“I’ve got to go,” Melissa said. Her uncombed hair fell in front of her eyes. “You don’t need to get up. I’d skive off myself if one of my partners weren’t on holiday. Have a lie-in.”
“I should get up,” I insisted sleepily. “It’s not fair I get to sleep and you don’t.”
“Getting up or feeling guilty about not getting up won’t make me any less tired.” Melissa mussed my hair. She leaned down and kissed my cheek.
In the afternoon, I stopped by her office to see how Melissa was getting on, but she was out on a home visit. I walked to an outdoor flower stall and got her a bouquet of bluebells that was half white baby’s breath. It was all I could afford, not having busked regularly in a while. When I returned to the flat, I found Melissa upstairs waiting for me. She was sitting on the bed with her back against the wall.
I handed her the bouquet. “I mean it romantically this time.” I lifted up her legs and sat on the bed, holding her feet in my lap, soothed by her black Doc Martens with their familiar rubber soles and yellow stitching.
“Oh, love. You shouldn’t have,” she said.
“Are you alright? You’re sitting here in your coat.”
“I feel vulnerable. Last night. You know. I’ve never really talked about it. I’ve not put myself in situations that would make me feel exposed. Now I’ve got me bulletproof coat on.” She tried to smile. “I’ve slept with blokes since it happened, but with you it feels different. I can’t hide. I can’t shut off my feelings.”
“I can’t separate my emotions from sex either. What’s wrong with us?” I said, hoping to cheer her up, but there were tears already starting in her dark, honey eyes.
“I haven’t let myself feel vulnerable with anyone. Only you.”
“Oh, sweetie. What about Nick?”
“Oh, you know. I feel like I have to be strong for her. To protect her.”
I paused. “She’ll surprise you.”
“No, she won’t, because I’m not going to tell her.”
“I meant, what are we going to tell Nick about our relationship? Do you think she’ll mind?”
“Mind?” Melissa swung her feet to the floor, sitting next to me.
“Well, she does look up to you, you know. She won’t think I’m taking you away from her, will she?”
“We’ll just have to make sure we never give her a reason to feel like that. Amanda, this is hard for me to say, but—”
“What is it?” I stroked her hair, brushing the stray, wavy wisps out of her face.
“Can we not tell Nick about us just now? I’m feeling—well, as I said, vulnerable. I haven’t been able to be intimate, and I just—sometimes I can’t bear it, thinking about the rape.”
“We can tell Nick our relationship has changed without telling her about the rape.”
“But what if the sex part doesn’t work out and you leave? And I have to say why?”
“First of all, I’m not going anywhere. And sex is something I never expected from you anyway.”
She put her head on my shoulder, and I felt the collar of my T-shirt getting damp. “Do you have another girlfriend?” she asked.
“What? You know I don’t. Don’t cry. I wouldn’t hide that from you. Of course not. What are you thinking?”
“Last night I never even asked if you had started seeing someone else.”
“I’m not.”
Melissa put her hand on my cheek. “I want you to know I’m HIV-negative. I got myself tested after I was raped.”
“I know you would have told me if you were HIV-positive.”
“How the bloody hell do you know that?”
“I know you would never do anything to put me at risk. First do no harm.” I referred to a common principle of medical ethics. “That’s you all over. I got myself tested when I was in ACT UP, and I’m negative, too. I’ve been lucky.” I brushed my hand over her slate-gray coat. It felt cool and smelled fresh, like rain-washed tarmac with just a hint of bus exhaust.
“Is it alright if we don’t tell Nick yet?”
“It’s just between us for now.”
Melissa pulled away and dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. “Let’s forget this crap shite and go out for our tea. There’s a brilliant Sri Lankan restaurant I want to take you to in Earls Court. I had the best meal of my life there.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes. I’m going to wash my face and then I’m treating you to a nice meal.” When Melissa came out of the loo the color was back in her cheeks and she’d changed from her work clothes into an oversized purple-and-black stripey jumper.
Back at the flat, I asked Melissa if I could still sleep with her. “Just to sleep,” I said. “I like being close to you.”
“I like being close to you, too.”
I went into Jake’s room to take my pills and put on my special blue Kurt Cobain T-shirt for sleeping in. It was a photo of Kurt in his pajamas, looking cozy and smiling, playing an acoustic guitar. When I went into the bedroom, Melissa was already under the covers. “Can I still have a kiss goodnight?” she asked, as I got in bed next to her.
“Oh my God, course you can.” I moved closer and kissed her, my entire body buzzing.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she said disconsolately as we both lay awake. “I thought I dealt with this ages ago.”
“That’s right,” I said. “You dealt with it yesterday, didn’t you?”
“You’re very amusing.” Melissa got up. “It’s no use. I can’t sleep.”
“What calms you down?”
“Listening to punk music.”
“Me, too.” I followed her downstairs.
“Go back to bed.”
“Don’t be daft.”
Melissa put on the Vibrators singing “Baby, Baby,” and just like the song, I turned to her and said, “Baby, baby, baby, won’t you be my girl?”
“Why do people think punk wasn’t sweet?” Melissa asked. She put on a gorgeous acoustic version of “Baby, Baby” from the Unpunked album. “I have so many versions of this song it’s criminal.”
“You know when Knox sings, ‘Aah, let me put my arms around you / just wanna use up a little of your time’? I always thought it was, ‘Just wanna use up plenty of your time.’ That makes sense especially when I think about being with you,” I said, holding her hand. And Melissa blushed.