Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Merry Christmas, Linda

Christmas Day.

The cold grey streets of downtown London are nearly deserted. A figure bundled up in an odd assortment of jackets and scarves, with only a few strands of blonde hair peeking out from under her wool cap, stood on the sidewalk. She stuck out a hand, loose threads trailing from her glove, and a black-and-white taxicab darted out of the sparse traffic and pulled up to the curb.

Bess fussed with the handle for a few seconds then pulled it open and slid onto the cracked leather back seat; she made sure her shabby brown scarf wasn't in danger of being caught in the door, and slammed it shut.

"Happy Christmas", the grizzled cab driver grunted to her. He sounded and smelled as if he was brimming with spirits, and not those of the holiday. "Where'll it be missus?"

"Um..." Bess fumbled in the inner pocket of her long threadbare overcoat and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that looked to all appearances to have been torn out of a newspaper. "14...Chesterfield Street, please. South end."

The cabbie nodded and gave Bess an overly curious look. She in return gave him a look that would freeze fire. Even slightly inebriated, the cabbie took a hint and turned back to his job. He took a sip from a bottle encased within a brown paper bag, then whipped the steering wheel and the little taxi veered into the line of traffic.

Bess sighed and settled back in her seat. She held the grubby article in her hands like a treasured token and stared out the window. The sleazy boarding houses gave way to department stores, and the department stores whizzed past and blended into more respectable brownstones. The scruffy passenger entertained herself by guessing at the lives of the few pedestrians who were hurrying home with last-minute purchases. Anything to avoid looking at the grainy black and white wedding photo.

All too soon, the cab pulled up to a halt in front of a tidy brown stone. There was a wreath on the door, and colored lights in the window. Flower boxes hung at the windows, so that during the spring and summer the occupants could enjoy some color. Now however, snow blanketed the barren soil.

Bess spent a few moments watching as a man and woman mounted the steps to the townhouse and rang the bell. A moment later the door swung wide open, spilling welcoming light across the stoop. Several shouts of joy followed and the couple were ushered inside. The door slammed shut, knocking a little snow off the wreath.

"I said, 'that'll be five pounds'." The driver said loudly, his crotchety voice was irritated. Clearly he had been trying to catch Bess's attention several times already.

"Hm? Oh yes, of course..." Bess pulled out a leather wallet, which when she first received it, ten years before, was shiny and well oiled. Now, like it's owner, it was battered and chipping. She pulled out a wide array of notes and coins, which added up to five pounds or thereabouts and dropped them on the front seat. Then before the driver could say something, she pushed open her door and bounded out onto the pavement.

The cab's engine revved, and it peeled out into the street again, looking for another customer.

Bess turned to her attention back to her destination. "This is where they live, then. It looks nice." She mused to herself, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her overcoat. She kicked at some snow on the pavement and sighed, her breath forming a cloud in front of her face from the cold.

Summoning up her courage, Bess marched up the steps and then stopped with her knuckles inches from the door. There were many voices laughing inside and a Christmas carol was playing.

'What if it isn't her that answers? What if she doesn't remember me?' Doubts raced through Bess's head and made her unsure of what she was doing.

What was she doing?

There was a window a foot from the stoop. Bess leaned over the railing and strained to peer through a crack in the sheer, flowery curtains; what she saw brought hot tears to her amber eyes. But she brushed them away angrily with the worn cuff of her coat. Girls didn't cry.

Bess's old teacher and his new wife, the people she had seen walk up to the door as she sat in the idling cab, were laughing at something funny her older brothers, Dorian and John were saying. Anna Johnson, an old school friend, was standing with her hands on hips next to Dorian and said something snappy in return, causing the room to laugh harder. Leo was standing next to the Christmas tree with a man she only barely recognized as his boss.

But where was...ah there she is!

Bess's heart jumped against her rub cage as Linda Swit walked in, presumably from the kitchen followed by another woman. Linda's long brown hair was pulled up with several wispy strands escaping and framing her smiling, round face. She was wearing an orange sweater with blue puffballs that Bess knew was a gift from Leo's own mother.

Bess smiled faintly, a sad smile, but that disappeared when Linda swept over to Leo and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a very intimate kiss. The other guests started laughing, and John wolf-whistled while Dorian puckered his lips comically and leaned in towards Anna.

Very faintly, Bess could hear Linda thanking Leo through the glass, and when they pulled out of the embrace Bess could see a necklace sparkling around her neck, that complimented the ring on her hand. Her left hand.

Linda looked so happy, with tears of joy glittering in her eyes as she gazed lovingly at Bess's older brother.

'That should be me' Bess thought bitterly, and she tore her eyes from the scene inside the sitting room. "What was I thinking? They don't want me, they don't want me around to ruin they're happy life again."

Bess let out a shuddering breath, pulled the grey cap tighter over her hair, and turned to walk down the steps. The front door squeaked as it opened, and Bess could hear snatches of the conversation from inside. Bess whirled around, finding herself face to face with Linda, who had a bag filled with wrapping paper. Presumably she was going out to toss the bag in the bin.

"Happy Christmas! Are you a caroler?" Linda asked cheerily. When Bess didn't reply, she peered closer and gasped.

"Bess?" Linda's voice wasn't filled with warmth and gratitude like it had been in Bess's day dreams; instead it was filled with disbelief and a distant politeness that was like a dart in Bess's heart.

"What are you doing here, Bess?" Linda stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.

'So Leo won't see me, most likely. No Linda, I'm not here to ruin you and Leo's precious little relationship. Don't you worry.' Bess thought bitterly.

She cleared her throat and instead of putting voice to the words that had been building up inside Bess since the day she saw the marriage announcement in the London Times, since the day Linda had ignored her in the street and the years ever since, since that one night when Bess had professed her love for Linda under the moonlight, and since Linda had turned away from Bess's profession and walked away, leaving Bess shame-faced and crying. Instead of saying all the things she had practiced in front of the mirror that morning, and every morning before that, Bess simply said three words.

Three little words that hung in the cold winter air like icicles poised to fall.

"Merry Christmas Linda."

Bess turned on her heel and ran down the steps, not bothering to mind the ice. She didn't look back to see Linda's expression, afraid to see either repulsion or love. Instead she ran long and hard down the streets of London and didn't stop until she ended up gasping for breath in a shady pub with a stitch in her side and tears dripping down her face.

What a merry Christmas Day indeed.

If you have enjoyed Britta Laveshe's "Merry Christmas, Linda", then please be certain to e-mail her at  gi_prophet[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Britta Laveshe's Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.