by Harper Bliss
Juliette noticed how Steph tensed in her seat, but ignored it, happily surprised to have Nadia joining them unexpectedly. She turned around and looked at her partner, who had that relaxed, nonchalant air about her Juliette loved so much. Nadia was a summer child, someone who blossomed in time with the leaves on the trees.
Nadia kissed her on the lips, a lingering, sweet kiss, and for an instant, it was as if they were transported back in time to a year ago. When meeting after work like this was a regular occurrence, the four of them sitting on a terrace and engaging in the most relaxing banter, before she and Juliette would go home and sag in the sofa together, content with the day and each other.
“I just convinced them to go out with us this weekend,” Juliette said as Nadia sat down in the chair next to her.
“It took a whole lot of arm twisting,” Steph said, her demeanour casual again.
“I’m still working on Margot,” Nadia said. “Clubbing is not quite her thing.” They both looked at Claire expectantly.
“No guarantees,” Claire said. “Margot is not like us. She does things differently, which is why I like her so much. What a breath of fresh air.”
“Oh, thanks,” Steph said. “Sorry to be such predictable bores.” Juliette noticed how she exchanged a glance with Nadia she didn’t understand.
“Hey, Nadz…” Claire tried a sip of beer again before continuing to address Nadia. “Have you seen her? Has she, you know, said anything?” Juliette really had trouble recognising her best friend. She’d seen Claire in love, in lust, in pain, but hardly ever in a state of bewildered madness like this.
“Margot is not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but she does seem a lot more mellow these days… must be because of that new kickboxing instructor they hired at her gym.”
Juliette watched Claire’s face fall for an instant before the joke registered. “You’re evil, Nadia,” Claire said. “God, I need something else to drink.” She got up to place the order. “What will it be for Queen Mean,” she asked Nadia.
“Dry white, please. This weather is just asking for it.” Nadia patted Claire on the thigh amicably before she sauntered off inside.
The four of them like this, sitting around on a beautiful summer evening, felt like old times, but not quite.
Nadia would not be going home with Juliette tonight, and even if she did briefly, she wouldn’t be staying.
STEPH
Steph was blessed with an excellent pokerface, but sitting across from Juliette and Nadia like this, after what Nadia had confided in her, was not easy. Then there was the small matter of the dozens of messages from Dominique on her phone—a mobile provided by Barbier & Cyr. The messages were neutral enough to appear innocent to someone not in the know, but Steph knew very well what they meant. Truth be told, she’d been rather perplexed at Dominique’s tenacity to get her into bed again.
The fact that, out of all the women she’d bedded in the last years and had walked away from so easily—not always without tears from the other party—she couldn’t stop thinking about this one, was an irony that didn’t escape her.
But she knew Nadia was right on this matter, despite apparently not always making the best choices herself. Steph, hardly the image of virtue and monogamy herself, had been truly shell-shocked after Nadia’s confession. So perplexed that she’d found it, in that moment, easier than expected to brush off Dominique with a quick, business-like text after her proposal to stop by the Avenue Foch flat last night. Instead, she’d found herself nursing a solitary drink in a bar she’d never set foot in before, contemplating all the reasons why relationships were just not worth it in the end.
Steph knew Juliette through and through, not just because they were friends, but more so because they’d been working together for ten years. There’s no better way to acquaint yourself thoroughly with someone’s personality than spending eight hours a day beside them. Steph knew that, if Nadia told Juliette, it could well be the final straw.
“Earth to Stéphanie. Earth to Stéphanie,” Claire said, her elbow jabbing into Steph’s ribcage. “What’s up with you?”
Steph avoided looking at Nadia directly and, instead, swivelled in her seat to face Claire. Frankly, a much better view than the crumbling relationship on the other side of her, despite the front they were putting up. The way the four of them sat there, cosily around that table, elbows perched so they almost touched, implied an intimacy that didn’t tolerate secrets. Fat chance.
“Nothing.” Steph painted a care-free smile on her face. “Just imagining what it will be like to take three old birds to my stomping ground.”
“As if you’ll notice us at all.” Claire raised her glass for a toast. “But I’m looking forward to a night out with my besties.”
“Gosh, you really do have it good,” Juliette interjected, “if you’re now breaking out into spontaneous sentimentality.”
Lucky her. Steph wasn’t one to fall in love easily, choosing to protect herself from heartache and all the other complications she believed to be inherent to relationships—as if it was a choice at all. Still, here she sat, jealous of her friend and boss, for quite simply being able to vocalise her feelings. To have it out in the open and be teased about it. Such a simple, profound joy.
They clinked rims as if it was just another ordinary summer evening in the city of love, when Steph’s phone buzzed again. She dug it out of her pocket and shielded the screen from view.
Do I really need to send you a picture of my cleavage?
Steph couldn’t help but smile at Dominique’s audacity. She probably wasn’t used to the word ‘No’ that much either.
“One of your many admirers?” Juliette asked and reached out her hand playfully, as if wanting to snatch her phone to inspect the message.
“Don’t,” Nadia said, in a tone much harsher than the light atmosphere of the evening warranted.
“I’m just joking,” Juliette said, undercurrents of hurt playing in her voice.
