5 June
There’s a lesson I want to share with you: There is more value in a mirror than most people realise. Taking the time to stare at your own reflection is an opportunity to look into your soul. I’m not even kidding. I know it sounds ridiculous. But let me explain. If you step out of the shower, slick back your hair, wipe the steam from the glass and then stop still and simply look, you know what you’ll see? You.
Your face at its rawest. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your ears, your cheeks, your forehead, your chin. You can explore it to its greatest depths. Every wrinkle. Every freckle, every blemish. The flecks of colour in your irises. The dryness of your skin. The way your nostrils flare when you breathe in sharply. The way one eyebrow reaches up higher than the other when you yawn.
There are parts of you that you’ll love. Parts that you know so well. The curve of your petite ears. Your eyelashes. Their length. Their colour.
There are parts that you’ll hate. The jut of your chin. The length of your neck.
But beyond that, you’ll see yourself. You stare long enough at yourself in a mirror and you’ll stop seeing the physical features. You’ll see your personality. Your history. Your mistakes. You’ll see the flaws inside. Again, there’ll be parts you’ll love and there’ll be parts you’ll hate. You’ll dig up memories. Memories that make you ashamed. Memories that make you proud.
You’ll see the moment you picked up the bird with the broken wing from the side of the dirt driveway. Tucked it inside your jacket. Took it back with you, hid it from everyone. Placed it in a shoebox with a soft tea towel for comfort. Tried to nurse it back to health.
You’ll see the moment you stole a pair of sunglasses from the corner store while the woman behind the counter gave you a friendly smile. You’ll feel the frame of the glasses pressed against your skin, hidden up the sleeve of your jumper.
But then again, you won’t get to experience any of those things, will you?
* * *
It didn’t take that long for Annalise to pack up the essentials. She’d rented the apartment fully furnished, so there wasn’t really that much in the place that belonged to her. Everything she owned could usually be condensed down to one backpack if needed.
Although she admitted she had settled quite a bit there. She’d started to acquire a few new extra things that she normally wouldn’t bother with. Most of that would end up in the dumpster behind the building.
She didn’t make the decision straightaway. There were a few days of lying in bed all day until the sun set. Getting up, making it as far as the lounge and lying there until it was time to return to bed. She was hardly eating because she wasn’t hungry.
But once she’d decided what she was going to do, she found some energy. Enough to shower. Enough to start gathering her stuff together.
She avoided Poppy, ignored most of her messages, shooting back the odd reply only when she knew she needed to in order to get her off her back.
When there was a knock at the door on Wednesday night, she assumed it was Poppy. She stood still in the middle of the lounge room, trying to decide what to do. She hadn’t planned on saying goodbye. She’d intended on just leaving the following morning. But did she at least owe her the courtesy of knowing?
The knocking was insistent, so she gave in and opened the door.
It wasn’t Poppy. It was Elle. Annalise was taken aback. Seeing her out of context threw her. She was dressed in tight jeans and a low-cut black top. Annalise had only ever seen her in footy shorts or tracksuit pants and a jersey. Her hair was out as well, instead of tucked away under a baseball cap. It was long and ringlety and a lighter shade of red than Annalise’s own hair, a sort of golden auburn.
‘Elle!’ she said, stunned. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Came to check on you,’ she said. She pushed past her and came inside without waiting for an invitation. She looked around the apartment and her eyes swept seamlessly across the backpack, which was leaning against the lounge. She didn’t react. ‘First you were off your game for a couple of matches and then a no-show Monday night. Not like you.’
Annalise felt irritated that she could be so single-mindedly focused on her team above all else.
‘Yeah, well, I’ve had some shit going on,’ she replied.
‘I figured. You got something to drink?’ she said.
‘I’m kinda busy,’ Annalise said, but Elle wandered through the lounge room and across to the kitchen where she opened the fridge, as though Annalise hadn’t even spoken.
‘Not much in here,’ she said. She crouched down, found herself a beer and stood up. ‘You got a bottle opener?’
‘Twist top,’ she replied.
Elle opened the bottle and took a swig. ‘I take it you don’t want one?’
‘Why do you assume that?’
‘Because you’re not well.’ Then she very obviously stared at Annalise’s stomach before raising her eyebrows and taking another swig.
Annalise grimaced. ‘Yep. I’m not great, so it’s probably better if you —’
Elle cut her off. ‘Stop trying to kick me out.’
‘But I don’t really get what you’re doing here,’ Annalise said, exasperated. ‘We don’t even know each other that well.’
Elle feigned a knife to the heart. ‘Hey, that cuts deep. I’ve been coaching you all year.’
