Chapter 8-FRIDAY
"So let me get this straight," said Naomi as she stood awkwardly in the middle of their bedroom. She was trying to carry on a conversation with Emily as she scurried back and forth past Naomi from the bathroom to her closet off the bedroom. Naomi was still dressed smartly having not changed from work, but Emily was currently rummaging through her closet looking for a new outfit. "You're convinced that your sister is obstructing your investigation into her being held as a hostage and your solution is for us to go out for dinner and then go drinking?"
Emily poked her head out of the closet and her eyes glinted. "Problem?"
Naomi pursed her lips and crossed an arm over her stomach. "I...no, I just. We're not in university or college any more, Ems. Drinking doesn't solve problems."
"I'm not saying it does," called Emily from inside the closet. She reappeared clutching several different items of clothing and wearing only a towel. She walked barefoot across the wood floor and tossed the clothes at Naomi. The blonde woman was caught off guard and instinctively leaned out of the way as she reached out to catch the clothes. Naomi straightened and found Emily standing right in front of her, an amused look on her face. "Maybe I just want to go out for an evening with my girlfriend. Is that a crime?"
"You're the one with a badge. You tell me." Naomi threw the clothes back at Emily and started towards the closet, unbuttoning the blue blazer she was wearing.
"If it was, I'd hardly self-report. That'd be counterproductive."
"Hmm. Where did you have in mind? I can't be seen just anywhere, you know." Naomi paused, turned around at the door to the closet, and pulled the jacket off. She looked expectantly at her girlfriend when Emily did not respond immediately. "Well?"
"What do you mean you 'can't be seen just anywhere?'"
"Oh Christ, Em. I just meant that if the wrong people were to see us out getting wasted, it would really hurt my campaign. It wasn't directed at you or anywhere you might have had in mind."
Emily felt the heat rising in her cheeks and the corners of her mouth began to shape themselves into a distinct look of incredulity and utter disappointment. Hugging herself to keep the towel in place, she spat back, "Oh because that's all that matters, isn't it? Your precious campaign. No matter how it fucks with our personal life. No matter that I've gone through Hell on Earth this week. You know, it amazes me that no one has kicked down my door at the station for an interview about how this tragedy has affected you and inspired you to action."
"You're doing this for a laugh, right?" said Naomi as she carelessly dropped her jacket on the floor. "You knew what you—what we—were getting into when I started pursuing this career, and you never seemed to mind before. As a matter of fact, I recall a certain someone pushing me into my first campaign whether I wanted to, or no. Now all of a sudden you can't handle it?"
"That was totally different and you know it. You can't compare a stupid school election to a campaign for MP that makes you plan out every breath and step you take!" Emily smiled sadly and, looking up to the ceiling, blinked away a tear. "Forget it. I'll go out on my own then. This week's been miserable and I need a release. I can only imagine how terrible it was for you, minister."
Spinning and heading for the bathroom, Emily spat the last word as if it could summon any one of a dozen foul creatures. She stepped into the bathroom and began to slam the door, but thought better of it. Wheeling, Emily shot one last acrimonious look at Naomi and fired a parting shot, "You know, Katie all but asked me today why we're not married yet. Guess I have a pretty solid answer for her."
"Emily..." Naomi trailed off as the door to the bathroom closed, leaving her standing alone fighting a losing battle against her emotions. Through watery eyes, Naomi sulked to the small circular window that looked out into the evening. In the dark window panes all she could see was a dark silhouette of herself framed by the lights of the room behind her. Behind this reflection the lights of other flats, front doorsteps, and passing cars swam and spread like orange watercolors on a canvas of black, deepening browns, and cold greys. Emily's words stung worse than Naomi would ever admit to the fiery redhead, especially the comment about their relationship. Naomi ran the back of her hand across the end of her nose, sniffling.
She hadn't meant to put off making that largest of leaps with her girlfriend of, what was it going on now? Ten, eleven years maybe? Naomi bit her lip. Well, when one looked at it like that, it certainly seemed a vast extent of time, and in many ways it was. On the other, though, it did not seem all that long ago now that they were first living together in the house her mother rashly bought a week and a half before impulsively leaving the country to travel abroad. Wryly, Naomi congratulated herself on not be as impetuous as her mother; it held little condolence. But certainly, there had to be a middle ground between spending ten years together doing nothing and making an impulsive decision the moment legislation had been passed in their second year of university, didn't there?
They had talked about it then, certainly, as well as in the weeks leading up to graduation from university, but they had both had other things demanding their attention: Naomi plunging headfirst into politics and Emily dedicating herself to completing her police training as expeditiously as possible. The two of them had agreed the timing wasn't right. And no one had objected to their living together and acting for all intents and purposes as a married couple.
