A Good Woman

For My Best Friend, With Thanks

--

After it happened, I didn't leave my home for a week. For the next two, it was only to and from work, twice a week. I tried on-line friends and acquaintances with mixed results. I had a first meeting with a therapist who had been recommended. But I refrained from reaching out to real life friends. I refrained from talking to family. I'd never shared any of my past traumas with them; my choice, not theirs. I think I was ashamed. But I knew I needed help.

There was one entry in my contacts I had yearned to write to. But she was hundreds of miles away. She had her own life. We weren't really a thing any more, not since I decided to leave. Finally I realized that I wasn't going to get over this myself. I messaged her, scared of no reply. Scared of I'm too busy. Just scared. That was my default mental state back then.

She said she would be with me the next day. I read the message and mouthed "thank you" silently to my 'phone. Tears filled my eyes and I sat, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing for a long while. It was the first time I had allowed myself to cry. Lest I never stop. Lest I lose myself, drowned in salty water. But now she was coming.

--

The doorbell rang and I almost fell in my rush to answer. I just about had the presence of mind to check the videophone before simply unlocking the block's main door. I have a small condo, spanning the top two floors of a narrow four story building. The low-res monitor showed a fuzzy, but familiar, face. It was framed by dark brown hair -- looking black on the screen -- and obscured by expensive sunglasses, ones that the rather overcast day did not really necessitate.

"Sorry I'm late, angel. Traffic was bad. Where do I put my car?"

"Round the back there's a lot. Don't worry, I'll come down."

I pressed the elevator button, but quickly lost patience and all but hurled myself down the stairs and out to meet her. She'd removed her glasses and held them. I nearly sent them flying as I threw my arms around her and buried my head in her shoulder.

"There, there, baby girl. Sis will look after you. It's OK now."

Sisters had started as a joke between us, our blonde and brunette hair demonstrated the fallacy, along with our very different looks. But she was much closer to me than my own step-sister. For a start, there was no ten year age gap, we were both 25. Then there were the years of shared college experience. And my college traumas. And her being the person who had always been there.

"Thank you, sis. Thank you for coming."

I raised my face to look into her coffee-colored eyes and she smiled at me. She was only a couple of inches taller than me, but was wearing heels (as always, how can she drive in those?) and, as I had quickly slipped on some pumps, I had to reach up to kiss her on the lips. She kissed me back then held me to her shoulder again.

"Let's get inside, angel. We don't want to frighten your neighbors."

She unlocked her car and I got into the passenger seat. When the doors were closed, I couldn't help but lean across and kiss her again. She reciprocated more in the semi-privacy afforded by tinted windows. I felt a familiar thrill as she pushed her tongue between my lips and deep into my mouth. But it was still her who broke off first.

"Lots of time for that. Where do I drive?"

I pointed the way and soon I was helping her with her bag. It was adorned with little LVs. How her! She never wanted for money. As best I understood it, her parents still owned a chunk of the former Czechoslovakia. She held an Executive position in their holding company, but it didn't seem that demanding a job. Aside from frequent trips to Prague, Paris and Milan, that was.

We used the elevator and, when I had closed the apartment door behind us, I hugged and kissed my friend again.

"It's OK. I'll look after you, Em. But I'm pretty beat from the drive. How about we have a rest together?"

I realized I wasn't being very thoughtful. It was early Saturday morning and she had driven through the night to get here. She'd been on the road for nearly six hours. A plane would have been easier, but it was late when I contacted her.

"Sorry. Of course. I haven't been sleeping much. A rest sounds good. Did you want to take a shower first?"

"No, angel. I just want to crash. We can cuddle. Is that OK?"

Of course it was OK. I carried her case up to the bedroom. We both undressed. Neither familiarity with her lithe limbs and taut body, nor my current depression, had blunted my reaction to her. She was gorgeous; she knew it of course, but that was part of her charm.

We lay on pillows, face to face, and I pulled the covers over us. She stroked my cheek and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"It's OK beautiful. We'll talk. But you look like you need to sleep, and I know I do. Turn round. Let me hold you."

I rolled over and felt her arms encase me. Her body push against me. I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt I could sleep for the first time since it happened. She yawned, her breath tickling me. I giggled, it had been weeks since I had last laughed.

"Go to sleep. Go to sleep."