‘Yeah, but all you’ve ever said to me is “pass” or “drop” or “pull back”, or “shut down that fucking player before I lose my shit!” It’s not like we’re besties or anything.’
Elle took another sip of her drink. ‘Never too late though, is it?’
‘It kinda is.’
She looked at the backpack again. ‘So you’re leaving?’
‘Yeah. Tomorrow.’
‘That means you’re skipping out on the rest of the season.’
‘Seriously! Is that all you think about? Your soccer team? You really think I’m going to change my plans for a game?’
Elle put her beer down on the kitchen benchtop and crossed over to Annalise, standing directly in front of her, much closer than she expected.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t expecting you to change your plans for a game.’ She hooked her index finger in the belt loop on the side of Annalise’s jeans and tugged on it, pulling her closer still. ‘But I was thinking I wasn’t done getting to know you yet.’
Annalise felt her heart rate pick up. Was she . . . was Elle . . . hitting on her?
She’d been hit on by women before, but it had never been like this. There had never been this much friction between herself and the other person. Usually she was happy enough to flirt back, more for the fun of it than anything else. It was nice to be hit on. It was good to feel wanted, desired. But she’d never really felt anything for another woman.
This though. This was different. It was strange because she’d never even looked at Elle that way. She wasn’t sure if she even knew she was gay – the thought had never occurred to her because she’d never had any reason to think anything about Elle beyond what she was like as a coach.
So the sudden sparks between them were throwing her. She didn’t know how to react. She’d lost her usual sense of calm and smoothness. For the past week, she’d barely thought about drinking because she’d felt too sick to even contemplate alcohol. But right now, she wished she could down a couple of shots of tequila.
Elle held her gaze for several more seconds and then she let go of the loop on her jeans and stepped away before turning to pick up her beer again. Annalise was left to wonder if she’d completely fabricated the entire thing. Then Elle walked back over to her, took her by the hand and pulled her across to the couch.
‘Just talk to me,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s going on. When you’ve told me what’s happening, I’ll go. I’ll leave you be, I promise.’
‘You’re . . .’ Annalise paused, lost for words. ‘You’re . . . odd,’ she said.
Elle laughed and nearly choked on her beer. ‘Odd,’ she repeated. ‘Not the reaction I was necessarily hoping for. But okay, we’ll start with odd and see if I can work my way from there to awkward and then maybe charming, okay? Seriously, talk to me.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Everything.’
And so that’s what Annalise did. She told her everything. Well, almost everything. She started with the group. She explained about Poppy’s idea and how she wanted to help her get past Garret’s betrayal. She told her about Lawrence and how she hated herself for leading him on for so long when she wasn’t and never had been in love with him. She told her about the group turning bad and the war starting up between MOP and NOP. She told her about Frankie and how she’d taken that message and not passed it on, and about how afraid she’d been that something really terrible might have happened to her kids and it would be all her fault.
And then she told her about discovering that she was pregnant – which somehow Elle had already guessed – and that she felt like such an idiot for letting it happen, and that she couldn’t bring herself to tell Poppy because the truth was . . . she wanted to keep it. She was terrified, but she wanted to have this baby. And she knew Poppy was going to be so hurt.
She wasn’t actually sure she even knew herself that she did want to have the baby until she spoke the words out loud to Elle. But somehow, the words had just come to her: I want to keep it. And as soon as they left her lips, she knew it was the truth. Had she been lying to Poppy all this time when she claimed she never wanted children? She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that some sort of maternal desire had kicked in and taken hold of her – hard.
As she’d spoken, she’d kept her face down, not wanting to look at Elle, not wanting to see how she reacted to anything she had to say. But now she looked up at her and saw something unexpected. She’d either thought she’d be judging her, considering how much she’d unloaded, or else she’d have an expression of pity on her face. But there was something else there. Amusement? Did she find Annalise’s problems – her life – amusing?
‘Why do you look like you’re about to start laughing at me?’
‘I don’t,’ Elle replied. ‘I’m just smiling because I’m kinda thinking, that’s it? That’s the whole story? I mean sure, you’ve been through some stuff, but it’s all manageable. So, what’s with taking off? And where are you going anyway?’
‘Umm, I don’t really know.’
‘You don’t know why you’re leaving or you don’t know where you’re going?’
‘Both.’
‘Riiiight. You really are a hot mess, aren’t you?’
‘Thanks.’
Elle shuffled across the couch, closer to Annalise. She placed a hand on her knee, her other arm on the back of the couch. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’re in luck. Because I’m a mess too. So that means the two us have an opportunity. An opportunity to help each other out.’
