, but none of those wore leather skirts in quite the same way,” she murmured dreamily.

  “Does your wife know about this fetish?”

  “Yup. In fact she bought a costume and-”

  “La la la,” I put my fingers in my ears. “I can’t hear you.”

  “Eejit. So come on, what’s up? Why are you sitting here at ten past eight after we only rolled in at four thirty?” Shannon thanked the waitress who brought over her breakfast.

  I shrugged. How could I explain I’d used Sam as a smokescreen to mask my true feelings.

  For Brianna.

  Ending up in bed together was simply to avoid disturbing Brianna, nothing more, nothing less. Her face had been pinched with exhaustion, so when she declined our pleas to come to the club, I didn’t push, but equally I wished I’d gone home with her, despite her insistence I show Sam a good time. My heart broke a little when I turned and saw her walking away, her normally strong shoulders slumped disconsolately.

  Still, if Brianna hadn’t been in the picture, if my mind wasn’t totally fixated on her, then the outcome between Sam and myself may have been different. Okay, so there’s no doubt the outcome would have been very different. I was in the middle of a long old dry spell, and Sam was a willing and attractive woman.

  But she wasn’t Brianna.

  “There’s someone-” I began diffidently.

  “Brianna,” Shannon said as quick as a flash.

  “Please tell me it isn’t obvious!”

  “Probably not to anyone else, but I know you, Leesh.”

  “Okay, yes, Brianna, but she’s straight and I’m not the kind of gal to break the golden rule,” I stated determinedly.

  “Amen to that sister!” Shannon said knowingly and equally sarcastically. She’d been there, done that, and wore the scars of a first curious love to prove it. “Mind you, she could be spaghetti.”

  “What?” I was completely lost.

  “You know, straight until you get her hot and wet!”

  “Jesus, where do you get these things?” It was at times like this I wished I carried a hip flask to add a little flavour to my coffee; it might help me deal with my cousin’s crazy!

  “All I mean is she could be fluid. I kinda get that vibe from her and it’s not like you to misread signals.”

  I shrugged again, my go to response this morning. I didn’t want to encourage Shannon by mentioning the lingering looks that were lasting longer and longer over valleys and dips that had nothing to do with mountains and everything to do with Brianna’s body. Jesus Christ, I had it bad. “Until Brianna tells me otherwise, she’s straight.”

  “So she has your mind, and clearly your nether regions, firmly in her grip. But what about your heart?”

  I didn’t answer immediately because the truth was as blunt as Brianna when she didn’t want to share her feelings yet knew she had to.

  “Yeah she’s got a hold of that too,” I confided mordantly.

  ***

  We arrived back at the flat as my favourite game, ‘Coming Out Stories’ was starting. Oh the joy.

  “I had to come out to my mother three times,” Kate shook her head and chuckled ruefully. “When I was seventeen I told her, then when I was twenty-two and living with Shannon I told her again. She told everyone I was travelling the world. Finally, I said enough was enough and brought Shannon to Christmas dinner.”

  “That was gas!” Shannon scoffed. “Hey, babe.” She kissed Kate and dropped a bag of croissants onto the table. They were gone in five seconds flat.

  “We were fifteen when Sam came out to me.” Brianna addressed Shannon. “When did you become gay?”

  “June 25th 2001,” Shannon replied, whippet quick. “I wrote it in my diary. I was tiptoeing through the enchanted forest when I came across a butch leprechaun with a buzz cut and a tool belt. She was wearing a green flannel shirt and had a rainbow tattoo on her arm, which I guess for her held a dual meaning. Anyway, she hit me with a rampant rabbit that doubled as a wand and hey presto, I was a lesbian.”

  Kate chuckled. “Rampant Rabbit wand. Love it, babe. For me it happened at a carnival. I walked into the fortune teller’s tent and with a hideous cackle, a gypsy woman sprinkled me with glitter and sprayed ju-ju juice over my head. Eh voila, I was a lesbian.” It was good-natured ribbing, but it held a note of you should know better.

  “I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Brianna asked quietly. Her voice was small and timid which raised my hackles.

  “For fecks sake, will ye wind your necks in, she didn’t mean it like that and you know it,” I blasted them both. It wasn’t easy negotiating a subject which was a potential minefield.

  They both stared at me, eyes wide open, and then Shannon nodded knowingly. She recognised the reason for my protective stance and immediately apologised. “Sorry, Bri, we were only messing, but Leesh is right, we took it a bit far.” She touched my hand, checking
I was okay. I gave her a subtle nod.

