Chapter One: "Tomorrow:" the Dirty Word
"Martha, I'm going away someplace, to begin again," Karen Wright said quietly, watching the expressions turn across Martha Dobie's face. "…Will you come with me?" She paused. "We can find work now and…" her weary mind trailed off, even as her voice did.
Martha glanced at her quickly, and then smiled—a soft, sorrowful smile—as she felt her heart sink into her sick stomach. Her insides fluttered in panic, thinking about Karen leaving. She knew that she couldn't go with her.
"Thank you Karen." She looked at her hands. "Let's talk about it tomorrow," and settling herself rather uneasily: "I want to go to sleep." The gentle regard of the dark-haired woman was too much and Martha shut her eyes against it, willing her away.
The act was lost on Karen however, and above Martha she beamed dimly in tired approval at her fellow headmistress's shut eyes and smooth, undisturbed brow.
After a moment, Martha heard her leave, the door shutting with a soft click.
Her brow furrowed.
She wanted to kick, and scream, in anguish, but she was so tired..so tired.
Too tired to cry, even. And no well of strength to draw from anymore.
You'll be alone, Martha Dobie. Alone for the rest of your days, no one to hold you, with nothing but the memory of destroying the life of the one person you've ever loved.
Not true, she amended, grasping for scenarios where this fiasco did not permanently damage Karen's reputation and career. She reminded herself of Mrs. Tilford's visit. It'll be alright for Karen now, wherever she goes. Maybe she'll even go back to Joe..and they'll be married, and she'll be okay. She can go back to teaching, and if she doesn't want to, there's so much she'd be good at. And she could have a child of her own; she's always wanted a baby, for as long as I can remember.
Martha smiled at that thought as she toyed with the rope-tie on her robe.
She choked. She could never see them. She could never go anywhere with Karen. Not anymore. Their friendship was ruined, in public and in private; it was drawing to a close, like a book that, struggling to end happily, can't, because the storyline is so convoluted—and so the last pages must be sad ones. There would always be nasty whispers like large, black shadows wherever they went together. Martha couldn't stand being so near Karen anymore anyway. The sight of her in the mornings made Martha's heart lurch in her chest. Saying good-night was even worse. And the innocent touches they'd shared, after all this..she couldn't stand them anymore. She got such a longing from them now—although she has always enjoyed Karen's touches just too much—and that was wrong, so wrong of her to think thoughts like that, about Karen. Karen! Why, if she only knew the thoughts Martha has had..oh! She would be sick if she knew..if she knew about the very night before the trial when Martha awoke with a gasp, her pupils blown wide, her fingers tightly gripping her pillow, the bedsheets twisted around her..she'd showered then, scrubbing off sweat and guilt and muddled embarrassment, and painstakingly ignoring her insistent, pounding urges; only to return to bed to toss restlessly…
How did this happen?
If Karen only knew how she felt, when she hugged her. She could stay in Karen's arms forever. Their embraces were never long enough, never of the sort that..
But Martha knew..Karen would never, never, never.
It was unthinkable, it couldn't ever. She could never act on her feelings for the dark-haired woman, and she would be lonely still longer. And oh, much longer than that.
Martha ached, hurt so badly she could die, and her exhausted, raw eyes somehow summoned new, sharp tears that stung like grains of salted sand.
Karen…oh, god, what now?