Barb Another Look at Love by Liobhan Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis.   ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Barbara Stephens looked around her flat with great satisfaction. The centrepiece on her Danish modern dining table was perfect, pale yellow and peach jonquils and white narcissi with baby’s breath and just a few scattered variegated oriental lilies — she’d been instantly taken with the lilies, which had a luscious burst of speckled fushia exploding from their centres, fading to pink, and then finally to white at their fringes, when she was at her florist’s stall this morning, but he’d had only a dozen stems in stock, and no hope of more in time for Stephanie’s shower, but he’d convinced her that too many would cloy, and correctly predicted that she’d be very pleased with them used as accents rather than as a theme — created just the right note of colour in the restrained elegance of her formal dining room. Similar, but smaller arrangements adorned the lamp tables by the low settees in the spacious lounge and the sideboard in the entry. She tried to remember whether she’d told the doorman to expect guests, but then realised that she’d talked to him just this afternoon. The door chime sounded and it startled her for a moment, since it was too early for her guests to arrive, but then she thought it must be Dorcas, who’d been helping her with the planning of the big event, the last shower before the wedding proper. She hurried to the door and opened it to reveal a tall and slender woman with tawny hair and hazel eyes whose grace exemplified her name. She was obviously prepared to work, in natural linen trousers and a green jumper, but had a garment bag over her arm and an overnight case in her hand, which evidently contained her party outfit and toiletries respectively.

“Dorcas! Come in, please. Thank you so much for coming early. I have the rooms roughly arranged but the party favours and food still need sorting and I can’t think what else may pop up.”

“Barb, you know I was very pleased to help, and don’t worry about a thing. I was a Guide, and still carry my whistle, bit of string and pocket handkerchief, so I’m sure we’ll quite be prepared to cope.” She entered the hall and set her purse down on the sideboard, noticing the floral display and exclaiming, “I love your flowers, dear. Seeing how they complement your décor, I can guess you didn’t ring up a shop and have them send over a dozen of whatever.”

Barb blushed and said, “No, I went down to my regular florist’s and consulted with him before he made them up from my choices.”

“You’ve done splendidly, Barb. There’s a sort of Zen-like elegance to these wonderful splashes of colour in the centre of all this austere beauty. It’s quite spacious as well. I was half worried we’d invited too many guests, but I see you have room and to spare.”

Barb ushered her guest through the entry hall and into the lounge, “Thank you so much, Dorcas. I thought the flowers would highlight the view outdoors as well, and the lights of the city when it comes dark. It’s only two bedrooms but it’s perfect for entertaining because the guest space is so large and open. I know many would prefer that there were doors to close off the dining area, but I loathe any feeling of confinement and can deal with having to clear off at the end of a meal.”

Outside the floor to ceiling lounge window on the northern exposure was a largish mews, now converted to a private park rather than small homes as was usually the case. The old street end was fenced in with an ivied brick wall, inset with an arched double wrought-iron gate, almost always locked except when opened for tradesmen’s lorries and the dustbin collections, with a single oaken door with open grillwork to the side of the gate offering access to those with a key for the antique lock, themselves so large that joggers might carry two of them as exercise weights, so very few ever bothered to use either entrance other than to show it off to friends. Outside the wall was a ordinary busy street, but within was a winding country lane in miniature, cutting through an enclosed grassy meadow with scattered trees and shrubbery, and with a fountain in the centre dedicated to the wife of a former owner before the building was converted to flats and sold off bit by bit.

Dorcas walked over to the window overlooking the park, “It’s lovely here, Barb. It’s almost like being out in the countryside, but the city is just outside the door. I half expect to see a lamb or two, with a mahogany and sable collie lazing in the shade beneath yon oak.”

She laughed quickly, “I’m awfully sorry, Dorcas, but you’ve just missed her — Lassie’s gone home.”

“Oh, bother! We could have used her help in organising the party favours.” She smiled at the joke.

“Worse luck, then. I should have thought to ask. Look here, I just have to pop my aubergine and tomato casserole in the Aga and we can start. I thought it would please everyone, as I didn’t quite know if either Stephanie or Sarah had any dietary restrictions and I didn’t want to pry.”

