Chapter Two
"Are you coming inside, or what?"
Natalia's tone is insistent. Truth be told, now that we've reached the farmhouse again, I'm feeling ready for another fight. During the car ride home, I've wavered between wanting to force Natalia to justify her reaction to what happened at Towers, and wanting to just forget the whole thing ever happened.
But now, the anger in her voice touches a nerve in me, and I feel my own frustration bubbling over in response. If she wants a fight, I'll give her one.
"Alright, alright," I snap as I unbuckle my seat belt. "I'm coming."
She nods firmly and slams the car door in my face.
So much for letting bygones be bygones.
Exhaling heavily, I step out of the vehicle and follow her up the walkway to the farmhouse, my confrontation with the mothers at Towers running over again in my mind.
When I first walked over to the women's table, my plan had only been to shame them for their behaviour. I had spotted them whispering together while Natalia, Emma, and I were finishing our ice cream, and it had made my blood boil. Who were they to sit there, judging us? Who were they to determine that what we had was somehow less than what they had with their families? I had decided that I wouldn't let them get away with it. I couldn't, especially not after everything that had happened that day, with Doris Wolfe's press conference and Emma getting so upset over her broken play date with Derek.
When Natalia joined us and I slipped my arm around her waist, I wasn't thinking about anything other than shoving Owen and Becky's mothers' ridiculous prejudices right in their faces. But then, as I began talking about how much Natalia means to me – about how much she's changed my life, and how happy she makes me – I suddenly realised I wasn't just saying those things for show. I really meant them.
Even though we first started growing closer in the months following my heart transplant, back then it was easier to explain the shifts in our relationship as the natural intimacy of a new friendship. But ever since we moved into the farmhouse together, things between us have changed. We always seem to find excuses to spend time together, to be close, to touch each other. A quick squeeze of the shoulder, an arm wrapped loosely around a waist, hands unconsciously reaching for each other, and lingering hugs: over time these physical displays have become unquestioned elements of our daily interaction. And, although I haven't had many female friends in my life, I know that the way we act toward each other isn't completely normal friendship behaviour. Even Natalia, with all of her naiveté, must have picked up on it.
But, as long as neither of us calls attention to it, we can pretend to ignore what's happening. Over the last few months, Natalia and I have become masters of denying the obvious.
It was only when Emma gave her "My Two Mommies" presentation that things began to shift irrevocably between us. That night, I suddenly recognised exactly how the rest of the world must see Natalia and I, and it awoke something inside of me. As I sat watching Emma's presentation, clasping Natalia's hand between my own and bristling under the curious stares of the parents around us, I realised that on some level their suspicions about us were right: we weren't just friends.
At some indefinable moment, I had begun to see Natalia as more than a housemate, a friend, or even someone who was helping me to raise Emma. And, although I wasn't fully prepared to name those feelings at the time, they had all crystallised for me later that night when I pulled Natalia toward me and pressed my lips against hers. In that instant, I felt a part of myself give way, and all at once I became aware of the true depth of my feelings for the woman in my arms.
And, to make matters even more confusing, I was certain I felt Natalia start to relax into my embrace, her lips parting for the briefest of moments. But then she had violently pulled away from me, and we had both gone back to pretending that we're nothing more than friends.
And here we are, continuing the charade.
My thoughts quickly shift back to the present when Natalia and I reach the front door of the farmhouse. As she jiggles the key in the lock, which always sticks no matter how much we oil it, I can practically see the anger radiating off of her. Natalia and I have our differences, but living together has given me more insight into her little quirks, so that now I can read her like a book. At the moment, her frustration is practically a physical presence between us – I feel almost as if I could reach out and grab it from the air.
She adjusts the key in the lock again and pushes it more forcefully, to no avail. Finally, I reach out to grab it from her.
"Here, let me do that."
Wordlessly, she glares at me and pushes my arm away with one hand while resuming her jiggling with the other. I'm surprised to hear her muttering something that sounds like a curse under her breath. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard Natalia swear. To be honest, it would be endearing if I weren't feeling so frustrated myself. I shift impatiently from foot to foot, trying to contain the torrent of words that are threatening to spill out of my mouth.
