Hesitant Hearts: A Lesbian Love Story

Chapter 1-2

“Sorry,” he backed away.

“It’s not you,” I replied, “it’s my boss, I had to tell him I’ll be running late for my next drop and he just hung up without saying goodbye.”

“Oh, okay,” he glanced over his shoulder, “well, I’ll get back to the car.”

“No worries,” I stared past him, “I just slowed down because I know someone who goes here.”

He didn’t reply to that and I continued.

“Roenna, I don’t know her last name. She just started at the dealership a few weeks ago.”

“I know Roenna,” he sounded cautious and I found myself feeling a little queer to put it bluntly, was he her boyfriend?

“Roenna’s a good girl,” he went on, “she’s part of a Christian rock band.”

“A rock band,” I frowned, “wow, she didn’t seem the type if you know what I mean.”

“Roenna is the singer and lead guitarist.”

“Well I’ll be,” I stopped short, the final word is usually ‘f****d’ and I was trying to be diplomatic.

“Buggered?”

“Yeah, well, you learn something new every day.”

We farewelled each other and I headed to my next drop, a panel beaters in Warrandyte but on the way back I pulled into the church carpark and walked over to a noticeboard that displayed church service times and various other regular things like prayer and youth groups. There at the very top was a crudely rendered flyer advertising a dance and the name of the band. The Messengers. It had a picture of the band. Roenna was wearing a white blouse and black leather trousers, and the guys all had long hair and two of them were also wearing leather trousers.

So now I had a name and yet I still felt somewhat strange approaching Roenna at work and to make it more difficult she finished at five o’clock and I knocked off at four thirty. Nevertheless, I’ve always been the queen of innovation and I ‘volunteered’ for overtime, which basically involved checking off the deliveries that had come in that morning. Because it was warmer the roller door was open and gave me a perfect view of the carpark.

However I almost missed her because I actually was working but when I heard a ringtone I looked up in time to see her answering a phone. I have no idea who was on the phone but she turned towards me a moment later and I had the sneaking suspicion she was talking to the guy I’d met earlier. She ended the call and seemed almost unsure of herself and then she walked towards the roller door, I met her at the entrance.

“Hiya,” she looked past me, “we um, need to talk.”

“Sure,” I put the clipboard down and nodded outside, “out here?”

She followed me outside and then turned to look at me.

“I just got a phone call from someone at the church.”

“Probably the guy I was talking to earlier,” I replied.

“I see,” she pursed her lips, “okay.”

“Look it’s not what it seems,” I ran a hand through my hair.

“How is it then?”

I launched into a summary of why I’d stopped by the church and the conversation, and when I’d finished she smiled crookedly.

“Oh, okay. Maybe it’s crossed wires. Jeff is the youth pastor, he um saw your tattoo,” she glanced at my forearm, “and realised you were um, gay.”

“Well that’s very observant of him,” I glanced at my rainbow tattoo, “I’ve been thinking of getting a new tattoo that includes the rainbow but makes it less obvious.”

“You’re not ashamed are you?”

“No, just get a little tired of being judged. Every woman I meet seems to either want a gay best friend or a night between the sheets, sometimes I just wonder what it would be like to just be you know, normal.”

“Normal,” she pursed her lips, “yeah, I get that too, my parents aren’t Christians and when I became a Christian they thought I’d flipped or it was something I’d grow out of and even now they come out with sarcastic comments.”

“I’m sorry, you can’t pick your family. My parents are divorced but they’re pretty supportive.”

“But you can pick your friends though,” she broke in, “so, would you like to come to a rehearsal? I promise not to out you.”

“A rehearsal.”

“Yeah, we are working on our first album but we play a lot of secular covers for functions like weddings and parties. We rehearse out at the church hall,” she looked past me and tightened her grip on the strap of her handbag.

“Okay, maybe not then.”

“Okay, no worries,” I replied, “look I saw your flyer, it could do with a bit of work. I muck around with graphics programs in my spare time, I might be able to come up with something better if you let me have a go.”

“Okay, I’ll look forward to seeing it,” she took out her phone, “what’s your number?”

I gave her my number and she tapped out her address and sent it to my phone.

“Got it, thanks,” she smiled crookedly, “see you then, babe,” she winked and then turned about and strode back to her red Astra hatchback. A casual observer might have compared the look on my face to those of my male colleagues because she does have a rather nice arse! She was wearing a short grey, pleated skirt that day, which was the first time I could recall seeing her in a skirt that didn’t go past her knees. As if sensing my attention she glanced over her shoulder and flicked at her hair as she smiled, I managed a half wave and then she was unlocking her car. I went back to work and to reflect on my ‘offer.’ Granted I’d only said I’d give it a go but in Aussie lingo, that’s pretty close to a firm yes. For better or worse I was now committed to designing a flyer for a Christian band.

My housemate, Melanie saw the irony straight away when I told her that night.

“I can see it now, the coming hard to you tour.”

“Ha ha, b***h,” I smiled crookedly.

“But seriously,” Melanie folded her arms, “are you chasing rainbows? There’s no pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.”

“It’s a challenge,” I replied, “for f**k’s sake, I’ve got this diploma in design I got at Tafe but I’ve done nothing with it, I’m working for spare parts.”

That night I thought hard about my much lamented failure to launch when it came to a career in graphic design. To get a foot in the door in that industry you need a decent portfolio, experience with another company and being in the right place at the right time. I had the first one down pat, a good selection of designs I’d done at school and just f*****g around with the Gimp, my favourite design program. And that led to the second, I was a Linux girl and all the best graphic artists are happy, shiny Apple people. I’ve lusted over Apples in the past but the price tag leaves me feeling weak at the knees. I didn’t get far that night apart from a blank document and some place holder text but I did send a text through to her later that night.

