by Harper Bliss
She wondered whether Jane was getting any sleep. She hoped so. Two exhausted people in one house could only lead to more friction tomorrow. Maybe Annie should have bit the bullet and taken Jane up on her offer to go on holiday to New Zealand. Maybe she had let the shop become too much a part of her. And perhaps she had made the mistake of putting it ahead of their marriage. Maybe. Perhaps. What if. Well, Annie wasn’t perfect. She didn’t always make the best choices—nor did Jane for that matter. No one did.
Exasperated, because even the notion of sleep seemed miles away, Annie pushed herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She tiptoed to the bedroom door and pushed it ajar. It was darker than in the living room and her eyes had to adjust. It took a moment before she could make out Jane.
She was of half a mind to just crawl into bed with her wife. Push her body against Jane’s warm, sleepy one, and hug their differences away. But this wasn’t an offense to their relationship that could just be hugged away.
A gentle purr came from the bed. At least Jane was sleeping. Good for her. Although she might wake up more well-rested in the morning, Annie doubted she would offer to open up the shop for her any time soon.
Jane had minded the shop all afternoon yesterday and while Annie had understood her reaction—she believed it was more fueled by jealousy than anger—it had been pure agony for her. For all she knew, Jane had really blown a fuse and was calling Kristin all sorts of names—even though that wasn’t Jane’s style at all. Every time she went for a listen in the hallway, the murmurs from downstairs had sounded like the everyday sounds of a book and coffee shop running alongside each other. No raised voices, although Annie could well imagine that Jane was staring daggers at Kristin. That was much more her style.
After Jane had come up, she’d locked herself in her office, something she never did in the evening. Annie went down to the shop and made sure everything was left in order for the next day, before returning to the flat to flick restlessly through TV channels. A quick look at the receipts informed her it had been an above-average day. Jane had probably been busy. It was ironic that she’d had to step out of her comfort zone so much just to spite Annie.
Annie had knocked on the door and asked whether Jane wanted some dinner. An offer she had refused with a curt, “No, thanks.” At least Annie was still afforded the courtesy of being thanked for asking.
They hadn’t talked and Jane was obviously still stewing. When it started getting late and Annie’s eyelids started fluttering shut, Jane had come out of her office and had dumped Annie’s pillow and the spare duvet on the couch, making the sleeping arrangements for the night clear.
But at least Jane was sleeping. Annie hoped a good night’s rest would allow her to wake up with a bit more peace of mind and clarity about the situation.
Annie closed the bedroom door, then changed her mind and left it ajar. She wanted Jane to notice she’d come to check on her. However minute the gesture, it was the only way to let Jane know how much she cared.
Annie woke up to the sound of her phone alarm. She wasn’t used to the ringtone and had to get her bearings for a moment. Couch. Backache. Standoff with Jane. Right. It was going to be a wonderful Sunday.
She stretched her stiff limbs and asked herself again why she insisted on opening the shop on Sundays. They were usually slow days. Before the Pink Bean had taken residence and business had picked up, slow days were better than closed days, but now Annie considered revising her Sunday opening times. She would crunch some numbers this week to see how it would affect the shop’s bottom line. Or maybe she could just open later, because who wanted to buy a book at 9 a.m. on a Sunday anyway? Or perhaps she could even strike a deal with Kristin… Oh. No, better not. Best not strike any deals with Kristin any time soon.
Annie dragged her tired body off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom. All was silent in the apartment. Jane must still be sleeping. Annie tried to be as quiet as possible, but the bathroom was adjacent to their bedroom and water running while Annie took a much-needed shower might wake Jane. At least she’d gotten some sleep. Annie might have been woken up by her phone alarm, but she must have only dozed off just before it started blaring.