Not entirely true, though, Naomi admitted to herself. The Fitches had objected half-heartedly to their continued living together after graduation, but had very little on which to rest their argument. Naomi hadn't even bothered to ask her mother's opinion on the matter—she knew that she would get it regardless, and after properly getting to know Emily throughout university, her mother struggled to find any compelling criticisms of her daughter's girlfriend.
Naomi allowed herself a weak smile as she turned away from the window and walked to the bed. Emily had that effect on people. She was always a bit shy upon meeting new people, but attending university apart from her twin had loosened her shell. Naomi had lost count of the times that Emily's inherent charm and warmth had opened doors for her with older members of the Party that would have remained closed if Naomi had had to rely on navigating introductions with her sarcasm and frequently dour perspective. Moreover, Emily's humility and ability to sympathize had been invaluable in providing the connection on a personal, emotional level that a strong campaign required; Naomi knew that she did not possess that ability herself and would have failed miserably before now without Emily. Naomi threw herself back onto the bed and let out a sigh. Why was it that she could see all of Emily's incredible traits and the shimmering aspects of her personality in the context of her profession, but seemed short-sighted when considering the impact Emily had on her life outside politics?
Naomi could hear the shower running in the bathroom and the fan whirring away as it tried to keep up with Emily's indulgently-long hot showers. I won't apologize, Naoms. Katie used to steal all the fucking water, so I'm not ever passing up a hot shower ever again. That promise had been made the first night they moved into that tiny hole-in-the-wall that had passed as their first co-rented flat, and Emily had yet to break it. Without meaning to, Naomi found herself smiling again. Damn Emily for being able to both hurt her so sharply, yet make her smile in spite of herself. That had been a simpler time, when Naomi hadn't found herself struggling to correctly align her priorities and personal goals with her professional ones.
Naomi closed her eyes and clenched the comforter in her hands. How could she have let this happen with Emily? Why couldn't she learn to be more understanding and empathetic? Because you don't always have to be; that's why you and Emily work, a voice whispered from somewhere Naomi knew had been misplaced amidst the chaos of the past week and months-long carnage of the campaign. Her surreptitious lunchtime trips during the last few weeks of session appeared tattooed on her inner eyelids. Naomi's eyes snapped open and she knew exactly how to ensure that voice would not be silenced again.
Emily leaned back against the bathroom door and cursed under her breath over and over. Had she really just said that aloud? She cursed again and took a shuddering breath but it did little to calm her nerves. Slowly she slid down the door until she was sitting on the chill tiles and resting her head in her right hand. Emily squeezed her eyes shut as yet another round of tears began welling up. God, this week had been the worst! She couldn't recall being this much of a mess for ages. Emily remained on the floor crying for what seemed like days as she ran through the times that Naomi's career had intruded on their relationship.
The first moment that flashed to the fore was the phone call Emily had answered not ten minutes after Naomi's declaration she was running for her first municipal position in Bristol had been distributed to the local papers—including the print-only one that hadn't quite figured the benefits of web-based reporting. She had been with Naomi for the announcement and been bursting with pride that her girlfriend was going to be able to affect change in their home city. The small gaggle of news photographers (apparently the position in question hadn't warranted video-taping the announcement) had been snapping away with abandon and Emily tried to keep herself composed so as to not take away from any pictures of Naomi delivering her short speech and framing of her platform. The two of them had shared several laughs on the quick ride back to their tiny flat—still jam-packed with unopened boxes of trinkets and dishware—but the cheery mood darkened when the phone rang. Emily had answered it politely, only to find herself on the receiving end of a brutal invective about how shameful it was that Bristol had someone running who was openly gay. Emily had known at the time that the caller was in the vast minority, but as she hung up mid-rant, the knowledge that someone had searched out her girlfriend's private number to deliver such a spiteful message terrified her. Emily had hired someone to uninstall the phone line the next day, and the two of them paid extra to the cellular provider to hide their mobile numbers.
Emily sniffled as she stood and walked over to the sink, appraising her tear-stained makeup in the mirror. I look like absolute shit. Carelessly, she rubbed away the tears under her eye with her palm and steadied herself with both hands gripping the sides of the sink. She stared at herself as another memory swam into shape. It was Christmastime, about three years prior. She and Naomi had planned on having a small celebration between the two of them on Christmas Eve, then driving over to her parents' small home a half hour east of Bristol to mark the holiday with Katie and James, who had been in his first year of college at the time. Emily recalled that she had bought Naomi a beautiful, ornate bracelet from some gypsies while at a symposium she had attended in Seville earlier that year. Then a couple days before Christmas Eve, Naomi suggested cancelling their private celebration and just exchanging gifts the next day with the Fitch family. Emily had been skeptical, but relented as it was just over a month after Naomi's successful campaign to become Bristol's youngest Council member in half a century.
