Days of Old, Long Since
It had been just your routine bolt out of the blue. Impersonal, but striking to the bone. A text message from her mother: "Your father is dead. You must do the arrangements, as his only remaining relative. I'll send you 300 quid." That's it. No explanation, no expression of grief or sympathy. Nada.
"Thanks Mom." Sian had thought. "I'm 1500 miles away, and poor as a church mouse in winter. I haven't even spoken with the man in 5 years. I suppose that still puts me closer than you. You were smart to dump him, but I couldn't dump my own father."
How she despised and loved the man, all at the same time. Always trying to control her, always vicious with sarcasm, yet simultaneously showing his intimate affection by these very actions. He couldn't control his own life, however, drowning in a sea of ethanol and self loathing. Died in a bar fight. Pitiful, really. Maybe she could have been a better daughter, but he made it so difficult! Yet his entire life was a struggle, never achieving any of his dreams, never rising to become anything more than a ridiculous drunk. His ambitions were ever thwarted by either bad luck, or his own angry character. She was clearly his crowning achievement, a gorgeous daughter he could show off to any and all: "Look what I've done! I've created this blonde beauty, this work of human art!" So when she came out as a lesbian, the man's greatest accomplishment, his Magnum Opus, disappeared in a blast of homophobic rage. That was the end, between them. When she moved on to Tangier, he stopped responding even to her text messages. Of course, she found out later it was because he could no longer afford a mobile phone.
So now she was on her way back to Weatherfield. She managed to get in touch with her old pastor , the one who at first couldn't accept her sexuality, in order to arrange the funeral. His faith was undoubtedly tested by Sian's life, but she liked to believe that he came to a better understanding of Jesus when he was forced to compare his received beliefs with the real life girl in front of him. Regardless, he had made all of the funeral arrangements for her, allowing for her very tight budget. No gold handled casket here, no burial plot, no flowers, no choir. Well, it doesn't really matter if you're stuck in a pine box then burnt to fly ash once you've gone. You'll never notice the accommodations.
Sian worried that She would be attending. The funeral wasn't listed in the newspaper, and her dad didn't have any friends to speak of. Still, it was a small town, and word of this kind of thing gets around. Not all that many fatal bar fights, so the gossip chain probably sang with a mighty ringing sound. Best thing to do is get in, do the funeral, talk to the legal folks, then get out of town fast. This should avoid Her if at all possible. If all went as planned, the only one who would know she had been back would be the pastor. Sian doubted if there would be any other actual mourners at the service, especially not Her, Sian's old lover. No one was really sad that her father was dead.
Not even Sian.
The day of the funeral was gray and cold, as one expects from these things. Sian had been right. The only people at the service were her, the pastor, and the night janitor who stayed a few hours late "because everybody deserves to be remembered, at least a little." Bless his heart. Her mother hadn't come, as Sian figured, given the way the death had been transmitted. The pastor gave what could only be considered a generic eulogy, since her father's most memorable characteristics were none too pleasant. Bland eulogy, bland service, nothing to remember him by. Just as well.
After the service there was a brief trip to the lawyer's office, the one hired by the council. Her father had no assets to dispose of, and relatively few debts. He had run up a considerable bar tab at the place at which he was killed, but the owner just wanted the whole thing done with so as not to create any more bad publicity. Sian wondered whether the publicity would actually have improved his business, given the low-lifes who frequented the place. Not Sian's problem.
After it all had been put to rest, Sian headed towards her father's rented room. She'd stay the night there, then settle final accounts with the landlord the next day and head home. When she got there however, big problem. The place she had assumed he still lived, where indeed she had lived during school for a time, was not his home. Indeed, it had not been his home for several years.
"As far as I know," the landlord told her, "he didn't have a home. Lived on the street, or in shelters last I heard."
Perfect. Sian had the plane ticket home, and enough bus money to get to the airport, but literally not another penny. Well, maybe she could find someone who would let her sleep on their couch. She headed for The Rovers, the local pub where everyone who was "decent" hung out. She couldn't buy any food, but they usually didn't kick people out who weren't causing trouble.
Once there and comfortably seated, she began scouting out the clientele. It was a classic English neighborhood pub, with conversation bubbling all around. She didn't recognize a soul. Seven years she'd been gone. She had been young for the place before, and not exactly a regular, but she didn't think the neighborhood would have changed that much. It had never seemed to change at all when she lived in the area.
Oh no, worst possible luck. Sally, the mother of That Bitch, came in. And of course noticed her right away.
"Sian Powers! How nice to see you! It's been absolutely ages! Last I heard, you were living the high life down in Tangiers. What could possibly bring you back here on such a dismal day?"
"My father died. The funeral was today, and I'm on my way back after settling things. I just thought I'd stop by here to see if there was any of the old crowd around. Not many, not many."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. So sorry for your loss. I knew your father quite well; actually a little too well at times. Did your mother come as well?"
"No, just me."
"So where are you staying?"
"Erm, that's a bit of a problem. I had planned to stay at my dad's place, only I find out today that his place was a cardboard box in a back alley. I'll probably have to sleep at the bus station."
