Old Neighbours Become New Friends

"Well, I've no drink in so..."

"I've got a bottle of wine; I'll go and get it," she smiles and she heads off. I watch her go and it occurs to me how much easier Veena's being straight makes our relationship, allowing us to simply be friends and she's quickly become a very good friend indeed.

Raveena's Diary

Monday 21 April

I noticed Mattie getting out of her car after work this evening, and when she looked up, I couldn't help waving. She invited me to meet her for a smoke and I brought a couple of beers for us to share. She's now calling me Veena, which is quite sweet and much better than 'Ravi', her first nickname for me!

As revenge for 'Ravi' I said I'd call her 'Matt. However, she suggested that her friends might think I fancied her if I called her that. I don't know if she really thinks that might happen or if she wanted to see my reaction. I honestly don't know how I'd feel if it happened, but I'd certainly try not to be offended because that would probably upset her. I was tempted to call her 'Matt' just to see her reaction but I suspect she's a little too fragile to tease too much.

She told me that Mattie wasn't the name her parents gave her: she was actually 'Matilda'! I told her that Mattie suits her much better, which it does; rather cute and slightly androgynous, which seems to be Mattie to a tee. God, I'm glad I didn't say that to her face! She asked about my name and told me that 'Sunny' suited me after the help I'd given her when she was down, which was very touching.

She winced when she moved her shoulder, and when I asked she said her shoulders were stiff and painful. I did a little investigation and it seemed to be her trapezius and/or rhomboideus muscles so I offered to give her a massage. She eventually agreed and thought I meant to massage her right there and then, but given that kneeling on concrete was pretty damn painful for me, that she was already shivering from the cold and the thick shirt and sports bra below wouldn't make massage very effective, I said we needed to go inside and she led me up to her flat. I stopped in here on the way up to pick up my treatments bag.

I was intrigued going into her flat for the first time, wondering what her tastes were: is she tidy, what colours does she like, would there be pictures, what furniture? The short hall is pale cream with a varnished wood floor that continued throughout the flat. I could identify each room of course, since her flat has exactly the same layout as this one. Her bedroom door was ajar: the surprisingly feminine pale lilac of the walls was echoed in the slightly darker duvet cover that I could see covering the corner of the bed that was just visible.

She led me into the tidy and clean main room --the estate agents' descriptions called it a 'lounge-diner' -- which, perhaps unsurprisingly, wouldn't have looked the least bit out of place in the Ikea catalogue and that thought made me smile. Mattie noticed and smiled back, evidently reading my thoughts. She told me that it wasn't all from Ikea; some of it came from Habitat. I assured her it was lovely, which it is.

My eye was drawn to a single large poster on the long wall opposite the window and I moved to have a closer look. It was a collage of dozens and dozens of movie posters, each one a little bit bigger than a credit card. There were many I recognised but many more that I didn't. From what I know of films, it was an eclectic mix covering an impressive range in terms of dates and genres. "My hundred favourite films, as of a couple of years ago," she told me as she saw what I was looking at.

I told her it was amazing and asked what her most favourite film was. However, she claimed that question was too difficult and even getting down to the favourite hundred had been hard.

I looked around the room and suggested that, for the massage, she sat back to front on one of her dining chairs. I put towels on the wooden back of the chair to support and cushion her head whilst she got ready.

She was disturbingly happy to get undressed. I did wonder if she was being deliberately flirtatious but I stayed professional, reminding myself to treat her as any other client. When she did strip I have to confess that I struggled not to stare. I've seen my fair share of women undressed, in changing rooms and as a physiotherapist but there is something about Mattie physically that I find... not actually attractive, obviously but... intriguing? Captivating? Her boobs that she always calls small looked good, I mean they suited her, her shape and nature I mean.