“I think not, but it never hurts to be cautious, don’t you know.” She followed Barb into the kitchen as she left to take care of the domestic arrangements

Barb called over her shoulder, “Exactly. The recipe is completely vegetarian and I have the ingredients for a lovely early samphire and artichoke hearts salad that will go perfectly with it. It’s a bit of work blanching the samphire and then stripping out the spines but I do love the results. The hearts of artichoke are already marinating in the fridge, since I made them last night and they keep well chilled.”

Dorcas laughed in friendly amusement. “You have much more patience and skill in the kitchen than I do, then. My marinated artichokes come out of a jar and I don’t have samphire that often but usually just dump them out and let the guests nibble at them or drag them through their teeth to get at the edible bits.”

Barb was moderately horrified, “I couldn’t ask the ladies from the firm to risk green threads between their teeth for the sake of a salad!”

Dorcas sighed, “Well, we’d best get started then, so the salad will have time to properly chill. I bring out the veg and we’ll take it from there. ” She opened the fridge, “Oh, good, you have a nice jelly as well.”

“And several puds, a nice decorated cake and two linzer tortes for those not terribly fond of all that sugar. And the covered dish on the lower shelf is a large crème brûlée ready for flaming as well, but I was going to wait until later in the evening for that, since it really needs an empty table and dim lighting to set it off properly. I thought it would be a nice touch after the last game, right before Stephanie opens her presents.”

“We’re not serving all this out are we, Barb?” Dorcas had a tone of suspicious scepticism in her voice, although she was still smiling.

Barb hastened to reassure her, “Oh, no! We’d miss all the fun. I planned on laying almost everything out on the dining table with a pile of plates and cutlery and let people shift for themselves for the most part. I do want to make a little bit of production out of the crème, but I chose to put it in a large dish instead of individual ramekins because I’m not completely dotty. I may love to cook, but I’m not running a restaurant.”

She was mollified. “Well, that’s all right then.”

With that, the two women got busy in the kitchen, which was easily big enough for two — with wide counters and two range tops in addition to the Aga, one four-burner gas range and one double station that seemed designed for woks — so they soon had the casserole in the cooker and the salad ready in the fridge, with the crockery and all laid out ready and nicely arranged on the dining table. After some discussion, they decided to hold the main dishes in reserve to dissuade early arrivers from nibbling before everyone, especially Stephanie, had a chance to see the presentation.

While they worked, Barb explained her idea for the first game. “We’ll slip coins into the folded napkins, mostly pence but with two ten pee coins and one quid. The one who finds the quid can take the big centrepiece on the dining table home with her, and there are the two smaller arrangements on the sideboards and quite a few on the lamp tables and various flat surfaces around the flat, even one in the cloakroom, so we should have enough that everyone will walk out with something pretty and nice as a prize. Plus everyone receives a lily pen, imprinted with the names of the happy couple and their wedding date, that that they can use for the games involving writing, and a darling little engraved heart-shaped mirror compact as a memento. Oh! And I have a little gift basket with two perfect pears and a chocolate rose for everyone as well, so they don’t walk away with just a bit of sentimental kitsch that winds up thrown in a cupboard somewhere.” She smiled and then laughed.

Dorcas laughed merrily as well, “Quite right. It sounds a nice assortment of bribes to ensure that our ladies don’t regret spending so much on their gifts for Stephanie. I hope you didn’t spend too much on them? Can I offer to go shares?”

“Don’t bother yourself about it, Dorcas. I found a web site that had a wide assortment of party favours for very little dosh, so the only real expense was the flowers, and they wouldn’t last for more then a week in any case, and I hate seeing them fade, so they’d have to go into the tip sooner or later, and this way the ladies will all have something charming to show for their attendance and, God willing, won’t die of terminal boredom while they’re here.”

“I see you’re a cynic, Barb.” She looked owlishly at her over the rims of her glasses.

