Rooms on Fire

Thirteenth.

For Sarah.

Six weeks later

'What do you think?' I ask Stevie anxiously as she hands my laptop back to me. She has just finished reading the story I have written about us, our relationship, and our children while I sat beside her tapping my nails rhythmically against the end table trying to keep my nerves under control. I had found writing the article nearly impossible, I don't want to have to share my love and my family with the world but I know the only other option is having someone else do it and that is worse.

'It's a little impersonal isn't it?' she asks with a frown. She probably isn't wrong. The story is very factual, very unemotional.

'I guess,' I reply noncommittally. I am already angry that I have become public property and that my children have as well. We barely got a month with them before they became something to be shared with strangers. I know that it is part and parcel of being in love with someone as famous as Stevie but I don't have to like it. The idea of having pictures of me in the press and on the television makes my anxiety flare and while it is vain, I am not happy with the way I look right now. I am still carrying a significant amount of my post pregnancy weight and the steroids I have been prescribed to get my arthritis under control have given me a severe case of moon face. We had a photographer Stevie trusts come to the house and do a shoot a couple of days ago, I've seen the proofs, Stevie looks angelic and our babies look like little cherubs but I look like a gargoyle.

'Are you okay?' Stevie asks looking concerned.

'I'm going to rewrite the article, it is crap,' I say trying to fight back tears

'You don't have to,' Stevie assures me.

'No,' I reply, 'I am going to write an open letter instead of a traditional article and then we are going to get out of here for a while okay?' I ask. I can't stand the idea of being in LA or even in the US in the immediate aftermath of the article being published. The idea of the having paparazzi camped out on our lawn makes my skin crawl.

 'Okay,' Stevie says, her voice still laced with concern. 

'We should go to Australia, visit my mum,' I say with a small smile. "I want to see mum's new house, she is so excited about it." My parents finally separated after 36 years of unhappy marriage just before Joshua was born and my mum is living out a long held dream, she has moved from my hometown to Hobart and enrolled in a fine arts course at university. 

'We should,' Stevie says with a smile, 'I think getting away from LA, or even just away from this house for a while would do us both some good.' While things continue to be wonderful between us, having two newborns to care for is a challenge, especially because Joshua is a poor sleeper and with the constant risk of getting caught out by paps, we have barely left the house since Joshua was born.

'When we get back I think we should go to Phoenix,' Stevie says, her throat catching slightly. Jess had stayed for two weeks after Joshua was born but Barbara has shown almost no interest in Joshua and I know it hurts her a lot more that she lets on. 'Maybe if she sees us together she will understand,' Stevie says running a hand through her long blonde hair.

'Maybe,' I reply even though I doubt her logic. I am still in the closet with most of my family and I doubt seeing Stevie and me together will change their minds. They are small town bigots, many of them religious to boot and I am old enough to know that there is no point in trying to change their minds. Stevie's mom might be different though, her reaction, her lack of acceptance of who Stevie is seems to be stemming mostly from shock and I can't really blame her, having your daughter come out in her fifties must be strange.

'I need to get this written by tomorrow,' I say picking up my laptop and opening a word document, 'can you call whoever you need to call and arrange our flights?' I ask sweetly. I have never felt at home in Australia and now I have an aching, burning need to be back there. 

'Okay,' Stevie says with a smile as Julia begins to cry from upstairs.'Someone is done with their nap and probably needs a diaper change,' I say with a laugh.

'I'll get her and you can change her diaper,' Stevie replies with a playful grin as she gets up off the couch.

'Thanks honey!' I reply say sticking my tongue out at her.

 As Stevie leaves the room I start to write and words, real, heartfelt words about the love I feel for Stevie begin to spill out onto the page. I write 750 words in the time it takes for Stevie to retrieve Julia and by the time I am done tears are streaming down my cheeks, these are not tears of anxiety or tears of anger, of which I shed many during my first attempt to write this article. They are tears of relief, tears because for the first time in 36 years I am not hiding, I am being true to myself and to the woman I love. 

'Are you okay?' Stevie asks walking back into the room with Julia on her hip. Stevie has had to ask that of me far too often these last few weeks, 'I changed Julia's diaper for you, and her bed sheets, there was a bit of an explosion,' Stevie laughs as Julia coos happily in her arms.

 'I'm just perfect,' I reply honestly, 'I love you.' 

'I love you too,' Stevie responds handing Julia to me.

'Have a look,' I say handing her my laptop, 'I think this version will be much more to your liking,' I smile.

A/N: I'm willing to bet that most of you had ever given up on my updating any of these stories ever again huh? Well I'm not going to promise that I'll be updating regularly but I am getting back into the swing of writing and hopefully it won't be nine months before you see more of me again.