A Gift from The Bard

"What, everything?"

"Most of it; I've never told him about Rosie or my, my other, um, lesbian experiences there. I'm not sure I could have but when Andrew became so upset and angry about what I had told him, well, there was no way I could tell him about Rosie. He became even more distant over the following weeks and then came those supposed late nights at meetings and days claiming to play golf... I was worried I had destroyed our marriage."

"But you sorted it out, didn't you; he came back and you forgave him."

"Yes. Your Father is a good man Emily; maybe if I'd been honest from the start and told him everything when we met, perhaps he'd have accepted it and forgiven me for my wayward past, but please understand why I can't tell him about Rosie, not now."

"So why did you tell me?" I ask in exasperation, "What's your point? Are you trying to say that I should do what you did and walk away from Suzie because I won't; I don't believe that loving Suzie is wrong and it's not 'sinful'. Mum, I tried to deny what I really felt for her for so long and it made me treat her horribly. And not just her, but Tom too: messing him around, letting him think that I had feelings for him that I never really did."

"Emily, my little Emily-Rose; are you sure you're not bisexual?" There is a desperate note in her voice, a pleading for some faint hope that I might, like her, meet and fall in love with a man one day. I take a deep breath.

"Well, maybe a little, but isn't that true of most people?" I reply, trying to be as honest as I can. "I mean, if Rosie were here now, and she asked you that question, could you say you're not? That there is no feeling for what you had with her? All I can say is I cannot imagine being as in love with a man as I am with Suzie. Isn't that what you'd say about Dad, that you couldn't imagine loving anyone as much as you love him?" She manages a nod and a small, tight smile that quickly fades.

"It's my fault; my fault you were attracted to Suzie and for not having been better at teaching you about God."

"Mum, there's no evidence that being gay or lesbian is inherited and the fact that I want to be with Suzie isn't your fault but God's: he made me the way I am and didn't give me the faith that you have."

"You shouldn't say that; you cannot judge God..." she protests

"I'm not judging him, Mum; I just don't want my mother blaming herself needlessly."

"But the Bible..."

"Was written thousands of years ago," I interrupt, "and there're loads of rules and instructions in there that people ignore because they're not relevant, not these days. Anyway, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't recall any mention of lesbians in the Bible." Her eyes narrow, suspecting that I'm mocking her but I'm not.

"I suppose that's true, in a way; not specifically, at least," she concedes.

"Besides, is the person I love, who I share my life and, um, even a bed with, is that really more important than being kind and honest, helping others and doing good in the world? Those are all things you and Dad taught me to value." She looks at me uncertainly.

"Perhaps you're right, but... I don't know. In the house Suzanna, sorry, Suzie said she thought I must be angry with you but how can I be? I know what it's like to... to have feelings for another woman, even if I love only Andrew now; I'm not a complete hypocrite, Emily, and I do love you." She holds her arms out offering a hug for the first time in a long time. I step in and hug her back. She takes a trembling breath.

"I know that, Mum," I assure her. A thought occurs to me. "Do you realize that was the first time you've called Dad by his name when talking to me."

"No, it can't be."

"I'm pretty sure it was. You know, Suzie's started calling her Mum 'Kate', not all the time but quite a lot," I tell Mum as the hug ends.

"Well, I'm not sure that's appropriate," she replies in a very Mum way. "Anyway, why would you want to?"

"I'm not saying I would, it's just, I don't know..." I struggle to explain what I feel. "Things don't have to be so, so, rigid, do they? It's like... I love you and Dad but I wouldn't love you less if I called you Jeanette and Andrew. It's the same with love: just because it's not between a man and a woman doesn't make it any less real or valid."

"Am I too rigid; is that what you're telling me?"

"Um... well maybe not everything in life has a rule to be followed," I suggest.

"Perhaps you're right. It won't be easy, but suppose I can try."

"Thanks, Mum. Actually, Suze says it still feels a bit weird calling her Mum 'Kate'," I admit, "but she still likes because it makes her feel that they're not just a mum and daughter but proper friends, especially after what happened."

"What, when she found out Suzie is a lesbian?"

"Er, sort of." Damn, what do I say? "Okay, you've been so honest with me... Kate found out about Suzie when she caught Suze and me in bed together. Well, not exactly caught: she walked into Suzie's bedroom and the two of us were cuddled up asleep in her bed... er, naked."

"Oh heavens! What did she do?"

