Chapter 7

7

Claudia and I tangled into each other over the next few days. I only left her room to work, and even that took effort. I could talk for hours about the sex, which Urduja urged me to do when she came into my dressing room after each show to try and extract all the details.

"Come on, girl, have some sympathy for us here who have to rely on the terrible buffer rate of the ship's wifi for our porn fix. Give me all the juicy details," she teased.

I'd replied with a roll of my eyes, and she'd dramatically collapsed on my sofa.

"Well, as much as I miss my best friend, I have to say this sexathon is doing wonders for your complexion, shows, and style. Even Fernanda has been commenting on how this has been your best circuit yet, and you know how hard it is to get a compliment out of that wet fish," she said.

"High praise indeed." I laughed, but I felt myself glowing.

For such a confident woman, Claudia hid behind her steely shell. The first night in the restaurant when she showed her vulnerability, I could never have known that that would be such a rare and difficult thing for her to do.

She struggled to share her emotions, and when she talked about her thoughts and feelings, past or present, it was always so matter of fact that she sounded cold and detached.

But I could see through it. I could hear the forced edge, the mask she'd been wearing for a long time.

"I know it may seem like I'm some posh bitch with no emotions. But I'm not. I wasn't always like this, Raven, but I had to become this," she admitted during a late-night cuddle, while I pretended to watch some nonsensical show on TV.

"I don't think you're a posh bitch with no emotions, Claudia," I murmured as I pulled her closer, holding her tight against my chest. I wondered if she could feel my heart beating.

"I didn't have a choice. My mother barely spoke English, and my father was a waste-of-space asshole. We had nothing. I had nothing, and I knew I could be something. The world is changing. It is my hope that girls today don't need to become heartless to make it in this world, but thirty years ago, that was the only option. If you wanted to play in the same league as the guys, you had to be better than them, and even then, better wasn't enough. Best. You had to be the best to even be given a thought. My mother died before I really got anywhere. Any reason I had to hold onto all that emotional stuff died with her. It sounds dramatic, doesn't it? It wasn't. It just happened slowly until I realized I was fifty with no friends, relationships, or anyone I actually gave a fuck about in my life."

I kept still for a moment, letting her tumbled words swirl around in my head. I didn't want to instantly reply to her. I wanted to give her the care and consideration she deserved when she'd opened up such a deep part of her feelings and thoughts to me.

"I loved someone once. A girl," Claudia continued. "The greatest love of my life didn't feel like that at the time. We grew in love. Yes, there were butterflies, passion, falling. But it wasn't a movie moment. It was a movie in itself.Just two kids who lived three doors apart. For the longest time, she was my best friend. We created worlds in our back gardens. We built swings in the quarry. I was bossy, and she listened. I made the plans, and she made them come to life. Or she tried because my imagination was always so much bigger than reality." She sighed deeply, lost in thought.

"I loved her dad and she loved my mom. She sat through the long nights of crying, of wishing I could escape from my dad, wanting to break away from this suffocating place. She held my hand when my dad went on rages, and then when he stopped caring, and then when he moved out. Funny, how after he left my house felt so much calmer, and yet my mom and I seemed to miss the turbulence."

It didn't feel like she was talking to me anymore. She was lost in her memories. "There wasn't some big moment. Just fingers that gravitated toward each other. Holding hands. The hugs goodnight. Then the first kiss under a blanket. Giggling. No idea what it meant or where it would take us. Sixteen and in love. And then she moved, left, and I never saw her again. That was my first and last feeling of love, 35 years ago. Sad isn't it?" she said with a laugh that didn't take the edge off.

"I don't think it's sad at all. I think it's beautiful to have one love that sits with you like that."

"What about you?" she asked, turning to look up at me.

"Love is magical. It defies all the odds. Sparks from nowhere and can turn upside down all the things we hold close—logic, sense, reason.I thought I'd find it hard to love, but I don't. Not at all. In fact, I find it easy."

I took a deep breath. I felt a little unsure and on uneven ground as I continued.

"But being in love is different. Being in love is when you think about someone the moment you wake up. When you read their messages and you smile. When you make time for them in your day because they give you butterflies. When you see them in everything you do because they're never far from your thoughts. When they tell you they want to touch you and your heart races. When they whisper your name and you can't catch your breath. When you have said it a million ways but you haven't said it directly in three words. I. Love. You. because the most terrifying thought is that they don't feel the same. Because for me, being in love, it's like in the movies, it's the lyrics in songs, the beauty in the paintings, the whole, all in, romance. All people have ever written about. The kind of love that makes the world stop. Being in love has no lists. No plans. No brakes. No rational thoughts. No pauses. No stops.It just is."

We didn't have sex that night, just cuddled like that. Neither of us slept. We just lay wrapped up in each other's arms, thinking about love and wondering what it all meant.