"Nonsense! Rosie hasn't been back in ages—you can sleep in her room tonight. I'll fix breakfast in the morning, just like old times. We can spend the evening catching up. I'm so excited to hear what you've been doing, what adventures you've been having."
"Well, that's kind of a problem, too," Sian replied. "I don't really want to see Her if I can help it."
"That won't be an issue for you, dear. Sophie has gone on some kind of mission trip and won't be back until next week at the earliest. You can have the whole house to yourself after I leave for work in the morning."
"I really don't think I should, Sally, given our history and all."
"Don't be ridiculous," Sally stated, as warmly as she was capable of. "I'll not have you sleeping in some bus station when I have a comfy spot for you right here. Now come on, grab your things, we're going home."
Sally's home certainly brought out mixed emotions. It had been Sian's home for two years, and the memories elicited by everyday objects were bittersweet. Same ugly throw cover on the sofa, same ladder-like twisting stairwell. Same room upstairs. Same tiny bathroom. Sian had felt secure and loved in this place, for truly the only time in her life.
Here was the door to Her room also. The first place Sian had ever kissed a girl. The first place she had ever made love to a girl. And oh, how she had loved Sophie, as only a teenager could. Sian remembered Her passionate kisses, Her gentle touch, Her tentative explorations. They had learned together how to please each other. Overcoming fear was the hardest part; but once the initial mountain was climbed the world looked entirely different from the new heights. With Sophie, she didn't have to feel the submissiveness of some person invading her body to use for the other's pleasure. With Sophie, there was no fear of finding out next week that the stick had turned blue, of knowing life would be changed forever by one night's passion. With Sophie, there was no rush to the climax, just the enjoyment of the journey.
Sian had to face it: her time here with Sophie had been the best of her life, a two year idyll before the plunge into adulthood. That plunge had been horrible, scarring. On what should have been the happiest day of Sian's life, the erstwhile wedding, Sian had been betrayed and humiliated in front of all of her friends and relatives. Literally left at the altar, after having made her own half of the commitment for life to Sophie. Sian hadn't poked this wound for years. It had scarred over at last, an emotional fibrosis which would never resolve, but now at least it would not induce agony when accidentally bumped.
Life after the wedding catastrophe was a slow circling of the drain to oblivion. At first, things had jumped up to a new high. A move to Tangier to be with her mother evolved to a new love, with Chloe Sarkisian. Sian realized now that this had simply been a rebound thing, a grasp for any floating object while drowning in a sea of turbulent emotion. Chloe was a blast, more fun than Christian Sophie had ever been. Parties, nightclubs, living the high life. Chloe could make walking down the street into a fiesta.
Until that fiesta started to include cocaine. Chloe had introduced it to Sian, saying it would make the party last longer. This was like giving chocolate to a diabetic. Sian had gone from straight laced school girl to bottom dwelling addict in less than a month. Career? Education? Family? Forgotten, so long as the next white line presented itself. Money disappeared, parting as it does from fools. Rent came due, and homelessness loomed.
Chloe figured that one out. She got them both jobs in a strip joint, first as waitresses, then as performers. They were a new circus sideshow act. "Hurry, hurry, hurry! Step right up to see the freaks! Naked lesbians, doing their thing right on stage before your very eyes!"
Sex stopped being passion, and began being a job. Chloe became a job as well, and a difficult one at that. They stayed together for survival, not desire. Chloe remained the party girl, and floated in and out with the tides. Sian was sure Chloe had had at least two outside affairs, at least one with a man. Sian couldn't prove it however; her only evidence was the new smell of Chloe's underwear. It didn't matter. They were cemented together. Sian and Chloe had been married in the Infernal Church of Cocaine, and there was no pope to grant an annulment.
Sian descended the stairs to talk with Sally. Sally had laid out a simple meal for the both of them, but to Sian it was a banquet. Sian ate ravenously.
"My it's good to see you after all this time, Sian," Sally said pleasantly. "So tell me all about what's been happening with you."
Of all the things to say. How could Sian possibly tell Sally of her situation? Yet she couldn't lie to an old friend, even if it was Sophie's mother. Especially because it was Sophie's mother. So, Sian tried her best to obfuscate and deflect. Unfortunately, Sally loved her wine, and offered it to Sian—just to be hospitable of course. After three or four glasses, the whole story came tumbling out. As Sian spoke more, Sally spoke less, and ultimately just sat dumbfounded. "Oh, Sian." was the best she could manage.
After dinner, Sally retired as quickly as she could. She told Sian to make herself at home, and that she'd be leaving early for work so they probably wouldn't see each other the next day. This suited Sian fine, since it would minimize any further emotional torsion. Sian went to bed early as well, hoping for respite from the oppressiveness of the day now over.
Sian awoke disoriented, with the room bright and the house quiet. It could be any time between sun up and late afternoon. Not to worry, her flight out wasn't until near midnight. She grabbed a robe, and sauntered down the stairs. She'd spend the day watching the television and raiding Sally's refrigerator. Sian plopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and started watching a random soap opera. It didn't really matter which one, they all had the same plot. After half an hour, she felt the need for a change. So she rolled over. Ambition—who needs it?