Barb rolled her eyes to the heavens for a moment and grimaced slightly. “Let’s just say that I’ve been to a number of showers over the years, and poor Sarah has been to every one of Stephanie’s, so I’m determined that no one walks out of ours with nothing more than sore feet, a wine stain on their best blouse, and a personalised paper napkin.”

Dorcas laughed heartily, “Barb, it’s a perfect delight to assist you. After addressing all those envelopes in my very best handwriting, not that I begrudged a second of it mind you, this sounds like it might be quite a bit of fun.” She eyed the centrepiece appraisingly, “And I might have a chance at those nice flowers as well; what more can a girl ask?”

Barb smiled, “Just so long as you don’t mark where we put the quid. I don’t want the ladies to think the game is rigged.”

“Not to worry, Barb. As hostesses, one imagines we’ll serve ourselves last so, as long as we remember not to put the best coins toward the bottom of the pile, we should be fine. I’d hate to run afoul of the Gambling Commission.”

Barb laughed conspiratorially, and then made a show of looking around, “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them,” she dropped the impromptu charade, “…and as no one has actually paid us to be in our no-lose lottery, I don’t think they’d have any interest even if they did know.”

Dorcas nodded agreement and then went on, “I’ve made up a small packet of games as well, and there’s one in which we put ten herbs at random into a set of numbered paper cups, then we cover the cups with foil and poke a hole or two in the foil so the players can smell them without seeing them. I wanted to borrow some of your spices, though, if that’s all right, as I looked at mine and most were none too fresh. I don’t use them very often, so the tops tend to get dusty and I wasn’t sure about the smell. We’re supposed to pass around the cups and give out a prize to the one who can identify the most herbs correctly, except after seeing you at work in the kitchen, you might have to excuse yourself from competition as a professional.”

“Very wise, Dorcas. I doubt that I’d miss many. Perhaps we could just set a threshold, say half, over which everyone would get something. Or we could switch it around and have the winner be the woman with the fewest correct answers, springing the last bit on them after they’ve turned in their answers. I have a lovely little sample kit of smellies we can pass out as the prize, so it would all fit together perfectly.” Barb started reaching out little spice bottles, all in their original packaging, until she had ten.

“Brilliant. That’s just the ticket”

“I’ve set out sweet basil, common thyme, dill, cinnamon, chervil, sage, anise, and lavender for the easy ones, and here are two rather rare spices for the tie breakers, Melegueta pepper, sometimes known as grains of paradise, from Ghana, and Mahlab from Iran. Melegueta pepper is a sort of cross between black pepper and ginger, while Mahlab is quite sweet, somewhere between marzipan and cherry. Those ought to fox most of them, so none will be that smug about their chances.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of either, so wouldn’t have a clue.”

“You might not be able to name it, but Melegueta pepper is used in Danish akavit, so the bouquet might be somewhat familiar even if the name isn’t. Mahlab is sometimes used in Turkish and Middle-Eastern dishes, especially pastries, and if you’ve ever tasted a Greek wedding cake, it’s one of the traditional ingredients. When you taste it, it’s sweet, but with just a touch of bitterness in the aftertaste, so it has a symbolic meaning as well as a culinary one, that one is meant to take the good with the bad.”

“What a lovely tale to tell with it, then. They sound perfect.”

“The little packets of favours for everyone are in the cupboard in the hall, so I thought we could just hand out a packet to each lady as she came in the door, and if they have any hostess gifts we can set them on the sideboard for everyone to admire for a bit until we clear it off later. Bridal gifts will go on the sideboard in the dining room and I’ve cleared the floor around it so we can spill onto the floor.”

“It sounds perfect, Barb. I think we ought to put on some music and relax for a bit before the guests and the guest of honour arrive.”

“The sounds like a wonderful idea, Dorcas. Let me just sort it.” She went quickly through a number of CDs in a drawer, picking out half a dozen and ran them into the machine one after another. They were all compilations of cool jazz pieces that she really liked, with a mix of Latin and American masters of the genre so the styles didn’t become repetitive. The first started playing and she turned to Dorcas, “How’s this?”

