To Face Facts
It took three months for Delia to persuade Patsy to come to an “alternative” bar.
Patsy had blatantly refused to, saying someone they knew would see them, adding that she didn’t need to be in a room full of “them” to feel validated about their relationship. For the first few weeks, Delia allowed this to slide, but she soon had to put her foot down. She pointed out that trying it once wasn’t going to kill her, and that she SEEMED to be experiencing some internalized homophobia that needed to be addressed.
Which of course, didn’t go over very well.
But three months later, it finally happened.
Trixie had a date scheduled, so Patsy made it seem like she was going clubbing with some obscure coworkers. The red head dressed in a patterned dress and a dark leather jacket, hoping to God that it would be acceptable. Trixie had somehow believed her, but seemed too preoccupied with her own date to second guess Patsy’s arrangements. The blonde woman left at around five, and at five-thirty, there was a knock on the door.
Patsy opened it rather breathlessly.
Delia stood there, wearing sleek black leggings and a black and white blouse, a jacket in her arms. For a moment they just stood there, grinning at each other stupidly.
“You look…” Patsy began before breaking off to blush furiously.
“…perfect,” Delia commented, her eyes travelling up and down Patsy’s form. Then they both shared a shaky laugh.
“I’ve got us a cab,” Delia said shyly.
“Okay,” Patsy smiled, gathering up her purse, “Lead the way.”
*****^*****
Patsy was beginning to realize that her misconceptions were oh so wrong.
The music throbbed in her chest and the lighting was low as she danced behind Delia, skin to skin with other women who seemed to openly check them out. At first, Patsy saw this and clutched Delia closer to her, feeling oddly protective of her girlfriend. About the third time Delia stepped on Patsy’s toe, she turned around to question the ginger.
“You okay, Pats?” Delia shouted over the music.
“They…they keep on LOOKING at you,” Patsy said back, feeling foolish as she looked pointedly at a group of women in the corner.
Delia looked over at them for a moment before laughing heartedly.
“Oh, no, Pats, they are looking at YOU!”
For a second, Patsy didn’t believe her.
“What?!”
The brunette grinned back at her girlfriend, her skin stark white against the dancing strobe lights.
“Rita and Frankie? They prefer…taller girls, much like yourself,” Delia explained, giggling at Patsy’s stunned expression. The ginger then suddenly pressed closer to the brunette, gripping her hips from behind and lightly grinding waists together.
“Well, I’ll let them know I’m taken,” Patsy said into Delia’s ear.
After that, Delia goaded Patsy into drinking at the bar, experimenting with cocktails she had never heard before. Feeling good and sloshed, they took back to the dancefloor, feeling liberated by their consumption of alcohol. They danced, and they danced. With flushed cheeks, Patsy twirled Delia and diffused into a fit of giggles as the brunette flirtatiously winked at the other. Their movements grew heavy and nearly sloppy, though neither seemed to notice as the night wore on.
*****^*****
Patsy hailed a cab at one in the morning, swaying slightly on the sidewalk as she held Delia close to her. A cab pulled over and they clambered in.
“Two stops,” Delia said, “32 West-”
“Actually,” Patsy interrupted, feeling a lot braver than she normally would have, “One stop.”
The ginger looked down at Delia before stammering at her shocked expression, “I…I mean…if you want to…”
“Course I do,” Delia whispered back in a high pitched voice. Patsy smiled warmly before giving her address.
*****^*****
“What about…Trixie?” Delia moaned as Patsy kicked the door shut, her fingers fumbling to tear their coats off.
“She’s out with a surgeon…looks promising,” Patsy gasped back, pressing Delia through the kitchen and into the darkened living room, “it’s their third date…nice guy.”
“Pats,” Delia whispered, her fingers in Patsy’s hair.
“Yes?”
“Stop talking about men.”
And with that, Delia shoved Patsy on the couch before straddling her, and they became a moaning puddle of body heat and proclamations of love.
*****^*****
Trixie yawned before sliding the key into her door knob, only to discover it was already unlocked.
