Chapter 17 - Sunday Morning: Maura
The early morning sun fluttered through the blinds and landed on Maura's relaxed closed lids. She turned to her left, away from the window, and opened her eyes.
Jane.
Her heart jolted.
She sprang out of bed and rushed to the guest bedroom. She reached the open door and exhaled when she saw Jane stretched on the bed, fast asleep. Seeking the support of the doorframe, she let her body rest on it while her eyes focused on Jane's relaxed shape.
I liked it. I wanted her to be you. It's so obvious even if you can't see it, sorry.
Maura covered her mouth, the other hand landing on her heaving chest. Her closed eyes barely held back a tear –or many. The wall held her upright until the dizziness had passed and her feet started to move, taking her safely away; away from a peacefully sleeping Jane -she hasn't slept because of me-, until she found herself standing in her bathroom.
The reflection of her large mirror showed eyes puffy from sleep and held-back tears. Were they sad or happy? She couldn't tell; a St. Patrick's Day parade of emotion was trying to burst out of them, clouding her thoughts.
St. Patrick? Why am I thinking of St. Patrick's now?
Her clinical, complex mind made the connection instantly. Green: her brain was trying to tell her something.
Green is hope -but it can also mean jealousy. Shamrock green is dark, like avocado green -new beginnings. Or is it maybe dark green, the color of insecurity? She shook her head; green is a good color: it creates balance of energy, heals the heart, helps us overcome a fear of giving, and sharing. It speaks of renewal and peaceful thoughts.
I love Jane. So much... How could I not see it? I love all of her. Could she ever? How? Can't help you process this. You kissed me, I liked it. She never loved me like I loved her, I had to leave her, never saw her again. No matter what happens, this is it. I liked it. I liked it...
The mirror showed the deep furrows drawn by those disjointed thoughts, and in them, she saw old-age-Maura greeting her from the future, and her first thought was Jane. A hint of a smile germinated when she imagined Jane at 70, pointing a weathered hand at her -the scar barely visible on it-, and laughing at her attempts of wearing stilettos, and then showering her with still-sparkling eyes, full of that gentleness she had always had. Or is that love?
Yes.
Love.
Fear gripped her throat, chest, and stomach until her heart and lungs almost stopped. Maura bent down and her hands brought a splash of cold water to her face. Somewhat calmer, she undressed and let the hot water finish her methodical self-control exercises. Once she was dressed and ready, she tiptoed with stilettos in hand until she reached, again, the guest room. Light snoring confirmed Jane was asleep, but the crumpled covers told her that the sleep might not be as restful as she looked. Holding back a renewed assault of thoughts, she left the door and went downstairs.
In one of the kitchen island drawers she found a post-it pad and pen, and scribbled a short message telling Jane she had gone to work, and that she'd be back by lunchtime. Her hand halted just as she was going to write XOXO, as she would normally do. Instead, she wrote: "I'll bring lunch." The pen hovered over the empty space after the last word, finally deciding against adding, "wait for me."
With that, she picked up her bag, jacket and closed the door quietly behind her.
The body found at the park was exactly the challenge she needed; an unclear cause of death, obscured even more by the natural elements, would require all of her concentration and expertise –and she had to work fast, before the evidence degraded in any way.
After a couple of minutes, she looked at her watch and realized she had been examining the body for almost one hour. No thoughts of Jane, of them, had surfaced. She went to fetch a cup of coffee, and returned ready to perform the autopsy.
By the time she was done, it was almost noon. She checked her phone, but there were no new messages. Had Jane woke up and left? Or was she still sleeping? She hoped for the latter, as that would mean that their conversation actually had a positive effect on her and no longer needed her dreams to do any background, subconscious processing. Jane's uncanny ability of shutting things out helped her deal with the most grueling aspects of her job but, ultimately, even she needed to process and close things to fully heal. Dreaming was a valid method as any, but not sleeping was not good for her body or mind.
Maura let air fill her chest. She held it, as if drawing from it the strength to start putting some order to the chaos of contradicting thoughts and feelings, and find some peace again.
She called the on-duty lab assistant to help her move the body back to the refrigerator. She let him do the final clean up as she sat behind her desk, her laptop open and waiting for her notes. Her phone buzzed and her heart stumbled before the disappointment took over. It was a text message from Constance, saying hi from Istanbul and telling her she had just been invited to hold a new exhibition in New York next spring.
What would Constance say of all of this? Probably she'd say "Oh darling, how wonderful, I'm really glad for you. I like Jane, she's got character, she is good for you" and go back to her own anecdotes.
