One Way or Another

by A. L. Brooks

  “That he is,” Elise concurred. She closed the distance between them, and nudged Bethany with her shoulder. “Hey, are you okay today? You seem a little…rattled.”

  Bethany sighed. “Sorry.”

  “No, I wasn’t after an apology. Just concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine.” The words were a lie, but there was no way she was going to open up to Elise about the night before. They were work friends, and often supported each other with issues related to their teaching and their pupils, but they’d never really touched on private lives, and Bethany was happy to keep it that way.

  “Well, if there’s anything I can help with, just let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  No, she knew who could help, and as soon as her lunchtime shift was over, she nipped back to the staffroom to make a call.

  That evening, when she arrived at her mum’s house, Alice had already popped a quiche in the oven and thrown together a large mixed salad in a bowl. Two plates faced each other on the dining table, a jug of water with glasses sitting off to one side.

  “So,” Alice said, easing into one of the rickety chairs that ringed her table, “tell me all about it.” She poured them each a glass of water and motioned Bethany into the chair opposite.

  Bethany sat and huffed out a long breath. “I had a date with that Sarah woman last night.”

  “Oh! How was it?”

  “Ugh.”

  “Oh.” Alice sipped some water. “Explain ‘ugh’.”

  “She’s infuriating!” Bethany’s voice was louder than she’d anticipated, and she smiled ruefully when her mum winced. “Sorry. She just…ugh, she confuses me and annoys me and yet she’s so gorgeous and interesting and…”

  “Bethany, love, any chance you could start at the beginning?”

  Laughing, Bethany flopped back in her chair. “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, then pieced together the events of the night before into a coherent tale that gave her mum all the salient points, ending with, “And then she tried to apologise and claim she was trying to be different with me, whatever that means, but I knew it was all rubbish so I left.”

  She sat back, arms folded across her chest.

  Alice stared at her, gaze dropping to Bethany’s folded arms and back up to meet her eyes. “I’m not sure you really believe it was all rubbish, as you say,” she said, just as the oven timer pinged to report that the quiche was ready.

  She stood and walked to the oven, Bethany staring at her as she did so.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, indignant. Alice took her time responding, which only raised Bethany’s ire further. “Mum?” she prompted impatiently.

  “Well,” Alice said as she returned to the table with the tray of quiche held in thick oven gloves. “If you really believed it was rubbish, I don’t think you’d be in my kitchen right now wanting to talk all about it.” She smirked as she sat down and removed her oven gloves, tossing them onto a spare chair. “If everything was as cut and dried as you claim, I wouldn’t have got a phone call at lunchtime asking me if I was free this evening for a chat about ‘something that’s bothering me’, would I?”

  “All right, smarty pants,” Bethany muttered, and Alice laughed.

  Alice cut them each a generous slice of quiche and Bethany loaded up her own plate with a mountain of salad. They ate in silence, her mum waiting her out while Bethany thought through how to respond.

  “She confused me,” Bethany confessed eventually. “I wanted her to be the nice Sarah that helped me in the shop, the one that asked such good questions about my career last night, the one who’s travelled a lot and loves wine and…”

  “And she was all those things, wasn’t she?”

  Bethany nodded, then sighed, dropping her cutlery onto her half-empty plate. “She was. And so gorgeous, Mum. God…” She swallowed. “And then there were those total…asshole moments that made all of that seem to, I don’t know, disappear.”

  “You don’t think you were too hard on her, not staying when she apologised?”

  “I didn’t at the time.” Bethany blushed. “But in the cold light of day, I do now.”

  “Are you going to call her? Talk to her?”

  Bethany pondered that for a few moments. Could she? Did she want to? What if she did and Sarah either didn’t want to talk to her, or turned out to be as shallow as some of those comments suggested? She didn’t know which was the real Sarah—that was the trouble. Of course, the only way to find that out was to try to see her again…

  “I don’t know, Mum. I really don’t know.”