Finally she succeeds with the lock, and I follow her inside the warm farmhouse and into the living room, both of us removing our heavy winter jackets along the way. She hasn't uttered a word yet, so I decide to take the lead.
"Don't you think you're overreacting, just a little bit?"
Apparently her fury has only intensified during the brief walk from the car because she practically screams her response at me.
"What on earth were you thinking, causing such a scene in front of those women?"
Her voice sounds much shriller than it did during the ride home. Not to be outdone, I yell back at her.
"Who cares? They're a couple of pathetic gossips!"
"You made them think that…" she trails off, and I leap in to finish her thought.
"What, what?" I insist. "That the rumours were true? What would you have had me do? Turn the other cheek?"
She nods enthusiastically. "That would have been one way of handling it, yeah!"
I can't believe that she's still pressing this point with me – surely she knows me better than that. Surely she knows I would do anything to defend my family.
"No, that's your religion; that's not mine." Any hope of me holding onto my temper has officially evaporated. "I don't believe in getting walked on, not by anybody. Somebody kicks me? I kick them back!"
I want to add, Don't you know that about me by now?, but I swallow the words before they can escape my lips.
Anger simmers through every fibre of my body, but it's mixed with something much worse: a kind of deep-rooted sadness. Natalia's response to what happened at Towers is just proof of my fears: that no matter what we feel for each other, Natalia will never be able to accept the kind of life I've begun to long for.
"And that's what's best for Emma?" Natalia challenges me again.
"Oh, I think she would have been proud of what I did today."
I smile a little when I remember the look on Emma's face when I approached her after Natalia had stormed out of Towers. She had seen most of my confrontation with Owen and Becky's mothers from her perch on the bar stool, and although she hadn't heard my words, she seemed to know what had happened. The bright smile she greeted me with told me that she was glad that I had stood up for her – for all three of us.
Right now, I just wish that Natalia felt the same way.
"Perpetuating a lie?" she presses.
"No, no!" I protest. "By showing those women that I don't tolerate that narrow-minded crap!"
"Oh, please!" she snaps. "You didn't take the high road. You felt like picking a fight, and that's exactly what you did."
Chastised by her comment, I suddenly realise that she's right: I did feel like picking a fight, just not in the way she means. Some part of me has been itching to have this argument ever since the night of Emma's presentation.
But it wasn't those women at Towers that I wanted to confront. It was Natalia all along.
"Instead of explaining the situation to them," she continues, "the whole misunderstanding with Emma's project, you just decided to make everything worse."
"So what?"
I'm acutely aware that's a childish comeback – something akin to "I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I?" – but I'm too furious to care. Suddenly my whole focus has shifted: I feel like I have to push Natalia on this, to make her see that the rumours about us can't hurt us. To prove to her that no matter what happens, we can face it together.
"So what?" I repeat.
She looks at me like I've got three heads. "So, now those women think that…"
Again I interrupt her, determined to prove that I'm fully aware of the implications of what I've done.
"What? They think that we're lovers?"
I'm struck by the weight of my own words, but I can't stop myself from saying them. I always knew that Natalia would witness my confrontation with those women at Towers, which would give me the chance to pull her into this fight, to find out how she'd react to the idea of us being together.
And now you know: she's disgusted by the thought, a voice in my mind blares loudly.
I try to ignore the sharp sting of pain that follows that realisation, but Natalia's disdainful look only deepens my fears.
"Oh, you just loved it," she mocks. "You loved just messing with their brains, and making them believe that we're a couple."
"So… what?" I repeat forcefully. I feel more words bubbling up, and before I can swallow them, they're coming out of my mouth. "What is so wrong with people thinking that we're gay? Is it really the end of the world to you?"
My voice shakes with emotion, and Natalia seems to pick up on it. Her expression softens slightly as we stare at each other for a few heavy seconds, both of us trying to decide how to respond.
"What are you saying?" she finally asks. "Are you saying that you want people to believe that we're in a relationship?"
I put my hands on my hips and close my eyes, willing my emotions under control again. I can't look at her for fear that I'll crumble under the weight of her gaze. Finally, much to my own chagrin, I back down, just a little bit.
