Page 53 of Strap In
Even though Jean’s cheeks ache, she can’t stop beaming as she steps out into the cool night air.
In the run up to Christmas, London is at its most beautiful, lights sparkling from shop windows and dangling in glittering strings between buildings.
She and Ava spend the taxi ride pointing decorations out to each other, breath misting the windows.
Strata is stuffed to the gills, the usual Friday night pre-gaming supplemented by obscenely early Christmas parties, identifiable by festive jumpers and Santa hats and glowing jewellery. Their booth is an oasis of calm, and Jean’s glad she had the foresight to book it.
In typical Ava fashion, she insists on braving the crowded bar. And Jean takes off her coat, humming along to Bing Crosby – a tune her mother always loved.
Sooner than Jean would have imagined possible, Ava returns with a dirty martini, a mojito, and a question. ‘You okay? That was big, what you did there.’
‘Yes.’ Jean strokes Ava’s cheek until the concern melts away. ‘Better than ever.’
‘Good.’ Their feet find each other under the table. ‘So, what did Rhona want to talk about?’
‘She asked to come and work for me.’ Jean sips her martini, tart and cool and delicious. ‘I said yes.’
Ava frowns, concerned. ‘It’s not that Rhona isn’t great, but do you think taking on employees off the bat is a good idea? Do you want me to help you look up grants and stuff?’
‘No.’ Jean laughs, resting a hand on her wrist. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need grants to afford her or Helen. I don’t technically need to work at all. But this is something I have to do.’
Over shared wings and fries Jean launches into her plans, her goals. The layers of possibility that have been building in her mind, taking shape ever since Kelani’s comment. And with every word it feels more achievable.
The baskets are empty, her stomach full, before Jean realises just how much she’s talking. ‘Sorry. I meant to ask about your day, but I’ve completely monopolised the conversation.’
Ava shakes her head, smile fond. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s nice seeing you like this. Properly excited.’
In the face of such sincere support, Jean feels able to voice a doubt that has niggled at her along with the hope. ‘Do you… think I’ll be alright at this? I mean, what do I know about charities?’
‘More than most people.’ Ava squeezes her hand. ‘And besides, I think you’ll be sensational.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course! I’m happy to provide a glowing testimonial – about your consultancy skills.’ Ava winks. ‘And your sex acquaintance ones.’
Jean rolls her eyes. ‘You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?’
‘Nope!’ Ava’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she sips her mojito.
All the same, Jean feels compelled to clarify. To shut down the slightest ambiguity or doubt. ‘You know that you’re so much more than a sex acquaintance to me, don’t you? I really do love you.’
Ava’s attempts to wave the words off are undercut by the pretty flush warming her cheeks. ‘Yeah,’ she says, not quite looking at Jean. ‘I picked up on that when you told your entire office that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Baller move, by the way.’
‘It just slipped out.’ Jean lifts the stick impaling her olive, stirring it round her glass. ‘But it felt right. At the time.’
‘Did you mean it?’ Ava’s whisper is scarcely audible above the hubbub of chatter and Annie Lennox’s unearthly voice.
But in the last year Jean has become finely attuned to this woman, every shift in expression and tone.
And it’s not disapproval nor even displeasure that keeps her from looking at Jean, but rather nerves.
It’s Jean’s turn now to be brave, to set aside her fears and speak up. ‘I did. I meant every word.’
‘Okay. Then I would like that too.’ Their eyes meet, and Ava bites her lip. ‘I’d love it, actually. Being with you long-term.’
Jean’s heart contracts, but her voice remains steady. ‘Well, we renegotiated the terms of our relationship before. Should we do it again?’
Ava’s looking at her – really looking at her – as if nothing else exists but Jean. ‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’
‘Hmm. I was thinking along traditional lines – or traditional as it gets with a lesbian couple.’ Jean reaches across the table and takes Ava’s hand in hers, uncertain whose fingers are the origin of their trembling.
‘In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ’til death do us part.
I’ll gladly love and honour you, but I do have major reservations about obeying you. ’
‘We could scratch that particular clause – I’m not wild about it either.’ Ava’s thumb whispers across the back of her hand, smooth and natural as an ocean caressing the shore. ‘Do you really want to get married?’
‘Well, yes. With you I do.’ The possibility hadn’t occurred to Jean until meeting Ava, that she might ever willingly call herself wife again.
So many things hadn’t. But now Jean can’t imagine a sweeter string of tomorrows, bright and optimistic as the Christmas lights. ‘In the not-too-distant future.’
‘That settles what we’re getting each other for Christmas: rings.’ Ava leans across the table, her kiss full of urgent promise. ‘Now let’s go home. I want to celebrate with my beautiful fiancée.’