  “Cheeky little sherry before dinner, Sarah?” Jonathan called from across the room.

  “Of course,” Sarah said with a grin.

  They settled on the sofa with their drinks; Evelyn was already in her chair, her own glass of sherry on the small side-table next to her.

  “So,” Jonathan said, setting his drink down on the coffee table, “Evelyn tells me you have woman trouble.”

  “Yes,” Evelyn chimed in, “why don’t we get right on with it.”

  Sarah swallowed. Now that she was here with her requested audience, talking about it seemed stupid.

  “Sure you don’t want to eat first?”

  “No,” chorused two voices.

  “Right. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Well, remember I mentioned that woman I met on Friday night?”

  “The one who turned you down?” Jonathan clarified.

  “Yeah. Her. Bethany. Well, I did give her my card before we parted ways, and she actually called me up yesterday, and we went out for drinks.”

  “Marvellous,” Evelyn said, her eyes sparkling.

  “It was. It was…wonderful. Um, mostly.” Sarah shook her head in frustration.

  “Wait.” Jonathan held up a hand. “I’ll get back to the ‘mostly’ comment in a second, but Sarah, did you just hear yourself then? How…dreamy you sounded?”

  He was smirking. Sarah groaned.

  “Yes. And that’s part of the problem. She’s made me weird.”

  Jonathan howled with laughter.

  “Sarah, dear, what do you mean? Weird?” Evelyn looked perturbed.

  Sarah shrugged. “You know… Weird. Like…like I didn’t automatically just want a one-night stand with her. We talked and laughed, and we had a lot of interesting things in common. She’s very sweet, a little shy, but she’s also got this feisty streak to her. She knows what she wants.” She chuckled. “And she was pretty amazing considering one of my, um, conquests from earlier this year tried to sabotage our evening.” She shook her head. “I loved spending time with her and I realised I didn’t need or want to play any of my usual games, not with her.”

  She glared at Jonathan, who was now chuckling into his sherry.

  “Will you stop that? It’s not funny.”

  “Oh, darling, it’s perfect! Finally, finally you’ve found a woman to tame you.” He stopped laughing and his eyes softened. “I’m very happy for you.”

  “Whatever,” Sarah mumbled.

  “Now, can we step back to the ‘mostly’ comment—what does that mean?”

  His intense gaze made Sarah squirm. “Uh, well, I might have, um, said a few things I shouldn’t,” she offered meekly.

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Oh, really.” His tone was as dry as a desert. “Were you an asshole?”

  “Jonathan!” Evelyn snapped.

  “No, it’s okay, Evelyn. He used the right word.”

  “Well, what does it mean?” Evelyn asked, looking confused.

  Sarah sighed. “It means I was crass and immature and, well, ‘a Neanderthal’, as Bethany put it.”

  Jonathan snorted. “She actually called you that?”

  “Yep.”

  “I like her,” he said, grinning.

  Sarah threw him a gl
are, but he merely laughed in her face.

  “Well, I think she sounds awfully rude, dear.” Evelyn’s tone was haughty. “And,” she said, waving a thin hand in the air, “now you know she is like that, you can move on. Your next adventure awaits.” She smiled, her eyes bright.

  “I guess,” Sarah mumbled before she could stop herself. “She doesn’t want to see me again anyway. She made that perfectly clear.”

  “Well, there you are then. Move on, dear.” Evelyn sat back in her chair, satisfaction written all over her face.

  “Whoa, wait up there, madam. I’m not sure that’s what Sarah wants. Is it?” Jonathan stared at her.

  Sarah blinked, swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “Ah!” Jonathan exclaimed, triumphant.

  “Now wait just a minute,” Sarah said finally, sitting up straight, a mild panic coursing through her veins. “This is not a good thing. It’s wrong, in so many ways. I can’t do this.”

  “It’s just not your style, is it, dear?” Evelyn sounded smug.

  “Exactly! Thank you, Evelyn.”

