9. Deborah

9

DEBORAH

D eborah stood at the window of her apartment, staring into the void below. She could just about make out the twinkling lights down in the valley and vaguely noticed that there were a lot of people out and about for breakfast already. But she registered no more detail than that. Holly’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind, filling her with a mixture of hope and fear. She had actually said the L-word. Wasn’t it too soon? Was this just a crush? The types that young women are so prone to? She turned away from the window and looked at Holly, who was sitting on the couch, flicking through her phone messages.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” Deborah began, her voice hesitant but determined.

Holly glanced up, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You know what? Last night was the first night we ever spent together, and we didn’t lay a hand on each other. That’s kind of off. What was up with that? Why invite me to spend the night and then totally ignore me?” Holly’s tone was playful, but there was a glint of hurt in her eyes.

“I was tired, Holly. I must have fallen asleep.” Deborah tried to sound casual, but the words felt hollow even to her own ears.

“Not true. I was flicking through TikTok until the early hours, and you were tossing and turning all night. I’d say you hardly slept a wink. Done with me already, huh?” Holly teased, but her eyes searched Deborah’s face for answers.

“No. You know I’m not. I’ve been thinking about what you said about not letting fear control our lives, and I realized you’re right. I don’t want to live in fear anymore. I know your mom’s hurting, and she knows I care for her so much. As my mom used to say, it’ll all come out in the wash.”

“What now?” Holly asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, she had a heap of funny sayings.” Deborah’ s lips curved into a small smile as she remembered her mother.

Holly’s face lit up. “I’m so glad you think so, Debs. Your mom was right. We’ll wash it. It’ll be fine.”

Deborah took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve come over her. “Let’s do something wild. We need to get out of here. I haven’t gone on a bender for years.”

“A bender?” Holly asked, laughing.

“Another funny saying, I guess. Sorry. We need a break. If we leave the city for a while, everyone can talk about us while we’re gone. They’ll get it all out of their systems, and we’ll have a clean slate by the time we return. What do you say?”

Holly’s grin widened, and she reached to take Deborah’s hand. “How wild are we talking? Like sex dungeons and mojitos or fishing and flasks of rum?”

Deborah chuckled, shaking her head. “I think you’ve had some pretty weird nights out in your short time on this earth, honey. I had a different idea. No dungeons. No fish. How about we go on a minibreak to Paris? Just you and me. We can explore the city, have fun, and get to know each other. ”

Deborah felt a flutter of excitement as she waited for Holly’s answer.

“Paris sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”

The flight to Paris was filled with laughter, light conversation, and people watching. It felt so good to chat about the weather and places they’d visited compared with the heavy emotions of the past few days. By the time they arrived at their hotel, both Deborah and Holly were buzzing with excitement.

“I’m a little disappointed we didn’t join the Mile High Club,” giggled Holly as they checked in.

“Shhhh!” whispered Deborah, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “The staff here probably speak perfect English.”

“Oh, right,” Holly replied as she turned a dark shade of pink.

“We’ll do it on the way home, okay?” whispered Deborah before giving Holly a sneaky wink.

Their first stop was a quaint little café near the Eiffel Tower. They sat outside, enjoying the warm summer breeze and the delicious pastries.

“These croissants are to die for. They don’t taste like this back home, do they? We need to tell people about this. Let’s kidnap the baker and set him up at the Indigo Lounge. Your mom would be a millionaire.”

“And then she could leave Nora, and we’d all live happily ever after.”

“Come on now, Holly. That’s not fair. Nora just had a natural reaction.”

“Okay, let’s just forget about Nora and move on to a serious question,” Holly said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “If you could have dinner with any three people, dead or alive, who would they be? And you can’t include Nora.”

Deborah laughed, her eyes twinkling playfully. “That’s a tough one. Let’s see… I’d choose Audrey Hepburn because I’ve always admired her grace and elegance. Jane Austen would probably be there because I’d love to pick her brain about her novels. There’s never been a writer like her since. And lastly, Barack Obama, because I find his perspective on life and politics fascinating. And we need him right now.”

“Fair enough but, we need his wife. Plus, she’s hot, right?”

“Yep. Pretty hot.”

“Great choices,” Holly said, nodding appreciatively. “For me, it would be Frida Kahlo because her art and life story are so inspiring. Plus, I do like a monobrow on a woman.”

“Is that why you picked me?” Deborah teased as she raised her eyebrows and squashed them together with her fingertips.

“Totally. Then, maybe David Bowie because he was David Bowie, and I reckon that’s a bit of a no-brainer. Lastly, my grandmother, because she passed away when I was really little, and I wish I’d known her better.”

