In the Distance There Is Light (26 page)

In case you’re wondering, I still miss you every day. Every hour of every day even though it’s not like we were together every hour when you were still alive. It’s because of the sudden brutality with which you were taken from me, from all of us. The brusque cruelty of it all.

Dolores and I talk about you more. In the beginning, after we started ‘dating’ it was often awkward, as if we no longer knew how to broach the subject of you, even though we’d talked so much about you before. After meeting with that truck driver and the things that happened afterwards, it felt as though some sort of barrier had been put up. Like if we talked about you too much it would ruin the magic of what we had between us. We talk about that too now, because once we started talking about you again, we could talk about anything.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that Dolores and I are in a relationship now.

I know how it sounds, especially to you. I could give you a long speech about how Dolores saved me from the worst of it, how she made me see some light in a darkness I could not ever imagine receding, and perhaps there might be some truth to those things, but, you know what? The very simple fact is that I fell in love with her. We fell in love with each other.
 

It was very difficult to tell Alex—who is about to pop, by the way. She and Bart are having a little girl. She couldn’t believe it at first when I told her. She thought I had lost my mind and was ranting and raving or that I was under the influence of a very powerful drug. In the end, she hugged me and told me to do whatever made me happy. As simple as that.

Of course, at work, where I have actual colleagues now with whom I go to bars for after-work drinks and such, nobody asks me about my private life too much. They all know what happened to you, which, ironically, saves me from having to answer difficult questions about how I’ve spent my weekend.

I guess what I’m also trying to say is that things are as good as can be expected with me, maybe even better. It’s only been six months and perhaps I should still be plunged deeply into mourning. Had it not been for Dolores, I probably still would be, but I know for a fact how much you would hate that. You, the person who hated self-pity more than anything. The guy who gave me a stern talking to every time I only lightly veered in that direction.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering: no, I haven’t told my parents yet. Granted, my mother and I are not close, but that doesn’t mean I want to give her a heart attack. And it would only give her one more subject to yammer on about. You know, about how it affects her personally and all of that.

You must realize, Ian, that what drew me to Dolores in the beginning was her strength. The exact same thing that drew me to you.

She makes me happy at a time where I’m not meant to experience happiness. Is it always easy? Hell no. Not for either of us. But you know what? We mostly don’t care. Because we know what it’s like to have loved and lost, and in the face of that, what’s a sneer from someone who doesn’t care enough about us to even try to understand?

That’s what it boils down to. If there has to be a lesson to all of this, that’s what your death has taught me.

I love you, always.

Sophie

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“If you don’t want to be here,” Jeremy says, “please, feel free to leave.” He angles his head and gives me one of his looks.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t stop glancing at my watch. Usually, when I spend time with Jeremy, it flies by. For once, he called
me
in distress, wanting to talk to me about an issue he’s having. “It’s so nerve-wracking.” Dolores is having dinner with her friend June. The plan was to tell June all about us.

“June is a good old sport,” Jeremy says. “She may grumble a little, but she’ll get over it.” He holds up his empty glass, indicating I should pour more wine. “Now back to me.” He pouts his lips. “Why is it so difficult for Vasily and me? Look at you and Dolores. You lesbians make it look so easy.”

I pour Jeremy a generous helping, then shake my head. “Please. You just enjoy the drama that comes with making it so hard on yourself.”

“But I really like him, Soph. I don’t think he even realizes how much.”

“Then tell him. Make it so clear to him, he doesn’t have a choice but to respond.” The conversation Jeremy and I have been having for the past hour keeps going around in circles. He’s acting like a school boy with his very first crush.

Jeremy sighs. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Then let me tell you this, my friend.” In the past, I’ve always patiently listened to Jeremy’s tales of men he
really, really
likes, and all the reasons he has for not disclosing that information to the object of his affection. Today, my patience seems to be running very thin. “If it’s meant to be, it will happen. Just stop making it all so complicated. You like him. From what you’ve told me, I gather he likes you. What’s the problem?”

“You know my relationship track record.” Jeremy shakes his head. “It’s not that good.”

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, I think it’s about time you settled down. You’ll be forty-five in two short years. Don’t you get tired of all that drama all the time?”

“That’s not the point, Soph.” Jeremy doesn’t take offense at me mentioning his age. He must really have it bad.

“It
is
the point.” I find his glance. “Look at me and Dolores. We are the most unlikely couple. If that is possible, why wouldn’t it be possible for you and Vasily, who have nothing standing in your way, apart from your egos and a, frankly, silly fear of commitment. This is the part you’re meant to enjoy the hell out of. The butterflies. The tingle in your belly when you’re about to call him. The way your heart leaps when he turns the corner. Don’t overthink it. Just go for it. Because life is short and, hm, who was it that told me you should get your pleasure where you can? It was this friend of mine…”

Jeremy folds his features into a smile. Then he starts toying with his phone.

“Call him. Now,” I say. “What have you got to lose?”

As if by magic, a phone starts ringing. It’s not Jeremy’s. It’s mine.

“It’s Dolores.” I know it’s silly, but my heart starts hammering in my chest. It’s a big step for her to tell June.

