Old Neighbours Become New Friends

"Oh, my name's Mattie. And no, I don't want to dance, not at the moment."

"Good, that means we can talk." Roz leans on the bar to signal one of the bar staff and orders, of course, an Irish whiskey. "So, what brings a girl like you here this evening?" she asks after taping her glass against mine in a sort of unspoken toast. She runs her tongue nervously across her lips.

"My friends, mainly," I answer neutrally.

"Hmm, and yet they have abandoned you," she observes.

"Well, they both wanted to dance together but I wanted another drink," I explain, feeling the need to defend them against the implication that they didn't care about me.

"Ah, so they're a couple and you're playing gooseberry," Roz says in the same knowing tone that's beginning to annoy me.

"Look, you know nothing about me or my friends, so what's your point?" I look at her, "Are you trying to hit on me?" To my surprise, a look of panic crosses her face.

"I'm sorry," she replies hastily and begins to stand, her face red, "I shouldn't have done this..." She is on her feet and starts to turn away, sadness in her face and her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

I don't understand what just happened or exactly what's going on here. However, that doesn't stop the surge of guilt I feel as it seems that, somehow, I've done something wrong. After what I did to Charlotte, I really don't want to distress or hurt any more women. "What's the matter? Roz? I didn't mean to upset you."

"Sorry, Mattie, I thought you were, you know... gay." She ducks her head nervously as if fearing I'd be angry. Then it strikes me: the superficial veneer of confidence over her underlying awkwardness and uncertainty. As she starts to turn and leave I put my hand on her arm and she looks back at me.

"Roz, would I be right thinking you've not tried to chat up a woman before?" She bites her lip and nods. "Please, sit down; I didn't come here looking to meet anyone but we can at least finish our drink together." She hesitates and then sits.

"Thanks. Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your friends or you."

"No, I realize that. You were just a bit, I don't know... Like you were talking as if you knew it all but without really understanding, sort of... Anyway, I'm actually quite impressed: I'd never have had the guts to come somewhere like here on my own and try to chat up a woman I didn't know."

"I didn't do a very good job, did I?" she replies but I can see she enjoyed the compliment.

"I've heard worse approaches, though, uh, usually from guys. So: you picked me because I'm on my own and because I'm dressed like this, I assume."

"You're, um, very attractive too," she blushes prettily.

"Thank you. You're very lovely too," I assure her, "but you've never been with a woman?" She takes a large gulp of her whiskey, draining the glass. "Would you like another?" I ask, pointing to her empty glass.

"Please," she nods. Once she has her refill and I have another beer, I pose the question of her experience again. "I've wondered about it since I was a teenager; there was always a, a, an interest in girls, women, but I've never acted on it before now. I've always suspected I might be bisexual, so..."

"So you want to find out for sure," I finish for her and she nods. She's a little more relaxed and manages a small smile. I notice she really is quite cute. However, even if I was on the lookout, getting involved with a bi-curious woman? NOT going to happen! Still, I ought to be kind and support someone trying to understand their sexuality.

"That was the idea," she admits. "I guess I don't have much idea of how to know if a woman is lesbian and much less how to approach her."

"Well, you started off okay; the comment about the whiskey was a good start and even finding out if I was on my own was fine -- a good idea actually -- but then you seemed to be criticising Kayleigh and Emma for leaving me. I think a simple, 'Can I join you?' would have been better." She nods, then holds out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Roz, do you mind if I join you?" she smiles as I shake her hand.

"Sure, no problem; I'm Mattie. Is this your first time here?"

"Yeah. Slightly terrified actually but also more than a bit excited to be doing something I've wondered about for so long. So, you're not with anyone, I mean, not in a relationship?"

"No, and sorry Roz, but I'm not looking to be, not at the moment." I can see the penny drop for her: a single woman dragged out to a nightclub by her girlfriends so maybe she can meet someone... the same story, whether you're straight or gay.

"I think I understand. Okay, that kind of makes it easier; we can just chat."

"Absolutely," I tell her. "So what does Roz do for a living?"

"Oh, I'm an architect, a junior in the practice of course. Mainly housing developments, but I did most of the design work on a small warehouse and office for a company a few months ago. What about you, Mattie?"

