While not a sequel to either story, this one exists in the same ‘universe’ of avatars and altering reality which features in 'Hahsni' and 'The Replacement Lover' and, to some extent, 'More than an Ally' and 'That Personal Experience'. This story, especially Lia’s outfit, was heavily influenced by a couple I saw in Nottingham.
The New Version
Part 1
Bethany was sure that was Antonio. The question was, who the woman was walking with him this evening. Antonio, or ‘Andy’ as he insisted Bethany call him, had been seeing her mother for the past three months and she had imagined that the relationship was developing into something long term. While she had been bringing up Bethany, her mother, Gillian, had been focused on her daughter. However, starting her degree course, Bethany had moved out and into a shared house. It was only across the city from where she had been raised, but her intention was, now that she was into her twenties and far from being a child, her mother would feel freed from worrying about her and instead could look to her own life. Antonio coming into it had seemed to be a good step. He was around Gillian’s age and height, with a salt-and-pepper moustache. He dressed trendily for a man of his years, just avoiding looking as if he was trying to be twenty years younger.
What concerned Bethany this morning was that he seemed to be with another woman. This one was his height too, but unlike Gillian she had tightly trimmed hair dyed a dark purple shade with blonde highlights at the tips. She was also dressed in an outfit that Bethany could not imagine her mother wearing. It was entirely of black leather – a smart, kind of cropped café racer-style jacket, tight pocketless trousers and fashionable moto boots with stud detailing. Bethany wondered if this woman was a colleague of Antonio’s and then perhaps a relative. She had heard that Italian women were into their leather. Bethany guessed it was not her business who Antonio met with. However, she did feel that she had some duty to see if he was cheating on her mother. The pair stopped and Bethany kept walking drawing closer to them.
Antonio reached up and touched the woman’s hair. As she turned and smiled at him, Bethany would have sworn it was her mother’s profile. However, as she slowed her pace but continued to look again, the differences were increasingly apparent. The red lipstick was brighter than any shade her mother had worn and she certainly had never shaded her eyelids or her cheeks that way. This woman wore glasses as her mother did, but they had trendy black rectangular frames. Bethany then guessed that if Antonio was going to cheat with another woman, it was likely that he would go for one looking similar to Gillian. Then Bethany was uncertain if that was how it worked. Antonio kissed the woman on the lips. She seemed to hesitate but then was responding, kissing him back, pulling his hand round so it clasped her bum held in its smooth tight leather.
Almost without thinking, Bethany lifted her phone and quickly snapped pictures of the kissing couple then more as they broke. The woman even seemed to glance in her direction for a moment. Bethany kept clicking away feeling that if she was going to prove to her mother that Antonio was being unfaithful, she needed to have good, clear evidence. Then Antonio raised his hand as if waving to someone. Bethany’s eye was caught by the gesture and then she realised that somehow in those moments the woman in leather had stepped away. Bethany looked around, but despite the woman’s distinctive hair and clothes, she could not spot her any more. Bethany accepted the woman must have gone behind something or into a car; there had to be a rational explanation.
While Bethany was thinking over what had happened, Antonio had moved away and she just caught sight of him further up the street walking briskly, perhaps she would have said in a jaunty manner. Bethany felt conflicting emotions. Part of her continued to argue it was all something innocent, but in contrast the kiss had seemed much more passionate than she would have expected if Antonio had been with a relative or a colleague. Having come to the conclusion that she had witnessed infidelity, even if he had only been seeing her mother some months, Bethany still had the challenge of what to do with the information. She knew it would be hard for Gillian to face that she had been treated this way; she had been so enthusiastic about how good Antonio was for her. She might, Bethany imagined, deny it all; say that her daughter had somehow got it wrong. While Bethany was keen the two of them established their own lives now, she certainly did not want that to come at the price of a serious rift between them. Then Bethany considered springing the news on her mother might worsen the situation and lead to Gillian to rush off into an even less suitable relationship, certainly than how the one with Antonio had appeared to be at the start.