"She went downstairs to have a cup of tea and think about it."

"I'm not sure I could have been so calm," she admits, somewhat vindicating my comments to Suze and Kate on that fateful morning. "So, what did she think?" Mum seems genuinely interested, perhaps to see how her reaction compares.

"Well, Kate admitted it was a shock, obviously, and she was worried that we might be bullied and called names and the like but mostly she seemed to want to know that I really cared for Suzie and that I wasn't just using her as an experiment in, like, being a lesbian."

"So she's okay with the two of you?"

"I think so, yes, on the whole. We talked a lot and she wants Suzie to be happy. Um..." Shit, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Mum sighs.

"I do want you to be happy, Emily, I really do but this is so hard. I'm sorry I'm not as cool as Kate."

"Mum, I always knew that your faith would make finding out I'm lesbian a challenge and, well, just because you'd feel uncomfortable with me calling you Jeanette doesn't mean you're not cool. All that you've told me this morning, I... I feel touched, honoured, that you shared that with me. I think, well, I think I see you more, like, as a real person now, does that make sense? And this could bring us closer together, maybe..." I hesitate, looking at her. I want to ask but the answer could be difficult. "Mum, I... I know your church says my love for Suzie is wrong but what do you feel?"

"I think... oh, hell: I hope you'll be happy, you and Suzie." She rubs my upper arm gently but the set of the mouth and thin, tight lips makes me think that this is what she wants to feel more than what she actually feels right now. Still, that alone gives me hope. I see her glance behind me. "Hello, Suzie." I turn quickly and smile.

"Hi, Suzie love." Behind her, just inside the back door, is Dad. "Sorry for abandoning you with Dad," I apologise, keeping my voice quiet.

"No, Andrew's fine," Suze replies easily. "Well, admittedly it was a bit awkward at first but once we started talking about the theatre and books it was okay and then we got onto, you know, sexuality and love. How about..?" Suzie's eyes flick towards Mum. Mum, however, is listening,

"Andrew?" She asks with a small smile. "From what Emily has told me you seem to have a penchant for first names. Well, I shall have to be Jeanette, I suppose. I can't say that you're the person I would have chosen for my daughter to fall in love with but I suppose I must try and accept it. Andrew?" She looks at Dad, who is standing on the back step and looking curiously at Mum.

"Jeanie, my darling, if you can accept Emily being in love with Suzie then I couldn't do less, could I? Anyway, it's scarcely our fault if Emily is, er, gay." He glances at Suzie for confirmation that the word is correct and she gives a little nod. "That she's gay. Suzie and I have been talking and I think she has a point. She said that she and Emily are attracted to women because that's just the way they are, the way God made them; how can He be a loving God if he then condemns the love that flows from that attraction?"

"Perhaps you're right," Mum answers. He voice isn't exactly cheerful but neither is it sad; maybe Dad taking our side gives her a way to lose an argument that she never really wanted to win.

I stare into Suzie's eyes with a smile that matches hers. "Suzie had a point, eh?" I tease gently.

"When it comes to being with you, Emmy, I guess I can be very persuasive!"

I glance up as I feel the first drops of rain start to fall and then back at my darling girlfriend. I so want to kiss her but, no matter how enticing the thought is, perhaps not in front of Mum.

"Let's go inside," suggests Mum as the rain increases. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Emily, stop looking at Suzie with moon eyes," she says brusquely, puncturing my optimistic mood. "I know you're happy so just kiss her and let's get out of the rain. I think I need a martini, Andrew: a large one." I stare as Mum walks past, Suze giggles and even Dad is smiling.

Our arms reach out and our lips meet. I watch Mum over Suzie's shoulder, wondering if she'll look back. Sure enough, she does and our eyes meet. There is the smallest nod of acceptance as she turns to enter the house and now I can relax into the kiss.

Suzie

Emmy feels so good in my arms and, while the kiss isn't the most sexual we've ever shared -- here, in the rain in Emmy's garden -- it is certainly romantic. The rain, however, decides to stop messing around and starts pissing down. Within moments we're soaked through and the kiss comes to a reluctant end. Her blonde hair is darkened and plastered to her skin and her shirt becomes interestingly translucent as it clings to her body. God, she is so sexy.

"Come on, gorgeous," I say, taking her hand. "Let's go inside and get dry."

"Yeah, I think we both need a towel."

"Mmmm, yes, sharing a towel sounds fun."