  “Well, that’s that sorted. Shall we have dinner?” Evelyn braced herself to rise from her chair.

  “Hang on,” Jonathan exclaimed, holding up a hand, “we’re not remotely done here. Sarah, what exactly is your problem with this situation?”

  Evelyn sat back down, sighing.

  Sarah knew it was a long shot thinking she’d be able to get away without a Jonathan lecture. “I dunno.”

  Voice like acid, Jonathan said, “Sarah, you are thirty-two years old, not fourteen. I am quite certain you can express yourself more eloquently than that.”

  She took a few moments to find the words. Talking about feelings had never been her strong point.

  “I feel unsettled by last night. Apart from the bits I screwed up, the evening was wonderful and yet so very far from my comfort zone. Being with Bethany made me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know what to do about that.” She closed her eyes. “It scares me,” she finished, her voice only just above a whisper.

  For once, both Evelyn and Jonathan were silent.

  Then Jonathan said, “And what exactly scares you?”

  “Feeling,” Sarah replied, still whispering. “Caring. Trusting.” She looked up at Evelyn. “I can’t help thinking back to Amber.”

  Evelyn nodded, a small frown on her face. “I understand. I mean, it is rather different circumstances, but, yes, I can see why you would think that.” She pressed her hands together. “If you are not ready, you are not ready. I say, don’t worry about it, and move on. There is nothing that says you have to settle down yet. You are only thirty-two, Sarah. You should be out enjoying yourself, not worrying about all that serious business.”

  “Who’s Amber?” Jonathan turned to look at Sarah.

  Sarah waved the question off. “Thanks, Evelyn. You’re right.”

  “Wait, who’s Amber?” Jonathan’s face was creased into a deep frown. “And who says Evelyn’s right?”

  “Of course I am right!” Evelyn said, sitting up in her chair and crossing her arms.

  “I don’t think she is at all, Sarah,” Jonathan said, his tone beseeching, “and I don’t think you really want to do all this playing around anymore either. I think meeting Bethany has made that very clear to you.”

  “Argh!” Sarah stood up and paced the room. “I knew it was a mistake talking to you two.”

  “Sarah.” Jonathan spoke softly, as if afraid she’d run out of the room if he pushed any harder. “Who’s Amber?”

  Sarah stopped pacing and turned away, leaning against the mantelpiece and closing her eyes.

  “Tell him, dear. Then he will understand. And then perhaps we will be able to eat.” Evelyn’s tone was scathing, and Sarah couldn’t help snorting.

  She turned back to face Jonathan, who was topping off their sherry glasses.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” Evelyn snapped, although she did reach for the filled glass.

  “Anything to shut you up, Evelyn dear,” Jonathan said with a wink.

  Evelyn tutted, but her eyes were twinkling as she sipped her sherry.

  Sarah took the glass Jonathan offered her, sipping once before speaking.

  “Amber was my best friend from about the age of fourteen. We were so close, did everything together, and she helped me a lot when all that stuff came out about my family. I always knew there was something different about me, and I finally got comfortable with my sexuality when I was about seventeen, so it made perfect sense to tell my best friend, right?” Sarah sighed. “But Amber never gave me a chance to explain that I wasn’t coming out to her because I fancied her. I just wanted my closest friend to know this one important, but at the same time irrelevant, thing about me, but she completely misconstrued it.”

  “Oh, shit,” Jonathan murmured.

  “Quite,” Evelyn said.

  “Yeah.” Sarah sat back down on the sofa next to Jonathan and took another sip. “So, Amber ran, and refused to return any of my calls or emails. When I tried to see her at her parents’ house, her mother turned me away, a nasty sneer on her face. And that was the end of that.”

  When she looked at Jonathan, the sympathetic understanding was clear on his face.

  “The whole thing blew what little trust I had in people out the water. After what happened with my parents, and the way she’d stood by me, and been there for me, I trusted Amber with my true self. And she threw that back in my face.” She gulped down the last of her drink. “So, I can’t do that again. I can’t let anyone get that close.”

