From home she gave Kirsten a call. She was so happy to hear Tenille's voice. âHow's Shania and Dietmar?'
âBoth well. You here for the weekend?'
âYes. I wondered if you could get away for an hour and we could have a game of squash? Like old times.' There was a beat of silence before Kirsten came back on the line. She noticed this and to ease the situation made a suggestion. Consequently they spoke simultaneously. Tenille: âWe could do something different, if you like.' Kirsten: âI'd be a bit rusty.'
They laughed, each one trying to please the other. Tenille recovered first. âYou say.'
âNo, I'd like that. It wouldn't be old times, exactly, I was several kilos lighter in those days,' she replied wryly. âBut it would be fun. I could do with the break.' She would pick her up early tomorrow, before church. Doris had arranged lunch afterwards.
The friends enjoyed a great time, spending so much of their hour trying to get hits on the ball, they never played a game. Kirsten's extra weight made agility difficult, but she was still light on her feet. It didn't matter, they just revelled in the exercise and getting away from it all. There was much laughter between the huffing and puffing.
After their shower Kirsten felt it too soon to say âgoodbye'. âDo you have to get back?' she asked, as they picked up their holdalls. âI don't. Dietmar's fine for an hour or two with Shania.' She looked hopefully at her friend, her hazel-brown eyes wide and appealing.
Tenille knew her answer should be âyes', but instead she said: âNo, let's go to the Dairy Queen and grab a milk shake.'
She'd be missing church and her mother would not be pleased.
“I think my shoulders have developed sufficient width,”
she mused to herself. She was leading
her
life now.
They piled into the big Chrysler, chucking their gear in the back. Kirsten turned the radio on full blast and they giggled their way through Interactive singing FOREVER YOUNG. They felt so cool.
There was still plenty of snow on the Lindsay streets. The maintainers salted, but were not so diligent in clearing as in Toronto. Treacherous slush lay in wait for the unwary and a few times Kirsten fishtailed around corners. No matter, everything they did made them laugh. She parked and they ran quickly up to the milk bar. At the door, stomping their feet to get rid of the white clumps, they laughingly tumbled inside, leaning all their weight against the heavy door, just as someone on the other side jerked it open.
âOops, sorry.'
They sat together at a little table and ordered
Whoppers
. Time flew. Suddenly it was almost noon. Tenille's heart missed a beat as she jumped up saying: âKirstie, I have to go. My mom will kill me.'
Kirsten drove back. There was a strange car in the driveway and Tenille wondered how long it had been there. Kirsten leaned forward to give her a goodbye kiss. It was warm and soft and Tenille liked it.
âBye Kirstie. We'll do it again next time.'
She charged up the path and rushed round the house to enter through the back door. She'd been right. One look at her mother's censorious face told her she was in trouble.
âI didn't know whether to wait lunch for you or not,' Doris snapped, her eyes registering severe disapproval.
âYou might have phoned you had a change of plan,' her father said grimly.
Standing in front of everyone was acutely embarrassing. Her face went red as she stammered out her apology. Frivolity and selfishness had brought her to this. She hadn't phoned since they'd be in church and then she'd clean forgotten. Now she realized her shoulders were not so broad after all.
The visitors were sitting in uneasy silence, unwilling spectators to this dressing down. To break the tension Alexander offered: âNo harm done, you're here now and we can get on.'
Tenille had a dreadful lunch and sincerely regretted her moment of weakness. Doris remained tight-lipped throughout the meal. Incidents like this she took as a personal affront. Alexander was more forgiving. After all, it wasn't really that bad. These were not even people she knew.
When it came time to say farewell, Doris had gotten over what she had taken to be a slight on her daughter's part, but she didn't come to the station. Her guests were still at the house and of course, she wouldn't abandon them.
Tenille said her goodbyes to Betsy with an aching heart. She seemed to sense the wretchedness in her mistress and just hung around, giving little whimpers as if she feared it would be a long time before she saw her again. Her large, dark eyes followed her about, mournfully.
The journey to the station was a miserable experience. When Tenille climbed aboard Alexander remarked: âDon't wait so long next time to phone us.' She turned and waved, but didn't respond.