Recognising that this needed careful handling, Bethany felt it important to do nothing rash; to sleep on it. She headed home to her small flat she rented. It was part of a large house that had been split up and so was popular with students like her. However, unlike being in halls, she could close out the world and potter around her own small kitchen and bathroom with no-one to bother her. She got herself a tea and sat down to flick through social media before deciding what to eat tonight when there was a knock at her door. Going to it, she was not surprised to find it was Zoë. She took some of the same modules as Bethany and had always seemed keen to collaborate on stuff. She often turned up with some food or cakes she had prepared; typically with wine or beer. More than once she had ended up crashing on Bethany’s sofa or had to be ordered a taxi back to her own place.
At times Bethany felt put out by Zoë’s earnestness. However, she guessed the woman meant no harm. Added to that, Bethany would have to say she was pretty cool, dressed in a kind of snazzy urban casual style and she certainly seemed to know all the best bands and places to go. After Lauren had proven to be so selfish and that huge row with Mia, Bethany realised that if nothing else, ‘Zozo’ as she had ended up contracting the woman’s name to, was reliable. She did, however, have a tendency to turn up right at Bethany’s place, especially in the evening, when most other women would have just pinged her via one social media site or another.
‘Bee, glad you’re in. I got some cranberry-orange muffins I made and there’s the “space” version, if you want to be daring.’
While in some ways Zoë came over as a nerd and certainly put in the work she needed to do, and more, for the course, she was also that little bit edgy. While Bethany had not seen her smoke, she did know she went in for hash cakes. Not being one happy ever to lose control, Bethany always refused politely. However, Zoë had not yet given up on trying to convert her.
‘Zo … Zozo, you are too good to me,’ she said half-joking.
Then, however, she realised that Zoë might be the one to help her out with the issue around her mother. Bethany was sure she was in some groups connected to women’s issues and maybe she could give what was felt to be the right perspective on men cheating.
‘No, I am really glad to see you; I need some help,’ Bethany continued now more seriously as if she had to convince Zoë of that.
‘Of course, Bee, you know, I’m always here for you; whatever you need.’
Bethany smiled warmly. ‘I love you for that, Zozo.’
For a moment Zoë’s face seemed intense.
‘Sure … that makes me … well, glad, you know.’
‘Good. Come through.’
In the living room, Zoë took off the biker leather jacket she seemed to almost always wear. Beneath was a tight-fitting midnight blue camisole-like top in a satiny finish, it had slightly capped sleeves.
‘You got the tattoo,’ Bethany noticed.
‘Yes … I thought … well … do you like it?’
It was a kind of geometric floral pattern on the inside of her left forearm. Bethany was not really into tattoos still associating them at best with celebrities or more often with criminals or bikers. However, she had to admit Zoë’s had a beauty to it. Almost without thinking she reached out and ran her finger gently around the pattern. Realising what she was doing, she snatched it back.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘No … no worries; you can keep doing that if you like.’
There were times when Bethany did not understand properly what Zoë meant by things. She accepted though that was probably why she had the style which Bethany felt she lacked. Tonight she was in dark blue leather leggings with ribbed patches at the knee and the back of her calves. Her boots were black moto style. Bethany found she sometimes felt Zoë was best equipped for riding around the city post-apocalypse and then days when she turned up in huge sweaters and baggy jeans; laced up boots and looked ready to work a North Sea trawler.
In the next few minutes, Bethany did what she felt was right to do as a host. She poured out the dark ale that Zoë had got at a micro-brewery and set out the muffins on a plate, separating the hash ones from the standard. Then, as usual, the two women squeezed on to the small sofa that had come with the flat.
‘Nice muffins, thanks,’ Bethany said politely.
‘No worries, Bee, you know I like to make you stuff you’d like.’
‘I appreciate it; always, you know that.’
For a moment Zoë looked at Bethany a little intensely but then smiled, brushing a strand of her friend’s hair away from her face.
‘But you’ve got something else you need a hand with, yes?’
Bethany nodded and then reached for her phone. Soon she had the images up and was flicking through them.
‘So that’s your Mum? Wow, she’s cool. Would she you lend you some of her stuff? I know you’d look so good in those leathers, Bee; you ought to give them a go.’
