Thursday, 3:29 p. m.
I steeled myself as the door opened. I looked to the left and saw her about ten feet away, Kerry to her right, far enough from my mother so that a gap appeared between them.
I did not want to, but I had to. “Why are you here?”
She recoiled at that and to me, having warmed, or perhaps cooled, to the task, I wondered why she was surprised. My anger was getting the best of me and I did not want to stop it. I would not cry and I would not blink.
Kerry saw this once, in my apartment over a year before. This time, she would not allow me to shut myself down as I had with her. She moved between my mother and me.
Looking into my hard eyes: “Suzanne, I know it’s hard. Your mother can just walk across to the other platform and take the next train back to the city and out of your life forever. For-e-ver. I told you that this is for you and only you to decide. From what I’ve heard that’s exactly what I’d hope you tell her to do were this twenty-four hours ago.
“But my Mom thought that enough has changed for me to speak to her, and I think that enough has changed that she is entitled to have you at least hear what she has to say. We all know this is not some Hallmark Kumbaya moment. Let’s walk up to the house. I know all that’s gone on and I think both of you deserve to talk. She’ll leave if you tell her to.”
I nodded, and we climbed the stairs from the platform and headed up the hill to the house.
As we walked, and I don’t know when or how, I found my mother gripping my hand and I did not pull away. She’d never touched me like that. Ever. Kerry was behind us and other than a description she gave of where we were and where we are going to fill the air, the three of us were silent.
We sat in the living room, and I asked Kerry to stay, not ready for a one-on-one yet. My mother sat in the middle of the sofa and Kerry and I sat across from her, not quite close enough to touch yet close enough to feel one another.
For the next half-hour, I opened up as I had never opened up to her before. About Aunt Mary and that I knew I was a lesbian before I met Aunt Mary. How hurt I was when I heard her and my father speak so horribly of my Aunt and how I met with and regularly communicated with her and how she tried desperately for me not to hate my parents for what had happened to her. That she was happy since she came to New York those years ago. And on and on through the development of my relationship with and love for Kerry and the horrible seven months when because of my stubbornness I kept her away.
I revealed, in sum, who I was. I could see she had no idea who I was. We were both exhausted. After she said “I am so sorry. I was so wrong.” I stopped her.
“Mother, we can’t resolve this now. I do not want you to go home yet. That may happen. Right now, though, I really would like you to stay. I need to think about a lot of things and to sleep on it. Can we meet tomorrow?” We agreed that we could and that we would. Then we drove her to the station in the Camry.
When we got back, we reported to Mary and Mom.
Eased Tension: Thursday, 10:00 p. m.
After dinner, Kerry gave me space to digest what was happening. Everything was in a whirl and when we got into bed, I was restless. Without a word and knowing that she was still awake, I took off my T-shirt, and she rolled onto her back. I straddled her head and I lowered myself to her mouth. With my left hand holding the headboard and my right lifting her head slightly, I let her, perhaps “made her” is more accurate, lick my folds. I was not horny when this started so I was not wet.
We are pretty much 80-10-10 when it comes to sex. Usually, it is making love and we savor every moment. The rest of the time it is one or the other of us, in about equal shares, who initiate pure, lustful sex. Now it was my turn. She slowly licked me, and I was soon drenched, very damp within minutes.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Kerry is much quieter and less vocal in bed, more of a moaner/grunter. But I was being very vocal as she picked up the pace, now concentrating on my emerged clit, now penetrating my opening, a hand wrapped around each of my thighs, securing her as I increased my rocking, both hands now gripping the headboard, until I came. It was intense, a release of some of the tension that built up over the last hours. I stepped over her and gave her a peck on the forehead and with a “thank you” went to pee.
On my return, I went to her side of the bed so that I could spoon her with us both on our left sides, leaving my T-shirt wherever it had been thrown. After shared “I love you”s, I put my right arm around her, she still in her T-shirt, and I ran my fingers under the shirt and to her.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know that,” I told her, “I want to do it,” and I rubbed up and down slowly and easily, slipping one and then two fingers inside of her as her breathing shallowed as I kissed her glorious, so-long-admired neck until she shook. After a breath and a contented sigh, she got up to pee and now she threw off her T-shirt as she got back into the bed on her side, and we fell asleep, both naked, within moments of one another.