Maura smiled grimly as an ancient pit in her stomach burned strong. It was the pit carved out of years of feeling alone, abandoned, taken for granted -a lifetime of not belonging that had ended with Jane. None of her boyfriends had ever come close to making her feel as special, as appreciated, as important, as safe as Jane had. Not even Ian, or Jack. Julia was the first one to have a real chance, but even though she admired her passion and levelheaded outlook on life, and shared so many interests -and a really intense chemistry-, it just wasn't enough. It wasn't what Jane gave her. It wasn't what she now wanted Jane to give her, what she wanted to give Jane.
Julia wasn't Jane.
She still wanted to have someone in her life to share all her interests. Julia could have been that person, but Jane gave her perspective. Her different interests, background and outlook on life made her grow as a person. She was a better person because Jane was in her life. And all of this was wrapped in a love -pure and easy- that had never demanded to be quantified or categorized. It was an undemanding, all-giving love.
Maura gasped, closing her eyes and rested her throbbing head on her fingertips.
Her friendship with Jane was shaped and defined by unconditional support and selfless giving. Friends made no demands. Jane made no demands, ever-, but lovers could not help but do; the very nature of desire and need dictated so. Her love for Jane had become demanding. Her body and soul demanded to get Jane –the real thing-, no matter what, no matter how much she tried to ignore it or play it down.
And still, her brain –the same one that Jane admired- now was fighting against her with all its power. It was as if it had kept her in the dark for years and now, even in the face of overwhelming evidence, it still kept fighting her from threatening the only real, solid relationship in her entire life. Threats that could come to life by placing unrequited demands on Jane, her own inadequacies or historical lack of capacity of choosing or keeping the right partner.
The frustration made her sink further into her hands, a salty storm brewing inside but too angry to even consider coming out, when she heard a knock on the door.
It was David, the lab assistant. Dr. Isles took over, elegantly concealing the startled reaction.
"Excuse me, Dr. Isles, but I'm done with what you asked. My shift is over and Beth is here ready to take over, but before I go, I wanted to give you this." He lifted a paper bag with vegetables peeking from inside. "I was going to leave it in the fridge for you, but since you're here…"
Maura's eloquent raised eyebrows spoke for her.
He laughed. "Oh, I grew these at home. I've brought some Swiss chard, onions, and carrots. They are all organic." He grinned proudly.
Maura couldn't contain her surprise, blissfully distracted from her inner earthquake. "That's wonderful, David. I didn't know you liked organic gardening."
He shrugged. "I didn't, not until last year. I have this huge yard at home, and one day my uncle, the one who taught me how to garden, came to visit and we got chatting, anyway, he showed me pictures of his garden now and it was amazing. He still had flowers and loads of beautiful stuff but everything was food, organic stuff. He made me try some veggies he grew and… And I'm a chatterbox, I'm sorry, Dr. Isles."
Maura shook her head, smiling gently. "No, please, I love the story. Come in, David. Come in."
David stepped in cautiously, left the bag on her desk and shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes sweeping the well-decorated office as if he was trespassing sacred ground.
"So, you started your own vegetable garden?"
David's eyes lit up, his smile proud and disarmingly earnest.
"Well, yes, I did. My uncle helped me out, of course. It was really hard and scary at first, when deciding to change it… I had won a couple of local gardening prizes, you know, and I found it beautiful as it was -as beautiful as it could get. I was so afraid of making a huge mistake and losing so many years of hard work. But he convinced me, and it's been amazing… Now I just can't imagine having only flowers to make pretty. You should see it, it's still beautiful and I get to eat really good stuff from it." He shrugged and smiled apologetically. "Anyway, I know you like greens and organic food, so," He pointed at the bag. "Hope you like it!"
Maura's attention faltered with the almost crude but quite relevant analogy. She forced herself to stop thinking of Jane and gave David a full-teeth, earnest smile.
When David had left, she slumped back on her chair, as if her entire musculoskeletal system had caved under the weight of such a simple comparison. Remnants of her fears stayed behind, swirling around her mind and heart, but at least, David's story had brought her some sense of peace, washing the strangling hold of paralysing fear and unrelenting need.
Maura slowly packed her bag, closed her laptop and headed out. She had promised Jane to get food –she wanted to get those gnocchi she loved so much-, and it was getting late.
Hopefully, she'd be still at home -there for her, as always, no matter what.
.
A/N: Maura has finally faced her inner demons, which is always good... and that is such a good starting point for a solid, healthy relationship, don't you agree? :D
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