I let unconsciousness sweep over me, knowing it was OK. Knowing I had a protector from the monsters.

Knowing that my Amy was there.

--

It was past one when I woke. A familiar emptiness and horror inside. I gulped air and opened my eyes abruptly. Then I saw her, propped up on pillows, typing into her 'phone. She smiled at me. She smiled at me and I could at least breathe again.

"Just a second, sis."

She pressed send and put her 'phone on the night stand. Wriggling down, she lay on her elbow, looking at me.

"Sorry, work. Nothing too important. You have my full attention now. Promise."

Amy's smile dissolved as she looked at me.

"You OK, little one?"

I took a breath and forced a smile.

"I'm OK, better for you being here. If you need to do something, please do it, it's OK."

"It's done. I'm all yours. I woke up thirty minutes ago. You looked peaceful and I didn't want to wake you."

"I was peaceful. But I haven't been, I really haven't been."

It hit me again. The anxiety. The feeling that everything was wrong. That it could never be right. I found myself hyperventilating.

Amy sat me up and put an arm around my heaving shoulders. Her face close to mine. She kissed my cheek.

"It's OK. Emily, it's OK. Do you need your inhaler?"

I nodded. Amy scanned the room.

"Where is it?"

I wheezed a reply.

"Downstairs. Purse on the table."

Amy sprang up and disappeared out of the bedroom. Soon she was back with my albuterol in her hand. I took two deep inhalations and felt the tightness in my chest begin to ease. Amy sat beside me and stroked my back. The anxiety reduced. It didn't go fully away, though; it never did. I turned sideways and rested my head on her breasts, she patted my head and ran her fingers over my hair. Tears ran down my cheeks. But I felt better for her presence, for her closeness.

"Your hair is a mess, Em. You've not been taking care of yourself, have you?"

I mumbled something about not really. I didn't care. What I cared about was pushing against her soft warmness. Listening to her heartbeat. Putting one arm round her back, the other palm on her belly. Letting her be my universe. Forgetting the real and unkind world for a few moments.

"OK, we'll do something about that. Do you have a bath, or just a shower."

I said I had both and pointed at a door off of the bedroom. Amy kissed the top of my head and then got up. I instantly missed her proximity. I guess my feelings were pretty obvious.

"It's OK, sis. I'll start running a bath and then I'll be right back, OK?"

As she disappeared into the adjoining room, and despite my miserable state, I couldn't help but look at her ass. It was an ass that was hard to not look at. Canova would have made her his muse. I smiled through my tears, thinking of all that Amy and I had done together. I heard the sound of gushing water and she was back.

"You can't be so depressed if you are still checking me out, angel."

I smiled ruefully.

"No, I guess not. Was I that obvious?"

"You are always obvious, angel."

As I wiped my tears away. Amy lay on her stomach next to me. Cupping her face in her hands and smiling. I'm pretty sure she was reacting to earlier, showing off her perfect ass. Much as I love her, Amy is vain; then she has every reason to be so. She leaned across and stroked my cheek.

"It's OK, little one. Let's give you a bath."

She got up, extending her hand for me to take. I shuffled across the bed and let her lead me into the adjoining room. She turned the water off and bent to test the temperature.

"Perfect. It's big enough for two. And the faucet is on the side, so we can both lie back. You first, Em."

Holding Amy's hand, I stepped into the warm water and sat down, hugging my knees. She joined me, her movements as graceful as always. The bath was quite full and, with the two of us in it, the water lapped just below her breasts. I so wished I had her breasts. She was only two sizes bigger than me, but their shape looked like it had been created by a master draftsman. Flowing arcs, swelling fullness, tipped with glass-cutter nipples.

"Still checking me out, sis. It's kinda embarrassing. Here, lay back and let me wash you."

I did as Amy requested. She located a washcloth, drizzled some gel on to it and soaped me from shoulder to wrist on both sides. She lifted each arm and it tickled as she washed my pits. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. Amy lathered my neck and moved to my chest. Rather than the washcloth, she massaged soap into each breast with her hands. I had missed her touch and felt my nipples harden as her fingers sent tingles through me. I sighed, feeling fuzzy, relaxed, and a little aroused.

"Stand up, angel, and turn round."

We both stood and I pulled my hair to one side allowing her to run the cloth over my back and then my butt. Amy slipped a soap-covered finger between my butt-cheeks, eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Have to clean everywhere, sis."