I added lavender to the massage oil on the basis it would help her physically and emotionally and then I massaged her. Perhaps it was the affection I feel for Mattie, for what she's done for me, for the bad things she too has gone through, but I really loved massaging her. Why am I being so bashful in my private diary? I should be able to admit how much I enjoyed massaging Mattie, how much I liked the feel of her skin under my hands: as soft as any woman's but with a muscular firmness beneath that reminds me of sportswomen. I watched my dark fingers glide across her pale skin and the dark ink of her Celtic tattoo. I couldn't help prolonging the massage, not that Mattie minded, not one bit. It was no surprise that she said her muscles were mush after almost forty minutes of being worked on -- but mush in a good way!

She invited me to stay and eat, and of course, I accepted. Mattie makes very nice Spaghetti Carbonara and we chatted and drank. I think she gets lonely too in the evenings. The view from her window is even better than mine as she is well above the trees and bushes. I pointed to the hills on the horizon, the North Downs, and told her that was where I grew up. As we sat and ate and talked the sky darkened and lights came on outside until we were looking out across a glittering sea of lights: the motionless glowing of offices, houses and street lights and the moving twinkles of vehicles. It was magical; the view and the meal and Mattie.

While we talked about what I wanted to ask her was what it's like being a lesbian, what does she think and feel when she looks at a woman? And how did she know she was gay and not, say, bisexual? I'm not sure why I want to know all this -- no, I do know why: it's because it's been sort of playing on my mind, like when I looked at her topless. I didn't ask her, of course: I wouldn't want her to feel I was prying and, well, I don't want her to think I fancy her or anything.

Tuesday 29 April

I found a book sitting outside my door when I left for work this morning with a slip of paper tucked into it:

"Sorry, I meant to give this to you yesterday evening.

I hope you enjoy it.

Love,

Mattie x"

P.S. It's amazing: my shoulders feel wonderful! No aches at all, this morning. Thank you.

Mattie had obviously left it on her way out to work so I took it with me and began reading it at lunchtime. It's called 'Afterworlds' and it's an interesting premise: a story within the story of the girl writing that story.

Bum note: I've been asked to work Saturday as Clive's got some domestic crisis he needs to deal with at the weekend.

Wednesday 30 April

I got home in good time for the Ikea delivery this afternoon and boy was I glad that Mattie and I hadn't been able to fit the things in her car: the bedframe and bookcase were big and heavy enough but getting the mattress up the stairs would have been impossible!

As the afternoon wore on I was increasingly excited waiting for her to arrive. Part of it was that I still don't like being on my own in the evenings and she's good company, part was getting the furniture assembled (though I assumed she was going to expect me to do most of it once again) and part of it was I wanted to have a word with her about the book she lent me, the sneaky, mischievous woman.

It was nearly seven o'clock when she knocked on my door and I have to confess I was like a child before her birthday party: my tummy was full of nervous butterflies. It was ridiculous and not a little disconcerting at my age. I suppose it's a sign that I need to get out, as Mattie is doing, and try to find a new relationship.

When I opened the door to Mattie's knock the first thing I saw was not Mattie but my two odious neighbours entering their flat opposite. They are a middle-aged white couple (he's balding and overweight, she's small and bird-like with sharp little eyes) and were apparently just returning from a shopping trip, carrier bags in hand and resting on the floor as they opened their front door. They gave me their customary glares before turning away and entering their home. However, even their habitual racism couldn't dampen my mood when I saw Mattie.

I welcomed her in trying not to grin like a maniac. To my surprise, Mattie immediately apologised, "I'm sorry Veena, I think I may have put you in your neighbours' bad books by visiting you; what a pair of miserable, homophobic gits they are."

I told her that it wasn't her but me and the colour of my skin the objected to. It's ridiculous, I explained, because I'm as British as they are. Dad's family are British going back generations and, okay, Mum came to this country with her parents from India but she was only thirteen at the time!

"Ah, so they're homophobes and racists." Mattie observed. They'veI called her 'deviant' and 'pervert' as they've walked by apparently. She thought It was a pity that she wasn't black so that my neighbours' outrage might great be enough to choke them to death.