“It’s brilliant. Everyone will be talking so no one will really pay much attention, and it’s not bold enough to grab any attention without assistance. Perfect party music.”

“Then we’re done. Would you care for tea? Or coffee if you’d prefer. I have one of those Italian machines so could arrange a fairly elaborate concoction if you like.”

“Tea would be fine. Red Label or PG tips if you’ve got either; I’m rather fond of them, but any good strong British loose black tea would be fine.”

“I have PG tips, so I’ll make that for both of us. Oh, don’t let me forget, sometime toward the end I want to set out a basket of random party favours to hand out as prizes too, so everyone’s a winner, as the talker at a carnival might say. I thought I’d set it out on the sideboard in the hall so the ladies can pick out whatever they want as they leave.” Barb went back to the kitchen and set the kettle on, then laid out the pot and cups ready to be warmed.

Dorcas sought out the settee nearest the large window, “Sounds good to me. I’ll just sit here out in the lounge, Barb. I love the view of the park and it’s too early to get changed.”

Barb called out from the kitchen, “It is rather nice. And I don’t have to worry about ruffians, as I have an upper floor.”

Dorcas frowned slightly in puzzlement, “I wouldn’t think you had to worry too much here, Barb. The neighbourhood seems quite nice and you’re not very near anything that would attract a rough crowd.”

Barb poked her head out the door and spoke with a slight whinge in her voice, “One can never be too cautious, Dorcas. I chose this flat because I felt secure here. There’s a doorman on duty twenty-four hours a day, and even the tradesmen are gated in under supervision.”

Dorcas shrugged, “I suppose so….” Her voice trailed off.

Barb muttered, almost inaudibly, “Well, it’s my flat in any case.”

“Quite right. And it’s lovely.” Dorcas said.

—««-»»—

Barb thought the evening was going perfectly. The penny game had gone quite well, and the guests had all grasped that the coins were significant straightaway, so it hadn’t degenerated into chaos before she’d had a chance to explain. She’d been worried about it, since she’d modified it from a game she remembered from a party with place settings, in which a single coin had been placed beneath one of the plates with the single prize the centrepiece on the table. She thought her own idea was far superior, now that she’d seen how it went. The lucky winner of the centrepiece wound up being one of the secretaries, Inez Raimundo, who was perfectly thrilled by it, but everyone was quite pleased by the idea of coming away with a lovely floral arrangement, a cut above the shower favours they’d been gifted with on previous occasions, and a splendid start.

The Mum’s Advice game was going well too. Most of the anecdotes were quite humourous, and some had been slightly risque, which had caused even more laughter, and they were barely begun.

Sarah Greene, Stephanie’s dear friend was just up and said, “The best advice my mother gave me on my own wedding day was to ‘dump the schmuck,’ and I’m only sorry it took me two years to finally take it. I could have had a nice vacation in Tahiti and Bora Bora for the attorney’s fees alone.” She delivered her line with commendable aplomb, and everyone was laughing uproariously, with many saying that they’d often wished that similar advice had been given them on their own marriages, and several others saying it had been, but they’d muddled through in any case and weren’t terribly displeased, all in all.

Stephanie, the guest of honour, had laughed at first but had then gone quiet during the ensuing discussion, so Barb was surprised to see her stand and say, “Ladies, I’d like to thank you all for coming here to wish me well, and especially you, Sarah, for passing on your mother’s good advice which, unlike your younger self, I intend to take, having decided to ‘dump the schmuck’ before it all gets messy, but do let’s continue with a party for just us with dear Richard left languishing in the dustbin of history. Your good wishes, your friendship, have left me happier than I can say.”

Barb was first startled, and then sympathetic, even though Stephanie hadn’t explained her reasoning.

Sarah walked over to Stephanie and placed one hand on her arm, saying, “Oy! That, I didn’t see coming.”

Stephanie didn’t seem upset at all, which was a blessing, and said warmly, “I didn’t either, Sarah.” She then raised one hand in an elegant gesture meant to include everyone and said, “And ladies, I’m so sorry you’ve all gone to such trouble for me, but a lot of things just suddenly added up when you told your story, Sarah, and I found that I didn’t like the sum.”