She crouched and washed the back of my legs. Then asked me to turn. Adding more gel, she rubbed round my stomach and down to my hairless mound. Then the front of each leg. Taking some gel onto her fingers. She cleaned my vulva, careful not to get the foam inside me. I wanted her fingers in my vagina, soapy or not. But just bit my bottom lip and let her continue.

"Sit down, we mustn't forget your feet, Em."

I sat and let her extend one leg at a time. Dragging her fingers between my toes. Massaging my soles.

Then she rinsed the soap off, using cupped hands, using the wrung out washcloth. Splashing warm water. Making me feel cared for.

"Good. Now how about you wash your own face? That might be a bit tricky. Then I'll wash your hair."

She handed me a tube of face wash and I rubbed a little around my cheeks and chin and forehead, before splashing it off.

"Perfect, now your hair. Sit facing the other way, angel."

With my back to her, I heard Amy cup water in her hands and let it trickle over my head. The warmth was soothing. She did it again, and again. Leaning past me, Amy grabbed a shampoo bottle that she must have taken from the shower. I heard the cap click open and then shut again. I closed my eyes. Partly as water was now dripping down my face, partly the better to embrace Amy's tenderness.

She worked the shampoo into my hair, massaging my scalp. Dragging the bubbles down to my tips. Scrunching my hair into a ball, then letting in fall. Again she filled her hands and rinsed away the soap. Again and again. Each little flood of water wiping a little of my trauma away.

"I couldn't find any conditioner, Em."

"Sorry, I'd finished a bottle. There's a new one on the shelf above you."

I heard water moving and the vibration of her feet through the tub. She sat down again and a small wave surged past me and lapped my end of the bath. Then she massaged my head again, covering my hair in the cream, filling my nose with the scent of coconut. She rinsed me. The warm water bathing my shoulders, trickling down my back and over my breasts. Finally satisfied, she spoke.

"There. Much better. Though I probably should have run a comb through while you had the conditioner on your hair. Tomorrow maybe."

I looked at her over my shoulder.

"Thanks, Ames. You are making me feel human again."

"Good. Now go towel off and dry your hair. I won't be more than ten minutes."

"Don't you want me to...?"

"Another day, sis. Let's focus on you right now."

I eased myself out, grabbed a bath and a hair towel and padded into the bedroom. I patted myself dry. Then loosened the towel from my head. Moments ago, I had felt safe and warm. Looking in the mirror, I saw five years fall away from my face. A rounder face, a younger face. A face with a split lip and contusions around each eye; both partially closed.. A bloodied, flattened nose. Scratches. Grazes. It felt real. It had been real.

I put my hands on the dresser and leaned heavily on them. Breathing deeply. Eyes tightly closed. Trying to banish the image. Trying to steady myself. I heard Amy splashing water and it abruptly brought me back. Raising my eyes, I saw an older face, a thinner face. I picked up the drier and turned it on. For a while, its loud drone filled my senses. I welcomed that.

Calmer now, I finished drying my hair. As I clicked the switch off, I heard the sound of Amy humming rather tunelessly in the other room. With a wry smile, I told myself, "well at least she's not

totally

perfect."

--

Amy wandered in, dramatic as ever, with her hair wrapped up in a towel, but otherwise naked. If she had been three inches taller, a career in modeling would have been hers for the taking. She was smiling, but immediately stopped as she noticed my demeanor. I was sitting on the side of the bed, shoulders hunched, looking at the floor, my robe tied loosely.

She sat down and put an arm round me. I rested my head against her.

"Oh, little one. I know. I know."

She simply held me for a few minutes, stroking my hair. Comforting me with her closeness.

"Listen, you must be hungry, Em."

I shook my head, sadly.

"Well anyway, you need to eat. Let me throw some stuff on and I'll make us something."

She lifted her suitcase onto the bed and rummaged through it, pulling out a T with a large, gold Chanel logo on it. Next she located some panties. Black, lacy and expensive-looking; high-end lingerie was a hobby of hers. She dressed quickly, pulling on the jeans she had arrived in, and then led me downstairs.

I sat at the breakfast bar, watching Amy go through cupboards and the refrigerator. Finding a pan. Boiling. Chopping. Seasoning. Grating. Her hair was still wet and held loosely off her neck by a claw clip. Amy's neck. I'd daydreamed about her neck in class, sitting a few rows behind her. That seemed a lifetime ago.