  The tears were forming but there was no way she was going to let them fall. She swallowed hard a few times until the urge to cry went away.

  “Oh, Sarah,” Jonathan said, one hand slowly reaching for hers and squeezing tight. “Thank you for telling me that. But…” He sighed. “Bethany is not Amber. For one thing, Bethany appears to be completely at ease with her own sexual orientation. For another, she is a mature adult, and everything you’ve told us about last night makes it sound like she’s a lovely person.”

  Sarah met Jonathan’s eyes. “I know,” she whispered.

  Much to her surprise, his words tempered the pain that always accompanied the retelling of the Amber story. Even Evelyn, to some extent, had tried to dissuade her from being so distrustful of everyone after Amber, but she had refused to listen. As a consequence, over the years she had gradually descended into a life of meaningless hook-ups and way too much partying. And it was Evelyn who had come down hard on her in her mid-twenties when Sarah’s drinking had threatened to get out of control. It was why she had turned to exercise, healthy eating, and drinking alcohol only in moderation.

  Jonathan had come into Evelyn’s life in the midst of Sarah’s wilder years, and had watched—and helped—her progression to the healthy woman she was now. He gazed at her with love, affection, and understanding.

  “You like Bethany, yes?”

  Sarah nodded. That was most definitely true. She smiled as an image of Bethany’s face appeared in her mind’s eye.

  “Then why fight it? Why not try, just this once, to see how different it can be to have a real relationship, rather than a one-night stand?”

  “Relationship?” Sarah squeaked, her eyebrows shooting upwards.

  Jonathan chuckled. “Yes, darling. Relationship. Go on a second date. And a third. And here’s a thought—don’t have sex with her until she makes it very clear she’s ready. And when you do, don’t do your usual and sneak away from her the next morning. Try cuddling. And breakfast in bed. See where it takes you, rather than letting it scare you away.”

  That was crazy, but at the same time, with Bethany in mind, it all sounded…tempting.

  “But what if she won’t see me again?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Yo
u won’t know unless you ask her.”

  “Evelyn, what do you think?” Sarah asked.

  Her aunt shrugged. “You know what I think, dear. There is so much time to have a relationship later. You can have lots of fun now and still think about that in the future.”

  Jonathan snorted. “Why am I not surprised that’s your response?”

  Evelyn huffed. “I am entitled to my opinion, you know.”

  “True,” Jonathan concurred. “And one day you’ll tell me just why you are so averse to anyone settling down. But,” he turned to look directly at her, “it’s your choice, Sarah. Your aunt and I clearly have different ideas about what you should do with your life, but it is your life. Your choice.”

  Sarah slumped back against the sofa.

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” She smiled at them both. “I mean it. Thanks for listening and everything.”

  They both nodded.

  “Can we eat now?” Evelyn asked.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m sorry, but that’s all Professor Mitchell has time for,” the seminar host said, and Bethany dropped her hand. Her question would have to remain unanswered, but perhaps, as the professor had said, she could email it through.

  “I’d like to thank Professor Mitchell for her time this evening, and I’m sure you’ll all agree that it was, indeed, illuminating research which gives us much to think about.” The host began clapping and the room joined her in a long round of applause. Professor Mitchell nodded numerous times until the clapping gradually came to a halt and the room filled instead with the murmur of many voices and chairs pushing back.

  Bethany bent to pick up her shoulder bag, stuffing the seminar notes and her notebook into its depths before slinging its long strap over her head to drop down over one shoulder. With the bag securely nestled on one hip, she walked along the now empty row of chairs to the aisle.

  “Bethany? Oh, wow, is that really you?”

  She knew the voice, and in the split second it took to register in her brain, she threw a huge sigh at the universe. Really? Her? After all this time? Thanks a bunch. Bethany turned to her left, to the row of chairs opposite the one she’d just left, schooling her features as she’d done so many times in the past when faced with—