‘Strange,’ she thought to herself, cracking the door open and slipping in. She was even more perplexed to find the kitchen light on, with a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. Patsy never drank alone, and on top of that, it was one of Patsy nicer bottles of liquor. Very confused now, Trixie went to go through the living room and go into her room.
*****^*****
The blonde woman had cracked the door open quietly, not wanting to wake Patsy, only to spot two writhing forms on the couch. She immediately went to duck out in shock, but she froze, squinting in the dimness.
“PATSY!” Trixie exclaimed, discovering that the other person was in fact a girl, namely Delia, who she had met on a few occasions.
The red head leapt into the air at the exclamation before landing on the floor with a muted ‘THUD’.
Trixie flicked the light on numbly as Delia, looking extremely confused, sat up, and blinked wildly in the sudden light. The brunette spotted Trixie and her mouth formed a delicate ‘o’ as she slumped back onto the couch and stared at Trixie like a frightened rabbit.
Trixie cautiously stepped closer, looking down at Patsy’s crumpled form, which hadn’t moved since she fell.
“Patsy?” Trixie whispered hoarsely.
What she heard in response was a muffled wail.
The blonde woman looked up at Delia desperately.
“Pats? Babe?” Delia gasped, glancing at Trixie warily before leaning down and touching the ginger’s shoulder.
The tall woman slowly rolled up into sitting position, silent tears coursing down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands.
“I’m…I’m going to get sick,” Patsy mumbled into her hands, rocking back and forth fitfully.
“Dear God, Patsy,” Trixie huffed, rushing over and plucking up a trashcan before shoving it in front of the trembling ginger. It wasn’t a moment later that Patsy did in fact get sick, silently retching into the vestibule.
“C’mon, the both of you,” Trixie sighed, snatching Patsy up by her elbow and tugging her up. Delia staggered and followed as Patsy was lead into the kitchen, still listlessly holding a vomit-laden trashcan. Trixie pulled out a chair at the table and sat Patsy on it before taking the trashcan away from her and placing it in the sink. The blonde woman then wordlessly gestured for Delia to take a seat as well before turning and putting the kettle on.
It wasn’t until Trixie was seated again that she managed something to say about what she had just seen.
“So…” Trixie said slowly, “I think…that you two have some explaining to do.”
Delia gazed intently at Patsy, who was staring pointedly at her hands, looking as if she wanted to melt into thin air.
“I’m too drunk for this,” Patsy whispered hoarsely.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m brewing us a pick-me-up,” Trixie shot back. She was met with silence. Trixie sighed heavily.
“Okay, how long has this been going on then?” she queried.
Patsy had silent tears coursing down her cheeks as Delia stared at her, looking as if she desperately wanted to comfort her girlfriend.
Irritated, Trixie slammed her hand on the table, making the other two jump.
“My Lord, Patsy, this isn’t the Spanish Inquisition,” Trixie snapped, “Stop acting like you are being sent to your death!”
“…It’s okay, sweetie,” Delia murmured urgently, “You’re fine, Pats, it’s okay.”
Patsy released a choked sob before she wiped her eyes dry with the heel of her palm.
“I’m sorry, Trix,” she mumbled, “You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”
“I guess not! When where you planning on telling me?!”
“I don’t know,” Patsy whispered.
“WERE you even planning on telling me?” Trixie demanded.
Patsy fell silent and stared at the center of the table.
“Pats,” Delia whispered softly, “Are you…are you ashamed of me?!”
Trixie tensed, not wanting to be privy to a possible break up.
The ginger very slowly looked up before fixing a stunned gaze on Delia.
“Of course I’m not,” Patsy murmured in a shaky breath, fresh tears in her eyes, “I love you, Delia! I love you so much!”
Whatever Delia, or Trixie for that matter, was expecting, the proclamation of love was most certainly not it. Trixie’s jaw dropped while Delia broke down in tears as well.
“I love you too, cariad,” the Welshwoman said, jumping up and wrapping Patsy in a hug while pressing her lips on the ginger’s temple. Patsy was quick to hug back, and in their collective drunken state, Delia ended up sitting on Patsy’s lap.
Trixie warily got up to pour the tea before placing the cups on the table.
“Drink up,” the blonde said, “and then tell me EVERYTHING!”