Barb hastened to reassure her and smooth over what might become awkward, “Don’t worry about it, Stephanie. Better now than after you’re stuck with the bum, and we’ve all had a great time anyway. We should do this more often.”

“Thank you so much for saying that, Barb. It makes me feel a lot better about changing my mind so suddenly, but I just realised that being here with you all was a lot more fun than anything about Richard, and was really the best thing about my impending wedding. I now see that I was letting Richard’s desire to own me, and my parent’s admiration of him as a ‘good catch,’ get in the way of what I really wanted. And then I just remembered that, amongst the many things I’ve never wanted was to be anyone’s ‘second wife’ on the way to his third.”

Then, the music she’d chosen for the party was suddenly replaced by something quite different, something she’d never heard of, although many seemed familiar with it, to judge from their laughter, so she was pleased that the potential disaster seemed to have been diverted and looked to see who had accomplished the miracle. It was Mique Bender, the woman who always wore dungarees and took care of the computers, and she had her cellphone out with a wire connecting it to her stereo system, although Barb vaguely remembered that they weren’t called stereo systems any more. She’d obviously done more than simply plug in a wire, though, since the display on her stereo was alternately indicating the artist and title of the piece, a feature she’d seen described in the instruction booklet but had never bothered to set up, since she knew what she’d put on, and the idea of flashing this trivial reminder to herself, as if she were a mental patient who might become confused, just seemed silly and eventually annoying. She made a mental note to remind Mique, whenever she’d finished her impromptu deejay session, to leave things the way she’d found them. The display said ‘Not the Doctor’ by someone named Alanis Morrisette, so she could see how some of the women thought that funny, but then hearing the chorus gave her to understand that there was a certain irony in the song as well.

Most of the women had sussed it out by now, so the general level of hilarity increased and then the next song came on, something called ‘No Man’s Woman’ by Sinéad O’Connor. At first, she was struck by it, since it seemed to reflect her own opinions of marriage, and men in general, but then she was devastated when it seemed to lay bare her very heart, alluding to the same sort of spiritual solace she found in her religion. She had to sit down as she listened intently to the lyrics and tears streamed unheeded from her eyes. She was rapt, caught up in an overpowering onrush of emotions she’d thought long sorted.

“Are you all right?” A warm contralto voice held infinite compassion and she felt a hand placed gently on her own, so carefully that she couldn’t say exactly when she became aware of it. It was almost as though it had always been there, but she’d forgotten and just now remembered.

She was confused, and then embarrassed, looking up to see a blurry Mique sitting next to her. “I expect you need a hanky,” she said in that same beautiful contralto, holding out a surprisingly delicate white hanky with embroidered edging and lace. She took it and dabbed at her eyes, then looked reflexively at the hanky to see that it was badly stained with mascara.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve gone and ruined….”

“Hush, lamb. Not to worry, I’ve a mort of them. My aunt gives them to me every Christmas and birthday so I’ve plenty to spare. But let’s see you off to the loo. I expect no one’s noticed yet, you were so quiet and still, but someone’s bound to soon.” Mique’s left hand, which had never left her own, now urged her up to follow.

Barb rose from the chair she found herself in and followed Mique to the ensuite in her own bedroom, where she first saw the wreckage of her makeup. “Oh, my. I look a proper mess, don’t I?”

“No, you look strong and whole, a powerful woman with a bit of baggage is all.” Mique said this as if it were common knowledge, not something one just says to buck up flagging spirits.

Somehow, in that calm and soothing voice, this insightful observation didn’t bother her as it ought to have done. “But….”

“I suspect we two may share similar sets of luggage, and there’s nothing to worry or harm you here. Let’s get you sorted now….” Mique plucked some tissues from the dispenser by the washbasin and began delicately to remove the streaks still visible on her cheeks, then dampened a bundled few under the tap and placed them over her eyes for a moment, allowing her the coolness and respite of partial darkness.