Lindsey: Got an idea for the flyer, meet me for lunch tomorrow?

I didn’t get a reply until I was standing in my knickers.

Roenna: No worries, babe. See you tomorrow, sleep tight.

I sent her a smiley face and crawled into bed. Sleep came slowly because I was troubled by visions of Roenna in various stages of undress but eventually I did fall asleep.

I awoke the next day with a clear head that became increasingly muddled by lunch time. It wasn’t my idea that was bothering me, it had a lot to do with sheer nervousness about this lunch date. I mean this woman can look good in a potato sack but every time I’d seen her at work she always seemed to look like she’d just walked off the set of a photo shoot. She’d styled her hair differently that day as well with soft waves reminiscent of a Farrah Fawcett Majors look. Combined with a brilliant white satin blouse, and black leather, pencil skirt the effect was electric and she certainly got a few looks from the guys at work that morning. I guess they were talking about us behind our backs when we drove out to the hot bread kitchen at Burnt Bridge.

“So, what’s this idea of yours?”

“I want a picture of the band that I can put on the flyer, so I was thinking of taking a few pictures at the rehearsal and we can choose one.”

“Sounds good,” she slung her handbag over her shoulder, “and it’s not going to get you into trouble with the gay brigade?”

“They won’t know but even if they find out, it’s my life. Build a bridge and get over it.”

“A rainbow bridge?” Roenna smiled slyly.

“Rainbow, concrete, wooden, who the f... hell cares.”

“It’s all right to say f**k in front of me,” she slipped a hand into the crook of my arm, “just because I’m a Christian it doesn’t mean I’m a bloody prude.”

It was a fairly entertaining lunch date in her car. I found out about her family. Her dad worked in the construction industry as a project manager and her mother was a doctor. She had two sisters, Amelia and Zara, and a brother, Joe.

“My parents decided to work their way through the alphabet,” she explained, “Amelia was first, Joe was next, I’m number three and Zara is number four. Dad got a vasectomy after that.”

“Sounds almost logical.”

“I always thought it sounded weird,” she pursed her lips, “what about your family?”

“Dad was a soldier and mum teaches kindergarten,” I replied, “they divorced when I was six and mum got remarried two years later.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Two, both older than me, Tony is five years older than me and Bridget is two years older. They still see a bit of dad but I’m closer to my stepdad, Brian. He’s a mechanic and he got me the job here through a mate of a mate.”

“Handy to know,” she replied, “so, are you single or is it complicated?”

“I was with a woman, Wendy and I broke up six months ago.”

“That’s a long time to go between roots,” she eyed me, “or do you pick girls up?”

“I’ve done it a couple of times but I find myself thinking about Wendy and then I get guilty and I don’t call them back.”

“Ouch,” she winced, “that’s got to hurt in the morning, she must have really gotten under your skin.”

“She and I were together for two years, we pretty much organised our wedding before the day but about a month before the ceremony she suddenly decided we needed to take a break and I just said yeah but then I found out she was seeing someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked at me.

“Thanks,” I stared straight ahead, “it’s one of those things I know I should be able to handle better but for some reason I can’t seem to get past first base.”

“Have you had counselling?”

“Not sure I need that as much as just getting on with things, maybe I should just plough on and things will get better.”

If that sounded lame it’s because it was f*****g lame. Honestly I had a small circle of friends but they were with partners and while I was always welcome at their parties I always felt a little like the third wheel. We have a saying in Australia, a spare d**k at a wedding, which doesn’t exactly fit the lesbian parties I went to for obvious reasons but you get the meaning. I always felt like an intruder and whilst I did go to the odd party I’d found myself becoming more isolated.

It wasn’t until we were back at work that Roenna came out with her suggestion as I sat with a can of Coke in her car. She was texting a friend and looked up now and then, I was fully aware that the guys were now looking at us. Bazza must have told a lesbian joke because the others were laughing and I half considered giving him the one fingered salute when she nudged me.

“You listening or not?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“Okay, shoot,” I eyed her.

“I need to scout out a few live venues for the band and you need to get out there and dip your toes in the dating pool,” she took out her lipstick and popped the top.

“So, how’s about we make a night of it, every Saturday night we’ll pick a different venue. I can be your date until you find a woman who’s interested and from then on it’s up to you.”

“Oh, f**k,” my head hit the headrest, “where did this come from?”

“It’s called a compromise,” she applied some lipstick.

“I know you look at me like that and while it’s flattering, I’m not that way inclined but I still want to help you find someone and I really do want to look for new venues but a woman like me walking into some of these pubs would be like jumping into a piranha pool. We can come to some kind of story whenever a lesbian approaches you. We can say we’re cousins and if you don’t fancy her then give me some kind of sign or verbal code and I’ll be your girlfriend,” she pursed her lips.

“Just don’t try to kiss me or the deal’s off.”

It took me a few seconds to reply but when I did it sounded rushed.

“All right and yeah, I do like you but I really do want to do this flyer.”

“Cool,” her eyes flickered to the guys, “will you check out Barry, I think he’s getting ready to cream his jeans.”

She was observant, judging by Bazza’s erection and I grinned as well.

“He’s harmless enough but he is a bit thick, he hit on me the first week I was here but when I told him I was gay he just wanted to know if I’d like to get into a threesome with his girlfriend.”

Her laughter caught me by surprise because it was loud and infectious.

“How not to impress a girl,” she finally finished.

“Well on that note,” she put her lipstick back into the bag, “I gotta love you and leave you.”

We exited the car and Bazza stared lustfully at her but all I could think about was my hair. It’s not too short but it’s never been high on my list of priorities, but if I was going to dip my feet in the old dating pool I was going to have to swallow my pride and go visit an old girlfriend who worked at a salon in Eastland.

What am I doing?