When she stepped out of the shower and looked at her reflection in the mirror she wondered whether, if seventy was the new fifty as some media wanted to make people believe, sixty was the new forty. Today, Annie felt much older than her fifty-seven years. She always refused to think of herself as getting old, even though her older sister had grandchildren who obviously thought that being in your fifties was as old as the hills. To a four-year-old, she and her sister must appear ancient.
When she exited the bathroom, Jane was brewing coffee in the kitchen.
“Morning,” Annie said and, out of habit, almost wrapped her arms around her wife. Their relationship was usually so tactile and there was always comfort to be found in an outstretched hand or a stray kiss. She missed the closeness of their touch already and it had barely been a day.
“Hey.” At least Jane was talking, if that grunted word could pass for speech.
“Did you get some sleep?” Annie leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. She was dying for some coffee. Anything to jolt her that little bit more awake.
Jane nodded, then turned away and poured coffee in two mugs. She gave one to Annie, indicating that she was willing to be civil. “You?”
“That couch doesn’t really agree with me.” Annie studied Jane. She was wearing her writing clothes. An old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her hair was unbrushed and unruly, her gaze still soft with morning sleepiness.
“I can open up the shop if you want to get a few hours of sleep in bed.”
Annie had to keep her mouth from falling open. A peace offering already? She hesitated whether to take it. “Maybe this afternoon. I’m already up and showered anyway.” She inched a little closer. “Can we talk later?”
Jane nodded, a slow up and down of the head.
“Will you come down for a cappuccino?” Annie ventured a smile.
“Yes, and to say hi to Mia.”
Annie beamed a full smile at her wife. “Any exciting plans for the day? I see you’ve slipped into your writing pants.”
“Just some journaling and reading, I think. And let my readers know the next book will be delayed.”
“We can talk about that too later, if you like.”
“Hm.” Jane clearly wasn’t feeling very talkative yet.
“Time to open the shop.” Annie stood there wondering whether it was appropriate to kiss her own wife on the cheek. She decided against it and let Jane set the pace of their reconciliation.
Mia slanted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re up to running the shop today? You look a bit worse for wear.”
“Given the choice, I would have stayed in bed this morning.” She gave Mia an apologetic smile. “How was the flat hunt yesterday?”
“Depressing.” Mia’s usually cheerful face fell. “The dives real estate agents have the nerve to pass as apartments. And expensive apartments at that. I think Lou will have to move in with me above the fish and chip shop. At least it will be cozy. By the way, cozy is real estate speak for very tiny.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It was only your first day of looking, though.”
“I think for Lou it was her last. She was so appalled by the price difference between flats in Brisbane and Sydney. I don’t blame her. But we may have to start looking in other neighborhoods.” She shrugged. “We’ll see. We’re not in a great rush. We’re just being very lesbian about wanting to move in together.” The legendary Mia smile was back. “So, what am I going to do about you today? Have you had your morning coffee? Because I’m about to fire up the machine.”
“I will gladly have another.”
“Coming right up.”
Annie watched Mia make her way behind the counter while she sank into a chair. She should have taken Jane up on her offer to open up the shop and get a few more hours of sleep. Just
seeing Mia, and her early thirty-something energy, made her tired and very aware she was no spring chicken anymore—not a sentiment that usually bothered Annie.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mia asked when she presented Annie with a steaming mug of black goodness.
Annie huffed out some air. “Honestly, I would love to talk about it, but I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t say that.” Mia painted on her widest smile. “Now you’ve made me all curious.”
“Let’s just say Jane and I had a bit of a fight.”
“Ah. I get it. I won’t inquire any further then. I’m sure you’ll sort it out.”
Annie was certain of that as well. Even last night, in the depths of the despair that comes with sleeplessness, she never feared for the actual survival of their marriage. When you’ve been together as long as they had and, more importantly, as happily as they’d been, things didn’t go bust that easily. Especially not after they’d made it through the Beth Walsh debacle. Annie liked to think they’d learned some lessons from that, painful though they were.
