Extra Time 17

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CHAPTER 17
I was astonished. There is really no other word that could possibly mark what I had seen. The whole thing about the range of curses that the phrase ‘autism spectrum disorder’ covers is communication, or rather the lack of it.

Sufferers cannot pick up the signals that others drop with abandon; they exasperate, they piss off, they…they stand with their hands before their faces to ward off a world that makes no sense to them. The classic test for ASD is to point at something. The ‘normal’ child looks in the direction of the pointing finger, and the damaged one at the finger itself.

I looked at James, at the beauty that shone from him, and found the word ‘damaged’ curdling in my mind. I had never, ever heard him speak of his problem before, and what he had just said tore my soul apart. This wasn’t a blindness, a lack of sight: it was a loss, a failing that he recognised as such. He knew he was limited, that there were things he could never see, and how that loss must cut him to the bone. Shit. The person with cerebral palsy, they function inside just like any other human being, but can’t connect with the outside they see so clearly. James, ye gods; what must it feel like to see, to understand those around you only to see it blotted out by clouds rolling in just when you needed the light?

And I thought I had problems…a surge rose in me, a sudden realisation that every thought, every mistrust of Terry, had been so wrong it was beyond apology. He loved his beautiful boy, without reservation, and if his orientation was a little unconventional, then who was I to set the bar of normality? And John…what was wrong with me that I had missed all the signs for so long? Larinda took my arm.

“Jill, love, something going on with those two?”

“Somehow they seem to have crossed over into our world, pet. I don’t know how, but whatever…John’s, James…they have touched on something, aye? Something shared”

“Well, food’s up in ten. Ordered you the green salad”

“You what?”

She just grinned and squeezed my arse. “Gotcha. Your mum said you’d want the gammon, so I sorted that one out. And tea is on its way”

We turned to head back to the restaurant, and she took my hand.

“This place takes me back, lover. Us and beaches, yeah? Remember that day in Brighton?”

“How could I not, lass, considering exactly how bloody immoral you were getting in public!”

“Was in a train carriage, just us two”

“Open bloody framework, more like! I didn’t know what hit me!”

She suddenly turned serious, the smile dropping from her face. “No complaints?”

I took her by the shoulders. “How could I have complaints, love? I wouldn’t want to be without you, ever…shite, look, without you I wouldn’t be here at all, aye? Just thinking, is all, thinking about fairness”

“You buy your rounds!”

“Worst attempt at a joke I’ve heard in years, love. Look, so far, all this change, me, the docs, the tits, it’s all been about me, and that’s not been fair on you. I mean, remember when you tried, that time, to get me ‘sexy’, and it all turned to ratshit, like? I know you love me–“

I put a finger to her lips to shut her up. “I do know you love me, despite all of this, and sweet Jesus I love you, but it’s just, well, I’ve been thinking, aye? And watching those two…”

I took a couple of deep breaths. It had to be said, it had to be cleared up. “Larinda, all these changes have been for me, to let me be who I should have been from birth. You are no dyke, we know that, and I am just worried…worried that if, when, I go for the end process, operation, thingy, it won’t be right for you. That’s…that’s the fair bit. And I don’t know what to do, pet”

She stepped forward and held me tight, her head on my breast. Breasts. She spoke softly into my chest.

“Jill, love, to be honest this isn’t anything I ever expected, ending up with a woman to love, yeah? That’s the thing. I mean, I know your body, every, well, inch, and it’s not changed that much. I mean, there’s these things, but…”

She settled herself more closely against me. “That old fucker, he sort of moved it along a bit quicker than I wanted, yeah? But there’s the thing: I don’t see Rob no more, it’s so obviously not you, never was, and it’s like I said: more I see you, more it’s clear you are a woman, and there’s no secrets there that it throws me off a little”

She laughed. “Funny thing is, it’s these things. They threw me a bit when they started to come up”

“They’re not that big! Not at my age!”