She hardly saw the beauty of the snowbound countryside flying by, too unhappy with how the visit had gone. Her parents would expect another one soon, but she was not sure she could do it. Night began to fall and she did notice the odd, twinkling light from scattered farmhouses, just discernable in the middle distance. Farmsteads would be settling in for the evening. She could picture the family warm and cosy in the big kitchen, the old wood heater blazing, the floppy, contented pooch lying in front of it on an old hooked rug. Her feeling of loneliness was made more poignant by this image. Dear Betsy.
She turned her fractured thoughts to Devon to brighten her spirits. It would be so wonderful to see her again. She was looking forward to a call this evening. This happy thought was destroyed as a stab of fear gripped her like a downfall. What if her feelings had changed? It had been two weeks since they'd been together. Had Devon even given her a single thought?
From Elizabeth Street, she walked over to the St Patrick Station to catch the northbound train. She went as fast as she could. After the heat of the bus, the Toronto winds were merciless in their fierceness, seeming to bite right through her.
No message was waiting. No call from Devon. Several times she was on the point of âphoning, but resisted temptation at the last moment. Such dejection.
In her absence, Mrs. Sandrelli had made good progress with the dress. Now Tenille was back she wanted another fitting. She popped upstairs to try it on. Satisfied that everything was on track, Serafina felt confident to start the trimmings and complete finishing touches. When it was too late, Tenille remembered that Marissa had wanted her to be in touch, but she didn't feel like chatting now.
CHAPTER 4
It was impossible for Tenille to have her usual carefree manner at work. She felt strained, outside herself. The others couldn't help but notice the listlessness. Beris asked if there was anything wrong, but she shook her head in denial.
It was the same the next day. She had been so sure Devon would call last night. She tried to practise, to distract herself, but her thoughts constantly drifted into negative speculation. What was the reason for this silence?
At class it was apparent Tenille was not concentrating. When the time came, she declined her friends' offer to go out. Marissa was very disappointed, had hoped for a chance to be more exclusive with her, but it was obvious she was upset.
âI think I need an early night,' she explained by way of excuse. No call tonight then she would definitely ring. All day, images of Devon had been with her. She had viewed the situation from every angle. Now, when she felt she had finally clarified her feelings and had to admit she believed she did love her, Devon was like a phantasm. Pouffe. One minute a vibrant reality, the next a figment in a tormented memory. At last she had figured it out, only to have everything collapse in shreds and she was back on the edge of confusion. This woman was so special to her, exerted an unnameable power; like a Svengali. At this consideration she had to smile at herself. But despite such a flight of fancy, the force was irresistible. She just had to be with Devon. The days and nights disappeared, seeming to blend into one.
At home it was a hair wash night, with the radio for company. The words of Elton John's SACRIFICE caught her attention â¦
two hearts living in two separate worlds
⦠herself and Devon at the moment. She desperately wished they were in one world ⦠together.
Mrs. Sandrelli called down to say she was wanted on the phone. With racing heart she wrapped a towel round her wet hair and rushed up. There was a chill to the night, but she didn't care.
âHello?'
âHi, Tenille.'
She was so relieved she could have wept. âHow was the trip?' a nervous waver in her voice.
âToo long. Thanks for your message. We got in late last night.'
Was that all on the trip? She really wanted to know how things were with Justin. Shyly she said haltingly, âI'm so happy to hear your voice again ⦠I missed you.'
âTenille, I've missed
you
. You can't believe how boring business meetings are, day after day. We had a quick side trip to Las Vegas. Stayed at the Stratosphere and caught Cher's show at MGM Grand. That was nice, but then it was back to the grindstone. I had to be charming to all these overweight, sweaty businessmen. Ugh.'
âWill you feel like dancing tomorrow?' She had gotten more information on the trip than she wanted.
âAnother reason why I'm calling.' She sounded very positive, very up. âYes to your question and how did it go with Raoul?'
âOh fine.'
âI told you everything would work out,' she affirmed, her voice vibrant with conviction. Tenille wanted to explain more, but felt she'd been chopped. âListen, I need the workout, so tomorrow will be great. I'll see you at the studio, at the usual time then?'
âI'll be there.'
She wanted to talk; express her feelings, listen to Devon's voice. The exchange had left her feeling adrift, cast alone upon some vast, barren steppes, uncertain as to their relationship. She closed her eyes as if in pain. Everything she wanted seemed to be crumbling. Perhaps Devon preferred they talk tomorrow, rather than over the phone? Her eyes flew open. Yes. That must be it. They'd have time after their session to get properly back together; make plans for the weekend. She returned feeling more encouraged. Tomorrow would be a better day.