"Cheeky!" she laughs but hesitates just outside the back door. "Suze, we do need to be a bit careful around Mum; she's amazed me this afternoon but I don't think she's finding it easy."

"I was worried by how long you'd been gone but she really surprised me by how she was; she seemed like a different person."

"You really have no idea! I'll tell you properly later but Mum has every reason to understand our love. Still, she's not like Kate and we need to give her time though and not expect too much too quickly."

"I understand and I'll behave, I promise. Now, come on and let's go and dry off." I tug her hand and as she passed me to go inside I whisper, "Come home with me later and we can spend the night getting really wet!"

Chapter 10: A Gift Passed On

Suzie

I feel Emmy slip her arm into mine and snuggle close. There is snow falling, just the occasional flake now, but at least there has been enough to lie, especially on the grass by the roadside. Pickle remains unsure, his little terrier legs half-buried at times. Emmy has to go home as she has her Gran, Aunt and Uncle coming to visit. Jeanette and Andrew, Emmy's parents, are pretty accepting of our relationship these days but, though they never explicitly said it, it was clear that while Emmy's presence was absolutely required, my being there wasn't -- just the opposite in fact.

So I'm walking my gorgeous girl home and, as Mum pointed out, since I seemed determined to go and get cold and wet in the snow anyway, I might as well take Pickle for a walk too.

"I wish this had been five days ago, then we'd have had a white Christmas," Emmy complains.

"Well, it is still the twelve days of Christmas, so it is in the Christmas season," I point out. "The season ends on January the sixth, Twelfth Night, which is also..."

"Which is also the title of a Shakespeare play, I know!" she interrupts. "I don't need an encyclopaedia with you as my girlfriend, do I?" she teases, which hurts a little even though I know I shouldn't be such a know-it-all. She looks contrite and leans in, kissing my lips; hers are as cold as mine but feel as lovely as they always do. It may be brief, but for anyone watching there would be no mistaking the love we share.

"Emmy, it's not like you to kiss me in public."

"What public?" she asks. "There's no one but us daft enough to be out." This isn't quite true; we have passed others but there's no one around at the moment. We walk on and, a few minutes later, reach the end of Emmy's road. We hug and kiss cheeks but have to be a little careful and discrete; it wouldn't do to have her relatives drive past with us mid-snog.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I promise. "Now go and be a dutiful daughter and make your Mum happy."

"That's easy for you to say; Uncle Robert is bound to suggest the traditional game of Monopoly," she replies grimly.

"Well, why not just go bankrupt quickly and then you can escape?"

"Because then he makes misogynistic comments about how 'girls have no head for business.' Okay, I know that I don't but it still pisses me off."

"Then go and fight the good feminist fight!" I laugh. "I'll miss you but try to enjoy it. And if you're all stressed tomorrow then I might just have to give you another massage."

"That's not helpful, Suze; now I'm going to be even more impatient to see you again." We give each other's gloved hands a final squeeze and she reluctantly walks away. God, I love that girl. We've seen each other most weekends over the past term, her coming to Bristol or me heading to Bath. It's been tempting to make it even more often but we need to work too, so we've resisted midweek visits; well, mostly.

"Come on Pickle," I say as Emmy disappears from sight. I could head home but Kate's at work, which she doesn't mind as it'll be quiet and relaxed and, of course, Michael is there too. I keep expecting them to get engaged but it hasn't happened yet. I wonder what it would be like, being my Mum's bridesmaid?

I decide to take a detour through the park, which should look lovely in the snow and the longer walk will help make up for the lack of exercise over Christmas. Sure enough, passing through the gates there's a wide, white expanse where there would have been grass. There have been visitors though, as the sizeable snowman in the middle and the trampled snow prove. Away to the left, a father is playing snowballs with two children but otherwise, the cold and the approach of lunchtime has left the park surprisingly empty.

"Brrrr. Do you think the park café will be open or shall we head home?" I ask Pickle and in the absence of a reply decide that as it's not too far now, we might as well carry on and check the café. My increasingly numb toes really hope it's not closed.

As Pickle and I round the bend in the path, the lights inside show the café is, thank goodness, open, though the condensation inside the window has reduced the lights on the Christmas tree inside to multi-coloured smudges. I see the door thrust open with a dull bang as an upset and tearful, dark-haired girl hurries out, pulling on her coat with her scarf flapping. She walks quickly towards me, head down, "...how could she say that? She really seemed to get..." she mutters as she barges past, forcing me to step aside.