Barb couldn’t remember when she’d felt more serene, Mique’s left hand was at the back of her neck, as warm and comforting as her half-forgotten mother’s and the other laid gently on her forehead, just holding the damp tissues in place. “Thank you, Mique. I don’t know why I reacted so strongly….”

“It’s music, Barb. It can touch us deep in the heart, right where we live. It’s magic. It can heal us if we let it, open up our souls to the best in the world, and smooth the rocky bits.”

“I wish I could believe that, Mique….”

“It’s true, Barb. I promise. You’re going to be all right now. Take all the time you need, no one will notice. Everyone is having fun and you’ll just be a second here.”

Mique used the cool tissues to stroke her eyebrows and then her cheeks but she kept her eyes closed, releasing the knot of tension that usually…. She started, “The party! I’ve got to….”

“Barbara, you have to take care of yourself and we have all the time in the world here. Can’t you feel your power building? Your strength returning? Listen. The music is playing and everyone is perfectly happy.”

She did listen, and she could hear the music, overlaid on a buzz of conversation some woman was singing something about walking alone and once again she felt as if the music was meant just for her, somehow connected to who she was, “How do you do that, Mique? It’s as if you chose that song for me, just this instant, but you’re in here and couldn’t have….”

Mique smiled broadly, “I told you, Barbara, it’s magic. It’s what I do….” She winked one eye slowly.

Barb felt organised again, and energised, “Well, magic or no, it’s time I was back at the party.” She selected a makeup brush from the stand and touched up her cheeks with powder and then a subtle blusher. She then picked up an eyebrow pencil and did her brows again. Satisfied, she redid her eyeshadow and mascara and felt ready to go. “Shall we return to the party?”

“You go ahead, I’ll just use the loo first.” Mique smiled and brushed her hand across the back of hers in a sort of farewell. Barb’s hand tingled slightly for an instant, as if the fine hairs on the back of her hand had all raised up at once.

Barb went out into the bedroom and spent a few seconds checking out her outfit in the mirror by the door, “Well, I’m off,” she called. There was no answer, so she called again, “Mique?” Hearing no answer, she shook her head, thinking she must have missed Mique leaving while she was at the mirror. She opened the door and walked out, then saw that Mique was indeed already talking to Stephanie and Sarah near her stereo. ‘That’s odd,’ she thought, noticing how engrossed they were, ‘It’s as if they’d been talking forever….’

She saw Dorcas standing a few feet away and decided to ask if she’d been missed, “Dorcas, I’m so sorry to have ducked out for a bit. Is everything still going well?”

“Barbara! Everything’s fine. Now that we don’t have to play the traditional games to annoy the bride, I think most people are actually having a better time.” She whooped and sang out “Pussy power!” for some reason before saying, “Were you off for a minute? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve been gone for ages. That ‘No Man’s Woman’ song just got to me and Mique helped me cope for a bit.”

“Mique? She’s right over by the music system where she’s always been.” Dorcas waved vaguely toward Mique, who was focused on something about her iPhone, pressing the screen in a graceful and oddly rhythmic pattern.

“She’s been with me, I had to redo my makeup and put myself back together.” Then she noticed the music, an odd piece with cellos and a woman with a low, dreamy voice singing about a feeling of gaze. The hairs rose at the back of her neck as she heard the singer describe exactly how she felt that very minute, alive and aware of her beauty, ready to leave old traumas behind her and celebrate living. Suddenly, it seemed as if Mique were the only woman in the room. Barb walked slowly toward her and Mique looked up and smiled as if she’d been waiting for her, but now everything was all right. She turned back to her phone.

Barb just stared at her, at the perfection of her strong hands, the way they moved over the screen, as if the phone were an exotic musical instrument, but being played somewhere else. Barb could see the patterns of colour on the screen changing without a sound, at each touch the patterns shifted, too rapidly to follow, too complex to grasp. From time to time she paused to look out toward the other guests, and once she grinned and then gave someone a ‘thumbs up’ with her beautiful hand. Barb wanted to hear her voice again, and finally said, “I missed you.”

