Outing of the Heart (107 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
âSorry Sid. How are you?' Sid had been fuming at the other end. It seemed that every time she phoned home there was always somebody there and Ten had no time for her. Waiting for Ten to return had given time enough to build herself into a resentful state. She was very put out ⦠that Devon again?
âI can see that you are doing very well,' she retorted, sarcastically.
âSid â¦' Ten was alarmed by the tone of voice. âI can explain everything.'
âOh yes, you're good at that,' her voice acerbic. âYou always have some plausible excuse. Well, let me tell you ⦠I'm not interested. I've had a belly-full of this. My life here is hard enough without worrying all the time about what you're getting up to with other women.' Jealousy and temper came palpably down the line.
âSid. What are you saying? Let me explain. I â¦'
At these words a high color suddenly rushed to Sid's cheeks and she snapped. Now she delivered, in an ice-cold voice: âI told you. I'm NOT interested. I've had enough. Listen, forget the weekend. I've got too much on my plate as it is. I'll be better off to save the gas.' With these last, wrathful words she hung up, the rage inside making her head pound and her eyes see blinding red.
Astonished, Ten stood rooted to the spot. Sid's final words continued to echo through her ears as she put down the receiver. She didn't know what had hit her. Who could have seen this turn of events? Shocked and devastated she resolved to phone first thing. She would be unable to work or concentrate on anything with this awful misunderstanding between them.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The next morning did not bring Ten her longed-for resolution. Sid was in no better mood for having slept on it. The stress of her new situation, coupled with the unaccustomed study load, on top of her debilitated health, all had contributed to inflate the hurt to major proportions. Resentment and fury had simmered all night, feeding her aggrieved pride. She felt betrayed â irrational as that might be. She couldn't rid herself of this ugly mood. Ten was begging her to come back for the weekend, but the words had no impact, only a hollow ring. She was intractable.
âI have a lot of work to do this weekend. I can more profitably spend my time in study, especially when I have so much to make up.'
Ten could hear the steeliness in her words and gave up. In a tremulous voice she concluded: âWhen you're ready then' and with a sigh replaced the handset.
âOh Sid, what is happening?' Brokenly, she spoke the words to herself, over and over. Was their relationship floundering on the rocks of separation already? Was what they had together so shallow? Denial rushed at her forcefully, knocking the breath from her lungs. She brought her hands to her face, her eyes blurring and bent her head, shaking the disbelief from her thoughts. It couldn't be true; this couldn't really be happening. She had to get ready for work. She wished there were someone older and wiser she could turn to. Thea perhaps? No. Thea, although her friend, was really Sid's confidante. She must find one of her own.
All day Sid's words crashed about in her head. For the first time since the beginning of their affair she felt truly alone. Now she knew the difference between just being apart, which she had gone through so many times those nights they had had to say goodbye ⦠and this. This was different; infinitely worse. She had thought she was unhappy then. Now she felt she was dragging with her a heart as heavy as a granite gravestone. This loneliness kept her on the edge of a black abyss.
She had put in a day assailed by doubts and confusion and at its end, knew she could stand no more of it. She phoned Devon, but had to leave a message. When Devon got back to her it was late and she had been in bed, but not asleep. Ten poured out her heart to her friend who listened in silence, making sympathetic noises at appropriate lulls. Inside, Devon realized this could be her chance. Much as she was attracted to Eugene, she knew she would always want Tenille.
âI hear you, Ten. I can see how it is with you,' she responded kindly. âListen, hang in there for tomorrow and I'll fix up something for Friday. You know, Pet, we can't have you forlorn all weekend,' she added, her mind already racing ahead into the realms of fantasy where she and Tenille were alone together for the whole night.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Even by Friday, echoes of her last conversation with Ten still rang through Sid's head. She had played it over and over in her mind and come to regret her explosion. She had let jealousy and her temper get the better of her. Now a cooler head prevailed and she castigated herself for an immature fool. Her usually reliable common sense had been overwhelmed and blacked-out by mounting insecurities.