  “No it’s my fault, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve. I guess you’ve heard that sort of thing all your lives?” Brianna continued but with her head cocked in curiosity and empathy.

  “Yeah, still that’s no excuse for our behaviour,” Kate said.

  “Well let’s blame the hour and wine hangover. What I meant to say was when did you realise you were gay?” Brianna rephrased the question.

  “Or maybe accepted it,” Shannon suggested obligingly. “For me that was the bigger hurdle but thanks to Elisha, I had it relatively easy. She led the way and I followed.”

  “Led the way as far from home as I could.” I scoffed. The conversation flowed around me, but I wasn’t paying much attention, because like Shannon and her attraction to women, the emotion I bore for my housemate was there. I realised it. I accepted it.

  But unlike Shannon I had to ignore it.

  ***

  We said our goodbyes and headed to the airport to drop Sam before Brianna and I journeyed home. Brianna jumped in the back. She was quiet, much quieter than at the flat. It was almost as if Kate and Shannon were buffers allowing us to be ourselves. Something was on her mind, and for an instant, a smattering of a second, I wondered if it had something to do with our coming out stories...

  Was she questioning…

  Nah. Remember what you said in Westport, Leesh. Life is never that easy. She’s probably disappointed that the hospital and solicitors were another bust. You should have gone with her, you dope.

  Once at the airport I offered to drop Brianna and Sam off at departures and then come back round, but Brianna was having none of it. “I know you want to say your goodbyes properly,” she declared brightly but it was forced, fake, and truthfully bordered on the hysterical. So I parked up and carried Sam’s bag for her.

  “Back in a tick,” Brianna said as she went in search of the nearest bathroom. Again her actions were contrived; it was starting to worry me.

  “Has she always suffered from poor bladder control?” I asked Sam, more to make conversation than any real need to know.

  “It used to be worse. If we were anywhere new, the first thing we’d have to do was find out where the toilets were. You can imagine her horror when someone teased her about the public bathrooms on the continent basically being a hole in the ground two weeks before our Year 11 school tip. She almost didn’t go.” Sam tilted her head. “So this was fun.”

  “Yeah.” I hung my head. I felt lousy, still I’d feel worse-

  “It’s okay, Elisha. I’ve never liked being the runner up in anything, especially not when it comes to women.”

  She knew? Shannon had lied. My feelings were so obvious a total stranger recognised them. “Sam, I’m sorry.”

  “You should tell her,” she advised earnestly. I desperately wanted to follow Sam’s guidance, after all she knew Brianna better than anyone, but what if it backfired? I couldn’t risk losing another project manager.

  Or more importantly, Brianna.

  ***

  “So,” I said once we were well clear of Dublin. Usually silence didn’t bother me, but I was certain Brianna would have things she wanted to talk about.

  And the silence in this instance was deafening.

  “Hmm?” she looked out of the window.

  “Are you going to miss Sam?” I asked, hoping that was the reason for her travails.

  “I know you will,” she answered snarkily.

  I ignored the unkind tone. “She’s great, I can see why you love her so much,” I said equably. “Bri, are you alright? Did something happen yesterday at the hospital?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied coldly.

  “But-”

  “I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk.” She cut me dead.

  “Okay,” I said slowly, my mind in turmoil.

  The rest of the journey followed a similar pattern, I basically couldn’t do right for doing wrong.

  And I had no idea why.

  Chapter 28

  Brianna

  The world didn’t stop turning because I was having a strop (make that a jealous strop) which I was struggling to overcome, no matter how many times I told myself to stop being stupid.

  Apparently, when it came to Elisha Callery I was a complete and utter fool.

  The camp was, thankfully, proceeding apace after our earlier scheduling worries. We weren’t making hay, but we were as sure as hell putting up buildings whilst the sun shone.

  “So we’re back on track?” Dom asked as we inspected the site.

  “We are. And barring any further reliability issues with equipment, it should remain that way,” I noted pensively.

  He removed his hard hat and sat in the chair behind his own desk. Laughing he said, “If I was a superstitious man, I’d say we were cursed!”

  I retorted dryly, “Should we call for a priest?”

  “Ah, sure, look at, I reckon we’re over the worst of it. It’ll be plain sailing from here on in,” he stated confidently.