"Or if I were lesbian," I suggested laughing and wanting to show solidarity with her. Mattie gave me a searching look, wondering if I was teasing her, I suspect so I offered her a drink. She opted for tea, saying that the beer could wait until we'd finished building the furniture. "I don't want you drunk when in charge of an Allen key!" she teased. With her tea in hand, she asked what item I want to start with and I told her the bed because I really didn't want another night on the blow-up mattress.

It ended up a team effort, not because the bed was complicated but due to its sheer size; holding a six-foot-long side rail steady so it could be screwed to the six-foot-wide bedhead was challenging and would have been impossible on my own. Mattie's refusal of the beer was probably wise. An hour or so later Mattie and I lifted the mattress into place on the bed. I flopped onto the bed from one side and Mattie did the same from the other. Our arms and shoulders bumped together as we met in the middle and we looked at each other. I smiled at her, grateful for her help and that I have her as a friend. "I want to talk to you about what you did the other day," I told her and a look of concern, almost guilt, crossed her face and she moved to stand up, apologising. I told her to come back and that I wanted to talk to you about lending me 'Afterworlds' She looked a little relieved and then grinned, guessing what I was going to say.

"Chapter Fifteen? The rooftop?" she asked.

I told her that I couldn't remember the exact chapter number but, yes, the meeting on the roof She deliberately gave me a book with a lesbian love interest, I complained. She flopped back onto the bed, lying on her side to face me.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked.

"Of course not; actually I really liked the surprise and..." I hesitated. What I wanted to say was that I found the idea of the women starting their relationship, discovering each other, sharing their lives intriguing and enthralling but I didn't feel I could say that to Mattie, that she might think I was trying to suggest something. Instead, I said, "...and I'm really enjoying it. I didn't expect gay love in a young adult book but you're right: there should be gay heroes and heroines. How do you like the book I gave you?" I asked

She's only read the first few chapters but thinks it's very good so far. "Kinda sweet and creepy at the same time," she called it but she hasn't yet worked out what Melanie's secret is. She does, however, know what the name Pandora means now.

I promised no spoilers but assured her I thought the story was very good. It occurred to me that I was lying next to her in bed again but I didn't feel uncomfortable; on the contrary, I felt happy being there with her. I asked if there were other books with gay characters and she said she'd found one other with a lesbian protagonist so far, adding that she didn't know of any with gay male characters. "Not that I've been looking, to be honest," she said.

"I just wondered," I said, trying to suggest idle curiosity and no more. I suggested we ought to get on with building the bookcase and then I'd order pizza as my treat as a thank you. She approved of that plan.

The bookcase didn't take long at all, but Mattie insisted on me at least trying to use the hammer to nail the back onto the bookcase. She had to pop up to her flat to get her hammer since I don't have any tools at all and I was terrified of hammering my fingers. That meant I was tapping the nail too lightly to actually drive it into the wood. I could see she was getting a little exasperated with me and I thought she'd step in and take over. Instead, she came up behind me and reached forward to take both my hands in hers. "Just relax and let me move your hands, don't fight me," she warned.

There was something very nice, very comforting I suppose, about the sensation of Mattie's toned body wrapped around me. However, my mouth had gone dry and I was aware of enjoying, far more than I should, the feeling of what she was doing, so the last thing I was going to do was to fight her! Her idea worked though: Mattie moved my hand to swing the hammer to strike the nail cleanly and, though I flinched, the point of the nail penetrated the wood. Before I could react she swung the hammer again and again so the nail was almost all the way in. "Okay, now you finish it," she ordered me, releasing my hands. I did, though the first swing missed the nail; two more swings and the nail was fully home.

She did the same for the next half dozen or so nails and then, as my confidence and skill increased, she helped me with the first hit to get the nail started and then let me do it all. We lifted the finished bookcase into position and she drilled the wall and fixed the bookcase in place, probably figuring that I'd learned enough craft skills for one day. Of course, it may have been simply terror at the damage I might do with an electric drill in my incompetent hands!

We shared a pizza that had delivered and it was very nice just being with her chatting. For future reference: Mattie says she's happy with any pizza toppings apart from tuna, mushrooms or chillies.