Classes were over for the day. Her last one on Friday afternoon was the second of the Neurosciences; a detailed study of the structure and function of the Mammalian nervous system and the organs associated with the special senses. It was one that was essential to attend, being too complicated to rely on other people's notes. This was how afterwards, she had decided to keep company at the Whippletree Restaurant, with her lab. associates. They were all going to try out the eatery for the first time. But sitting there, the animated chatter eddying around her, she felt out of place. Suddenly, she decided to make the drive to Toronto. She had been obdurate and chided herself for being too hasty and childish. It was only fair to hear Ten's side of things. She wanted desperately to bury the hatchet; to have things right between them. She excused herself from the gathering. Their disappointment showed. They had been looking forward to a fun night. As she rose, Brian asked: âHow about tomorrow. Are you still going to try out for the Volleyball team?' She had forgotten about the Gryphons. They competed in the Ontario Women's Intercollegiate Athletics Association. She had been keen to get involved in this. If she did well, it could lead to the Canadian Inter-Varsity Athletic Union Championships. She was a good team player with a vigorous, competitive spirit but ⦠with all this other business on her mind, she couldn't find that edge to get involved.
âNo, I can't this weekend. I'll have to make it some time in the week.' She turned to Ilona. âI've not forgotten the squash game either. I do want to play, but I have to go to Toronto.'
âNo problem. See you Monday.' Ilona was turning out to be a popular girl. She would have no difficulty finding partners.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Sid pulled in to the curb slowly, looking up to their front window to catch possible movement. By now it was getting on for nine o'clock. The light was on and the drapes drawn. She parked the car off the street in the little driveway on the far side of the house. This had been an impulse thing. Now she couldn't wait to take Ten in her arms and tell her how sorry she was for those hasty judgements, delivered in frustration.
Overnight grip in hand, she let herself in and bounded up the stairs. So many times she had pictured their meeting: she was sure it would unfold as she had seen it â¦Ten running into her outstretched arms, a look of love and joy lighting up her face and she, kissing her with abandoned passion â¦.
The apartment was empty. She dropped her bag at the door and moved on into the living room standing, looking about dejectedly. “
My dearest Ten, where are you?”
she thought uneasily. Everything looked the same; neat and tidy. Ten's sweater lay across the back of the low boy. The TV guide was open on the coffee table to Friday night, a program ticked off that she had obviously thought to watch. Sid tipped her wrist to check the time. Perhaps she had just popped out for something and would be back soon for the show? She got herself a beer, then turned on the TV and sat back to watch and wait.
Concentration on the screen was impossible. Her mind kept slipping back over their last weekend, then went right back to the Gaslight Guesthouse. They had been so happy then. Nervous as hell yes, but it was their first real time alone. For all that, she had been aware of a new sense of freedom; a power and a potency that had coursed through her veins with undeniable vigor. Such a joyful time gone ⦠not lost forever though, she hoped. They had paid each other that supreme compliment of mutual admiration, one of the most delightful and irresistible of aphrodisiacs.
Another collage, when they had gone to the movies and then out for dinner. That evening had been accompanied by complete comprehension of their every thought, their minds tuning into each other as later, their bodies were to hum to the same melody. Intense grief attacked her, as a tear trickled slowly down her cheek and she brought back memories of happier times.
âOh, that we could have those days again,' she sighed despondently. She hadn't spoiled everything, had she? Her jealous nature and too hot temper. How could they recover their precious dreams? She would find a way to make it all better; recapture that idyllic time.
The night dragged on. She turned off the TV and moved disconsolately to the window seat to watch for Ten's return. No need to open the drapes wide, she had a good view of the street and stared out at the murky shadows wrapped in endless, tormenting thoughts; increasingly alarmed. It was now almost eleven and still no sign of her love.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
After work, Devon had come around to pick Ten up from the apartment. It was a mild, velvet night, the stars obscured by low cloud, but it could turn blustery.