  “We’ll make sure it is.” Glancing out of the window I allowed myself a small, satisfied, smile. Despite our setbacks the three bunkhouses were already taking shape, as was the larger dining hall and office building. Framing was my favourite stage. It was when you could see the architect’s design grow from a two dimensional imagining to a three dimensional reality. Elisha was conscious about the environmental impact, so the whole complex bore the appearance of a working farm and was designed to meld into the background.

  Advanced framing techniques reduced the amount of sustainable wood that we used. The roofs would eventually be covered in sedum and moss helping to insulate, and rainwater was being harvested for toileting and irrigation. A wind turbine was also being installed to provide some electricity, as was a geothermal underfloor heating system. It was impressive because the cheaper and faster option would have been a traditional build, but I was beginning to learn Elisha was anything but traditional, not when it came to planning for the future.

  My favourite part of the site was the largest of the buildings which from the outside resembled a hay barn. Inside, however, it was light and airy, compromising a mezzanine floor within its capacious innards for offices. Elisha’s brief to the architect was to make the interior as exposed as possible, so apart from the counselling room the layout was open plan. I could understand why. The concept behind the project was to provide children with space to think, to play, to explore.

  To dream.

  I had no doubt it was going to be a monster success because I was experiencing all of those things and I was only building it.

  ***

  So professionally life was good. Personally? I couldn’t get the image of Sam’s arms wrapped around Elisha out of my head. Nor could I stop the dreams of Elisha and myself in bed. And finally there were the quieter moments when all I could think about was Sam and I possibly ruining our friendship. It was an ill-fated merry-go-round except this one was spinning at a thousand miles per hour, and one from which I was begging to get off.

  In fairness, thinking of Elisha provided the inspiration for me to get off time and time again, which really wasn’t helping the situation.

  If my daydreams continued to revolve around what she purchased in Soho thirteen years ago, and how she and I might best utilise it, I was going to lose it - or go blind!

  Thanks to this inferno of confusion, I became hormonal Brianna complete with serial killer resting bitch face. It was as if I was experiencing PMT and the menopause simultaneously, and as a result my relationship with Elisha was mutating into a fifties horror film monster, complete with snarling teeth and bloodshot eyes. This transformation was all on me, but I had no bloody idea how to reverse it without admitting the truth.

  Shannon was spot on.

  Step one was realising. Yup, I realised I was attracted to Elisha Callery. God was I ever! Step two was accepting, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wasn’t ready to shoulder the changes a same sex relationship
would have on my, until now, uncomplicated existence-

  “A rat!” My piercing shriek could be heard three counties over. At least spotting a rabid rodent put a stop to the wild ranting of my inner monologue!

  “What the hell?” Elisha burst through the door with an axe. An axe. I’m going to go with overkill despite being terror stricken.

  “It’s a rat!” I said, my voice five times more vociferous than usual. Because you know. Rats. Beady little creatures with sharp gnawing teeth.

  “You screamed blue murder because you saw a rat?” She lowered the axe and looked at me incredulously. “A rat?”

  “This one was the size of a bulldog,” I explained hysterically.

  “I thought you lived in London, you should be used to them!”

  “But I do not live in the eighteen nineties,” I retorted. “You need to catch it and kill it.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

  “You want me to catch a rat? Will ya cop onto yourself. I’ll put some poison down.” She waved it off negligently.

  “Oh great, poison,” I sneered.

  Elisha gripped the axe handle tighter and a mien of what I can only describe as psychopathic frustration washed over her face.

  And I thought my RBF was scary! I took a mental half step back.

  “Could you be any more unreasonable? I’ll lay traps instead. Now if there’s nothing else, your majesty?” She stormed off before I could apologise and explain, or complain some more, either was a viable option. My morbid fear of the order Rodentia stemmed from a childhood incident when Mark Douglas found a dead rat on the playground and dropped it down my shirt. The things little boys do for fun.

  Not.

  “Oooohhhh, if I get my hands on you, your majesty indeed.” I glowered at the back of the turf shed where the rat was waiting in ambush, its piercing red eyes seeking out the best place on my body to attack and sever an artery.

  I wasn’t going to sleep a wink tonight, and for once it would have nothing to do with sexual frustration and/or confusion!

  ***

  “Would it kill her to wash a few plates?” I grumbled, staring at the mess in the sink. “What am I, a fifties housewife with nothing better to do than cater to her every domestic whim?” I was tempted, sorely, sorely tempted, to leave the dishes, but I didn’t want to attract any more vermin. Drying my hands on the tea towel, I went to the bathroom, sat down… and realised after I’d finished so had the toilet paper. Washing up was one thing but not changing the loo roll?