In the Distance There Is Light (13 page)

I start to shiver. My skin is still partially wet. I close the door, wrap the towel around me more tightly, almost cutting off my breath, and crawl into bed. The bed I should have been sleeping in all along. I wait until the noises downstairs die down and I hear the front door shut with a little bang.

Once I’m alone in the house, and I feel as though I can start breathing again, I get dressed and sit at my desk. What the hell am I going to do? Maybe I should write my novel about this. About a grief so obliterating it crushes all common sense. Then my stomach starts growling. I’m appalled that my body could even experience something as mundane as hunger right now. And I’m reminded of what Dolores said to me last night over dinner. That she was glad I was eating again. Dolores, whose kindness lulled me into a state in which I’m capable of instigating sex with her. I can’t deal with this alone. I need to talk to Jeremy. I need someone to judge me, because having to do it on my own doesn’t seem like sufficient punishment. I need someone to mock me, to tell me exactly what kind of person I am.

I text him and, while I wait for a reply, go downstairs to make myself a cappuccino.

Like every morning, Dolores has set a place for me at the breakfast table. The sight of the plate, a napkin on top of it, folded just so, and the cutlery on the side, a little spoon above, just floors me. Because it’s a sign of Dolores’ affection for me. Her love. And I’ve gone and squandered it.

Chapter Nineteen

Jeremy arrives at the house around ten. By then I’ve paced all about the place, through every room—except for Ian’s old bedroom. I’ve done the dishes. I’ve removed all my remaining clothing from Dolores’ bedroom and put the sheets in the washing machine.

Dolores has a cleaner who comes in every afternoon. She won’t have a lot to do today. I wonder what she must think of this. She must know I’ve been sleeping in Dolores’ room. I never had any reason to hide it before.

“Hey, Soph.” Jeremy gives me a long, un-Jeremy-like hug—he’s usually more the air-kissing type. “How are you?” He smiles sheepishly, as though he’s the one who did something so wrong he can’t even put it into words. “God, I love this place.” He heads further into the house, admiring it all over again. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to leave either.”

After I’ve made us both a cappuccino—my third of the day already—we sit on the living room couch and I suddenly consider how easy it is for me to have a friend over, how this house has become my home.

“Thanks for coming all the way to the Gold Coast.”

“You know I love coming here. Once my party days are over, I plan to retire here. Though, of course, prices are through the roof now.”

I expel a big sigh, bite my bottom lip.

“What is it?” he asks.

As tears of pure agony pearl in the corner of my eyes, I blurt out, “I slept with her, Jeremy. I slept with Dolores.” I let my head fall into my cupped hands, unable to face even my very best friend.

I hear Jeremy put his coffee cup onto the table. I can’t look at him, but was that a gasp?

“Damn, girl,” Jeremy says. “I truly never thought you had it in you.”

I look up into Jeremy’s astounded face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been sleeping in her bed for months. A man’s mind can’t help but go there from time to time. I just never had you pegged for the type. Not that I consider you a prude, but you are very proper and all of that. Very traditional. A little uptight sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?” This is not how I had expected this conversation to go. “She’s Ian’s mother, for crying out loud.”

Jeremy leans back in the couch. “How much do you hate yourself right now?”

I shake my head. “I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“I know you, Soph. I know you never set out to seduce your mother-in-law. I know you were wrapped in this bubble of coziness and comfort and trying to make sense of it all together. Things happen, that’s all. You can’t beat yourself up over this. You can’t take any more beatings. Be kind to yourself.”

“I don’t think you’re fully getting this.
I
started it.
I
kissed her. I kissed her for the first time yesterday morning and then I kissed her again last night. I kissed her and… and we had sex, Jeremy. I wanted her so badly, because it made me feel so good, but at what cost?”

“Exactly,” Jeremy says. “At what cost?”

“I’m going to have to move out of here. Start dealing with stuff I’ve been avoiding. I guess it’s about time, anyway.”

“Do you want my opinion or do you just want to rant?”

“I need someone to tell me in no uncertain terms what a fool I have been because I know Dolores won’t have it in her to do so.”

“First, take a deep breath. Second, you’re always welcome at my place. But, and this is the point I actually want to make, I don’t think you should move out of here at all. You love it here. And I get it. I really do. I fully understand the comfort you and Dolores find with each other, and if that comfort has now taken the shape of sleeping together, really sleeping together, then I really don’t see anything wrong with that. Furthermore, Dolores would never call you a fool. She was there as well. As far as I know, and from what you’re telling me, you were two consenting adults.”

“You’re missing the point entirely. She’s his mother. It’s so wrong. I can’t think of anything more wrong.”

“Really? How about Ian dying just before his thirty-sixth birthday.
That
is wrong in all sorts of ways. You dealing with it however you see fit is only normal.”

That gives me pause. “I just… don’t want to lose her.”

“You want to go back to how it was before she licked your pussy?”

“Oh Christ.” I actually manage to utter a little groan of a laugh. “Must you really be so crass? Besides, she didn’t
lick my pussy
.”

“Oh. I thought that was what you lesbians did primarily. Or is it scissoring?”

