The ELLIE Stories

Flying into JFK in Queens, New York was strange.  After so many years,
it was difficult for Ellie to remember that she had once called this
land, this terrible and fascinating place, home.  Summer was just
beginning:  the heat and humidity was just bearable.  Funny how easy it
was to get unused to this wet, heavy weather.  The very air was like
water to breathe.  When the people of her new home, the British, spoke
of humidity, Ellie always laughed:  they had no idea what humidity was
really all about.

JFK.  Two days in the city.  Two days for obligations involving family
and friends.  Two days to wonder if she still had anything in common
with these girlfriends she'd left behind.  They would talk of children,
of husbands of mutual friends who were little more than names to Ellie
now.  Her longing for home suddenly threatened to overpower her  But
this was not the time for hesitation nor the place to display
vulnerability:  no time to ponder, no time for distractions.  Her bags
were waiting to be collected and a cab had to be secured for the trip
to Manhattan.  She was back in New York.

It was a sight that never failed to move her, that powerful skyline as
the taxi cruised into the City from Brooklyn.  From this distance, the
place was a em, an artist's perfect masterpiece, all concrete, steel
and glass reaching for the heavens.

Once over the bridge or through the tunnel, the City became a very
different place.  The allure of glimmering steel and chrome, the
impersonal beauty shifted and the human stories assaulted the senses. 
Ellie had not visited New York City since returning to the UK three
years ago.  With a silly smile, she reflected that today could be any
day in the years she had lived here.  The sea of humanity surrounding
her was soothing and familiar; the young, beautiful and successful, the
workers and menial labourers, the strong brown men and the sensual
brown women and those with little or no hope.

Perhaps New York had not changed but Ellie thought that maybe she had. 
As the taxi made its way to the Upper West Side, she stared out the
window, feeling slightly removed, wondering that she had not so long
ago been a part of this rushing, swirling mass.  The pull of husband
and children began to lessen:  the weight of responsibilities of career
eased.  Ellie remembered a time in life when it was just her, just her
and Kate and the few men who came and went.

When Kate Bronson opened the door to her large prewar apartment, Ellie
felt her heart slam against her ribcage.  She had hardly changed.  Yes,
the long strawberry hair was tinged with strands of gray and her hips
were just a touch wider than they used to be.  Ellie's eyes strayed
down the crisp cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, teasing her with
a glimpse of fine freckled skin.

'Get in here now,' Kate commanded and laughed as Ellie shuffled in
depositing her luggage with a small winded sound.

The two women grinned stupidly at each other; then a second later were
embracing warmly.

'God, you look great,' Kate said.  'You're so skinny, I can't believe
it!'

Elllie sighed.  'No way.  I am not skinny.  As a matter of fact, I am
feeling old and ugly...'

'Oh stop.  Com'on.  I've got tea waiting.'

'Of course.  You and your tea.'
*************************

Comfortably settled in Kate's kitchen, they sipped their tea in
momentary silence.

'So how does it feel to be back?'

'Strange as hell.  Like I never left.  Bloody weird!'

They laughed.

Ellie gave Kate a shy look and said, 'Well, you look great....'

Kate harumphed and tossed her hair.  Ellie watched, mesmerized, as
perfectly manicured hands gathered offending strands off her face only
to have them fall down again into sparkling eyes.  Ellie absentmindedly
rolled up her sleeves and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt.

'How's everyone at home?' Kate asked as she sipped her tea.

'Same as always.  I'm a bit worried about leaving them alone....'

'Nonsense.  Owen can manage perfectly well without you.  He adores
those kids and he's really very housetrained.'

Ellie laughed.  'That's Owen.  He's always been like that.  He's
perfect in alot of ways.'

'But...'

'What makes you think there's a but?' Ellie asked, trying to sound
indignant.

Kate leaned forward and ran her fingers over Ellies exposed forearm,
teasing wrist and that little place opposite the elbow.

'Don't forget who you are talking to,' she almost growled.  'You showed
*zero* interest in redheads 'til I came along.  Owen should be
grateful.  If it weren't for me, he'd never had a chance!'

In the brown eyes that quickly lowered, Ellie plainly saw regret.  She
squeezed Kate's hand warmly but then drew her hands back to her teacup,
stopping their trembling through force of will.

'Hmm... yeah.  I suppose you could look at it that way,' she said,
attempting to lighten the mood.  'You were the first redhead I ever
looked at twice.  Redheads and blondes.  I didn't think they were my
type.'

'You just met the wrong redheads,' Kate softly said.

In the silence that followed, a honking horn could be heard
occasionally.  Ellie's gaze drifted to the kitchen window and the
winding Hudson river in the distance.   She suddenly knew what was to
follow, was as inescapable as the early summer heat.  With panicked
certainty, she knew that Kate planned to seduce her and watching those
graceful arms, the teasing eyes, under the assault of Kate's confident
sexuality, she was vanquished.

 'You were going to meet all the old gang for dinner,' Kate began.

Ellie found herself struggling to concentrate, to think, yes, dinner --
time away from Kate to check this spreading warmth that began below her
belly and rocketed to her toes.


'Yes.  This is something of a whirlwind trip.'

  Ellie paused, examined her teacup closely.  There was so much to tell
Kate, so much to tell but perhaps the time for saying certain things
had long passed.  Perhaps those particular thoughts, feelings and
regrets were best left in the past:  but there was also the uncertainty
of the present pressing against her heart, the tiny ache that nothing
seemed to reach, not Owen, not the children, not friends who had once
been so close to her.  Ellie sighed, swallowed her tea and met Kate's
eyes.