Ten had made an effort to get into a lighter mood. After her shower she had stood in front of her open closet like always, waiting for inspiration; it had been her little black dress. At least now she could wear the proper shoes. Simple, low-heeled, black leather pumps and white push downs. She had looked herself up and down in the dressing mirror and hoped the dress wasn't too tight.
“Have I put on that much weight since the party?”
she wondered. It did seem rather to cling.
“Oh well, I'll be sitting, mostly,”
she thought prosaically. For a change, she rouged her lips in a brilliant crimson, to be more in style with Devon. It definitely gave her a different look. More like a woman of the world.
She heard Devon honk; almost eight. Grabbing her purse, she shrugged her arms into her warm jacket, remembering at the last minute to pick up a scarf, red shot silk, to match her mouth. If she felt overexposed across the bosom, (since the neckline did look rather low), she could always use it as a cover up.
âHi Pet.' Devon leaned over to open the passenger door and as Ten slid into the opulent comfort of the Beema, gave a little kiss of welcome which landed on her neck.
âHi Dev. How was your day?'
âNot bad. Yours?' Devon's mood was one of elation. She'd been looking forward to this encounter for a long time. Her smile positively radiated and the sparkle in her vivid green eyes betrayed a more than passing inner excitement.
âCan't complain, but I'm glad it's the evening. I need something to distract me. My brain is that tired,' Ten replied dolefully.
âWell my dear, I have the very night planned to raise your spirits and to help you forget your woes.' She shot her a look to check how her words were being received. So far, so good. âI've got a table reserved at the Raclette Restaurant and Wine Bar. They specialize in Swiss fondues to die for. Also, it's lots of fun just dipping and eating. You'll love it.'
Heading for Queen Street West, she turned right on St. Clair and then almost immediately left into Ossington. The reservation was for eight-thirty and they arrived in good time.
Devon was given a warm and special welcome from the maitre'd. Ten had the feeling she came here often. Gerard guided them to a secluded booth where they could see, but not clearly be seen. The waiter helped Ten off with her jacket, resulting in two people looking appreciatively at her svelte form in the clinging black dress. He took her scarf away too, leaving Devon to feast her eyes on the deliciously exposed mounds of soft flesh, revealed by the plunging decolletage.
Ten wanted to retrieve the scarf, but then thought better of it. Getting up now would look rather obvious, drawing even more attention. Devon also liked how Ten had tied back her hair, pinning it up on top, with her Spanish comb. Curling strands escaped to frame her face, the style reminding her of their early days. The flickering light from the candle fell softly, the play of shadow emphasizing the classic planes of her face and the entrancing slant of her expressive eyes. Her blood red lips made her look more available. Could tonight be hers? She ordered an expensive dry white. Ten had planned to drink Spritzers, but Devon would have none of it.
âThis is too good to mar with Perrier,' she observed loftily. âAnyway, tonight you want to be happy, right?'
That wasn't quite how Ten would have put it. She couldn't be âhappy' whilst there was this rift between herself and Sid, but she knew Devon was being a good friend and doing her best to help her through. She wouldn't be churlish. She drank up, the liquid tart and refreshing on her tongue.
Devon herself looked deceptively innocent in a dark brown, velvet dress featuring delicate cream lace at the collar and at the cuffs of the long, tight fitting sleeves. The dress cinched in under the bosom then followed her figure finally to flare out over the hips in a snappy, full circle skirt that ended mid-thigh. It was a superbly cut Dior creation which Ten knew must have cost the earth, despite its artful simplicity. Although already a tall woman, she had chosen to wear heavy soled, black suede, sling-back shoes. All in all, very trendy; very with it. A colorful, embroidered beanie, sequins and glass beads providing the highlights, capped off the total package.
