Rich Woman, Poor Woman, Beggar Woman, Thief
Brenda drove past her house. She slowed down a little and looked at Fritz's car in the drive. The lights were on and she could make out the TV. Joel was probably situated on the back of the sofa. Before she realized what she was doing, Brenda had stopped the car.
She stared at the house, wanting nothing more than to just go in and be home with her husband and her cat. But instead she merely sat there until she nearly cried. Rubbing her upset stomach, Brenda tore herself away. She had to or else she'd stay there all night.
As she drove on, her heart squeezed so painfully in her chest, she thought she'd just die. Brenda wasn't maudlin but as she sat at an intersection, she almost, very nearly, wanted to plow her car into the 18 wheeler across the road.
She couldn't believe what she had done, it made her sick to her stomach, literally.
She stopped in front of Sharon's house and stared at that one. The lights were on, too. Her car was there.
Brenda leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, gulping air into her lungs. She had no idea how to tell the woman that her career and the life as she knew it depended upon the mercy of one Fritz Howard.
Rubbing at her tired eyes, Brenda got out of the car. Her knees felt like jelly and the blonde tried to remember the last time she'd been so scared. Maybe that one time when she had told her daddy she was going to Georgetown.
That day her gut had nearly dropped out.
Another deep breath then she rapped on the door. Quietly. Hoping Sharon wouldn't hear. Wouldn't open the door and she could just go home. Well. The hotel.
"Brenda?" The door had opened and there stood Sharon in a pair of jeans and a blouse so soft looking it may have just been silk. "What are you doing here?" She asked and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her.
"I-I'm sorry for just turnin' up but...we need to talk, Sharon."
The brunette sighed and crossed her arms in front of her against the chill in the air. "I know," she said, looking at something else, something in the shadows. "But I really can't talk right now."
Brenda let out a humorless laugh. "That's what everybody keeps tellin' me."
"Brenda..."
The blonde sighed. "We really, really need to talk. Now."
The front door flew open again, revealing a tall young man framed by the light in the hallway. He looked familiar, as if she had seen him before but Brenda couldn't place him.
"Oh," he said, clearly surprised. "Oh!" He looked at Brenda and extended his hand. "You're Chief Johnson!"
"I sure am." She shook his hand and plastered a smile onto her face when realization dawned. "And I'm sorry for draggin' your mama away. I hope I didn't interrupt anythin'."
"Ah, no, no. I was just wondering where you'd gone, mom. Dinner's nearly ready."
Sharon smiled at him affectionately. "I'll be right there."
"Oh, uh, why don't you join us, Chief? There's plenty."
"Oh, no, no, that's fine. I have ta-I have ta get back. To my place. I just need to borrow your mama for a bit." She could tell Sharon was relieved when she declined.
"Why don't we talk upstairs, hmm?"
They all went inside. Brenda remembered the house clearly. The pictures on the wall, where she recognized the boy from. The bedroom down the hall. The guest room she had slept in. Brenda had never been upstairs and felt somewhat uneasy, out of her element, as they ascended the stairs.
"In here," Sharon said, pulling her from her thoughts.
They entered what appeared to be a boy's bedroom, decorated with all things baseball and books about criminology, an odd amalgamation of childhood things and grown up stuff.
"It's Ricky's old room." Sharon said evenly. "He works with Agent Howard."
"I know," Brenda said. "Agent O'Donnell or some such."
"Dwyer," Sharon corrected with an eye-roll.
"Sorry," Brenda said for good measure. "Your husband's name?"
"It's mine. My maiden name."
"Ah."
Sharon looked away, her hands on her hips, and sighed. "I want to be furious with you for just showing up without even asking but I realize that, since I've been avoiding this conversation, you must feel equally as frustrated."
Brenda blinked.
"Let me just say, how sorry I am for...manipulating you into...sleeping with me," Sharon said slowly.
"That looked like it hurt a little."
"Very funny."
Brenda shook her head then, and plopped onto the bed, her knees no longer supporting her. "But, um, that's not why I'm here. And b'sides, none of it was your fault and no one can manipulate me into sleepin' with them no matter how many times they bat their eyelashes."
The brunette avoided her gaze again and nodded, defeated. "I'm aware of that."