Thursday 1 May

I had a night-in tonight, reading and surfing the Internet but still on my own, and it was less fun than last night. The film version of Divergent is on at the cinema at the moment. I liked the book series a lot but I cannot remember if Mattie said she'd read it. I wonder if she'd come to see it with me over the weekend?

Chapter 4: Trying for a new start

Mattie

Over the last few weeks, I've avoided going out with Kayleigh and Emma. I hated seeing Lisa and I hated even more what I did to Charlotte. That's not to say I've not been out at all; I've been to the cinema with Veena, out to the pub a few times (twice with Veena and three Fridays after work with workmates) and once to a restaurant with Veena when I was emailed a discount voucher. Of course, Veena and I don't just go out, we also meet up quite often in the evenings after work too.

As you can tell, Veena and I have become good friends, often cooking for each other of an evening. We both agree it's nice not to be alone every evening, so after eating we talk, perhaps about the books we share or watch TV or a DVD (since Veena seems to want to work her way through the one hundred films on my poster). I've been tempted to feign injury and try to scrounge another of her incredible massages. I've not done so, partly because I don't want to take advantage of her good nature and partly because she'd probably be able to tell I was faking as soon as she touched me -- my muscles would probably give me away!

We've kept up our book exchange, of course. It's been good, both in trying new books and not having to pay for them and we seem to share a lot in our tastes. I've not given her the other book with a lesbian protagonist -- yet! I have plans, though... Yesterday evening, Friday, I decided to pop into Veena's as I came in from work to return her book 'We Were Liars'; I really liked the book but guessed the ending, although Veena seemed to doubt this when I told her. I met her friend Katie as I left and I don't like her much; I suspect she's homophobic, from the comment I overheard. It was so sweet hearing Veena's angry reply; if I didn't already know, then it would have told me just how much she cares for me as a friend.

I still love Kayleigh and Emma, of course. However, going out with them would be easier and more relaxing for me if they'd just go to the pub or even a film, but it seems that, for the two of them, a night out must include dancing. Nonetheless, they are very persistent so, eventually and having made them promise that there'll be no matchmaking -- absolutely, cross our hearts, sweat to die promise -- I agree to accompany them this Saturday evening to The Full Moon. That's always been our usual club. It's not exactly a nightclub but really a pub with a bar and a dance floor and pseudo-nightclub upstairs. Neither is it an exclusively gay venue, though a reasonable percentage of the clientele are gay, making it a safe and comfortable place to be.

The evening starts easily with drinks downstairs, but Kay and Em are desperate to head upstairs. It's not the dancing that I object to, though I'm not as keen on it as they are, it's that I mistrust them, despite their promise. "You two could go up and dance and leave me down here you know," I point out.

"Oh no, you can't sit here drinking alone," protests Emma.

"Em, if you two are off dancing then I'd be sat on my own upstairs," I point out but they don't want to leave me. "Okay, let me have one more drink down here and then I'll come up and find you; I might even dance," I tell them. It takes another few minutes of persuading but eventually they head off, though Emma keeps looking back guiltily as they walk up the stairs.

I go to the bar and order another beer and an Irish whiskey; I've said I'd dance so I'll need this. Kay and Em seem to have forgotten that Lisa loved dancing, forever dragging me out onto the dance floor or pleading to stay on for just one more song. They also seem to have forgotten what happened after I danced with Charlotte.

"Hey, cool, another Jameson's drinker!" I turn at the sound of the woman's voice close by and see her looking at me. She is older than I, maybe in her early thirties, and going by her eyebrows the mass of red-orange curls are her natural colour. This, with her pale skin and green-blue eyes, suggest a Celtic heritage.

"I'm sorry?"

"You drink Jameson's whiskey: it's one of my favourite tipples," she explains, smiling. "I'm Roz; are you here on your own?"

"Er, no... my friends are upstairs; they wanted to dance."

"But you didn't, er..." she pauses and I sit there until I realize she's waiting for me to tell her my name.