âAfter dinner â¦' she continued enthusiastically, â â¦but there's no rush, this is our fun time, I thought you might like to try out this neat bar I know. It's called âTrax'. It's a piano bar and there's live entertainment Fridays and Saturdays. It's on Yonge, so an easy drive from here.'
âI can see that you are doing very well,' she retorted, sarcastically.
âSid â¦' Ten was alarmed by the tone of voice. âI can explain everything.'
âOh yes, you're good at that,' her voice acerbic. âYou always have some plausible excuse. Well, let me tell you ⦠I'm not interested. I've had a belly-full of this. My life here is hard enough without worrying all the time about what you're getting up to with other women.' Jealousy and temper came palpably down the line.
âSid. What are you saying? Let me explain. I â¦'
At these words a high color suddenly rushed to Sid's cheeks and she snapped. Now she delivered, in an ice-cold voice: âI told you. I'm NOT interested. I've had enough. Listen, forget the weekend. I've got too much on my plate as it is. I'll be better off to save the gas.' With these last, wrathful words she hung up, the rage inside making her head pound and her eyes see blinding red.
Astonished, Ten stood rooted to the spot. Sid's final words continued to echo through her ears as she put down the receiver. She didn't know what had hit her. Who could have seen this turn of events? Shocked and devastated she resolved to phone first thing. She would be unable to work or concentrate on anything with this awful misunderstanding between them.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The next morning did not bring Ten her longed-for resolution. Sid was in no better mood for having slept on it. The stress of her new situation, coupled with the unaccustomed study load, on top of her debilitated health, all had contributed to inflate the hurt to major proportions. Resentment and fury had simmered all night, feeding her aggrieved pride. She felt betrayed â irrational as that might be. She couldn't rid herself of this ugly mood. Ten was begging her to come back for the weekend, but the words had no impact, only a hollow ring. She was intractable.
âI have a lot of work to do this weekend. I can more profitably spend my time in study, especially when I have so much to make up.'
Ten could hear the steeliness in her words and gave up. In a tremulous voice she concluded: âWhen you're ready then' and with a sigh replaced the handset.
âOh Sid, what is happening?' Brokenly, she spoke the words to herself, over and over. Was their relationship floundering on the rocks of separation already? Was what they had together so shallow? Denial rushed at her forcefully, knocking the breath from her lungs. She brought her hands to her face, her eyes blurring and bent her head, shaking the disbelief from her thoughts. It couldn't be true; this couldn't really be happening. She had to get ready for work. She wished there were someone older and wiser she could turn to. Thea perhaps? No. Thea, although her friend, was really Sid's confidante. She must find one of her own.
All day Sid's words crashed about in her head. For the first time since the beginning of their affair she felt truly alone. Now she knew the difference between just being apart, which she had gone through so many times those nights they had had to say goodbye ⦠and this. This was different; infinitely worse. She had thought she was unhappy then. Now she felt she was dragging with her a heart as heavy as a granite gravestone. This loneliness kept her on the edge of a black abyss.
She had put in a day assailed by doubts and confusion and at its end, knew she could stand no more of it. She phoned Devon, but had to leave a message. When Devon got back to her it was late and she had been in bed, but not asleep. Ten poured out her heart to her friend who listened in silence, making sympathetic noises at appropriate lulls. Inside, Devon realized this could be her chance. Much as she was attracted to Eugene, she knew she would always want Tenille.
âI hear you, Ten. I can see how it is with you,' she responded kindly. âListen, hang in there for tomorrow and I'll fix up something for Friday. You know, Pet, we can't have you forlorn all weekend,' she added, her mind already racing ahead into the realms of fantasy where she and Tenille were alone together for the whole night.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Even by Friday, echoes of her last conversation with Ten still rang through Sid's head. She had played it over and over in her mind and come to regret her explosion. She had let jealousy and her temper get the better of her. Now a cooler head prevailed and she castigated herself for an immature fool. Her usually reliable common sense had been overwhelmed and blacked-out by mounting insecurities.