"Then why apologize?"
Sharon seemed to search for the right words, the right reasons but none of it would come out. She just turned away, rubbing her forehead and shrugged.
"Sharon." How to deliver news like this? Brenda came up just as empty as Sharon had a moment before then she felt herself detach from her own emotions, all of the trouble she had gotten herself into, looked down upon the situation with an uncaring despondence.
"Fritz knows." The words bounced around the room while Sharon stood there, still, facing the window.
"What?"
"He found out and I thought...I should tell you."
"He found out? How?"
Brenda had never heard Sharon's voice sound like that. "I'm not sure. Several things."
"What things?"
"When I came home that night, I left my clothes on the floor and he must've picked 'em up. I don't know, Sharon. And-and the notebook entries-"
"What notebook?"
"Crawley's. I-I didn't know he'd been followin' you for that long and I don't know what's in 'em, exactly, 'cause Fritz pulled them from Evidence-"
"Jesus, Brenda! Jesus Christ!" Sharon paced the room. "Jesus!"
"Sharon, wait-"
"It's all in there?"
"I don't know. It don't say my name. Just CJ-"
"CJ? Chief Johnson? It doesn't take a genius to figure that out." The brunette paced again, her eyes shining with unshed tears, her hands trembling as she slapped them over her mouth to contain a sob. "What am I gonna do? I just put the house on the market-"
"The house?"
"I can't sleep here, after..." Sharon took her glasses off and wiped at her eyes. "Oh, god, I'm going to lose my job. Who's going to employ me? I'm barely promotable-"
"He found out four days ago, he's not reported us."
"Yet! Conduct unbecoming. You know how bad that looks? And the fact that I investigated your OIS! Oh, my god, Brenda! They're going to re-open every investigation I've ever conducted!"
Brenda's bottom lip trembled and for the very first time she felt the guilt hit her like a ton of bricks - not that niggly little feeling of regret, no. Guilt. Gut wrenching. Sickening. Earth shattering.
"I'll do whatever he says, I promise, Sharon, I'll make it right, I swear-"
"How? If Fritz decides to report us, that's his prerogative and there's nothing we can do about it."
"It's not like I was your direct supervisor. I'll go to Will-"
"Oh, no!" Sharon interrupted. "You will do no such thing. You'll be the Assistant Chief, Brenda, Pope can't afford a scandal like this. He'll crucify you and god only knows what he's gonna do to me."
Brenda snorted. "He sure can't afford it. He might throw a tantrum but it sure is in his best interest to keep this under wraps."
"And you're sure of that?"
As sure as she could be, Brenda thought glumly but gave Sharon a reassuring nod.
"You should go. Go home."
"Where? To my hotel room?" Brenda said sourly.
"Ha," Sharon laughed humorlessly. "You're not staying here. You're leaving."
"I wasn't asking," Brenda said demurely, patting down her skirt. "I just-" A hiccup interrupted whatever she was about to say. "I just-I just-"
"Dear god," Sharon lamented, arms crossed. "Please, tell me you're not about to cry."
She wasn't, Brenda insisted then burst into tears. She had seen Sharon do it - the tears so unexpected and sudden that they had come as a surprise to them both. So there she was, tears streaming down her face, breathing labored until she could barely get a word out.
"I'm so sorry, Sharon. I really am! I ruined everythin'! Everythin'!"
The brunette looked at her through her designer glasses. She was well practiced at appearing indifferent but Brenda knew better - she knew Sharon and what a gentle soul she truly was. As the tears rolled down her cheeks and the sobs wracked her body, Brenda finally understood what had previously escaped her.
"I'll miss you," she cried. "So much!"
Sharon sat beside her on the bed, one arm around her shoulders. "Shhh shh shh."
"I just want to feel normal. Just this one night. Please, Sharon, please, just this one last time."
The brunette sighed into her hair and squeezed her tighter. "I don't want my son exposed to all this. My family doesn't lie to each other."
"Please," Brenda begged. "I'll just be your friend Brenda, and he won't even know any better, I swear."
"Brenda..." Sharon let go and she looked like she was saying 'no' again but couldn't help but say 'yes'. "...okay. Fine. Stay." She looked like she regretted it. "What are you going to do about Fritz?"