Mique looked up at her, giving her her full attention, “I’ve been right here waiting for you, Barbara. I won’t let you down.” Then she smiled and Barbara’s heart opened.

“I don’t know what to say….”

Mique’s voice washed over her like an eiderdown, settling in all around her body and leaving nothing exposed, “Don’t speak. We don’t have to speak right now. Just listen.”

Barb saw the display, “Sweet Leanne,” heard the opening lines, and the walls fell away.

—««-»»—

By the time the party finally tapered off, it was around two in the morning and several of the women wanted to call cabs, some of them being a bit under the weather, but Dorcas volunteered to share her own cab with anyone who needed a ride, so the room emptied quickly, and with little loitering about, except for Stephanie and Sarah — who were finding it hard to keep their hands off each other and simultaneously coördinate their efforts enough to actually make any progress toward the door — and Mique, who was dawdling by the home theatre system, pretending — and not very successfully so — to gather up her iPhone and assorted techno-wizard gear, just as Barb herself was aimlessly picking up plates and forgotten party favours and then setting them down again in different places.

Barb noticed Sarah whispering to Stephanie, and assumed that it was some secret words of love until Stephanie whispered back and they both glanced in her direction, smiling with something between fond regard and covert conspiracy, so that she instantly knew that they both knew what was going on between her and Mique. She felt dizzy for a moment, exposed, but then drew courage from Mique’s encouraging presence, and smiled back, although by that time they had eyes only for each other and were whispering again.

Setting aside the fear and self-doubt that had driven her from Mique’s side, eventually, she walked back to where she was messing about with her electronic gadgets, by which time Sarah and Stephanie were kissing with such passion that it made her jealous, and then made her feel foolish, since her dislike of romantic entanglements had been her own choice, hadn’t it? “I’m back,” she said.

“I was never gone, but I’ve missed you. ” Mique grinned, almost boyishly, and without any concealment or subtle reservations.

“What are we to do with one another?” Barb asked.

“Whatever we want. We’re both free now.” She spoke as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“But…,” Barb started to object, but then realised that it was true. It was the simplest thing in the world.

Mique grinned and said nothing.

Stephanie and Sarah had meandered towards the door and then turned back slightly. Stephanie said, “Barb, this has been, without exaggeration, the most fantastic evening I’ve ever spent, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but we have to go now and let you get some… sleep.”.

Barb could have sworn that Stephanie had intended a double entendre, but found she didn’t mind. She smiled in reply, and waved her hand, beyond words for the moment.

Then Sarah said, “Barb, I can only echo the words of my sweet Stephanie, and thank you as well as Mique for the opportunity to wash the glamour from our eyes and see truly at last. I feel like I could understand the language of birds and hear the music of the spheres, if only I listened carefully.”

Barb nodded in recognition, since Sarah had captured what Barb was feeling with surprising accuracy.

Then Stephanie said, “Mique, you’ve given us a gift beyond measure, and my humble thanks are inadequate compensation, but thank you, and we’ll be leaving now, which may be thanks enough.” She grinned towards them, and Mique put on a new CD.

Barb was looking again at Mique’s hands, so strong and capable, as she worked the controls of Barb’s stereo, and then more music came on and Mique held out her arms in mute invitation.

She moved towards her, but then heard Stephanie saying, “Oh, and Mique?”

Mique glanced aside from Barb’s eyes for only an instant, and then said, looking into her eyes again, as if she were responding to Barb’s question, whatever it was, and always with the same word, “Yes.”

Stephanie said, “Call me Joey….” and shut the door behind them.

“Yes,” Barbara answered.

