Part 10: Stripes or Polka Dots?

It was the day after the coffee date and Violet hadn't seen or heard from Charlotte since. She was afraid that Charlotte had chickened out on the relationship thing and was ignoring her, but when she came home that night Charlotte was already waiting for her, on her bed, dressed in a French maid's outfit no less.

She had thought the outfits were a little weird at first, but she got over it, fast. She reasoned that role-playing was a good thing, healthy even. People needed to be someone else, get lost in someone else's life. Isn't that why people read books? To escape the harsh reality of life?

"You're late Turner," Charlotte said stiffly.

It was hard to take the Charlotte seriously in that getup, but it was true, she had come home later than usual. It wasn't her fault though. She had spent the last three hours talking her patient out of her hurting himself. Needless to say she was not in the mood for what Charlotte had planned for them tonight.

Charlotte walked up to her and started to undo the buttons on her blouse. She pushed the blonde away.

"What?"

"I don't-. Not tonight." Violet sighed. "Sorry." The blonde frowned.

"What's wrong with you?" Charlotte demanded.

Violet shrugged. "Work."

"Fine," Charlotte snapped. "I'll leave.

"No. Charlotte," she called. Charlotte ignored her and put on her navy blue trench coat, picked up her purse and left the room. Violet followed after, despite her better judgment.

"Charlotte don't go," Violet said from the top of the stairs, looking down at the blonde.

Charlotte paused at the front door, but didn't turn to look at her. The blonde was expecting some sort of explanation, but she was tired and kept coming up with blanks.

"You gonna to say anything?"

"What's your favorite color?" She blurted out. It was all she could come up with.

"Excuse me?" Charlotte turned around and gave her a look.

"What's your favorite color?" She asked again.

"Indigo." Charlotte eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"

"No reason." She walked down her dark wooden stairs and took Charlotte's coat and purse from her. The blonde watched Violet put them set them down on a chair in the entryway of her home. "Okay, there is a reason, but just because I'm not in the mood tonight does not mean that you have to leave. We can just talk or watch a movie. You wanted a relationship with me. You don't just runaway when everything isn't perfect for you. And who said I wanted you to leave? Maybe I want you to stay. Maybe I want to wake up in the morning and see you next to me for once." She huffed and crossed her arms.

Silence.

"So, what's your favorite color?" Charlotte asked.

"Burgundy."

Charlotte nodded and followed her back upstairs to her bedroom.

"You don't have any other clothes do you," she asked. "Unless, you know, you want to clean my house."

Charlotte punched her lightly on the arm. "Ha, ha. Real funny Turner."

"You can borrow some of mine," Violet said walking into her spacious closet. Charlotte followed her in, having never seen Violet's extensive collection of clothes. She nodded appreciatively, at the selection while Violet rummaged through the sets of drawers under the racks of hanging clothes and picked out a comfy old tee and a pair of pajama pants.

"Here put these on." Charlotte stripped into front of her eyes, making her regret her no sex decision. She was glad the stubborn little blonde had decided to stay. So she hugged Charlotte in one spontaneous movement.

Charlotte struggled in her surprise, but eventually gave in. "What is wrong with you tonight?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," she said as they stepped out of the closet. "There's something wrong with everyone else and it takes time and patience to heal them. And then I start to care and it makes it very hard for me when they take steps backwards instead of forwards."

"I get that," Charlotte said. "Had this patient, he was an alcoholic and he trashed his liver. He had a transplant after waiting for some time and got this new healthy liver. He came back later with alcohol poisoning. The man was damaging that liver that took so long to get. I just thought…well I had hoped he would stop hitting the bottle."

"I like you," Violet said, after listening to what the blonde had to say.

"I know. You keep saying that," Charlotte said dryly.

"You didn't let me finish. I was going to add that, you get me, perfectly."

"Oh."

"Favorite flower?" Violet shot at her before Charlotte could dwell on those words for long.

"Sunflowers. You?"

"Roses, red roses. I know, not very original." She flopped down on her bed and looked expectantly at Charlotte. The blonde lay down next her, leaving a foot between them, which prompted Violet to scoot closer to her.

Charlotte didn't snuggle with her, not even after sex. Charlotte might lie close to her or on top of her, but they didn't snuggle, which was a shame cause she liked to. But now it didn't matter because she was going to have her way whether Charlotte liked it or not.

So Violet scooted closer and then curled up along the form of the smaller woman, resting her chin on soft blonde hair. They stayed like that for a few minutes before anything happened. Violet spoke first.

"Stripes or polka dots?"

0oo0oo0

When Violet woke up that morning she noticed the sleeping form of Charlotte next to her. She smiled. They were making progress. This was a real relationship.