Bethany guessed she should have expected Zoë to like the woman’s outfit. For herself all she had in leather was a couple of belts and a pair of smart shoes. She was much more a teeshirt, fleece, joggers and trainers woman. She certainly did not feel she could get away with even what Zoë wore, let alone the woman in the shots.
‘No, that is what I am saying. That is Mum’s … well, boyfriend; “man” – whatever you want to call him, but that’s not her.’
‘Oh, okay, but she looks alike. I thought it was her: the face shape; the glasses.’
It took some moments for Bethany to even remember when Zoë had seen Gillian. Then she recalled that day right at the beginning of the year and, of course, the photos she had on her laptop of her mother. Had there not been one evening when they had talked about families and what their plans were in that direction? She struggled to remember what Zoë had said.
‘I guess she looks a bit like Mum … but, well, she would never dress like that.’
‘Maybe she had a makeover; maybe she was wearing things Antonio bought her. You know, well, she is free and single and they say it’s the sexiest time in a woman’s life.’
Bethany had heard such comments before. However, the change from the woman she knew so well, seemed too extreme.
‘No, she’d never dress like that and the hair.’
‘Is it so outrageous?’ Zoë said tapping her own hair.
Hers was probably as short as that of the women in the picture, though shaded a very dark blue.
‘But you’re half her age; even less.’
‘So are you. Surely you could have a hairstyle like that then?’
Bethany chuckled a little wearily. This was a line that had been becoming a little tiresome from Zoë recently: her suggesting that Bethany make some radical change in style.
‘Come on, be serious. I would look an idiot like that and my Mum would too.’
‘Okay, so you think she’s dressing; having hairstyles that are too young for her? That is the problem?’
‘No, it’s … it’s what I said at the start: this isn’t my Mum. This is another woman that Antonio – “Andy”,’ she mocked, ‘is seeing; is snogging.’ She gestured to the picture of them both kissing. ‘I just want to know how to tell Mum. I don’t want her hurt but I also don’t want her being cheated on.’
Zoë nodded, now looking sage, as if she had understood all of this from the start. ‘Well, it certainly looks like these two are getting it on.’
‘Yes, and when Antonio is supposed to be … well, loyal to Mum. Is that too much to ask these days?’
Zoë shook her head, though effectively in agreement and sending the long straight earring on her left ear shaking back and forth. Bethany saw now that she had a stud in the right side of her nose that she had not noticed before. Perhaps it was new. For a moment Bethany thought about saying something about how Zoë was dressed and looking these days. Now with the tattoo and the nose stud, perhaps she was looking a bit too ‘alternative’ for Bethany to be seen with her. She guessed though, if nothing else, it would be foolish to say anything when she was asking the woman for some kind of help. Maybe, though, next time when she called, Bethany would pretend to be out.
‘No, no woman should have to put up being treated like that by a man … by a woman; by anyone they are close to; have opened themselves up to.’
Bethany smiled in response, pleased that she and Zoë were in accord on the issue.
‘So, what do I do? Do I tell Mum straight out or email or text her or something? What is the best way?’
‘It is down to you Bee: you know your Mum best. However, I think there is another option. Why not go to Antonio and tell him that you have seen him and that he ought to be honest with your Mum. Is he likely to get … well, angry?’
Bethany shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. He certainly does seem to be a violent man. He has all that “I am a lover, not a fighter” line and as he’s Mum’s age, so I don’t imagine him flailing around with his fists.’
‘Well, that’s good then. So, meet up with him and tell him you know about him and this other woman and he needs to come clean to Lia.’
For a moment the name ‘Lia’ drew Bethany up short, but then she remembered that it was precisely the contraction Antonio used of her mother’s name. Bethany realised she must have mentioned this at some time to Zoë. Having got past that, she reflected on the advice.
‘Look, if you’re worried that he might get annoyed or something, I’ll come with you for support. You know I’m always here for you, Bee.’
‘Thank you, you’re a …’ Bethany was about to say ‘good friend’ but given what she had decided about distancing herself a little from Zoë she pulled back from that. ‘You’re a real help, Zozo – Zoë.’ Bethany felt that dropping the contraction was probably a good idea too. ‘But I think I’ve got to do this on my own.’