—««-»»—

Copyright © 2008 Liobhan
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Archiving, Reposting, or Redaction of this story is not permitted

—««-»»—

Resources

Stephanie’s Shower Playlist

1. Not the Doctor by Alanis Morissette

2. No Man’s Woman by Sinéad O’Connor

3. Anything You Need but Me by Nanci Griffith

4. I Walk Alone by Sophie B. Hawkins

5. Everybody’s Breaking Up by Allanah Myles

6. Diamond Ring by Sheryl Crow

7. Walk Away, Renee by Linda Ronstadt with Ann Savoy

8. Feeling of Gaze by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Embrace

9. Guy Who Doesn’t Get it by Jill Sobule

10. London Bridge by Anika Paris

11. Pure (You’re Touching Me) by West End Girls

12. Butterfly Mornings by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Embrace

13. I Thought You’d Fall for Me by Hope Sandoval and the Warm Embrace

14. Night by Feisty

15. Pussy by The Lazybeans

16. Julie Christie by Lorraine Bowen

17. All Your Sisters by Mazzy Starr

18. Fade into You by Mazzy Starr

19. Unchained Melody Cyndi Lauper

20. I Kissed a Girl by Katy Perry

21. Perfect Fingers by Tami Greer

22. Sweet Leanne by Annie Keating

23. Broken Wings by Mary Black

24. Rosie, Strike Back by Eliza Gilkyson

25. Goodbye, Earl by Dixie Chicks

26. Janie’s Got a Gun by Tribute Stars

27. Calling All Angels by Jane Siberry

28. Not Like Kissing You by West End Girls

29. Come On, Eileen by Save Ferris

30. Pure (You’re Touching Me) Reprise by West End Girls

—««-»»—

Barb’s Private Playlist

1. Calling all Angels by Jane Siberry (When I was a Boy)

2. The Girl with the Weight of the World in her Hands by The Indigo Girls (Nomads, Indians, Saints)

3. Prayer for Love (Molenie O Lyubvi) by Mary Black (Babes in the Wood)

4. Take the Wheel by Annie Keating (Take the Wheel)

5. Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple (Tidal)

6. Love Will Come True by Eliza Gilkyson (Legends of Rainmaker)

7. Tender Love by Jill Sobule (Underdog Victorious)

8. Fantastic by Feisty (The Western Investor — Feisty EP)

9. Time After Time by Everything but the Girl (Acoustic)

10. Angel (In the Arms of an Angel) by Sarah McLachlan (Surfacing)

11. All Through the Night by Jane Siberry (Hush -or- Love is Everything Anthology)

12. What About the Love? by Janis Ian (Breaking Silence)

13. Ice Cream by Sarah McLachlan (Fumbling Towards Ecstasy)

14. Wedding Song Tracy Chapman by (Telling Stories)

15. Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (Don’t You Fake it)

16. If I was Your Man by Joan Osborne (Righteous Love)

17. Calling all Angels by Eliza Gilkyson (Pilgrims)

—««-»»—

The Courage to Heal - Fourth Edition: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse - 20th Anniversary Edition by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis

I Never Told Anyone: Writings by Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse by Ellen Bass

The Obsidian Mirror: Healing from Childhood Sexual Abuse by Louise M. Wisechild (Author), Laura Davis (Preface)

Domestic Violence & Sexual Assault: Songs of Survival and Affirmation: http://creativefolk.com/affirm.html

—««-»»—

Copyright © 2009 Liobhan — All Rights Reserved Worldwide

This story may not be reposted on any other site.

Tooltips: Quite a lot of background information for this story is contained in ‘tooltips,’ explanatory text which can be accessed by ‘hovering’ over a word or phrase with your mouse or other pointing device cursor. It’s quite likely that tooltips are broken in your browser, since they’re more or less broken in every major browser, which is a shame, since they offer an unobtrusive version of hypertext that can be taken advantage of without requiring one to exit the current page or to follow a link.

In some browsers, the ‘tooltip’ text will be truncated, badly formatted, or both, and may be absent altogether. Without looking at the source code, it may be difficult to figure out exactly what’s going on. As a rather elegant workaround, Terry Volkirch has coded a little JavaScript programme which forces tooltips to be displayed in their entirety but, for technical reasons, this code cannot be used on this site. As a workaround for the workaround, I'm working on creating an offsite location which can be linked to each of the stories in Spin Cycle, and which allows the use of Terry’s code.

I’ll let you know when this is ready.