Six
Vera woke up to an empty bed. Panic seized her momentarily as she reached out and found the spot previously occupied by Joan cold.
She rolled over and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A million different scenarios ran through her mind as to why Joan had left the bed, but her worry didn’t last long as she noticed the smell of brewing coffee and cooking bacon. She smiled and stood before making her way downstairs.
She padded barefoot to the kitchen still in Joan’s too-big silk pyjamas, and her heart swelled at what she found.
Joan stood above the stove, cooking bacon and eggs. She looked lost in the task, taking great care as she flipped the bacon. Her hair was down, and she wore an apron over a cream sweater and black leggings that hugged her long legs and curvy hips. The tension in her body and face from the day before was replaced with a look of almost contentment.
“Good morning,” Vera broke the silence
The older woman’s head snapped up. Evidently, she hadn’t heard her come in. Upon seeing the smaller woman, she smiled shyly
“Good morning.”
Vera smiled too and walked towards Joan, closing the gap between them. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss her. Joan kissed her back gently. The hand not occupied by the food came up to cup Vera’s cheek, stroking it as they broke apart, tucking some of the curly brunette hair behind her ear. It was still tussled from sleep.
“You look beautiful,” she whispered, their faces only inches apart.
Vera giggled, “I just woke up! I still have bedhead, I reckon.”
Joan scoffed and smoothed some of the messy hair down, smirking as it popped back up.
“You may. But the point remains,” she gave her a peck on the lips.
“Something smells good,” Vera observed as they broke apart slightly, her hand still on Joan’s lean back.
“Ah, yes. I’m making bacon and eggs. Are they acceptable? I should have asked before, but I, um, well, I wanted to surprise you.” She blushed. “I-if you would like something else, I can make it, pancakes? French toast? I'm afraid I don’t have any cereal, but I can go get some if you’d like,” she rambled nervously
“Bacon and eggs are perfect.“
Joan blushed again, looking down at the food.
“I took the liberty of washing your clothes from yesterday; they’re just there.” She gestured towards the kitchen table, where her clothes sat neatly folded.
“Thank you.” Vera picked them up, still slightly warm, from the dryer and hugged them to her chest as she felt a flutter in her stomach. The whole situation was so domestic she felt almost giddy.
“Feel free to freshen up, get changed, and uh, perhaps attempt to tame that bedhead.” Joan winked. “Food should be ready when you’re done. I’ve made coffee, too.”
“Goodness, you’ve thought of everything.”
“It’s just breakfast, Vera.” She smirked again.
Vera laughed. She moved forward and kissed Joan once more.
“I won’t be long.” She whispered against full lips.
She quickly showered and dressed before returning to the kitchen, where Joan set the table.
“Ah, just in time.” Joan smiled. Her stomach flipped as she observed Vera freshly showered, hair still slightly wet and curling.
Vera smiled back, feeling so relieved Joan was doing better. But at the thought, she also felt a knot in her stomach: They’d have to discuss what had happened yesterday.
They chatted as they ate. They both had the day off, and Vera proposed they go to the beach. Joan was initially reluctant; she worried someone from work might see them, but Vera eventually convinced her, saying she knew a secluded beach about an hour away.
“That was lovely, Joan.” Vera said when they had finished, “You’re a wonderful cook.”
Joan blushed again. She was not used to so many kind words spoken in her direction.
“It’s just bacon and eggs.” She waved it off. “One can rarely go wrong with them.”
“Mum used to burn them; she could burn water, actually,” Vera murmured.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, hardly the worst thing she did.” She laughed bitterly. “I learned quickly how to cook my own food, and we were both happier for it.”
Joan nodded, the now familiar anger towards Rita Bennett twisted in her gut. She was silent for a moment, unsure what to say.
“My… mother… was a wonderful cook.” She said quietly, not quite sure why she’d shared this. But Vera often told her she wanted to know about her past, and this felt like a safe point, just a sliver, a painless part of an otherwise painful childhood.