Amy concocted mac and cheese with a green salad; my provisions weren't that extensive it had to be said. She had done her best. The food was simple, but Amy made it well, and the starchy warmness lifted my mood a little.

Sitting opposite me, fork in hand, Amy looked serious.

"So, you said you found an therapist, right?"

"Yeah, the doctor I spoke to after I got my toxicology report recommended her."

"And are you going?"

"Well, only once, so far."

"Once? And how long ago?"

"I feel like I'm being interrogated, Ames."

"You fucking well are, this is serious. How long ago?"

I mumbled, "two weeks or so."

"Right, so give me the details. I'm calling them."

I found the number and sent it to Amy's 'phone. I wasn't sure I wanted this, but my say in the matter seemed limited.

She called. The office was open, but there were no weekend appointments, she booked me in for Monday morning.

"I'm taking you there. No arguments. I should have made you go back in college, maybe you wouldn't be like this now. I'm not making that mistake again."

"We were nineteen, Amy. No one made any mistakes, least of all you."

"Whatever, you are going Monday, OK?"

"OK, Ames, thanks."

I didn't feel hungry so much anymore. I was just moving my pasta round my bowl.

"You can finish it later, sis. Let's get you out of here."

This sounded like a nice idea. It was between late summer and early fall and the day was warm. Apart from work, I'd not been out. But with Amy I felt safe.

"OK. There's a scenic overlook off the interstate. Do you mind driving?"

"Sure, go get dressed. I'll come with you. I need to dry my hair and put on a bra."

Ten minutes later, we headed out. The drive was short. Amy pulled into the lot and we got out. The afternoon sun was still hot. She took my hand and we stood looking at the view for a few minutes, my head resting on my friend's shoulder. Then we took a broad trail leading into the surrounding woods. We seemed to have the place to ourselves and the dappled light filtering though the green canopy was calming. The air felt still and heavy. Insects buzzed and fluttered through it. And I wasn't alone.

I had thought that I was OK being alone. I had been for the best part of two years. Maybe most of the time I was. But not now. No matter how independent we like to think of ourselves as being, everyone needs someone sometimes. I was glad I had my someone now.

We walked slowly. Not really talking. Just being. Just knowing the other was there. Enjoying the place. Enjoying the sun. The trail crested and we entered a small clearing. The trees fell away on the down slope and, stretching below us, was a small river, winding between tree clad banks. It's rippled surface glistening through gaps in leaves; every so often a broader stretch of water visible. The sound of running water filtered up to us dimly.

Amy squeezed my hand and then turned me to her. Stroking my cheek she smiled, the sun throwing shadows on her almost elfin features.

"Better for being out, angel?"

I nodded and she kissed me, our eyes still locked. It was the first time she had initiated intimacy. I was grateful. In my paranoid state, I had begun to wonder.

"You are still my angel, Em. Always will be. We don't have to be physical for that to be true, sis. But I still think of you that way. It's just maybe there are more important things to deal with right now."

She was right. Amy mostly was, it was her most deeply annoying trait. One that had made me fight against her logic more than once. One that had been at least a minor factor in me taking the worst decision in my life. But only minor, Emily Miller had done the rest herself, the idiot.

Maybe some of the thoughts racing through my brain translated to my expression.

"Hey, beautiful. I didn't say that I didn't want to be physical. Just there is other stuff to think about. OK?"

She kissed me again. Longer. More firmly. I felt myself melting into her, the sun turning my body into liquid. Then her tongue between my lips and pushing into my mouth. I clasped my hands round her head and pulled her to me. The woods fell away. There was just me and Amy. Two girls. Two lovers. Nothing else existed. Nothing more was needed.

We broke, a sound of footsteps on twigs interrupting our reverie. A man appeared from the woods, his dog in front of him on a leash. We stood still as he approached. Amy offered a salutation, which he replied to gruffly. As he left, muttered words floated back.

"Fucking dykes. Have they no shame?"

I could feel Amy bristle. I had never known her back down from any confrontation. She moved as if to follow him.

"Ames, no. It's fine. People have odd ideas. Let him be. It's too beautiful an afternoon to let some asshole spoil it. Please."