back to you
Just after 3 a.m., there was a soft knock at Carla and Lisa’s bedroom door. The sleeping brunette didn’t budge an inch, and Lisa… well, if she’d been there, she might’ve reacted. Betsy, hearing no objection, gently pushed the door open and slipped inside. Her eyes drifted towards the sleeping owner of the flat, where she’d been crashing more often lately than at her mam’s place. Carla had nodded off half-sitting up, a book in her hand and her glasses slid down to the tip of her nose. The bedside lamp on the lass’s left softly lit the room.
Bets was gobsmacked that her mam still wasn’t home. She’d fallen asleep herself an hour ago, and seeing the women’s bedroom light on, she’d decided to check if everything was alright. Now she started wondering if, when she’d drifted off, Carla had already been asleep. Back then, the light being on wasn’t anything shocking, but after waking up, it definitely felt off.
Memorising every detail, Betsy tiptoed over to the bed. She grabbed the book Carla had been reading and, marking the page where she’d likely stopped, set it on the nightstand. The young lass wanted to take the glasses off the sleeping woman’s nose but didn’t know how to do it without waking her. She didn’t want to leave her sleeping in them, worried about what might happen to Carla - or the glasses. In the end, she left things as they were. She switched off the lamp and quietly slipped out of the room.
Carla stirred when - she thought - Lisa was taking the book from her hand. She squinted just before opening her eyes and realised the person making her “sleep” more restful wasn’t Lisa but her daughter. Young Swain doing something for Carla Connor. A bit over a year and a half ago, she wouldn’t have believed it if someone told her they’d ever find any kind of understanding, let alone care and love. As Betsy closed the bedroom door, Carla slid the glasses off her nose, placing them on top of the book. She rolled onto her side, and the loneliness hit her even harder. With double the force, it crashed over her.
The loneliness, the darkness, the deafening silence, the cold empty space where another body should’ve been.
She grabbed her phone. 3:08 a.m. No messages. No missed calls.
That’s weird.
Nerves.
Fear.
Dread.
Worry.
Where is she? Is she alright? What’s she doing? Who’s she with? Is she safe? A load of questions started swirling in her mind. She dialled Lisa’s number and called.
The signal cut off.
Great, her phone’s probably dead, Carla thought, her first idea oddly optimistic given everything racing through her head moments before. She got up, knowing she wouldn’t sleep a wink with Lisa out there at this hour. She dragged herself to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink. She’s fine, she’ll come back - she reassured herself. She splashed water on her face, and just then, she heard the click of the lock.
Someone was clumsily trying to unlock the front door.
Lisa.
Or some daft burglar.
She practically ran to the door. She turned the lock and swung it open, and Lisa’s figure stumbled into the flat. Jesus, who was this person she was looking at?
“Lisa, you’re absolutely hammered,” the furious brunette spat out, word by word.
“I’m fine,” the partygoer slurred.
“You stink of a distillery. Don’t wind me up.”
“Good thing it’s just a distillery,” Lisa said, flashing a nervy grin at her girlfriend.
Just? First red flag. Carla mentally noted that line to throw back at her tomorrow when they’d have to talk about whatever this was.
“We’re not talking like this, in this state, at this bloody hour - Lisa, it’s past 3 a.m.!” Each word seemed to get louder in the blonde’s ears, each one hitting exactly where it was meant to. And it did.
She knew this homecoming shouldn’t have gone like this, that she shouldn’t be rolling in at 3 a.m., not in this state of drunkenness. She knew it’d drag up demons the taller lass had buried deep. It’d fling open a cupboard full of skeletons - alcoholism from her partners and herself. She had no right to go radio silent and then waltz back expecting Carla to greet her with a smile and open arms.
Carla wasn’t in the mood to argue with Lisa like this. While she’d been up, barely sleeping, worrying sick, the other had just gone clubbing and had a grand old time. Alone.
Alone? That’s when, through her nostrils, Carla caught more than just the stench of booze. Mixed with Lisa’s usual scent - her body, her perfume... was something else.
Cigarettes. That was easy enough to explain, given the state she’d come home in and the fact you’d bump into smokers more often than not in a club.
But...
There was more. She knew it, felt it - not just with her nose but in the shift in Lisa’s behaviour, a weird kind of tension that’d crept between them.
The blonde detective darted past Carla’s right side, head and eyes glued to the floor. She was gutted. Ashamed. That feeling she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager causing trouble for her parents and seeing the disappointment on their faces. She hated it and swore she’d never put anyone in that position again. Yet here she was. Knowing full well this wouldn’t be the last time.
When she reached the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. It was the first time that night she’d met her own eyes. Her body instantly gave up on her, seeing the state of the person staring back.
Smudged makeup, frazzled hair, a complexion flushed from too much ethanol. She had to brace herself against the sink.
That first glance was just the start.
Then she really looked at herself. In the mirror, her glassy eyes reflected the last two hours of her life. She could almost feelevery touch on her body... the grazes, body against body, dancing, gestures, whispers.
She felt sick. She was starting to hate herself. This night was what changed everything in her life.
In Carla's life.
In their life.
In a lot of lives.
No one realised it yet.
Lisa took a long, scalding shower, desperate to wash off every touch.
Wash away the memories, the smells, the shame. She scrubbed off her makeup. The state she was in, doubled by the hot shower, meant she couldn’t manage her full nighttime routine. After the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and crept into the bedroom. Carla wasn’t asleep. That’s what she’d feared. She didn’t know what she could or couldn’t do, what move might set off her girlfriend’s alarm bells.
Quietly, she went to the dresser, pulled out clean sleep clothes. Normally, she’d change here, but tonight she felt too rotten in her own skin. She didn’t know if Carla might spot some tiny detail she’d missed in this state. She felt watched, knew Carla was studying her every move, analysing everything.
The blonde headed back to the bathroom to change, and the lass waiting in bed decided this vibe wasn’t on. She curled up into a ball, back turned to the side Lisa usually took. A clear sign she wasn’t up for talking in this state.
When Lisa stepped back into the room, she saw Carla facing away from the bathroom door... and her side of the bed. Bloody hell. She slipped into bed, desperate to crash out in peace after everything she’d been through tonight.
“Carla…” she started, quiet and unsure.
Silence. Not a twitch.
“Please, let me hold you,” the blonde’s shaky voice, fragile and raw, pierced through to the factory owner’s soul. Despite the anger and emotions bubbling inside her, Carla rolled onto her back and draped an arm around her little spoon. She pulled her closer.
Lisa finally felt that familiar warmth. The chaos inside her started to settle as she was drawn into a tight embrace. Her head rested on the taller lass’s chest. She felt Carla’s warm breath on her head. At the small of her back, she recognised the familiar slide of Carla’s fingers - anchoring her, grounding her, calming her in a way that was almost unreal.
Such a gentle touch that changed so much.
“I love you,” were the last words Lisa managed before slipping into a deep, blissful, much - needed sleep. Carla pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, tightened her hold, and let herself drift off too. She knew tomorrow would be rough. They had a conversation coming - one she never thought they’d need to have.