Alana saw the change in Tenille the moment she greeted her. With bright eyes she smiled, a quick, spontaneous gesture, she hadn't seen for a while. It was a quiet day, not uncommon midweek. Her time was spent in the basement, going through stock and working on order sheets. Checking merchandise was tedious, but today with Beris, there were no complaints. Hurry up six o'clock.
Taking the stairs of the rehearsal rooms two at a time, her face was flushed in excited anticipation, her hair framing her face under the bobbing toque. She burst into the studio feeling those bubbles of excitement then stopped dead in her tracks. Raoul. Her face darkened. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten all about him and blurted out: âWhy are you here? Devon is back.' Her voice was strong with resentment; eyes dark and flaring with indignation at what she felt was an invasion of their space. âI don't need your help now.'
âI thought we would continue with our sessions,' he replied, coldly. âAre you implying I can't teach you?' There was a hard edge to his voice.
âNo ⦠no. I didn't mean that,' she protested. The last thing she wanted was his animosity. Anyway, she was not ungrateful. His help had been invaluable. How could she retrieve the situation? She was let off the hook by Devon's arrival, as she swept in, not at all surprised to see the two of them. A big hug and a quick kiss then she stood back, at arm's length. âTen, you look great.' She offered her cheek to Raoul.
âI thought it would be good to have Raoul here. After your session he and I can brush up on the dances for Saturday night.'
So Devon had arranged this. Confusion fought with incredulity in her brain, along with jealousy in her heart. She had so looked forward to this time. They would have talked, could have gone somewhere afterwards ⦠but now? She realized she was very, very angry. What had Devon been thinking of? She had a hard time controlling the expression on her face; to act with common civility.
Absolutely nothing went right. Devon was disappointed, so sure had she been that Tenille would have progressed under Raoul's guidance. She wanted her to excel, not look like a clodhopper. On his part, Raoul couldn't understand why she wasn't dancing properly. All her movements were jerky and her timing ⦠well, there wasn't any.
The session came to an end and she couldn't get out fast enough, âI'll leave you two to rehearse.' She grabbed her stuff. âThanks for the lesson,' she added stiffly.
Changing in the cramped space of the ladies' washroom, (she had not been prepared to stay a moment longer in that room), she knew she had hated seeing the two of them together, discussing her and pulling apart her performance. Yes, she had danced badly, but with them watching ⦠that only made it worse. She had felt besieged.
It was a sad, lonely journey home.
Eleven o'clock; a knocking at the door. Mrs. Sandrelli stood in her nightdress and robe. She was not pleased. The phone again.
âShe said it urgent, otherwise I make it wait 'til morning.' Serafina was very put out. âPlease tell friends, no calls after ten o'clock. Then is too late.' Tenille was very contrite, so forbore to ask who it was.
âHullo?'
âWhy did you rush away so fast?' Devon sounded concerned.
âI can't talk now and please don't phone here after ten at night, it's getting me into trouble.'
âIs there something wrong? I'm home now so that's why I phoned.'
âI told you, I can't talk now. It's late. I'll see you tomorrow.' She hung up feeling terrible. An unbearable lump stuck in her throat.
At work it was noticeable that the high spirits of yesterday were gone. So quiet and preoccupied, Tenille wished she had a friend to confide in, but there was no one. Perhaps Marissa? They did get on well together, but it was not so easy. It wasn't like she wanted to talk about a boyfriend. But a woman? Well, she wasn't a woman who loves women; she had been married. No, they were loving friends who were just going through a bad patch. Surely it was only a question of temporary cross-purposes. Everything would get sorted out ⦠given time. She was too intense. She made an effort to be more agreeable.
Getting to class on time was always a rush, but today she welcomed the distractions and then it was straight into the warm up. She had chosen the other practise skirt tonight; black taffeta with a full flounce from just below the hip, lined with blue. The flash of color looked very dramatic when she twirled. Partnering Marissa in Sevillanas it went much better, but Marissa didn't think she looked well. Tenille, on the other hand, thought Marissa was more appealing than ever; something different about her. A special sparkle perhaps?
“She really is a nice friend,”
she thought.
In the break Devon had her hands full getting peoples' costumes organized. The following week Belen wanted a dress rehearsal. They had the basics, only finishing touches left to get right. Tenille hoped Mrs. Sandrelli would have hers completed by then.