Vera’s face lit up upon hearing this; discovering new things about Joan was always exciting, and she had heard almost nothing about the older woman’s mother.
“Did she teach you to cook?”
Joan shook her head. Dabbing her lips with a napkin before gently placing it down and neatly folding it.
“No… perhaps she would have when I got older… but um, well, you know, she…died,” Joan said quietly, looking up at Vera before quickly looking away as she saw the sadness in her eyes.
“How old were you?” She asked softly, “If you don’t mind me asking?”
“I was 5.”
She closed her eyes as she heard the younger woman gasp quietly.
“Oh Joan, I’m sorry, that’s so young.”
Joan stared at her empty plate and adjusted her cutlery to line up perfectly.
“Yes. But it has been around 45 years. Time heals all wounds,” she looked up and smiled tightly, not quite believing her words.
They were both silent for a while. Joan shared so rarely about her life that Vera felt curiosity overwhelm her before she could stop it.
“How did she die?” She clamped her mouth shut as soon as she said it. “God, Joan, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that; you don’t have to tell me. I let my curiosity get the best of me; it’s just… you know so much about me and my family and… well, I hardly know a thing about yours.”
Joan remained silent for a long while. She felt a lump in her throat that wouldn't go away no matter how much she swallowed. Her upper lip twitched, and she looked down at her plate again. She straightened out the already perfectly straight cutlery and refolded her napkin before finally speaking.
“My father drowned her in our bathtub. I saw the whole thing.” She replied tonelessly.
“Oh god. Joan, I’m so sorry, Jesus. I never should have brought this up.” She dragged a hand through her hair, angry at herself.
“It’s fine,” Joan said tightly, dismissively waving a hand. She wanted this conversation to be over. “As I said earlier, time heals all wounds.” She smiled bitterly. The lie burned her throat, and old, unhealed wounds on her heart seemed to scream at her in protest.
They were silent for a while, and Vera fidgeted in her seat. Searching for something to say.
“Have you ever…” Vera paused. This seemed like an appropriate segue into the topic, but she wanted to tread carefully. “Have you ever thought about maybe… talking to someone?”
Joan’s dark eyes flicked up to hers, and they hardened.
“What do you mean by that?” She snapped; she felt a surge of anger and underlying anxiety, having some idea what Vera meant.
“Well… maybe… maybe talking to someone… could help you? Y-you’ve been through so much, and I-I worry that I don’t even know half of what’s happened to you. I…I want to help you, of course, and I will be there for you no matter what. But-but maybe it would be good to see a professional?” Vera rambled, feeling the tension in the air growing.
Joan sat ridged in her seat, dark eyes blazing as they bored into Vera’s.
“A professional.” She repeated, grimacing as if just the word disgusted her.
Vera nodded, finding it hard to keep eye contact.
“Like a psychologist?” Joan sneered. “Miss Westnull, perhaps?”
Vera bit her lip. Before she spoke, “Obviously not Bridget, but yes, a psychologist.”
“Why would I do that?” Joan challenged
Vera sighed again. “Well… to help you work through some of the stuff that’s happened to you-“
“I don’t need help, " she replied coldly. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Are you?” Vera asked softly. “Because yesterday suggests otherwise.” She swallowed thickly, somehow holding eye contact with the dark eyes that bored into her own. They looked guarded, clouded with anger and something more she couldn’t quite place. Vera missed the warmth they had earlier this morning.
“I see,” Joan replied tonelessly. She stood and collected the dishes and began washing them somewhat more aggressively than needed.
Vera sighed again and ran a hand through her hair. “ Joan, what do you mean by I see?”
The answer was immediate
“You lied to me.” She spat
“What do you mean?” Vera asked, standing up and making a move towards the older woman.
Joan turned, and the smaller woman was stricken by the anger, pain, and betrayal now apparent in the dark eyes.
“You told me you didn’t think I’m crazy.” She said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t! I never said that you were! But I am worried about you!”
“That is unnecessary.”
“You’re my girlfriend, Joan! Of course, it’s necessary! I care about you!”
“Then I suggest you drop this!”