Steph’s heart skipped a beat. Close calls like this were exactly the reason why this had to end. She ignored the message, a tinge of sadness creeping into her soul, and pocketed her phone.
“It was nothing.” She downed her beer in a few long gulps. “Next round’s on me.” She got up and headed inside, away from the questioning looks her friends shot her, two of them ignorantly and playfully, the third one knowing everything. It was that look she could bear the least.
NADIA
Nadia stared at the résumé as if it was the first time she laid eyes on it, despite having studied it for the past ten minutes. The photocopied black-and-white picture at the top right of the page was of poor quality, but Inez Larue still managed to look gorgeous after being xeroxed a few times. Shit.
Her hands were tied, the board had made sure of that. So much for autonomy. She had to hire the pretty ER doctor, fresh from a stint with Médecins Sans Frontières in Rwanda and India. Not only would Inez be starting a job at the same hospital as her ex-girlfriend Margot, but they’d end up working together on a daily basis as well.
Inez would only be joining them in a few weeks and Nadia decided to hold off telling Margot for now, at least until after the weekend. A weekend that would see them all going out together. Not that Nadia didn’t trust Steph to keep a secret, but, despite the brief relief telling another person had offered her, sharing her indiscretion with Steph had caused her more stress than she had expected. She’d sat across from Steph long enough the night before to notice that hint of disappointment in her eyes, the unease that came with knowing, the awkwardness of furtive, shared glances under the noses of the people they loved.
It was as if, by telling Steph, the burden of what she had done had multiplied. She’d been unable to go home with Juliette after the drinks at Le Comptoir. Both of them had been quite light-headed and unsteady on their feet, but Nadia had been afraid to face Juliette alone. Because, however meaningless the actual act of sleeping with someone else had been at the time, the repercussions tol
d another story. The reason why she’d gone that far and the rage she’d fallen into after, had blurred most of the guilt for months. But not anymore.
Nadia stared at the e-mail from Juliette blinking on her screen, at the flight details for their trip to Barcelona. Je t’aime, it said at the bottom.
She picked up her mobile from her desk and dialled Steph’s personal number.
“Allo,” Steph’s voice sounded as if she’d just come back from the dead.
“Are you all right?” Nadia wanted to cut straight to the chase, but she was worried about Steph. She had issues of her own to deal with.
“We drink too much.”
I wonder why. “I know,” Nadia agreed. “Can you talk?”
“Yes.” Steph didn’t sound very convinced, possibly because she could predict what was coming next.
“Should I tell her?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Steph?” Nadia knew it was unfair—so much seemed to be these days—but she had to talk to someone.
“Look, Nadz, it’s not really my place to say.”
“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I need another perspective on this. You know Juliette, you know what she’s like. I need your opinion on this.”
Steph cleared her throat. “I think it will destroy her.”
Tears burned behind Nadia’s eyes. Her throat was too closed up to speak.
“All the blame of whatever happened to your relationship will automatically fall on you, no matter what reason you give.” Silence again. Nadia waited. “But how can you possibly try to make things work again while keeping it from her?”
“I don’t know.” It was exactly the same conclusion Nadia had drawn herself many times. She’d had the distance between them to hide behind, and the fact that she’d started blaming Juliette for what had happened, souring their relationship even further. “Thanks, Steph.”
“I didn’t go see her,” Steph said, her voice suddenly smaller. “She’s not making it easy on me, though.”
Juliette would explode if she only had an inkling of what was going on behind her back, at home and at work. “Good for you. I mean it.”
They rang off and Nadia sat staring at her screen a while longer, none the wiser than before. Still, she knew it had to be done—she had known it all along.
* * *
Nadia slipped her key in the lock of the door to their flat, her stomach in knots and her resolve already crumbling to bits. How do you tell someone the last thing they want to hear? How could she possibly make her partner understand the total emptiness of that night, and how utterly lonely it had made her feel in the end?
“Hey, babe,” Juliette said, while greeting her with a peck on the cheek. “Here’s your wine.” She offered Nadia a glass of red, and it was as if they’d just stepped back a decade in time.
There was no way in hell Nadia could tell her tonight.
CLAIRE
Claire tried to remember the last time she’d invited a serious love interest to her place. She drew a blank. How utterly pathetic.
She sat across from Margot at her woefully underused dining table, trying to squeeze as much information out of her as possible. It wasn’t often she wanted to find out everything she could about another woman.
“How long were you and Juliette together?” Margot beat her to it.
“Two years, we’d both just started at university. She was my first, I wasn’t hers.”
“Two years with your first girlfriend? Intense.” Margot sipped her wine with more abandon than usual. She’d taken a taxi, which Claire had taken as an excellent sign of things to come.
“She broke my heart, you know, and look at us now.”
“I guess time does heal all wounds.” Margot pasted a silly smirk on her face.
“Said the doctor…” Claire shoved her plate to the side. “Additionally, most lesbians have the remarkable ability to transform heartbreak into friendship. I’ve never really understood that, despite having done it myself.”
“It’s fairly safe to say that’s an ability I, myself, do not possess.” Margot confirmed her statement with a jerky nod of the head. “When it’s over, it’s over. No looking back.”