"What do you mean?" Brenda asked as she wiped at her tears.
"Are you going to try to...mend things? That's what you want, right?"
"Of course," Brenda said immediately. Of course. Of course she wanted to mend things with Fritz. She had married him.
"Of course," Sharon repeated and shot up off the bed. "Great."
"What?"
"It's just..." Sharon shook her head. "You can stay, tonight. But you have to stop taking advantage of me like this."
"Like what?"
Sharon stared out the window at the light polluted night sky. It was a full moon and the bright, clean light shone into the bedroom. Brenda could see Sharon's immaculate silhouette framed by the moonlight. The brunette turned to her then, posture guarded.
"I hate you."
Brenda startled at the harsh words, blinking at the unexpected hurt they caused. "Well...if that's how you feel..." She trailed off. "I may have been takin' advantage of you but you took advantage of me right back." Brenda pointed at her then, a trait her mother utterly abhorred. "But I thought we'd been past that."
"Ha," Sharon chuckled and nearly doubled over with something heavy and burdensome. "Oh, god!" She glared at Brenda, shaking her head as if in disbelieve. "You idiot!" She yelled - Sharon never yelled - and gestured helplessly with her hands.
"Can't you see?"
"See what?"
"I have feelings for you!"
Brenda's mouth dropped open and suddenly she was somewhere else, with Elaine, looking through a two way mirror as the older woman's cigarette smoke wafted around her.
'He's going to crack,' Elaine said, smoking. 'The bigger the secret, the harder it is to keep.'
"Feelins?"
Sharon threw her hands up in the air and looked at her as if she were indeed an idiot. "I'm in love with you, Brenda. In case you hadn't noticed...which, of course-"
"Why didn't you say?"
"Say what? Even now, you want to be with Fritz, and trust me, I wasn't under the impression that that was going to change but if you keep doing things like this, saying things, that you're going to miss me..." Sharon trailed off then she truly looked at her, no more hiding. "Hope can be a very, very debilitating thing."
Brenda swallowed as they stood in this room together, the weight of it all crushing her. "I thought we were friends. I-I didn't know, Sharon."
"Well, now you do and I'd appreciate it if we didn't talk about it ever again."
"Whatever you want," Brenda said, afraid. Scared, even, of losing her friend forever.
"Okay," Sharon breathed out and she actually looked relieved. In that moment, Brenda envied her, envied that feeling, that weightlessness.
"Sharon?" Brenda reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I'll do everythin' I can, I promise. I won't let anythin' happen to you, not if I can help it, I owe you that much."
The brunette smiled, almost affectionately, and patted her hand. "Oh, honey. You don't owe me anything." Even when she said it, with that smile, Brenda could tell she was disappointed.
How long had Sharon been in love with her? And how could she not have known? Brenda began to realize that her selfishness had spread further and wider than she could have ever anticipated.
Downstairs, Sharon called out for her son. "Ricky?"
"In here," he said as he came out of the kitchen. "Everything okay?" He asked and eyed them both up. He could tell they had both been crying, perhaps he had heard the argument, their voices muffled by the walls.
"Yes," Sharon said after a moment. "My friend Brenda is having dinner with us."
"Oh? That's-uh-great. I'll just get another plate."
Brenda smiled. "Thank you." He was well mannered and handsome, just as she had imagined it and not at all how Fritz and that Agent Morgan had painted him.
He reminded her of his mama, of Sharon, in her clean cut dresses and suits. She imagined Ricky in his dark suit and tie, hair combed back, sleek and professional. Here, though, he wore faded jeans and a nondescript t-shirt with holes in it, well worn, his hair falling into his eyes.
"Are you alright?" Sharon asked gently, quietly, her hand resting on her arm, just so, and standing much closer than she ought to.
Brenda nodded and met Sharon's worried, intense gaze with a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Then why are you staring at my son like a crazed psychopath?"
The blonde chuckled which, in turn, made Sharon chuckle, too. "Oh..." Brenda shrugged. "He's just like you."
"You mean, beside the facial hair and his flair for exotic food."
Brenda's face fell. "How exotic?"
Sharon leaned closer. "I've learned not to ask."
The blonde's tummy churned as they neared the table and Ricky opened the oven. The smell was great. So far, so good.