“I’m not going to do that. You scared me yesterday, Joan! I-I’ve never seen you like that, and you said it wasn’t the first time!”
Joan shook her head in disbelief, looking away, nostrils flaring. “I scared you? So what now you think I’m a monster like they all say? A freak?” She accused
“I never said that; please don’t put words in my mouth,” Vera begged
“Then what do you mean?” She raised her voice,
Panic sneaking into her voice.
“I-I…Joan… what you were saying when I found you… that was what Jodie said you told her. I know she’s telling the truth. You did what she accused you of.”
Joan froze. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and her nostrils flared. Her eye twitched as she stared at Vera.
“And what of it? You’re going to tell Channing? The board? Are you going to ruin me?” She now spoke in the voice she used to intimidate the prisoners. She moved close to Vera, so close that she could feel the other woman’s body heat and whispered, “Has this all been a complex ruse? Get close enough to me, and get me to trust you so you can find out dirt. Use it to betray me?”
Vera could detect a quiver in the whisper, and looking up to meet dark eyes, she saw immense pain and betrayal.
“God, no, of course not, Joan. No. But- but what if the accusation had been believed? You could have been arrested! Charged! Hell, you could have ended up in Wentworth!”
Joan huffed and turned to continue the dishes.
“I didn’t! It is pointless to dwell on what’s passed.”
“What if the accusations resurface? I don’t know what I’d do! I don’t want to lose you!” Vera sighed. “I just... I need to know why.”
“It served a higher purpose.” She replied instantly
“A higher purpose? Joan, you tortured her!”
“For the greater good!”
“This is why I’m worried about you! I know that’s not who you are! You- you traumatized a young woman!”
Joan scoffed. “She will get over it.”
“Like you did?”
Joan’s hands froze in the soapy water, and she turned slowly back to Vera.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Joan’s voice was deadly quiet
“Your father said that to you, didn’t he? He did the same thing to you, and you repeated it on Jodie! And for what? To take down Smith? You used your own trauma to torment a young woman. That’s… that's not healthy, that's not a normal thing to do! It’s- it’s deranged!” As soon as she yelled the last words, she regretted it.
Joan staggered back slightly as if the words had physically hit her. “You do think I’m a freak.” She said quietly.
“No. Oh, Joan, no, please. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“You think I’m a monster.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“You should leave Vera.” Joan cut her off coldly
“No, Joan, please let’s just calm down; we can work this out.” She cried, tears welling in her eyes
“I didn’t mean you’re deranged or a freak or a monster; of course I didn’t. I just-“
“I want you to leave,” the older woman growled
“No,” Vera replied boldly, taking a step toward Joan
“Get. Out!” she roared, picking up one of the glasses she’d been washing and hurling it past Vera, not close enough to hit her but enough to cause the smaller woman to flinch. Joan didn’t want to hurt Vera, but she needed her to leave. She felt as if the world was closing in on herself, and she didn’t know how much longer she could take it.
Vera froze in shock, tears now streaming down her face. Joan’s chest was heaving, and her face was twisted in agony.
“Get out!” She yelled raggedly, fighting back tears of her own.
“Joan-“
“You think I’m a freak just like everyone else does! You’re just like everyone else,” she gasped
“I don’t. Please just listen to me, Joan.”
“Go Vera…Leave!”
Tears continued to pour down the younger woman’s face, and she moved forward, desperately wanting to comfort the woman she loved, but Joan took a step back before turning her back to the smaller woman.
“Joan-“
“Please leave,” she choked out.
Vera’s heart shattered. She nodded numbly, wiping away tears, only for new ones to replace them immediately. She quickly collected her things before making her way to the door, but not before sparing one last glance at Joan, whose back remained turned to Vera. She could see broad shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and she felt as if the remaining pieces of her heart were crushed with the weight of their shared agony.
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, not waiting for a reply as she left the house.
Standing in the middle of her kitchen, alone once more, Joan fell to her knees, the weight of everything tearing a broken sob from her lips.
To be continued