"I'm a sparks, an electrician. I guess that kinda makes me a bit of a tomboy-lesbian stereotype; you know, a woman in a man's job, but I wanted to do something practical that also used my brain and my Dad suggested it. He's a plumber but said that being a sparks was cleaner and less smelly!"

"There can't be many women in your job."

"No, not many, though there was one other girl on the apprenticeship. We both had to work hard to prove we weren't useless girlies." I give a little laugh. "She was straight and in some ways, she got more hassle with the boys trying it on with her. Dressing and looking like I do made it a bit easier to become one of the lads, I guess, though there are always sexists and homophobes, unfortunately."

"There are quite a lot of women architects these days, although the older, senior ones seem to mainly be men. One of the senior architects at work is an openly gay man and he seems quite accepted. I guess seeing lesbian women more and more in the media has sort of helped me in deciding to do this, to explore my other, erm, sexuality. Here, can I get you a drink?" Roz asks and I accept another beer.

We continue to chat and I find she's quite good company. Our shared involvement in the building industry helps, but she is also friendly and has a self-deprecating humour that is so unlike the persona she tried to project when she first approached me.

"The worst mistake I've made at work?" I repeat her question, buying time to think. "Um, well we had some work in a school IT room and there was a run of power sockets along one wall so I placed all the sockets out and went and wired each one then started screwing them to the wall; except that I found I'd wired all ten of them upside down! What about you?" I ask as she laughs.

"Let me think... Um, there was this one time when I managed to..."

"Well, so much for one drink and then you'd come and dance!" Kayleigh's voice interrupts Roz. "That looks like your third drink at least. Hmm, and you've found a new friend I see, Mattie." Roz is startled by the interruption; I am too, but my surprise is quickly replaced by annoyance at the smirks on Kay's and Em's faces.

"Cut it out you guys," I warn them. "Roz, this is Emma and Kayleigh, self-appointed and over-enthusiastic keepers of my emotional wellbeing and remaining sanity."

"Whom you love dearly and wouldn't be without," Emma points out, grinning.

"Which is also true," I concede. "Kay, Em, this is Roz, a... newbie," I look at her and she nods.

"In, er, every way," she adds. I glower at the terrible two, willing them not to say anything inappropriate or embarrassing to Roz. Remarkably, this seems to work.

"Hi Roz," says Emma who leans in to kiss her cheek as Kayleigh gives a little wave and also says hello. "So why don't the two of you come up and dance?" Emma asks. I look at Roz, feeling I should let her decide if she wants to go. She seems quite keen, so we all head up to the thumping darkness of the nightclub.

We merge into the crowd on the dance floor, as I pick up the rhythm of the song and begin to move in time. I've never been the world's greatest or most flamboyant dancer; when I get into it I quite like the way the music and my body's movement makes me feel, but mainly I dance just to be with my friends. Roz, on the other hand, is remarkable: confident and accomplished she moves beautifully and artfully. Kay and Em notice this and follow with bolder and more adventurous moves than usual. Even I feel the pressure to up my game a little so as to remain part of the group.

One song shifts to another and the three of us fall into the habit of waiting for Roz to set the pace and nature of the dance before we follow. Despite, or maybe because of this, I'm having more fun dancing than I have in a very long time. For once I don't cry off after the first few tracks.

The song changes yet again, and I do not register the change in tempo, waiting as usual for Roz to respond, which she does: she turns towards me and her hands slip around my waist as she sways in time to the slow rhythm of the love song. Instinctively I reciprocate, and we interlock, our bodies moving together in synch to the music. My eyes close as the heat of her body presses against me, the soft swell of her breasts on mine. Her head moves to rest on my shoulder and I reach up to stroke her hair.

The feeling of slow dancing and being held takes me back to a happier time. Oh, Lisa, I've missed this... but instead of Lisa's silky, straight hair, my fingers caress Roz's soft, curly locks, and I tremble. Lisa is not here, she is with her new girlfriend somewhere. So why do I feel like I'm being unfaithful to her? At the same time, there is anger, my mind's eye seeing Lisa kissing that blonde bitch, and fear; fear of Roz's evident attraction to me. I feel panicky: my heart racing, my breathing fast and shallow; I need space and time to calm down and to think, not this hot, loud and pulsating room. I step back, so suddenly that Roz stumbles. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. Sorry, Roz." I tell her loudly before turning quickly; my arm bumps Kayleigh, and she and Emma break their embrace to look at me as I move away.