Deborah smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “I just so love that. What interesting choices. And I had no idea you were a Bowie fan. That’s not your era. It’s only just my era!”

“Wait up… But I thought you were fifty years older than me. He’d be way after your time, wouldn’t he?”

“No. It’s the jetlag playing tricks on you. Seriously though, let’s make that the last joke about my age. We’ll be hearing enough of those jokes when we get back home, no doubt. And I want to soak up the culture and grow a few new brain cells while we’re here.”

“Agreed, Debs.”

They grew closer as they continued exploring Paris, visiting the Louvre, strolling along the Seine, and sampling the local cuisine. Each moment was filled with laughter and shared stories, peeling back the layers of their lives and revealing their true selves to each other.

Back in their hotel room that night, Holly suggested they play the 36 Questions Game. Deborah agreed, intrigued by the idea of deepening their bond even further. She’d heard Mel talking about it over lunch one day but hadn’t really understood. It was something along the lines of either being in or out of love by the end of the question session. She knew that no series of questions could cause her to lose interest in Holly. Not at this point, so she was ready to experiment.

“Okay, first question,” Holly began, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her nipples catching Deborah’s eye. “If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?”

Deborah thought for a moment. “I think I’d want the ability to read minds. It would make understanding people much easier, don’t you think?”

Holly laughed, shaking her head. “True, but it could also be overwhelming. Imagine hearing everyone’s thoughts all the time. ”

“Good point,” Deborah conceded, then smirked. “I don’t think you’d want to hear mine right now. What about you?”

“I do! I do want to hear!” Holly protested.

“I was imagining ripping off your nightgown and spending the best part of tonight and tomorrow with my body against yours.”

Holly burst into laughter, her cheeks flushing. “Ha ha! All in good time, Deborah. Oh, look how hard my nipples are! They’re listening!”

“What ability would you choose?”

“I’d want the ability to heal people,” Holly said thoughtfully. “There’s so much suffering in the world and being able to take that away would be amazing. I’d like to have healing hands or something.”

Deborah felt her chest swell with affection. “You have such a big heart, Holly. And your hands have certainly healed me, let me tell you.”

“You’re quite the little flirt tonight, Ms. Morgan. I’m loving it.”

They continued through the questions, their answers bringing new insights into each other’s lives.

“What’s your most treasured memory?” Holly asked, her eyes softening .

Deborah smiled wistfully. “I think it’s a tie between the day I got married?—”

“Don’t make me jealous now,” Holly teased, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her eyes.

“No need. We all know how that ended.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“And the day I graduated. Both were moments of immense pride and happiness.”

Holly nodded. “For me, it’s probably the day I got my first art exhibit. In Australia. Seeing my work appreciated by others was incredibly fulfilling.”

“What? I knew nothing about any of this. Are you an artist? I had you down as the sporty type. I thought you worked in a surfboard shop or something?”

“Sure, the surf shop, a few bars… whatever I could get. But I paint—oils, portraits.”

“Wow. This makes you even hotter.”

As the night went on, they moved to more intimate questions, their connection deepening with every answer.

“What do you value most in a friendship or a relationship?” Holly asked, her eyes searching Deborah’s.

“Loyalty and trust,” Deborah replied without hesitation. “Having someone who’s always there for you, no matter what. It’s got to be that, right?”

“I feel the same way. That’s why I cherish what we have, Deborah.

Deborah felt a surge of emotion. “Oh, Holly. Me too. More than anything. You have no idea.”

They continued talking late into the night, exploring each other’s dreams, fears and hopes for the future. By the time they finally fell asleep, curled up in each other’s arms, Deborah felt such a real sense of peace and happiness that she hadn’t felt in years.

The following day, they woke up early and decided to visit Montmartre. Walking through the charming, cobbled streets, they stumbled upon a small art studio.

“Let’s go in,” Holly suggested. “This place looks incredible.”

The studio was filled with beautiful oil paintings, sketches, murals, and sculptures. Holly’s entire face lit up as she admired the artwork, and Deborah couldn’t help but feel a deep admiration for her passion .

“This place is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Holly said, turning to Deborah. “I could spend hours here. I wonder if these are all local artists. God, the French sure know what they’re doing. I’d kill for talent like this.”

Deborah squeezed her by the shoulders. “I love seeing you this happy. And I can’t wait to see your work. You will show me when we get home, won’t you?”

Holly leaned in and kissed her gently. “Of course I will. I’ll paint you. In the nude. Like one of the French girls. Thank you for bringing me here, Deborah. For everything.”

Deborah’s heart skipped a beat. “No, thank you, Holly. You’ve taught me something about taking risks. I can’t believe I met you when I did.”