Classes were over for the day. Her last one on Friday afternoon was the second of the Neurosciences; a detailed study of the structure and function of the Mammalian nervous system and the organs associated with the special senses. It was one that was essential to attend, being too complicated to rely on other people's notes. This was how afterwards, she had decided to keep company at the Whippletree Restaurant, with her lab. associates. They were all going to try out the eatery for the first time. But sitting there, the animated chatter eddying around her, she felt out of place. Suddenly, she decided to make the drive to Toronto. She had been obdurate and chided herself for being too hasty and childish. It was only fair to hear Ten's side of things. She wanted desperately to bury the hatchet; to have things right between them. She excused herself from the gathering. Their disappointment showed. They had been looking forward to a fun night. As she rose, Brian asked: âHow about tomorrow. Are you still going to try out for the Volleyball team?' She had forgotten about the Gryphons. They competed in the Ontario Women's Intercollegiate Athletics Association. She had been keen to get involved in this. If she did well, it could lead to the Canadian Inter-Varsity Athletic Union Championships. She was a good team player with a vigorous, competitive spirit but ⦠with all this other business on her mind, she couldn't find that edge to get involved.
âNo, I can't this weekend. I'll have to make it some time in the week.' She turned to Ilona. âI've not forgotten the squash game either. I do want to play, but I have to go to Toronto.'
âNo problem. See you Monday.' Ilona was turning out to be a popular girl. She would have no difficulty finding partners.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Sid pulled in to the curb slowly, looking up to their front window to catch possible movement. By now it was getting on for nine o'clock. The light was on and the drapes drawn. She parked the car off the street in the little driveway on the far side of the house. This had been an impulse thing. Now she couldn't wait to take Ten in her arms and tell her how sorry she was for those hasty judgements, delivered in frustration.
Overnight grip in hand, she let herself in and bounded up the stairs. So many times she had pictured their meeting: she was sure it would unfold as she had seen it â¦Ten running into her outstretched arms, a look of love and joy lighting up her face and she, kissing her with abandoned passion â¦.
The apartment was empty. She dropped her bag at the door and moved on into the living room standing, looking about dejectedly. “
My dearest Ten, where are you?”
she thought uneasily. Everything looked the same; neat and tidy. Ten's sweater lay across the back of the low boy. The TV guide was open on the coffee table to Friday night, a program ticked off that she had obviously thought to watch. Sid tipped her wrist to check the time. Perhaps she had just popped out for something and would be back soon for the show? She got herself a beer, then turned on the TV and sat back to watch and wait.
Concentration on the screen was impossible. Her mind kept slipping back over their last weekend, then went right back to the Gaslight Guesthouse. They had been so happy then. Nervous as hell yes, but it was their first real time alone. For all that, she had been aware of a new sense of freedom; a power and a potency that had coursed through her veins with undeniable vigor. Such a joyful time gone ⦠not lost forever though, she hoped. They had paid each other that supreme compliment of mutual admiration, one of the most delightful and irresistible of aphrodisiacs.
Another collage, when they had gone to the movies and then out for dinner. That evening had been accompanied by complete comprehension of their every thought, their minds tuning into each other as later, their bodies were to hum to the same melody. Intense grief attacked her, as a tear trickled slowly down her cheek and she brought back memories of happier times.
âOh, that we could have those days again,' she sighed despondently. She hadn't spoiled everything, had she? Her jealous nature and too hot temper. How could they recover their precious dreams? She would find a way to make it all better; recapture that idyllic time.
The night dragged on. She turned off the TV and moved disconsolately to the window seat to watch for Ten's return. No need to open the drapes wide, she had a good view of the street and stared out at the murky shadows wrapped in endless, tormenting thoughts; increasingly alarmed. It was now almost eleven and still no sign of her love.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
After work, Devon had come around to pick Ten up from the apartment. It was a mild, velvet night, the stars obscured by low cloud, but it could turn blustery.