She looked up at the sound of a key in the front door. This was peculiar, as she didn't expect Sally back all day. She sat up, and of course Sophie walked in.
Sophie didn't recognize Sian at first. Sophie looked puzzled, then astounded. "What are you doing here?" was all she could stammer out.
"Hi, Sophie. Glad to see you, too." Sian replied.
They stared at one another for several seconds, their minds each unable to process the presence of the other. A mental denial of service attack, one upon the other. Eventually, Sophie's brain was able to generate documentation: "Sian, I don't know what to say."
"I don't know what to say either, Sophie. I really hadn't planned on seeing you. Your mother invited me to stay, and I could hardly say no."
"So you came back for my mother?"
"No, no. My father died, and the funeral was yesterday. Sally just gave me a place to stay overnight. I'm leaving on a late flight tonight."
Sian contemplated Sophie's appearance. Same brown hair, pulled back tightly off her face. She was of course, older, more mature. But she had grown leaner, and slightly more muscled. Harder. Or was that Sian projecting?
Another uncomfortable silence ensued. Eventually, Sophie said, "I'm sorry, I only stopped in for a bit to tell my mother I got back early. Say—why don't we get together with a bunch of us for lunch at the Rover's? I can call Ryan, and Rosie, and my mother. It'll be fun, even if only for an hour."
She turned to go. As she was walking out the door, Sophie turned back briefly. "And you can meet Maddie."
"Maddie? Is that your dog?"
Sophie replied, "Of course not! She's my girlfriend." With that, she left through the door, leaving Sian in confused wonderment.
Sian couldn't figure out a way to gracefully not show up. Why she cared about grace at this time puzzled her. Sophie hadn't shown any particular grace when she had left Sian at the altar. Yet others would be there, people she cared enough about to at least spend an hour reminiscing old times. Plus, she had to check out this Maddie person. There was no way to stay away.
Walking in to The Rover's pub was nerve racking, but there they all were in one big booth. Her old beau Ryan was there, Sally, Sophie's sister Rosie, Sophie, and a new girl. This must be Maddie. Pretty, not gorgeous. Petite. Guess Sophie was more of a Fem, rather than a Tomboy type. Somehow that made Sian feel better about herself.
Conversation was light all the way around. Reminiscence, not drama. And the Maddie girl was actually a delight. Witty yet gentle, despite a somewhat earthy vibe that she gave off. Sian couldn't help but like her. But Sophie didn't act totally absorbed by Maddie, as Sian had always thought Sophie acted toward her. Maybe it was because of the greater maturity of the two, compared to Sophie and Sian as teenagers. But maybe not.
After the food had been served and eaten, people began to drift away. Sally and Maddie returned to work. Ryan had to catch a train for work in the evening. This left Sophie, Sian and Rosie. Rosie gave some ridiculous excuse, and departed as if she were some skin tag on the body of the group dynamic. So Sophie and Sian were alone together, forced to face the past. Yet the group camaraderie had broken the walls of their discomfort. Or maybe it was the beer. Either way, it seemed like old times. Conversation flowed fast and easy, with laughter and joy at each other's thoughts. "This is bad," Sian thought. "This is very bad."
The years melted, disappearing in the sunshine of today's happiness. Sian could feel stirrings of the old longing, even knowing how badly it had turned out before. She remembered how Sophie had once filled her brain, and now Sophie was bubbling into her psyche again, like a warm spring in a cold lake. She looked into Sophie's eyes, saw a sparkle that couldn't be ignored. She knew this was leading to the edge of the abyss, but the abyss looked mighty inviting. She could feel it singing to her soul, Sirens calling her to her doom. Yet she had to go on. Her new life was soul-less, devoid of any real feeling. Cocaine had destroyed her interest in other people—or perhaps her lack of interest had invited the cocaine. No matter, she could feel her heart thawing, the warm remembrances from her teens breaking up the ice around her core. She wanted her old life back, wanted to love again. Wanted to love Sophie again.
The hour grew late, the light fading. Sian knew she had to get back to catch her red-eye flight, even though it was still hours away. Though maybe, maybe, the two might fill those hours in a more intimate way. "Walk me back to your mother's?" Sian asked.
"Oh sure, sure. No problem."
On the walk back, Sian began to feel a tingle, a slight increase in her heart rate. The tachycardia increased with every step. She wanted to grab Sophie and kiss her, as if they were seventeen again, but did nothing. She could feel her face flushing, and thought she saw the same in Sophie. As they arrived at Sally's door, they turned to look at one another for a moment. Sophie gave Sian a light goodbye kiss on the cheek. Sian responded with a full lipped, passionate embrace, the most unsubtle message in human language. They finally broke, both of them breathing heavily. Sian turned to open the door, thinking this was only the beginning, but when she turned back, Sophie was halfway to the end of the sidewalk. Sophie looked back, obviously in tears.
"I'll always love you, Sian," she said, "But I've made promises to Maddie." She turned around and walked away into the gloaming.
Sian was left alone. She turned back into the house, to face the darkness ahead of her.