Underneath The Surface
Chapter 22 - Rusty Secrets
"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long."
Sylvia Plath
"I've missed you..." Patty said as she stepped off the porch.
"I know."
They turned right and as if they shared the same thought, headed for the same break in the trees. Their feet stepped along a worn footpath as if they had trod this way a hundred times before, and neither said anything until the trees cleared. They stood at the edge of a large clearing, both looking for signs of other visitors. When they found no one else, they walked a few feet to a bench that overlooked the open expanse. They sat there silently for a few minutes before Charlie turned and folded one leg more or less under her. "Something's on your mind."
"I hardly know where to start."
"Don't test the water, just jump."
Patty sighed. "I miss you. We used to visit with each other every day, check in by phone at the very least, and now if we see each other once a week I consider myself lucky. What happened?"
"You did, Patty." Charlie reached down and took her friend's hand into her own. "Every time we fracture apart, it's because you've asked for space, whether through guilt or shame, I don't know, but I have always respected your wishes. We do this time and time again, and I know you'll always come back to me. You always have. This time ... you just took longer. I'm not sure how long I can keep doing this though. We aren't teenagers anymore, Patty."
"No, we aren't. We're middle aged women."
"The days just keep piling up on us. One day is a moment, then a month has passed, and we distract ourselves from it so intently that we don't see that a couple of years has passed. It's too long, too hard to keep up the front, and frankly, I'm tired of being alone and pretending I'm happy about it."
Patty sighed again. "Callie doesn't need me the way she used to ... I have more time to hear my thoughts now and I've realized I was wrong to try and insulate myself the way I did."
"You hid yourself away. You got scared and you bolted back to what you knew best, whether it worked for you or not, and it doesn't. It's taken you two years to realize that you need love too. But the thing is, I'm not going to be recycled this time. If you're in this, then you're in this. No getting scared or feeling guilty or having second thoughts. Every time we jump on this merry go-round with you telling me that you miss me, and I let you wiggle your way back in, and then I let you slam the door on me. No more, Patty. You're either all in or we don't do this again. We'll stay friends and that's it."
"That's quite the ultimatum."
"That's the way I feel. We've done this time and time again since we were teenagers, and each time it hurts worse. It's time to grow up. Shit or get off the pot, as it were. Life is too damn short."
"Would it hurt The Moose?"
"I don't think so. Besides, I'm working on a couple ideas to see if I can't offer something new anyway. People will always talk about something or someone. It's our lives, not theirs. At some point, we'll have to stand up and claim our own lives and not worry what everyone else thinks."
"You've always been braver than me."
"Sometimes commitment to what's right is mistakenly called bravery. Sometimes it's nothing more than sheer stubbornness and an unwillingness to let go of what we want. Tommy would not have wanted you to be lonely, you know that." Charlie looked out over the view, and knew where Patty's gaze was settled. On the other side of the large clearing, over to the left, on Tommy's headstone. They had always come here, even as teenagers, because it was the one place they could be alone to talk. After Tommy had died, they had a different reason to visit, although the bench they had come to think of as theirs was on the far side of the cemetery. "You don't deserve to be alone, Patty. You deserve to be held and loved and told that you're special. Why would you deny yourself that when you have someone so willing to do all that for you every single day?"
Patty sniffled. She was so damn tired of being alone, and she felt more alone every night. "Sometimes, I doubt I'll ever have someone to lie beside again, someone that will make my heart race and my skin shiver ... like you used to ... Do you remember?"
"I remember every time." Charlie said with a husky tone. "I remember the first time you let me touch you. I remember the first time you cried my name out to the stars, on the beach with a full moon overhead and the waves curling around your body. I remember how you felt under my fingertips and lips. I remember how you felt pressed into me, and under me and over me. I remember every time you would come to me and every time you shared yourself with me. I remember everything."
Patty lifted their still-clasped hands and kissed one of Charlie's knuckles. "I remember too." She sat still watching the light deepen and begin to fade. She wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps Regina and Emma had the right idea. Damn any obstacles and chase down what the heart truly wants. She considered Charlie's words, and thought about how her friend had always been able to make her feel. She thought about Callie's reaction to their recent house-mates and wondered if her daughter would be as accepting of her own mother. By the time Patty had made up her mind, the sun had nearly set behind the rows of headstones. "Come back to the house with me."
Charlie nodded and they rose, albeit slightly stiffly, and made their way back along the path in the failing light.
Later that night, when Regina came down for a drink of milk, she spied a vaguely familiar pair of shoes by the front door in the moonlight. At first she thought nothing of them, too caught up in worrying about Emma. It was not until she was putting her glass into the sink that it dawned on her where she had seen those shoes before.
On Charlie.
As she made her way back to the stairs, she glanced at the bottom of Patty's closed door. The light was low and flickering, as if a candle had been lit.
When she was half way up the staircase, an odd noise made her pause. She listened, wondering if she had merely heard the old house settling.
When the noise repeated itself, Regina recognized it as a name, and the yearning behind it.
She smiled in the moonlight and continued on to her room.