"She's inconsolable," Anne told him.
Stan looked up. He was in his kitchen, filling the kettle. Tea all around seemed to be the best answer. 'God, I'm so
English!
' he thought, irrelevantly.
Anne stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning tiredly against the doorframe. Her white blouse was stained with what Stan assumed were tears and makeup. She looked exhausted. Stan put the kettle on and went to her.
He gathered the tall blonde figure into his arms and kissed her, softly, tenderly. "I know, Anne. Denise really was in love –
is
in love – with those two. I think especially Elaine."
"Mmmhmm. I think Susan was wrong to spring that on Elaine, Stan. She was forced to choose, then and there, and it broke something in her. She was crying as they left."
Stan held her. Anne had taken her shoes off, so he could nuzzle her neck without having to tilt up to do so.
"'Twas always going to be thus,' you know," he said softly into her ear. "Elaine's first loyalty was to Susan. Denise knew that, really. Hell, even
I
could see that."
"And you're nearly blind when it comes to people? You're not really
that
bad, Stan, you just don't pay enough attention most of the time. But still, it had to hurt Elaine as well as Denise. I hope
those
two, Elaine and Susan, don't split over this as well."
"Me too. But we'd better get back in there." Stan told her. "Finish making the tea, love? I'll go this time."
In the living room he found Denise still crying, though more softly now. It was almost an hour since Susan's stunning departure and Denise had cried the whole time.
She looked up as Stan walked in. Her face was blotchy red, eyes still watery and red-rimmed and she looked
miserable
. He smiled sympathetically to her as he crossed the short distance to the sofa and gathered her in his arms.
At first Denise was limp in his embrace, but suddenly she grabbed onto him with surprising strength. She burst into a fresh bout of tears. All Stan could do was hold her, whispering "I love you, Denise" into her ear, and try to reassure her with the simple facts of his presence and his love.
Stan became aware that Anne had come into the room when he heard the teacups rattle behind him. He heard Anne beg Denise, "Please, have a cup of tea with us Denise?"
He felt and heard Denise draw a long, shuddering breath, then another. She nodded, and the arms around him relaxed their tight embrace, and he moved to sit on the sofa properly. Anne took a seat on the other side of Denise. Both had an arm around their partner.
"Tea. Answer to all problems!" said Denise, shakily. "Why is it we British always think we can solve a problem with a cup of tea?"
"Well, it can't hurt, can it?" said Stan, which drew a snort from Anne and a shaky smile from Denise. Stan blew across his cup to cool the hot liquid.
"It's a stimulant, it gives you something to do, it gives you time to think. It's also a tradition, and it helps everyone feel like they're
doing
something. Making a cup of tea is sort of like therapy for the rest of us," Anne said.
"It's what we
do
." Stan finished, as he took a sip and exhaled, "Aaahhh!"
"Dope!" Denise said, but the mood had lightened a little. At least now she had stopped crying.
"Do you think I have any chance at all of winning them back?" Denise asked, softly into the silence, not looking at either of them.
Stan felt Anne's reluctance to say anything, but something
had
to be said. "I don't know, Denise. Perhaps. But some things, once said, can't be unsaid. Maybe once Susan's calmed down, and especially when her test results come back, she'll feel better about things." 'Only if they come back negative!' he thought. "In the meantime, we're here, Denise, we're here."
Stan
felt
her heartache. There was a lump in his chest, cold, inert, impeding breath. He felt his heart pumping, desperately trying to work around the barrier. But ultimately it wasn't something he or Anne could fix for Denise. They were reduced to holding her hand and letting her know she wasn't alone, and trying to make her feel better. It would have to suffice, because if Susan didn't relent,
that
relationship was all over.
- - - - - - - - - -
Denise slept with Stan that night. Anne insisted, before she drove herself home.
"To hell with calendars and schedules. She needs you tonight, and probably tomorrow too unless they kiss and make up before that. Let's hope!"
So it was that Denise woke up with Stan's arm around her waist, his warm presence against her back. She felt comforted, until she remembered.
'Still, maybe I can talk to Susan, get her to see I meant no harm...'
But her conscience weighed on her. She
had
neglected to say anything about the missed condom. She
should
have got herself tested as soon as she came home, she
shouldn't
have put her lovers at risk. She'd been irresponsible, she knew it, and Susan had called her on it.
Susan was right about something else. She
had
thought of the two of them as possible vectors for the disease, and she
hadn't
said anything about that directly to them. This was
her
fault.
Denise began to cry, softly. Not softly enough.
"Denise? It's all right, love. It's all right. I'm here. I love you."
Stan's voice, soothing, crooned into the back of her neck She felt the bed shift as he propped himself up to tell her, again, "I love you, Denise."
She wiped her eyes and twisted to face him. She buried her head in his chest, nuzzling at the hair there. In a small, lost voice she said, "I love you too, Stan. But I love Laney, and Suse...."
"I know, I know. Come on, let's get dressed. You can see Elaine at work today, and check up on how things are."
- - - - - - - - - -
That things would be awkward became immediately clear. Elaine looked up, saw Denise walking in with Stan behind her, and said – nothing. Her mouth opened, but no words emerged.
Denise looked, and saw immediately that things
weren't