"Mattie? Wait, Mattie..." Roz calls loudly but I do not stop. I am trembling and panting as I flee downstairs and outside, walking quickly away through the people milling on the street in the warm night air, laughter and shouts and the sound of traffic doing nothing to calm me. I glance over my shoulder and see a black cab, a haven of solitude and calm. I hail it and when it pulls over and the driver asks, "Where to, luv?" I automatically give my address before flopping onto the wide, worn seat at the back. I hug myself, trying to steady my breathing and not cry. I feel so useless.

I arrive home, pay the driver and get out. As I walk towards the door I glance up; Veena's light is on and I consider going up and knocking on her door. She'd hug me and listen to me and take care of me, I'm sure because she has such strength and kindness. No, I can't: it's not fair to keep crying on her shoulder every time I become an emotional screw-up. I'm inside and I realise that my feet have taken me towards the garden and my smoking spot even as my left hand has pulled the packet of fags from my jacket pocket. Why am I so fucking incapable of sorting myself out? Why do I need Veena or cigarettes or Em or Kayleigh or alcohol for everything? For a tough, independent tomboy, I'm pretty bloody feeble.

Enough! I crush the cigarette packet in my hand and I stomp upstairs. I need to stop this, once and for all. As Veena pointed out weeks ago, Lisa has gone and the person I keep remembering doesn't exist because Lisa is different now, a stranger to me.

I treated Roz badly tonight, I guess... although I had told her I wasn't looking to hook up, which means she had no right to expect anything, right? Still, she was cute and we were getting along very well. No, best to remember that she's experimenting and I'm not sure I'm up to dealing with the emotional conflicts that might come up. I did like what I'd seen of her though.

I slept surprisingly well, all things considered. After breakfast, I am in desperate need of a cigarette but when I go to my jacket I'm faced with a crushed packet containing three pulverised cigarettes. Oh, yes: last night I decided to sort myself out and stop relying on things and people to prop me up. However, the thought of going cold-turkey on fags is, frankly, terrifying! As I stand, contemplating the sad remains of my ciggies and a scarily nicotine-free future, my phone beeps with the arrival of a text. It's from Veena:

I text back immediately: 'Yes, your company -- please!' Two minutes later there is a knock on the door. "Are you okay Mattie?" Veena asks the moment I start to open the door. I let her in, telling her I'm okay, sort of. She walks through the hall into the main room and notices the crushed cigarette packed where I left it on the table. "Oh, what happened to your cigarettes?"

"A sudden rush of determination to sort myself out," I tell her ruefully. "I sort of decided not to smoke any more last night but..."

"Second thoughts?" she suggests, smiling.

"Yeah, definitely! I don't know that my willpower is anywhere near strong enough. I..." I was going to say 'I can't even go out for an evening without getting upset,' but I realize that I'd end up telling her everything that happened, and that would be no fairer this morning than it was last night, so I end with "...get frustrated with how feeble I am sometimes."

"Mattie, you're not feeble at all, I think you're... brilliant. Um." She seems unsure of something before smiling suddenly. "Anyway, giving up smoking is hard. You could try one of these," she pulls her e-cig out of her pocket.

"That may not be a bad idea if they help, but you're still smoking yours after months," I point out.

Veena laughs. "Very true, but part of the reason for that is that it's a good excuse to join you when I see you go out to smoke, like when we first met."

"Veena, my dear girl, you never need an excuse," I tell her, taking her hand, "surely you know that? You're a really good friend, maybe the best." She looks at me in surprise.

"What, better than Emma and er, Kayleigh?"

"Well, you don't insist on dragging me out to gay clubs so I can meet people!" I tell her and she laughs but I sense a little embarrassment too.

"No, and nor am I ever likely too, though, I mean, if you ever, um you know, needed someone to come with you, I mean, if it would help then I, er, could..." Wow, that was unexpected but very kind, as I can see how nervous she is with the idea.

"Veena, that's very sweet of you, but I couldn't ask you to become my fake girlfriend. I like you too much as my friend to do that to you."