“Big enough to show, lover, and…”

She leant back, looking me in the face, her face tense. “Look, here’s the silly thing. Tits, I love ‘em, me, or at least mine, especially when a…partner shows them the proper attention. Yours, well, I wasn’t sure, but you seem to like them just the way I like mine, and…what I like, what I always like, is to be nice to someone. That’s my thrill, yeah? You know I likes my breakfast off you, and that’s all about me pleasing you, and that is what really gets me going. I see you all happy, and I says to myself, I did that, all on my lonesome, and your tits, bit like that. You go all gooshy, and it’s like, almost, when I used to, you know, and it’s sweet, yeah? Me knowing that I can do that to someone I really love”

“And if I, you know, get, down there?”

“I really don’t know, lover. I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Thinking about those other girls, Annie, Steph. How’d their fellas cope with the reverse?”

“Well, from what I can gather they sort of ignored it, like. Stayed away”

“Yeah. Steph says she used to wear cycle shorts in the shower”

“Bugger a hell, Larinda! You’ve been talking to them more than me!”

She cocked her head to one side, a slight smile showing again. “Well, what did you expect? Never thought I’d be cuddled up to no old slapper in my dotage, did I? That’s the odd thing, their fellas don’t see them as anything other than girls”

I tried to give her my own smile, but that last phrase had drawn a little blood. “That’s because we aren’t anything other than girls, love”

She settled her head back against my bosom. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean it to sound like that. Just, I know you are a woman, known that ages, slapped myself that I couldn’t see it when we met”

I tried to make my own joke. “You had your eyes on lower things, pet”

She sighed. “Yeah. Pity…look, I see what you’re saying, yeah, so here’s my bit. You make me happy, that’s the truth. I think I make you happy–shut it, my turn–and this is it, we go with what you need to do, and if you have to wear knickers to bed, then that’s what we do. No biggy”

She chuckled. “Well, it was definitely more than a mouthful, but you know what I mean”

Once more she pulled back, and this time it was her finger that went to my lips.

“What we are talking about got you ready to kill yourself, so don’t give me any crap about not being important, yeah? I love you, heart, soul, bits, whatever. You don’t get away, Jill Carter, man or woman or whatever, and that bit of meat nearly took you away from me. We do what we need to, but we do it together, and I will bloody well cope, got me? Now, food is served, tea to drink, and lecherous crumblies to tease. Come on”

She led me back into the semi-cave that was the restaurant, and I caught a flicker from Alec, and she gave him a single sharp nod. So it wasn’t just the other women she had been talking to, then. I realised that she was doing all she could to make work what was for her an extremely unnatural situation, and if I had been able I would have loved her even more for that than I already did.

And I realised that such a thing was impossible.

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Comments

The Heart Of Things

joannebarbarella's picture

You have a gift, Steph, for removing the superficial and stating what really matters,

Joanne

Larinda

I think I've said it before, but it bares repeating. That woman is an amazing woman, and I wish someday I could find someone half that wonderful to spend my declining years with ...

DogSig.png

Issues

I have said it before, but I tend to find an issue to look at in my stories. There are so many...but the key to this one came from a throwaway quote at a trans conference, where one of the delegates remarked "My wife didn't know she was marrying a lesbian, but she seems to cope"

That is the issue here. Nobody transitions in a vacuum, without baggage, unless they take great steps to do so, for example by moving well away from home. The baggage is still there, however, just inside them.

And I have also said, many times, that I write love stories. A love story without crises to resolve is in the same class as a masturbatory fantasy: it lacks any realism. Unlike the 'naughty thoughts', however, it is unlikely to satisfy.

Suited....

Andrea Lena's picture

She sighed. “Yeah. Pity…look, I see what you’re saying, yeah, so here’s my bit. You make me happy, that’s the truth. I think I make you happy—shut it, my turn—and this is it, we go with what you need to do, and if you have to wear knickers to bed, then that’s what we do. No biggy”

...we live in a world where life is expected to fit like custom made clothes, but really we're as they say, an off the rack world. To find someone who suits us...fits us with all the gaps and pleats and folds and wrinkles, but protects and guards and 'clothes' us as best anything or anyone ever could. You have my unyielding admiration, and I look forward to see your work! Thank you for making the real even more real for me!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Very moving, very real.

I have always known that it's what's between the ears in the long run, not what's between the legs. It's what's between people that matters.

Very moving chapter Steph. Thanks for that.

Bev.

XXZX

PS. Pleased to see you back. Thought you'd be in France watching the TdF.

Bev.

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