“Sophie, are you at home?” There’s a funny crack in her voice.

“I’m at Vesuvio’s with Jeremy.”

“Stay there. I’m coming over.”

Before I have a chance to ask how things went, she hangs up, leaving me with a slew of questions.

“And?” Jeremy arches up his eyebrows.

“I don’t know. She’s coming here.”

“Ooh,” he coos. “Exciting. Do you want me to go?”

“No, but I do want you to at least message Vasily. Don’t play so hard to get. It will get you nowhere.” Because it’s all so brittle, so easy to splinter and just slip through your fingers when you’re not paying attention, I want to say. “Don’t squander this chance you have.”

* * *

By the time Dolores arrives, Jeremy is frantically texting back and forth with Vasily, a constant smile playing on his lips.

“Give me some of that, honey,” Dolores says, pointing at the wine, even before she kisses me hello.

“That bad?” I ask.

She slips onto one of the high stools, gives Jeremy a quick nod, and says, “Worse.”

“What did she say?” Jeremy’s attention is no longer focused on his flirty text message conversation.

“At first, she thought I was joking. That it couldn’t possibly be true. When I assured her we were really together, she accused me of taking advantage of you. Of abusing your grief in the worst possible manner.”

“Christ.” I take a big gulp of wine.

“That’s harsh,” Jeremy says.

“I suppose I should have expected to lose some acquaintances over this, but not a friend like June. Someone who knows me so well. At least enough to know I would never do that.” Dolores’ voice fractures. She looks at me. “You don’t feel taken advantage of, do you?”

“If anything, I took advantage of you,” I say.

“It’s all a matter of perception,” Jeremy chimes in. “You’re the older lesbian, Dolores. Sophie is the younger, vulnerable girl who got her heart broken when her boyfriend died. It’s an image that’s not easy to get past.”

“But she’s my friend.” Dolores looks lost. She usually looks so good, so well-put-together, when she goes out to meet a friend.

“Maybe she just needs some time,” I offer. “This has been our reality for a while, but I guess when you’ve just been told, it’s quite shocking.”

“I believe she used the word
scandalous
.” Dolores drinks more wine. She shrugs. “Who needs a friend like that?”

“I’m sorry.” Under the table, I put a hand on her knee.

“Shocking or not, I believe I’m entitled to some open-mindedness from a woman I’ve known forever, especially after everything that has happened.”

I glance at Dolores who, even with the lines around her mouth set in a stern frown and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed, still is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The world is far from ideal and the relationship we’ve decided to have, that has chosen us, and helped us overcome the sharpest pains of grief, won’t be accepted by everyone.

* * *

Later, at Dolores’ house, when we’re lying in the bed where it all started, I ask, “Will you be able to sleep?”

Dolores pats my head that’s tucked cozily into the crook of her shoulder. “I will. And you know why? Because I know what we have between us and I know it’s the opposite of all the things June thinks it is.”

“We’ve weathered worse storms,” I murmur.

“Much worse.” Dolores strokes my cheeks. “I did try to put myself in her position. I imagined June telling me that she had started a relationship with her son-in-law after her daughter had died. I know what it sounds like, what it looks like. I can even understand, but what we have is not a gimmick, it’s not a joke, it’s not the one-line plot of a trashy porn movie. Perhaps I failed to make her see that, to make her fully understand what you mean to me. Like Jeremy said, it’s all a matter of perspective, but it’s also so much more than that. People can be so quick to judge, even when they know your story. June knows our story. To be reduced by her to… a scandal. That hurts.”

“Well, our love
is
scandalous, of course.”

“It’s scandalous and delicious and soothing and healing and glorious and beautiful and important,” she says. “It’s all these things.”

“But to some you will also be the cougar lesbian who seduced me when I was at my most frail.”

“While it was you who kissed me.” Dolores chuckles. “Twice.”

I push myself up a little so I can see her face. “What did you think when I kissed you?
Finally
?”

Dolores shakes her. “All I thought about was how much I had grown to love you and depend on you. That’s all.” The sincerity in her tone touches me. “Because isn’t that what this is, after all has been said and done? It’s love. It’s as simple as that.”

While I kiss Dolores on the lips, I consider that maybe I should have a little chat with June.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I ring June’s bell three days after her conversation with Dolores, figuring that should be enough time for her to have absorbed most of the shock.

“Sophie? What are you doing here?” I fully understand her surprise at me turning up at her doorstep. I’ve been to her house a couple of times before with Ian, of whom June was very fond, but we certainly never turned up out of the blue like this.

“Good evening, June. I think you and I should share a bottle of good wine tonight. I hope you’re free?” I didn’t tell Dolores I was coming here. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to do her bidding for her, but she can tell me all day and night that June’s judgment about our relationship doesn’t affect her, I can clearly tell it does.

“Er, well, yes. Come in.” She opens the door to me.

Once seated, each with a glass of wine in front of us, I launch into the speech I have rehearsed all day.

“I know you loved Ian, June. You knew him his entire life, watched him grow up. Dolores is your friend, which made Ian your friend. But no one loves him more than Dolores and I do. And what we have between us doesn’t taint his memory, not for us. Ian’s death brought us together, but—”