Christmas morning, in her parent's living room, Emily had snuggled up against Naomi on the floor and, as James made a crass comment about Santa Claus's penchant for having young girls sit on his lap, whispered how much Naomi was going to love her present. Naomi had stiffened. She stuttered about going to get something from her bag in the other room, leaving Emily trying to answer her family's probing questions about what was wrong. Naomi had returned phone in hand curtly apologizing that she had to leave due to emergency council business. Emily clenched her hands on the porcelain sink as she relived the feeling of tossing aside the blanket, following Naomi outside into the biting cold, barefoot and in a sweatshirt and thin pajama pants, demanding an answer to why she was really leaving. Naomi ignored her until she had opened the car door and turned around, a pained and embarrassed expression apparent on her face. She admitted that she hadn't gotten anything for Emily because she had forgotten amidst the furor of campaigning and the media circus following the elections. Naomi also begged Emily to let her go because she couldn't stand to be with the rest of her family when the truth came out. Emily hung her head picturing her younger self standing mute in the drive, shaking her head as Naomi whispered good-bye and drove back to Bristol.
Emily choked back a sob, then failed to stop a second sob. She looked up at herself again and wondered what she was still doing. She felt the towel start to slip and let it fall away. Living with Naomi that winter had been nearly as bad as their second year of college; long fits of ignoring each other, spiteful comments muttered during previously tame meals, short conversations consisting of two-syllable (or fewer) words, and disinterested lovemaking. Emily turned on the shower and let the hot water begin to cascade down against the faux marble tub beneath. Quickly steam began forming, and Emily reached out to turn the fan on. Hopping into the hot water, she gasped and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, turning the knob slightly to make it more comfortable.
A final painful memory shook free cobwebs and as Emily turned her face up into the water, she was transported ten months back to the previous summer. It had been unseasonably rainy last summer, and on this particular day it had been raining so hard the rivulets of water were falling slantwise in a fierce wind, spattering against the walls of the building across from the restaurant in which Emily had been standing. Emily begged Naomi to block out a couple hours for lunch, playing coy when her girlfriend had wondered why. Naomi agreed to work it into her schedule between meetings with potential campaign donors and even picked the restaurant, saying she would be there at a quarter noon. Instead, Emily found herself staring hopelessly out a window at the violent rainstorm as twelve-thirty came and went and the maître d' hesitantly asked every so often whether her party was coming or if she could give their seats away. Emily had continued staring out into the rain, fingering the Seville bracelet in her bag, and knowing that her plan to present it to Naomi on the tenth anniversary of the Love Ball had failed miserably. Turning and shaking her head silently, Emily had walked back out into the rain and let it soak through her jeans and windbreaker as she walked the several blocks back to the station without calling a taxi.
That walk turned into a surreal experience for other reasons, but Emily hadn't been able to shake that betrayed feeling for a week. She knew Naomi was furiously busy during the day and she—in a bout of unfortunately frequent cowardice—constructed a fragile conceit to justify the failure of her girlfriend to show, but Emily admitted to herself that deep down those events had always been stewing, coalescing into a simmering, roiling sea of frustration and helplessness with Naomi's career and its implications for them. And despite it all, Emily knew that in that boiling sea of malcontent was the bond that had been forged between them long before politics had tried its hardest to drag them apart.
Emily couldn't differentiate between her tears and the water from the shower, but she could feel herself becoming drained emotionally and, as a by-product, physically. Just standing in the shower seemed too much; Emily slowly lowered herself to the shower tub and hugged her knees to her chest, sobbing.
"I love you...I love you...why is this so fucked?" Emily choked out, trying to verbalize her feelings in an effort to make sense of them. Then, just over the constant splashing and hissing of the water and the whirring of the fan, an unexpected, strained voice replied.
"I love you too, Em."
Startled, Emily slowly pulled back the curtain of the shower to find Naomi awkwardly standing naked and crying on the bath mat. Her lip quivering, Emily stood and reached a hand out to help Naomi inside the warm water of the shower. Naomi took it and stepped over the lip of the tub, not bothering to close the curtain behind her. She pulled Emily into a fierce embrace, muttering an apology over and over until Emily interrupted it with a desperate kiss. In turn, their kiss was broken by respective sobs and small smiles. Naomi hugged her petite girlfriend to her again and whispered,
"I will marry you, I promise." Looking up at Naomi with a small light of hope flickering in her brown eyes, Emily thought about the bracelet that was still hidden in the bottom drawer of her dresser in the closet.
"I'm holding you to that," she said, yanking the shower curtain closed and renewing the kiss.