“No friendly exes in your life, then?” Claire gently prodded.
“When Inez and I finally broke up, I was so relieved that she was in Africa. I couldn’t bear running into her. I haven’t seen her. She must come back from time to time, I presume, but I really couldn’t care less. Not anymore.”
“Tell me about her. What was she like?”
“Really? You want to hear about my ex?” Margot arched up her eyebrows before taking another sip of wine. “Is that really why you invited me to your fancy bachelorette pad tonight?”
God no. “I just want to get to know you better.” Claire felt put on the spot, an unfamiliar flush rising to her cheeks.
“Then ask me a better question.” Margot narrowed her eyes, creasing the skin around her temples.
“Have you been with anyone else since Inez?” If they were being direct…
“No. I have zero interest in being intimate with someone I don’t care about emotionally. It’s so hollow, so meaningless. A waste of my time, to be honest.”
“So you haven’t… in the last year?”
“Had sex?” Margot shook her head. “No.” She locked her black eyes on Claire’s. “You must go without for long stretches, or do you have fuck buddies?”
It sounded so ridiculous when Margot said it like that. “Well, no, not exactly, I just…”
“Am I making you blush?” Margot leaned over the table, studying Claire’s face. “How cute.” This only made Claire’s cheeks burn brighter. “Do go on…” She shot Claire a sexy half-smile.
Claire wondered how she’d lost grip of the conversation so easily, and what this woman was doing to her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was a single woman with healthy urges. There was nothing wrong with that. “I get by,” she murmured.
“I know most people don’t think the way I do. I’m not judging you. I’m sorry if I made it seem that way.” The kindness was back in Margot’s features.
“When I met you, I had a ‘friend with benefits’,” Claire curled her fingers into air quotes, ”but I ended it.”
“Oh, really. Why’s that?” It was Margot’s turn to sport a little blush. Not such an ice queen after all.
“Why do you think?”
“You really have to stop answering my questions with another question.”
“Who’s going to make me?” Claire grinned, enjoying the innuendo.
“Have you seen these biceps?” Margot wore a no-frills sleeveless blouse and Claire had, quite possibly, been staring at her toned upper arms for the better part of the evening. She flexed them only a little, but more than enough for the sight of them to make the heat return to Claire’s cheeks.
“Be my guest.” Claire, quite used to taking the initiative, was happy to toss the ball into Margot’s court, what with the clear statement she’d made earlier.
Margot just smiled, took another sip of her wine, and addressed Claire with an unexpected serious expression on her face. “I want it too.” She scratched her bicep nervously, only drawing more attention to it. “I do, but it’s too soon for me.”
Oddly, it was more than enough for Claire. She was in no rush. She stretched out her arm and reached for Margot’s hand across the table. “There’s nothing like a good dose of abstinence to build up the tension,” she joked. “And some French kissing.”
“Come here.” Margot pulled at her arm and slanted her torso over the table. Claire followed suit and met Margot halfway, her lips already parting for a delicious kiss.
JULIETTE
Juliette hadn’t been to Les Pêches in ages, but tonight she wanted to dance, and, even more so, she wanted to watch Nadia dance. She wanted to leer at her as she swayed her hips to the beat, put her arms around her shoulders, and claim her as hers in front of all the baby dykes sur
rounding them—not that they looked as if they cared one iota about the old-timers that had just walked in. Most of them did have eyes for Steph though, a few of them even turning their heads for Margot who, against all odds, had decided to join. She must really be fond of Claire.
The five of them stood by the bar, downing shots like people half their age. The more Juliette drank, the more bearable the incessant thud of the beat became. She turned to Claire and found her ear.
“How was your hot date last night?” she shouted over the music.
“Wonderful but frustrating,” Claire yelled back into her ear. “The more I see her, the more I want to rip those leathers off of her, but we’re still taking it slow.”
Juliette’s mind wandered to last night and how Nadia had barely taken the time to greet her, her mouth immediately too busy elsewhere. And she was the one who had insisted they’d talk more.
“I can see it now, you know. We should have given her a fair chance from the start.” Juliette eyed Margot, who stood with her back against the bar, one knee drawn up. She had one of the most impressive shoulder lines Juliette had laid eyes on. “And she’s smoking hot.”
Claire nodded. “And the best part is that she doesn’t even know it.”
“Come on,” Nadia interrupted their conversation. “We came here to dance, didn’t we?” She tugged at Juliette’s arms, dragging her towards the dance floor. Juliette hadn’t downed enough tequila to overcome most of her self-consciousness, but followed Nadia nevertheless, making eyes at Claire in the process, urging her to come along. She was fairly certain Margot wasn’t the dancing type. Then again, she’d misjudged her before.
Juliette wasn’t much for matching beats with her body either, but ten years ago, when she and Nadia still came here at least once every weekend, it was her favourite moment of the week. The music was different back then—less aggressive—and people weren’t dressed as if they’d be ready for a catwalk moment any minute, but either way, none of these memories compared to the first time she’d witnessed Nadia find her groove. It was as if the music moved through her, lived in her muscles and pulsed in her blood.