"I'm just… I'm saying that who cares what people think?"
"I do!" Natalia replies emphatically. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you: I care what people think! Because I'm a mother."
"Yeah, me too!" I point out. "I don't want Emma going through her life, worried about what people think or say behind her back."
Natalia shakes her head. "I don't either. But you could have walked away and ignored them."
I shift closer to her again, my face flushed with anger. "Is that what you want to teach Emma? That she should just run away from people who try to bully her?"
"You were taunting them," she argues. "You made everything so much worse."
"To make a point!" I reply, recognising almost immediately the weakness of my argument.
What the hell was I trying to do? I wonder. Who was I trying to make a point to: those women, Natalia, or myself?
Natalia throws her head back in exasperation. "What, what point?"
"This is none of their business!"
Suddenly I feel as though I'm about to burst into tears, and I swallow hard, trying frantically to gain some semblance of control over my emotions. But Natalia appears to be too wrapped up in her own frustration to notice the sadness in my eyes.
"Well, Doris Wolfe made it their business when she turned it into a news story."
"I don't care what Doris Wolfe says or does! We know the truth."
I can hear that annoying voice in my mind continuing to taunt me: And what is the truth, Olivia?
I don't know the answer, and I'm not sure Natalia does either.
She shrugs sadly at me. "Perception is reality."
"Oh, because Doris Wolfe said it, then we must be lovers?"
I'm testing her again, gauging her reaction to my words, just like I did earlier with the women at Towers. As I expected, she deflects the point.
"Please stop twisting everything I say around, and just listen to me," she pleads. "What you did back there was wrong."
I stamp my foot angrily. "So being two mommies together, this is just a really terrible, horrible thing."
Natalia sighs in exasperation. "I didn't say that!"
"It sounded that way."
I hate the way I sound: the angry, irrationally spiteful edge in my voice. I feel like a high school boy with a crush, trying to explain to a cooler girl why I thought our kiss meant more than it did.
Natalia appears as frustrated with me as I am with myself. She brings her hands up to cover her face.
"Oh, okay, you know what? You have your beliefs, and I have mine."
That cuts me to the quick, and I suck in a deep breath of air to try to calm down, even as her words seem to confirm the very worst of my fears: that no matter what we feel for each other, we will never be able to do anything about it. We will always be handcuffed by Natalia's beliefs.
When I finally speak, my voice sounds softer and sadder. "See, I thought that you believed in us. That you believed in this family: in you, and me, and Emma."
She stares at me for a moment, her face a mixture of desperation and confusion. Her expression tells me that my words have hit their mark, and for a brief moment I think that she's about to say something to soothe me, to make things okay between us again. But then a familiar blank shield clouds her face, and I know our conversation is finished.
She sighs heavily and reaches for her jacket, which is resting on the couch behind me.
"I have to go," she says quietly. "I have to go meet up with Frank again. You just tell Emma that I will see her tonight."
She spins around and practically sprints toward the kitchen door.
"Okay, great," I sigh.
In all the passion of our argument, I had almost forgotten about her date with Frank – the one she left in order to play hookie with Emma and I that afternoon. The one that just a few minutes ago she had said was less important to her than continuing her discussion with me.
The slamming of the door puts the final punctuation point on our argument, and I run a hand through my hair, trying to resist the urge to scream. I can't quite wrap my mind around the fact that Natalia has just run away from me to be with Frank, yet again.
The worst part of it all is that I know I'm partly responsible for all of this. I've spent the last month pushing Natalia toward Frank in a vain attempt to get her further away from me. I had convinced myself that foisting her onto someone else would help me to get over whatever it is that I'm feeling for her.
"And how's that working out for you, Olivia?" I murmur mockingly, releasing a harsh, mirthless laugh at my own stupidity.
I sink onto the couch behind me and stare blankly at the wall while I listen to Natalia's car pull out of the driveway. For a brief moment I consider giving in to the tears that have been threatening to overwhelm me for the last few minutes, but instead I shake my head roughly to clear it of everything but my remaining anger.
Then, making a quick decision, I grab my jacket and head toward the door. If Natalia wants to run off to a man to forget about me, then surely I can do the same thing.
Two can play at that game.
tbc