They spent the rest of the day exploring, visiting the Sacré-C?ur, and enjoying the stunning views of Paris. That evening, they returned to their hotel, exhausted but happy.

As they sat on the balcony, looking out over the twinkling lights of Paris, Deborah felt a profound sense of contentment. She turned to Holly, her heart full.

“I love you, Holly,” she said softly .

Holly’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you too, Deborah.”

“Let’s make a promise,” Deborah said, taking Holly’s hand. “No matter what happens, we’ll always be honest with each other and face everything together.”

Holly nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “I promise.”

Deborah felt at peace. She had finally found the courage to embrace her feelings for Holly. She knew back home it would be more complex, but lost in the romance in France, she could shut the real world away.

The following morning, the sun peeked through the thin curtains of their hotel room, casting a golden glow on Holly’s hair. Deborah watched her momentarily, feeling a warm flutter in her chest. They had planned to visit a quaint café that Deborah had read about, nestled in the heart of Paris. For a moment she wished they could stay in France together forever and leave the all the forthcoming drama behind .

As they wandered through the narrow streets near Saint-Sulpice Church, the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafted through the air. Deborah felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. It was as if this moment was exactly where she was meant to be. They found the café—a small, charming place with ivy creeping up the walls and just a few tables outside. They took a seat, and soon, a miserable-looking waiter approached them.

“Bonjour, mesdames. What do you want?” he asked while forcing a smile through his teeth.

Deborah ordered a cappuccino, while Holly opted for a croissant and an espresso. As they waited for their order, they chatted about their plans for the day. The café was bustling with activity, yet it felt like they were in their own little world, wrapped in each other’s presence.

“I can’t wait! There is so much to do and so much to see! How do Parisians ever get any work done? There’s no way I could stay cooped up in an office all day if I lived somewhere as beautiful as this,” exclaimed Holly in a bright voice.

“I’m guessing the waiter must live in the suburbs, right? He’s certainly not full of the joys of Paris, is he? Have you ever seen such a grump? That’s the difference, right? We’re all fake grins and compliments in L.A. because half the population lives off tips. They’re unionized over here. That waiter couldn’t care less whether we’re here or not.”

“Or whether we have to wait 15 minutes for our order. Jeez, I bet he wouldn’t even help if one of us dropped down dead. What a creep.”

“Let’s not let him ruin our day.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud crash inside the café. Deborah turned to see the red-faced and flustered waiter lying under a dropped tray of dishes. The café fell silent for a moment, then erupted into laughter and sympathetic claps. The waiter gave an embarrassed bow before quickly retreating to the kitchen. Deborah couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling second-hand embarrassment and relief that she wasn’t in his shoes.

“That poor guy,” Deborah said, laughing. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Screw that dude,” Holly answered. “Where’s my espresso!”

A waitress brought their drinks out just a couple of minutes later, and as Deborah took a sip of her cappuccino, she felt the creamy foam tickle her lips. The coffee’s rich flavor was perfect, and she sighed contentedly. They spent the next hour at the café, enjoying the food, the atmosphere, and each other’s company. Deborah felt like she was on a cloud, her happiness bubbling from within like champagne.

Later, after a quick lunch at an indoor farmer’s market, they decided to visit the famous Shakespeare and Company bookstore. As a lover of literature, Deborah had always dreamed of coming here. The moment they walked in, she was enveloped by the smell of old books and the quiet hum of whispers and rustling pages. Holly immediately headed for the poetry section while Deborah browsed through the shelves of classic novels. She picked up a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice and flipped through its yellowed pages, feeling a sense of nostalgia.

“This place is magical. I read this in high school. I’m a huge fan,” she whispered to Holly, who was now beside her with a stack of poetry books in her arms.

“It really is,” Holly replied. “I could spend hours here. I want these—all of them.”

Deborah couldn’t stop laughing. “We can stay as long as you like, and you can read what you want, but we can’t get more than a couple of books in our luggage.”

As they continued to explore the bookstore, they stumbled upon a small reading nook in the corner. It was cozy, with a couple of armchairs and a lamp casting a warm glow. They sat down on a velvet sofa, Holly reading aloud from one of her poetry books while Deborah listened, her head resting on Holly’s shoulder. The rhythmic cadence of Holly’s voice was soothing, and Deborah felt herself getting lost in the words.

When they finally left the bookstore, the sun was beginning to set. They walked hand in hand along the Seine. Deborah felt an overwhelming sense of peace. This day had been perfect in every way, and she knew that these memories would stay with her forever.

In that moment, with the city of Paris as their backdrop, Deborah knew that she had found something truly special. Her love for Holly was a beautiful adventure, and she couldn’t wait to see where it would take them next.