'God knows how I'm gonna survive the campus dance tomorrow evening,'
Ellie continued.  'I'm already feeling incredibly jetlagged -- it'll
just be worse tomorrow.  I'll probably end up glued to a chair
somewhere.'

'Hmm,' was Kate's noncommittal contribution. 

'Why don't you come up with me?'  Ellie was shocked to hear herself
say.


'What the hell would I do up there?  No, this is for you.  Besides,
wouldn't Anna love it if I showed up.  There's a hell of alot of
unfinished business between you two, you know.'

'Perhaps.  But it's the past and neither of us are in a position to act
on our feelings anyway -- and it has been twenty years and goodness
knows if it'll still be the same.....  Of course it won't.....'

'Anyway, Providence is tomorrow.  New York is this evening.  Worry
about Anna when you get there.'

'Anna is the one thing I never need to worry about.'

Ellie smiled then, lost in thought, remembering younger days when
everything was so intense.  First year at university:  how could she
not know that she and Anna were desperately in love?  Twenty years
later, it seemed so obvious.  There had been so many boys, one after
another, names long forgotten now and through it all, the only
constant, their deep friendship.  You two should be lovers, she heard
again the advice given by a mutual friend.  If she had only known!  But
Anna seemed so straight, so hell-bent on finding that one man that
would help all the pieces of her life fit together.  Did it truly never
occur to either of them that the person for this task might be a woman?
 Yet a small part of her knew that they had indeed been too young.  The
passion would have consumed them, destroyed them like a star going
nova....

Kate frowned slightly at the expression on her friend's face.  It
didn't take much to guess where her thoughts lay and she acknowledged
the pang of jealousy that shot through her chest.  She had never met
Anna but knew enough about Ellie's college days and this particular
friend.  Twenty years later, Anna and Ellie were still close, surviving
Ellie's marriage to Owen, the births of their children, her move to
Europe.  She was the only person in Ellie's life who Kate viewed as a
threat.  No.  That was unfair.  Not a threat -- exactly.  She made a
soft impatient sound.  These feelings were ludicrous.  But not half as
ludicrous as the feeling she was getting every time she glanced at her
friend.  Opposites attract, Kate always believed and Ellie was as far
over on the other side of the spectrum from her as one could get.  She
well remembered that soft chocolate skin, smelling of soap and fragrant
creams, how strong those long arms were, curly hair between Ellie's
legs where Kate's was so straight.  She'd been envious. 

With a start, she brought herself back to the present, back to her
kitchen, back to the expression on Ellie's face that was just a little
bit sad.

'If you never worry about Anna, what the hell is that long face about,
hmm?'

Ellie laughed nervously and wondered if now was a good time to change
the subject.  But there was a look in Kate's eye and a feeling Ellie
had that to be coy now was to relegate Kate to that nebulous place
belonging to friends who had somehow passed into being acquaintances. 

'You know, Kate, I really don't know.  I'm dreading Providence like
hell.  I'm not sure I ever really liked the people there and god knows
what's going on with Anna....'

Kate wisely held her tongue and waited for Ellie to continue.

'What's going to happen when I see her?  Is it all going to come
flooding back to me?  Will she try to seduce me or will I want to
seduce her?  Gods.  I feel as if I'm about to fall into a black hole. 
My life recently has been so... organized, planned....'

'Predictable is the word you want,'  Kate grinned.

Ellie laughed.  'Yeah.  You're right.  But hey! -- You should not knock
predictable.  There's something to be said for it.'

'Yeah, it's boring.'

'Ok.  But safe.  I feel unsafe now.  I feel like if Anna and I start
talking about what was....  If we decide to try to find out what it
could have been like....'

'Ellie, it's different now.  You're not even in the same country, let
alone the same town!  I can't pretend I know what it was like -- my
college days were not as privileged as  yours....'

An electric smile softened the harsh words:  a graceful hand caressed
the brown one before her.

'But if you and Anna find yourselves in bed,' Kate continued, 'it'll be
because of now, not because of then.  I know you don't believe me, but
it won't be the same.'

'Yes, I do realize it won't be the same....'

'Do you?'

With a smile that held a trace of sadness, Ellie thought, I am much
older.  The enormity of all this one thought implied washed over her
and the sigh she released came from a place deep inside her.

Kate saw the smile become a wistful expression, the aura of melancholy
making Ellie irresistible.  She  leaned towards her friend.

Here we go, was Ellie's last coherent thought as she stepped over the
edge of that cliff and bent forward to meet her friend's demanding
kiss.  She returned Kate's kiss, kissing her deeply, slowly, tongue
exploring all of Kate's mouth as if all eternity lay before them. There
was nothing:  there was no one, just the two of them and the soft
sounds of their passion punctuated by the muffled intrusion of the
early evening traffic.
*************

Kate was asleep.  The bedroom lay in semi-darkness, the eternal lights
of the big city a modern substitute for moon and stars.  Ellie was
awake, holding Kate close, feeling her even breathing, the silk that
was her hair against her skin.  How often had they done this years ago,
shared this bed,  slept entwined, watched the early morning light creep
over the city from the East River, read the Times in the morning in
this same bed.  Sanctuary, Ellie thought and let out the breath she did
not even know she was holding.  Kate was always there to comfort and
soothe.  She murmured something very much like - I love you - into that
strawberry blonde mane and slipped into contented slumber. 

Like what you've read? Have suggestions or constructive criticism? Email me! tlyr (at) tlyr.co.uk