‘How are you a mess? You’re the most together person I know.’
Elle laughed. ‘You’re kidding, right? You haven’t noticed my anger management issues? You don’t think there’s shit going on in my own life that I’m putting on you guys when I take you to task for stuffing up in a game? Everyone has problems, Annalise. But the nice thing is, it’s usually much easier to sort out someone else’s issues than your own.’
She paused. ‘You do realise that half the time when I’m coaching you guys, I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m terrified you’re all going to figure that out and call me on it?’
‘No way that’s true. You’re always one hundred percent sure of your decisions.’
‘Nuh-uh. Remember the first game when I pulled both you and Rowena out of the front line at half-time? Shuffled the entire team around?’
‘Yep. I remember.’
‘You want to know why I did that?’
‘Why?’
‘It was because I was seriously losing my mind just being around you. I had this huge crush on you from the moment you first turned up to training. And to start with I felt like I was fawning all over you, telling you what an amazing striker you were and whatever else. And then I was like, “Oh my God, I need to play this cool.” Next thing I know, I’m creating utter chaos on the field and I was on the sideline thinking, what the hell did I just do? Thank God Poppy set up that goal right at the end, because afterwards I could pretend like that was my plan all along.’
‘You’re kidding? Everyone in the team thought that was the best tactic ever when we won. You’re telling me that was a fluke?’
‘Complete fluke. That’s why I put you straight back up front the following week. And then you had that horrible game after we all heard you and Poppy arguing over something. And I subbed you out and kept trying to talk to you but you wouldn’t have it. I was going crazy! I wanted to say something, to tell you how I felt, but I didn’t even know if you would be . . . you know . . . interested in women. But ever since then, you haven’t been yourself and I’ve been wondering what’s going on with you and if you were okay. And I figured, look – even if you’re not the least bit interested in me in that way, I still care about you. So I figured I’d come here tonight and check if you’re all right, and just be honest with you. No more guessing games. I like you, Annalise. So what do you think about that?’
Elle was leaning in close again and once more Annalise’s body was fizzing. A desire to grab hold of her and pull her close overcame her.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, ‘I’ve never even . . .’ And she found herself leaning in further still, her words drifting away, her mind fogging, her heart pumping.
Elle closed the final gap between them and their lips met. Her lips were soft and her kiss was gentle and slow. Elle reached for Annalise’s body and she reached back. Their legs tangled. They kissed harder, harder and faster, and Elle’s hand was under Annalise’s top, cupping her breasts, and then her lips were on her neck and they were pressing their bodies together and Annalise thought, This, this is what I’ve been waiting for.
* * *
It was several hours later. They’d made their way from the couch to the bed, and now, as Annalise lay there awake in the dark, she realised she was so comfortable in Elle’s arms that she was on the verge of falling asleep.
But the usual doubts started creeping in. This isn’t you. You don’t fall asleep in anyone’s arms. You don’t relax and you don’t give in.
She shifted away from Elle abruptly and sat up, facing away from her and towards the wall.
‘That was fun,’ she said, continuing to look at the wall. Her voice had taken on a cooler tone.
‘I thought so,’ Elle replied.
‘One-time fun,’ she said. ‘But I don’t have sleepovers.’ She turned back around and tried to look at Elle, but struggled to meet her eyes. ‘So . . . you’re going to need to . . .’ She trailed off, expecting her to get the drift. But Elle didn’t start to scramble for her clothes.
‘I’m going to need to what?’ she asked, her own voice just as cool as Annalise’s.
‘Go,’ she finished.
‘Is that right?’
‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry, but like I said, I don’t do sleepovers. You think we’re going to braid each other’s hair or something?’ She stood up from the bed and moved away. ‘This doesn’t change my plans. I’m still leaving tomorrow. I’m going to take a shower. Just let yourself out and shut the door behind you.’
She didn’t wait for a response, instead walking swiftly into the bathroom and closing the door. Inside, she turned on the shower taps straightaway. She needed the noise to cover the sound of her tears.
Why had she done that? Why did she treat people this way?
Was she ever going to change?
She spent a good twenty to thirty minutes in the shower, using up all the hot water. She wanted to make sure she’d given Elle plenty of time to get dressed and leave.
When she finally emerged from the steam-filled room, she took one step towards the bed and stopped. There was still a shape there under the covers. Was it Elle? Or were the sheets just crumpled in a way that made it look like she was there?
The shape moved. Elle rolled over and faced her. ‘You think you can get rid of me that easy?’ she said.
‘Oh, thank God.’