"Okay, you've kept me waiting long enough. What is it? And more importantly, where is it from?"
"It's a Russian dish. Well, French and Russian," he said, smile wide as he set the casserole onto the table. "Veal, I hope you eat veal, Chief?"
"Just plain Brenda will do," she said and glanced at the dish as her face broke out into a smile all on its own. It wasn't the fact that she knew what it was that flooded her with relief but the simple knowledge that she had eaten it before and had liked it.
She wouldn't have to pretend and swallow every bite with silent contempt.
"Telyátina Orlóv!"
"Ha!" Ricky grinned. "How did you know?"
"Ooh," Brenda shrugged nonchalantly. "Been to Russia a coupla times." Her standard line that she had once fed Sharon.
"Oh really? Wow! But uh, let's eat and then you have to tell me all about it. I've got wine. Brenda? What would you like?"
"She drinks anything," Sharon interrupted and took a seat, patting the chair next to her.
They ate and drank. Brenda just listened for the most part. Listened to Sharon laugh outrageously, her voice, laden with carefree humor, listened to her retelling of this brilliant all-gay theatre production.
Listened to Ricky saying, "If you keep hanging out with gay guys, how are you ever going to meet someone?"
"Very funny but I don't need you match-making."
"Eh," he shrugged boyishly. "And here I thought your coming out preceded a long line of gorgeous women." As if he had remembered himself, he glanced at Brenda and frowned.
"Brenda knows. Besides, this isn't a secret."
"...okay," he said slowly and smiled again. "Ah, sorry. I just-of course Brenda knows."
"Of course," Sharon patted Brenda's arm again and then she poured more wine. Her eyes were shining with mirth, amusement at her son's expense and then Ricky was clowning around again, and Sharon laughed, and Brenda felt her heart warm.
In the pit of her stomach however, sat a big knot that had only just begun to unravel. A weight she had carried with her for a long time unanchored. Beside her, Sharon leaned closer, her perfume surrounding them both in a cloud of warmth.
As Brenda looked at her, really looked at her, well, she began to wonder what could have been. Say, if she had met Sharon and not Fritz.
And then, that weight, it just left.
She laid in Sharon's bed, wearing her borrowed pyjamas and stared at the ceiling. There wasn't much to see, naturally, but Brenda felt restless and if she stared long enough at nothing in particular, she may just fall asleep.
Sharon was right next door, in the guest room as she refused, or rather, couldn't face the memories. Crawley had wrecked a lot of things for Sharon, Brenda thought, but she was about to wreck a whole lot more.
Will came to mind, over and over, which was in part why she was staring at the ceiling. An hour ago, Brenda had remembered how in love she had been with him and how heartbroken when she had found out he had been married.
Just like Sharon, she had hoped because he had said things, promised things, that he had no intention of keeping. She had held on and had waited until, one day, her heart couldn't take the ache anymore. Maybe that was what had happened to Sharon when she had finished things.
How long had she hurt because of me? Brenda buried her face in the pillow that smelled of nothing but Sharon.
Brenda pushed the blanket aside and got out of bed. If she had given it any thought, she would have known it was yet another stupid idea, but realization only struck when she crawled onto the guest bed and slipped under the covers next to Sharon.
"What are you doing?" The brunette asked sleepily. "Go back to bed."
"I'm just gonna stay here," Brenda whispered back and slung an arm across Sharon's waist. She drew comfort from the warm body, the scent - safe and calming - the soft inhale and exhale.
"Brenda..." Sharon whispered. "I can't do this."
"I'm not askin'."
The woman turned around, their faces inches apart. "I know," Sharon said, her face dark and cloudy. "But, Brenda-"
"Shhhh..." The blonde leaned closer and kissed Sharon, softly. She, honestly, hadn't meant to but once she was doing it, Brenda had a hard time stopping. Sharon let her, she probably felt as if she didn't have much choice what with being in love.
Brenda remembered that feeling; of taking whatever Will would give. So she kissed Sharon with all the affection she had.
When they were undressed and clinging to one another, and Brenda was inside Sharon, touching her slowly, she knew that, come morning, she would walk out of this house.
Brenda would walk out, she had to, but she knew she would take Sharon's heart with her.