Belen was looking for the right couple combinations. They checked people out for height and build. Devon separated Tenille and Marissa, putting Tenille with Roxanne whilst Marissa partnered Daphne. Next Belen worked through positions. She spent time moving the men about, trying to use them to best advantage. Finally it was all done and they were free to go.
Briefly, at the end, Devon approached Tenille and arranged to meet her afterwards. She thought they could go somewhere and talk. Marissa, from the other side of the room observed their exchange. It had an air of collusion about it, but she shrugged it off. She could be the jealous type; there was probably nothing to it.
When most of the women were ready, they collected their belongings and waited downstairs. In this way the others would have more space for changing. Marissa came over to Tenille to ask if she were ready to leave too, or should she wait.
âMarissa, I won't be joining you tonight. I'll see you next week.' She had momentarily forgotten about the ballet.
Marissa suddenly flared, and her face reddened. âNext week. This is because Devon is back.' Her voice began to splutter, but she kept it down because of the few remaining in the room. âYou'd rather be in her company than mine.' Now her whole body was shaking and her face took on a blotchy appearance. âWhat's going on?' she demanded, her grey eyes narrowing.
The blood drained from Tenille's face as she stammered out that this was not true. âWe just have some things to discuss. It's not personal against you, Marissa.' Her eyes widened in alarm. She couldn't believe her ears. âWhy would you think like this?' Her mind groped for a reason.
âI saw you two talking together,' she said, her expression hardening; accusation in her voice as her jaw worked overtime.
âSo?' she was stung into responding. âYou're making much over nothing.' She had finished and looked pointedly at her watch. âI have to go.' As she made to move past her, Marissa's hand shot out and she hissed in her ear with a sneer: âOh yes, don't keep your precious friend waiting.'
Smarting from the exchange, she was glad to collect her stuff and make her escape. Partly, because she didn't like such an encounter taking place before the curious gaze of strangers and partly, she hated seeing Marissa like this. Lurking beneath all that however, at a level deeper still, was a feeling of guilt. Going quickly across to the office, she believed there was an element of truth in what Marissa had said. She was far from easy in her conscience. She tapped lightly on the door, which opened immediately. Devon was ready to leave.
âYou took a long time. I was beginning to wonder if I should come and see what was causing the delay.'
Color rose as she thought back to her recent exchange, but she responded with: âNo problem. Where are we going?'
Devon's perceptive green eyes looked directly into the centres of the dark, troubled ones as she said: âMy place.'
Again Tenille colored up, blushing attractively, but now her black eyes glowed like golden rays. Devon was sure she knew how to put everything right between them.
Out on the street they found the sky had become a delicate curtain of dancing snowflakes. Devon had the Merc. so it was a short trip, despite the falling snow, which made the streets slushy and other drivers unpredictable. As soon as they settled into the apartment, she poured them drinks.
âHow would you like Indonesian tonight? Justin found this great little place at Ossington that delivers. Very ethnic. You wouldn't want to eat there, but the taste is terrific.' The last thing on Tenille's mind was food, but she would agree to whatever. Devon made the call, then sat down beside her.
âDid I tell you I'd missed you?' She put her arm around her shoulders. âDid I tell you I love you?' she whispered. At this declaration Tenille fell against her in limp ecstasy, her body flushed with a hot helplessness.
âOh Devon. And I you.' It felt so good for her to say it at last. To hear those words from Devon.
She cupped Tenille's chin in her hand and kissed her full on the mouth. It was a hard, forceful kiss, its intent for her to know she meant every word. Then she began to strip her down as she said hoarsely: âHelp me,' and started to take off her own things.
Tenille's desire kicked in, moving her as hastily as Devon; her heart jumping about in her chest. Down to their underwear, Devon again took her hand and guided it inside her panties. Awkward as it was on the chesterfield, tonight she would not take the time to move them on. She felt Devon's wetness and knew what to do. Devon started to move in her simultaneously, but she didn't like the feeling any more this time, than last. Somehow it didn't feel right; too hard, too mechanical. Too much of an invasion. Devon's rhythm increased, aware of her rising climax. She would bring Tenille along with her ⦠such ecstasy, as she was engulfed in wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure. She clung to Tenille.
The buzzer jangled and brought her to her senses. âTenille, you are a marvel. What you do to me.' She cocked her head to one side: âBetter for you?' She withdrew from Tenille somewhat hastily, not waiting for a reply. âHave to grab a robe. That will be dinner.'