I felt awful when she started crying. I mean I was still pretty confused about the whole gay thing but she'd been so nice to me the whole evening that I hated to see her upset. I went over to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulder before leading her back over to the sofa where I held her and cuddled her just as she had with me. And in spite of what I'd thought earlier, it didn't feel weird, even with all the confusion going on between us, actually it felt quite nice – after trying and failing to look after my dad, having her fall in my arms made me feel like I could be useful to someone after all.
She cried for a long time, so long that I started to wonder if it was about what had happened at all, or whether there was something bigger going on for her. I think in the end though it was kind of a combination of the two as I discovered when she eventually stopped crying and started talking.
She apologised first, and then,
"I've got a lot going on in my life at the moment," her eyes filled up again, and I cuddled her more tightly, knowing that it was precisely what I'd have needed if I had been her, "And I thought I could cope but I just feel so alone."
Alone. There was a feeling I could relate to, and I wanted to reassure her that she was anything but. I wiped away her tears, and gently kissed her on the forehead, something my mum always used to do to me, "You're not alone Connie." I reached for her hand and squeezed it, "You've got me."
She pulled away from me slightly then, and it didn't take Einstein to work out why, not after the conversation that had ensued after my little faux pas but it didn't matter, I didn't care if she was gay or not – I've got loads of gay friends, one more wouldn't have made a difference. I told her as much but she didn't look much happier.
"I'm not gay." Her denial sounded more plausible now she'd actually spoken it, but it still didn't make a whole lot of sense after what she'd said, or for that matter explain just why she was crying so much. She must have realised that because after falling silent and thinking for a long time she finally spoke again.
"I just liked it." She was blushing again, but I urged her to continue, knowing that we'd never sort the problem out if she didn't, "It was nice to have some physical contact. Some tender loving care. It made me feel better. Less alone. That's was why I liked having you touch me in that way." She finished, but by then could hardly bring herself to look at me, and looked so guilty that I felt bad for her. She shouldn't have felt that way – why should she have felt bad about wanting to be loved? – It was what everyone wanted, me included.
I reached out and gently turned her face so she was looking at me, our situations well and truly reversed now – me in control, me looking after her, "It's ok. It really is." She was crying again, looking so unsure of herself; the picture completely at odds to the woman I'd thought she was and words can't explain how much at that moment I wanted to comfort her. I leant towards her, gently kissed the tears from her cheeks and as I did so I became aware my lips were moving ever closer to hers, and then, without another word exchanged between us I kissed her.
I don't think she was as prepared for it as I was because her response was so tentative, but she responded all the same and that was enough to let me know that it was what she wanted, even if she did pull away seconds later, saying that we 'couldn't', that we 'shouldn't'.
I knew where she was coming from I suppose, I mean she was my dad's friend and he was asleep upstairs, but all I really cared about at that moment was giving her the comfort she was craving – it was no big deal, not really.
"It's fine." I murmured, moving into kiss her a second time, "My mates and I do it all the time when we're drunk. Just relax…" and with that I brought my lips down on hers and words became superfluous to requirements.