Throwing Shadows (A Mialotte Story)

Chapter Nine

Charlotte usually dreads the weekends Ava and Maisie spend with their dad. She finds it hard to cope with having time to herself, so used to spending every waking moment juggling gymnastics, ballet, swimming lessons, parties and play dates. It gives her a chance to catch up on boring life stuff like laundry and cleaning, but the emptiness can be so overwhelming.

That was before. Before Charlotte grew a backbone and a sense of pride. Before Mia. Before she realised that she had a chance to be Charlotte the person again, rather than just Charlotte the mum.

We're heading into town for an hour or so. Coffee and cake at The Bakehouse?

It's so freeing, Charlotte thinks, to be able to just reply 'sure, what time?' to Sorcha's message on Saturday morning without even having to think about anyone else.

She slips on a pair of old jeans, a light sweater she had kept at the back of the wardrobe since Ben claimed he hated it, and her favourite Converse. She doesn't bother with makeup, with nobody to impress, and throws her hair into a messy bun. Just as she leaves, she perches her sunglasses on her head. It's wishful thinking in this British weather, but she likes how they look.

And that's good enough.

There's a hot cappuccino and a pistachio blondie waiting for her when she arrives at the Cafe. Sorcha and Clodagh look as adorable as ever, leaning close as they sip their own drinks and chat.

"Well, would you look at that." Clodagh is the first to notice her and smile. "Jesus, Char. Divorce looks good on you!" The comment earns her a slap on the arm for her wife, but Clodagh just winks, slowly pulling herself up to offer Charlotte a hug. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it is. You look... I know it's a cliche, but you're glowing."

"Ye, she is. It's the bucket of fake tan she put on after her shower." Sorcha grins at her wife. "Except she can't reach half the places anymore so it's muggins here who's got the tango hands." She holds up her hands, stained a dark orange, and sighs. "The things we do for love."

"Exactly. And the things we do for our pregnant wife." Charlotte smiles at Clodagh, whose hands naturally come to rest on her bump. "Sorcha mentioned the sciatica. How are you doing?"

"Well, it's been better the last few days. It's just a pain in the arse at night, especially with the heartburn as well. But I've got a pregnancy pillow beside me and the midwife sent me some pregnancy yoga stretches to try so it's... manageable."

Charlotte takes a sip of her coffee and nods in solidarity. "I remember it well. Not so much the sciatica, but I had terrible cramps in my legs with Ava. So I get the no sleep thing." She smiles at Sorcha. "Badedas bath soak and Pukka night time tea. Honestly, that combination saved my sanity."

Sorcha pulls out her phone and notes it down. "Thank you." Her phone flipped upside-down on the table, she gestures towards Charlotte. "Anyway, how are you doing?"

"Yeah. And how's it going with- what's her name?" Clodagh adds.

"With Mia? It's... it's early days. It's good, though. We talk most days, usually in the evening after the girls are in bed. We're just getting to know each other. Figuring things out." The look the two women give each other makes Charlotte blush slightly. "What?"

"Char, Clodagh's not the only one glowing." Sorcha's smile is gentle and warm. "I know there was loads of drama to start with, but I'm happy for ye. Especially now that we know Mia's not a complete monster."

"Aye, but there's nothing wrong with falling for the bad girl. We've all been there."

Charlotte's eyebrow raises as Sorcha turns to look at her wife. "Have we?"

Clodagh leans back and takes a sip of her tea.

"Look, it's all relative. Yours..." Sorcha gestures to Charlotte, "has tried to get people fired, trashed Marjorie's car and should have a criminal record as long as my arm." Don't remind me, Charlotte thinks to herself. "I was just... I was the one girl brave enough to wear a Guns n' Roses t-shirt under my Catholic school uniform." She smiles. "Not exactly what you'd call a bad girl."

"No," Clodagh joins in, "but don't forget that time you told Sister Donahue that the vodka in your water bottle was the result of a 'badly timed but very effective miracle'."

Charlotte almost chokes on a bite of her blondie. "Really?"

"Yep. She made me write a 3 page essay about blasphemy. Which I took as an opportunity. I think I managed to get about half of the lyrics to 'Bitch' by Meredith Brooks into it in the end. She'd never heard it, obviously, but the satisfaction was so worth it."

"I bet."

"So, anyway," Clodagh rubs at her belly, "back to you and your actual bad girl. How are you feeling about things?"

Charlotte wishes she had an easy answer. A stock phrase she could pull out to explain her feelings. Instead, she takes a shaky breath and decides the truth will have to do.

"I'm terrified. Not so much of how I feel. I... I think I'm getting there with that. I think it's more about being vulnerable with her. About how I explain how I feel to her, you know?" Both women nod in Charlotte's direction. "I think everyone else knows more about how I feel about her than she does."

"Normal" both Clodagh and Sorcha say at the same time.

"I guess I'm just not sure what the next stage is. I'm not sure how I go from where I am to... whatever's next."

Sorcha gazes sympathetically across the table. "Char, it's simple. Do ye fancy her?"

Charlotte nods.

"And do ye want to kiss her?"

She nods again. "I think so. I'm just... I'm scared of what it means."

"It doesn't have to mean anything. Not right now. Just... ignore the narrative everyone else wants to put on these things to try and make sense of it all and enjoy it. Enjoy having someone who looks at you the way she does."

"Like... like Mia does?"

"Aye," Sorcha winks. Charlotte knows she's blushing now. "Like she's undressing you with her eyes."