The first customer of the day announced herself. Annie had her back to the door, but she was certain it was their neighbor Agatha who had developed a taste for Pink Bean lattes and was usually the first to walk in.
She turned in her seat and gave Agatha a bright smile—much brighter than she felt. If all else failed, she had the familiarity and comfort of this shop to fall back on. It would make the passage of time until she and Jane could go back to how they were before, go that little bit faster.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“At least you look better than your Missus,” Mia said. Jane had insisted Annie get some sleep. She knew what sleeping on the couch did to a person, not only physically, but to their morale, and if she and Annie were to have a chat later today, she wanted Annie to have slept soundly for at least a few hours.
Jane arched her eyebrows. Had Annie confided in Mia as well as in Kristin? A pang of anger shot through her at the memory of Annie talking to Kristin. But no, Mia was only commenting on how Jane looked in comparison to Annie, whose ashen complexion easily betrayed her lack of sleep.
“Thanks, I guess,” Jane said sheepishly. “Did Annie say something?”
“Just that she was in the doghouse. And I didn’t pry.” Mia gave her a quizzical look. “But I’m here if you want to talk. Baristas can provide the same set of patient, listening ears as bartenders, even though we don’t serve alcohol to lubricate the vocal chords.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get in the middle of our spat,” Jane said. Spat. Was that all this was? Or did it run deeper?
“I hope it will be resolved soon.” Mia started wiping down tables.
“Me too,” Jane whispered.
The door of the shop flew open and Caitlin and Josephine walked in.
“Well, well,” Mia said, “look who the cat dragged in.” She greeted them both with a peck on the cheek.
“Two of your finest coffees, please,” Caitlin said. “We are on a farewell tour of Newtown. Josephine is handing the keys to her swanky digs back to her landlord tomorrow and has, finally, officially moved in with me.” Caitlin drew her lips into a triumphant smile.
“Congratulations,” Mia said from behind the coffee machine. “Any chance of your former swanky digs being affordable and still available, Jo? Lou and I went on a very frustrating apartment hunt yesterday.” She stuck her head out above the machine and rolled her eyes at them.
“Trust me, Mia,” Caitlin said. “Jo’s flat might be affordable and available, but it’s the polar opposite of swanky.”
“If you don’t mind living amid a bunch of students,” Jo ignored Caitlin’s jibe at her former home. “It might not be a Darlinghurst penthouse, but it served me well for many years. And it has two bedrooms.”
“I’ll talk to Lou, but I don’t have high hopes. She’s been spoiled by living in Brisbane and her standards are a bit higher than mine.” Mia handed Jo and Caitlin their drinks. “Would you like one?” she asked Jane.
“Sure.” Jane emerged from behind the counter and joined them. Seeing Caitlin again reminded her of the remark that had caused the penny about Annie’s feelings for Kristin to drop. What had at first appeared as an innocent enough comment, had been far from it. As a result, Jane didn’t quite know how to carry herself around Caitlin. She also wondered whether Caitlin had told Josephine. She probably had. Which made Jane look even more the fool.
“Any idea what the final tally of last Friday’s sales were?” Caitlin asked.
Jane shook her head. “Sorry, you should ask Annie.” Caitlin’s book reading felt like something that had happened weeks ago instead of days.
“Where is she?” Caitlin fixed her gaze on Jane.
“Upstairs.” Caitlin knew too much and it unsettled Jane. It was as though, with that stare, she was trying to remind Jane that she did. Jane wasn’t sure she liked Caitlin James very much. Even though without her meddling comment she might still be none the wiser, there was something smug about her that Jane was instinctively allergic to.
“Guess who’s going to have her own TV show on ANBC soon?” Josephine said. Jane wondered whether she spoke to defuse the mounting tension. Josephine struck her as a totally different character than Caitlin.
“No way, Caitlin. Have you finally succumbed?” Mia asked.
“I did promise Zoya I would keep her seat warm in case things don’t work out for her in Paris and she wants to come back.”