"Excuse me!" I call irritatedly to the retreating figure who glances back, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. It appears the cold finally hits her and she stops to begin sorting out her coat and scarf as I turn to continue towards the café. Pulling open the door the draught of warm air feels wonderful on my face. Pickle follows, in blatant disregard of the 'No Dogs' rule. I recognise the woman behind the counter, though I don't know her name, and she sees my dog but assents to his staying with a nod of her head. The emptiness of the café probably means she doesn't want to miss out on a customer.

At the counter I order a latte, that has lately become the drink of choice for Emmy and me. Carrying the tall cup I notice that the café isn't quite empty but there is just one other customer, sat in the corner away from the counter: a curly-haired girl, probably a couple of years younger than me -- now we're both twenty-year-olds, Em and I can look down on teenagers -- with her head bowed. She is carefully and very thoroughly turning a paper napkin into microscopic confetti that has half buried the pair of glasses lying on the table in front of her. I head to another table, away from hers so as not to intrude and place my cup down. I don't want to intrude but that doesn't stop me from sitting with my back to the door so I can observe her. Pickle curls up at my feet as the girl makes a little sound, something between a snarl and a sob.

Studying the girl I cannot help wondering what has upset her so much. Of course: the other girl, the crying one, stomping out of the café and practically elbowing me aside; they've obviously had an argument over something. What was the sad girl saying? Something like, "How could she say that?" and something about getting something. What did confetti girl do and say?

Perhaps I should go and talk to her and see if there's anything I can do to help. While I deliberate there's a sudden icy draught as the café door opens, making me look round to see a woman entering. Despite the cold outside, she is wearing just a long, dark green dress. She has shoulder-length, wavy hair surrounding an attractive, heart-shaped face that has an indefinable, ageless quality that means she could be anything from mid-twenties to a youthful-looking late forty-year-old. There is something familiar about her... fucking hell, it's Kris, I'm sure it is. I only saw her in a dimly lit bedroom once, two years ago but I'll never forget that night.

She moves with the same poise and confidence I recall as she passes between the chairs and tables towards confetti girl. Then Pickle gives a little yip and Kris looks towards me; a friendly smile curves her full, soft lips as she changes direction and approaches me. "Kris?" I ask.

"Hello, Suzie. Well, I don't need to ask how you are because I can sense the happiness inside you." She looks intently at me for a moment. "You're obviously in love, who is it wonder is it?" I get no further than taking a breath before she continues, seemingly reading my mind, "Well, well, well; so it worked out with you and Emmy. Good."

"It has, thanks to you and that night," I say. "I never got to thank you properly before you left."

"My pleasure and you're very welcome, both you and Emmy. Now, I must go and talk to Alice over there. She and Laura shared a kiss as part of a game of 'Truth or Dare' at a sleepover last night and, alas, Laura sensed more interest and passion from Alice than Alice is now prepared to admit, even to herself."

"That sounds kind of familiar," I say, thinking of what happened between Emmy and me. "So, you're going to just talk to, er, Alice?" There is no way the café is suitable for what Kris and I did together.

"Yes, Suzie, just talk," she smiles. "My gift to Alice is not the same as mine to you." I nod.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know," I tell her, anxious to show how much I appreciate her gift. She looks thoughtfully at me.

"Actually, there is; back along the path out there, just around the bend, you'll find a very sad and cold Laura. She might like to talk to someone who has come to accept their sexuality but had to deal with a friend who was confused about theirs."

"Okay," I say, accepting the task a little apprehensively. "Um, would a cold Laura like a hot drink do you think?"

"Oh yes: a hot chocolate, definitely, just like you used to choose."

"Okay."

I walk through the snow carrying the hot chocolate and, sure enough, there is the girl who had pushed past me, sitting with her head bowed and arms folded tightly across her chest. Her coat is done up and the red, flapping scarf coiled around her neck. A matching red woolly hat sits on top of the long, dark hair that hangs down, tousled and fly-away. She looks up at my approach and I offer her the hot chocolate, which she regards uncertainly. "Hello, Laura; a friend of mine is talking to Alice and asked me to come and see you. She said you'd be cold so I brought you this." I move the cup closer and she slowly takes it warily. "Pickle!" I scold as he starts the typically doggy 'sniff the stranger's crotch' routine by trying to stick his nose between her knees.