“You are such an inappropriate asshole.” I can’t help but snigger. Because this is what Jeremy does best. Remove the tension from a conversation by making stupid, tasteless jokes. It’s what makes his podcast so popular, this total irreverence he has for decorum and boundaries. It’s also one of the prime reasons I love him so dearly. It’s why I chose to stay with him after Ian’s death.

“So, did you lick
her
pussy?” His smile goes up to full beam.

“No, Christ. Do you want all the details?”

“Of course I do, darling. Isn’t that why you called me over here?”

“I’ll tell you one thing. It was much more satisfying than I ever thought it would be. It kind of blew my mind.” Only then do I allow actual memories of pleasure to enter my head again. Maybe I would be able to deal with it better if I hadn’t enjoyed it so much.

“Another reason to not beat yourself up about it, Soph. Life is short and it can be really shitty at times. Get your pleasure where you can.”

“I guess I was hoping you would judge me more.”

“I’m your friend. I only want what’s best for you. I’ve seen you suffer for the past couple of months. While it was great to see you at the party on Saturday, it’s even better to see you now. To actually see you smile. To sit next to you after you’ve truly enjoyed something. Though, and let this be noted for the record, I understand your trepidation. Of course, I do. But it’s not up to me to give you a hard time about that. I think you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

“I kind of blew Dolores off this morning. I was going to go to the gallery with her.”

“You can still go. You texted me at an ungodly hour. You have all day.”

“But it’s so awkward. Where do we even go from here? I can’t possibly get into bed with her again tonight. That’s simply not an option. Even though it was the one thing that gave me the most comfort. The proximity of another human being. Not just anyone, but Dolores with all her unconditional love for me.”

“Well, unless you plan on becoming a lesbo—and you can skip the U-Haul phase, by the way—you can’t sleep in her bed forever.”

I nod. “I just can’t imagine not sleeping there, either. I guess it’s back to Ambien for me.”

The sound of someone unlocking the front door startles us both. At first I think it’s Theresa arriving early, but then I remember Dolores’ promise to come home for lunch, though it’s very early for that.

“Oh, hi, Jeremy,” she says casually upon entering the living room.

“Good day to you, Dolores.” He gets up to kiss her on the cheek, not leaving any air between his lips and her skin.

This puts an abrupt end to the conversation Jeremy and I were having.

“I have to get going. I have a meeting with Jackie O. in exactly twenty-five minutes,” he says.

I’m sure it’s not true, that he’s just making up an excuse to get out of the house and away from the tension that appeared after Dolores walked in.

“Bye, Soph.” He opens his arms wide for a hug and when I step into his embrace, he whispers in my ear, “Please be kind to yourself.”

Chapter Twenty

“I came home early. I need to be back at the gallery by one thirty,” Dolores says after Jeremy has left. “Shall I make us an omelet?”

“Why don’t
I
make us an omelet? You sit down for a bit. Relax.” I scoot into the kitchen, quickly realizing that anything resembling an omelet I might produce will be vastly inferior to what Dolores could whip up in five minutes. I look around for a pan. Despite having stayed here for more than two months, I’m not very up to speed on the whereabouts of cooking utensils.

“Sophie,” Dolores says, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter. “I came home to talk to you. I’m sorry we didn’t have time this morning. Leave the eggs for a minute. I’m not very hungry anyway.”

Overcome by a fresh bout of nerves, I blurt out, “I told Jeremy. I had to tell someone. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just calm down so we can have an actual conversation about this.” Her eyes are pleading. This must be messing with her head as well.

I pull back a chair, its feet scraping noisily over the kitchen floor. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. It will never happen again.”

Dolores sits next to me. “You’re making it sound like you were the only one who had a part in what happened,” she says. “I was there too. What happened did so because it’s what we both wanted. Because it was that kind of moment. Because we had a lovely evening together—as lovely as we can have. It made me feel good, Sophie. It made me feel human. I’m sorry that you’re freaking out about it, but I’m not sorry that it happened.”

“But… it’s not right.” Jeremy’s words from before echo in my mind. So many things are not right.

“Who is here to tell us what’s right or not? Think about it. The only judge of this is the two of us.”

“You may not have any moral objections, but I certainly do.” How different it is to have this conversation with Dolores. Earlier, with Jeremy, I craved being judged, being told off, being made to feel as though I committed the worst kind of sin.

Sitting next to Dolores changes everything. Her eyes rest on me, eyes that have found a sparkle again. Her calm voice full of conviction. The memory of her hands and how, for a few minutes, they took away the worst of my pain.

Because I was the one who started it. There are no two ways about it. Now that a few hours have passed since I woke to the evidence of my shocking behavior, and Jeremy has told me not to be too hard on myself, and Dolores sits next to me with that halo of limitless kindness emanating from her, things are different once again. Right now, I can suddenly understand why I did what I did. Why my moral compass didn’t stop me when it had the chance. My world is made up out of Dolores. Now that Ian is gone, it’s all her. She is beautiful, and eloquent, and attentive, and her kindness knows no boundaries. I’m falling for her. This is love. Not the kind that takes over your mind when you first meet someone and fall head over heels in love. Not the kind that grows between two people when friendship is no longer enough. But the kind of love that is born from acute need, from kinship, from a pain so ruthless it leaves nothing in its wake.