“Yes, darling. We all know you’re doing this out of friendship and nothing but the goodness of your own heart.” Josephine patted Caitlin on the knee, then looked at Jane and smiled. “She’s not doing it for the attention at all.”
“You know very well that I only see attention as a secondary perk—and sometimes not even a perk at all,” Caitlin said.
“Oh really. Please, ladies, do chime in and tell me whether the woman you saw reading in this very shop last Friday night was someone who doesn’t crave the spotlight?” Josephine’s tone intensified, making Jane wonder whether this was all still said in jest or whether they were duking out a previously started argument in public.
“How about I’m simply the right woman for the job?” Caitlin asked. “And speaking of craving the spotlight, a woman who has just moved in with me seems to have taken to it as well.”
Jane sipped from her coffee and let her gaze flick from one woman to the other. She might not have Caitlin’s finely-honed intuition, but she knew something was going on here.
She was glad when the door opened and a pair of men with two little children walked in. Mia looked relieved to be able to get up as well. She also appeared to know the men and greeted them abundantly.
“Could you point us to your children’s book section, please?” the guy with the beard asked. “We’re looking for something with lots of pictures.” He shot Jane a kind smile. “They don’t know how to read just yet.”
The girl child had hopped into Mia’s arms. The boy was tugging at her t-shirt. They seemed elated to see her.
Jane indicated the very small section of the shop where they stocked books for children. “I hope you can find something they like.” Jane addressed the fathers, because she never really knew how to speak to children. “It’s not really our specialty.”
“We’ve actually come to see Mia’s new habitat,” the other man—same style, no beard—said. “We’re neighbors of Kristin and Sheryl in Darlinghurst.”
“And friends of Lou’s,” the other one said and extended his hand. “You must be Annie. I’m Jared and this is Phil. The tiny monsters are Yasmine and Toby. We’re not sure why, but they seem to have taken to Mia.” Jane shook his hand.
“This is Annie’s wife, Jane,” Mia said.
“Oh, the writer,” Jared exclaimed. “Mia has told us all about you.”
“Only good things,” Mia was quick to say. Yasmine had thrown her arms around Mia’s neck and was trying to whisper something in her ear.
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Jane wished Annie was here to deal with all this ruckus. It was Sunday, a day when they almost never had more than two people in the shop at the same time.
“Can we see the books now, Daddy,” the boy said in the plaintive voice of small children.
“Duty calls.” Jared took the boy by the hand.
Yasmine jumped out of Mia’s arms and followed them.
While Mia prepared coffees for the men, Jane wondered how well they knew Sheryl and Kristin—and who Kristin might have told about Annie.
“I won’t be watching the Caitlin James show, that’s for sure,” Jane said before popping a piece of spring roll into her mouth. Sunday nights were like Friday nights to them and they usually got a takeout.
“She is entertaining to watch.” Annie looked as though she had caught up on some sleep.
“She’s a show pony who is too up in other people’s business.”
“I agree that she’s forward, but you can’t accuse her of being all style and no substance.”
Jane shrugged. “There’s just something about her I don’t like.” Jane figured she was complaining about Caitlin because she wasn’t ready to address the issues between her and her wife just yet. “And what’s with all the non-monogamy stuff? I can sort of grasp the concept, but how does it even work on a practical level? Do you think she asks Josephine to come home late on certain nights of the week?”
Annie put down her fork and regarded Jane intensely. “You seem a bit worked up.”
“I guess I am.” The greasy Chinese grub wasn’t going down too well with Jane and she shoved her plate to the side. “I know adding the Pink Bean to the shop has been good for business, but sometimes I kind of miss when it was just us.”
Annie pulled her lips into a soft smile. “Me too, babe. Although it’s such a relief to have a bit more liveliness in the shop. To sit behind that counter for all those hours without seeing a living soul some days was very disheartening.”