Ten had made an effort to get into a lighter mood. After her shower she had stood in front of her open closet like always, waiting for inspiration; it had been her little black dress. At least now she could wear the proper shoes. Simple, low-heeled, black leather pumps and white push downs. She had looked herself up and down in the dressing mirror and hoped the dress wasn't too tight.
“Have I put on that much weight since the party?”
she wondered. It did seem rather to cling.
“Oh well, I'll be sitting, mostly,”
she thought prosaically. For a change, she rouged her lips in a brilliant crimson, to be more in style with Devon. It definitely gave her a different look. More like a woman of the world.
She heard Devon honk; almost eight. Grabbing her purse, she shrugged her arms into her warm jacket, remembering at the last minute to pick up a scarf, red shot silk, to match her mouth. If she felt overexposed across the bosom, (since the neckline did look rather low), she could always use it as a cover up.
âHi Pet.' Devon leaned over to open the passenger door and as Ten slid into the opulent comfort of the Beema, gave a little kiss of welcome which landed on her neck.
âHi Dev. How was your day?'
âNot bad. Yours?' Devon's mood was one of elation. She'd been looking forward to this encounter for a long time. Her smile positively radiated and the sparkle in her vivid green eyes betrayed a more than passing inner excitement.
âCan't complain, but I'm glad it's the evening. I need something to distract me. My brain is that tired,' Ten replied dolefully.
âWell my dear, I have the very night planned to raise your spirits and to help you forget your woes.' She shot her a look to check how her words were being received. So far, so good. âI've got a table reserved at the Raclette Restaurant and Wine Bar. They specialize in Swiss fondues to die for. Also, it's lots of fun just dipping and eating. You'll love it.'
Heading for Queen Street West, she turned right on St. Clair and then almost immediately left into Ossington. The reservation was for eight-thirty and they arrived in good time.
Devon was given a warm and special welcome from the maitre'd. Ten had the feeling she came here often. Gerard guided them to a secluded booth where they could see, but not clearly be seen. The waiter helped Ten off with her jacket, resulting in two people looking appreciatively at her svelte form in the clinging black dress. He took her scarf away too, leaving Devon to feast her eyes on the deliciously exposed mounds of soft flesh, revealed by the plunging decolletage.
Ten wanted to retrieve the scarf, but then thought better of it. Getting up now would look rather obvious, drawing even more attention. Devon also liked how Ten had tied back her hair, pinning it up on top, with her Spanish comb. Curling strands escaped to frame her face, the style reminding her of their early days. The flickering light from the candle fell softly, the play of shadow emphasizing the classic planes of her face and the entrancing slant of her expressive eyes. Her blood red lips made her look more available. Could tonight be hers? She ordered an expensive dry white. Ten had planned to drink Spritzers, but Devon would have none of it.
âThis is too good to mar with Perrier,' she observed loftily. âAnyway, tonight you want to be happy, right?'
That wasn't quite how Ten would have put it. She couldn't be âhappy' whilst there was this rift between herself and Sid, but she knew Devon was being a good friend and doing her best to help her through. She wouldn't be churlish. She drank up, the liquid tart and refreshing on her tongue.
Devon herself looked deceptively innocent in a dark brown, velvet dress featuring delicate cream lace at the collar and at the cuffs of the long, tight fitting sleeves. The dress cinched in under the bosom then followed her figure finally to flare out over the hips in a snappy, full circle skirt that ended mid-thigh. It was a superbly cut Dior creation which Ten knew must have cost the earth, despite its artful simplicity. Although already a tall woman, she had chosen to wear heavy soled, black suede, sling-back shoes. All in all, very trendy; very with it. A colorful, embroidered beanie, sequins and glass beads providing the highlights, capped off the total package.
âAfter dinner â¦' she continued enthusiastically, â â¦but there's no rush, this is our fun time, I thought you might like to try out this neat bar I know. It's called âTrax'. It's a piano bar and there's live entertainment Fridays and Saturdays. It's on Yonge, so an easy drive from here.'
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