"Well, I love you enough as my friend to do it, just remember that," she insists, squeezing my hand back as a brief but comfortable silence falls between us.

"Did anything happen last night," Veena asks after a while, "anything, you know, upsetting for you?" Damn, this woman is too perceptive and knows me too well. I decide to give her the abridged, simplified -- and less shameful -- version.

"Kind of. I met a woman last night, Roz her name was. It was her first time there... her first time, well, anything actually as she's never had a girlfriend. She said she's always been interested in having a relationship with a woman, but had never done anything about it -- until last night." Veena nods, listening intently. "Anyway, we got on quite well together and we danced, but when the slow dance began I suddenly knew I wasn't ready for a new girlfriend, certainly not a bi-curious woman who wants to explore her sexuality. I sort of walked out on her," I conclude awkwardly. "Actually, I more sort of ran out. I was a bit shitty to her really, but as I said, I'm really not sure I can cope with being a bi-curious girl's experimental first girlfriend."

"Oh poor you," Veena sympathises. "Can you call her and say sorry? Explain you're not ready for a girlfriend?"

"Well, I don't have a number for her; I don't even know her surname. I should apologise but it looks like I can't."

"Mattie, you know you can't keep running away from new relationships because of Lisa."

"I know, but it's hard... almost as hard as giving up smoking!" I say in a feeble attempt at a joke.

"I can't help you find a girlfriend, but maybe I can help with your smoking, Mattie. How about you try using an e-cig and vaping and together we try and give up? It was why I started originally."

"Okay, it's a deal. Now, I need to buy one, so will you come and help me?" I ask.

"Sure. I was going to go and do a bit of shopping anyway, so that would be good," she tells me and I get ready to go.

Raveena's Diary

Friday 16 May

Katie came over for the evening. Her flatmate, Judith, had a romantic evening with her boyfriend planned and wanted the flat for just the two of them. When Katie told me, I felt obliged to invite her over and spare her an evening shut in her room pretending, like Harry Potter, to not exist. In return for my hospitality, Katie had promised to order us in some food.

A little while before Katie was due, Mattie popped up to see me and return the book, 'We Were Liars'. She had come straight from work, so she was dressed in her typical work attire: worn and dusty olive cargo pants; a similarly worn and dirty blue polo work shirt with 'e e smith electrical' and a horizontal lightning bolt embroidered on it in yellow thread; work boots with toecaps so scuffed and dirty that they were almost white rather than the original black and her hands and face grubby. Somehow this all suited her, made her look rugged, in a way that contrasted with the delicacy of her features, and the overall effect was, well, adorable.

I invited her in for a cup of tea and, as she passed close by, I could smell her: the sharp mineral tang of the building site dust, the salt-sour of her sweat, the faint musk of her deodorant and the underlying scent of her skin. Does the fact that I liked the smell of her make me weird?

With tea made, we sat and chatted about the book, another impromptu meeting of our two-woman book club. She claims that she worked out what was happening three or four chapters before the end. "It was obvious, the weird stuff happening, it had to be." I did express a degree of scepticism at her claim. Certainly, when you reached the end it was obvious but before that? However, she stuck to her claim and I felt that friendship required that I believe her.

Our discussion was interrupted by Katie's arrival. I introduced the two of them to each other. Mattie seemed relaxed enough but Katie seemed tense and wary. Mattie said she had to go and we hugged and I kissed her cheek as usual. However, when I turned back to Katie as I was closing the front door she was looking at me as if I was crazy. I asked her what the matter was.

"That woman. I mean she has to be a dyke!" she said loudly. "Raveena, I can't believe the way you kissed and hugged her," she looked at me with a worried expression, "I mean, are you and her..?"

I could hardly believe what she was asking. but I was more upset by the judgemental and unpleasant way she spoke about Mattie than with the suggestion I might be gay. "Katie!" I almost shouted at her and then hesitated, unsure of what to say. I took a steadying breath and, a little more calmly, explained that Mattie is my friend, a very good friend and, yes, Mattie is gay but so what? That didn't make her my girlfriend or lover any more than Mike or Colin being her friends made them her boyfriends or lovers. I realized that my voice had risen again and that the front door was still ajar so I shut it and took another deep breath before continuing more quietly. "Do you have a problem with my being friends with a lesbian?" I asked.