‘Okay …’ Zoë responded tentatively. ‘I was going to say “are you sure?” but I know there’s nothing worse than that and anyway it’s patronising.’
‘No, it’s alright.’
While it was not the approach that she would have come up with herself, Bethany was now seeing the sense in Zoë’s suggestion. Then, however, she realised that she had got what she needed from the woman and it was probably best to begin to put some distance between them. Maybe she had been careless in not seeing how Zoë was becoming; the growing ‘alternative’ aspects to her style. She wondered if it had been one reason why Cristina had become distant.
‘So, are you going to try one of the space ones?’ Zoë asked eagerly.
‘No, thanks.’ She looked to her phone ostentatiously. ‘Look Zoë I still have that reflective journal to finish for tomorrow. I need to get on with that,’ Bethany lied.
‘Oh, right. I thought you’d done it.’
‘No … no, I realised I had mucked it up. I started again.’
‘Do you want me to have a look at it; help out?’
‘No, better not. If I keep at it tonight, I should get it redone by the deadline.’
‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’
Zoë clearly understood she was being dismissed. She retrieved her biker jacket.
‘I’ll leave the rest of the muffins and the beer.’
‘Thanks but … well, it’s not really my taste,’ Bethany continued to lie.
‘Ah, okay.’
‘Thanks though … for bringing them over … for baking them.’
‘It was … it was my pleasure, Bee.’
Zoë looked a little embarrassed as she said that. She made no further move to the door and then, to Bethany, as if she was expecting her to say something.
‘You know … you know, well, we get on well and I … well, if you like I could … you know … stay over; help you with the reflective journal stuff.’
‘That’s kind. But … you know what’ll happen, we will end up talking half the night instead and I’ll feel … well, tired tomorrow.’
‘Sure.’
‘Are you worried about getting across town … it’s not that late but I can call a cab if you’d prefer.’
Zoë gave a weak smile. ‘Thanks, no, I should be alright. I probably need to do some walking; some thinking about things.’
Bethany now wondered what had made Zoë sound so subdued. Maybe she was upset about the muffins or maybe, Bethany realised now, she had needed to talk to Bethany about something. She felt a bit foolish then; rather selfish too, that she had simply gone on about her ‘problem’. For a moment she worried that she was getting to be too much like Lauren.
‘Look, Zoë, if you need to talk … I am probably not the best person, but you can always call me; message me, something, okay?’
Zoë nodded slowly.
‘And you, me. Let me know how it goes about your Mum.’
‘Sure,’ Bethany responded but felt it was a kind of price she had to pay for asking for help. ‘And we can … well, do something, maybe this weekend, yes?’
‘Well, you’re coming to see Arcenciel?’
For a moment, Bethany did not know who she was referring to, but then it clicked. ‘Hakim and Rob’s band?’
‘Yeah, you remember; we all said we would go and support them.’
Bethany did remember making some commitment to the two men who were on her course. ‘So where are they playing?’
‘They’re on stage at Pride; in the park.’
‘Right,’ Bethany said then.
She felt torn then between the commitment she had made and turning up at the Pride event. Though she would argue strongly that she was not bigoted and had no problem with gay men, they were quite sweet, she did worry that, somehow, she would find herself being hauled off by a very butch lesbian.
‘I always worry if I go … then people will think I am … you know, gay; a lesbian.’
‘I guess it is an easy mistake to make.’
‘What? I thought this stuff looks … well, you know, like I’m clearly straight.’
‘Well, there’s no … I was going to say “badge” but I guess lesbians are women like any other women. Don’t worry about it; I’ll be there to fight off the big, bad butches if they try to lay a finger on you.’ Zoë offered with a smile. ‘But you’ll come. I’m sure it’ll be fun and …’
‘And what?’
‘You might surprise yourself.’
Bethany wondered if it would be as bad as she was imagining it. Was there that much harm in wearing a rainbow hat and seeing some women kissing each other? Half the celebrities she read about these days seemed to have same-sex relationships, at least some of the time. Going might build up her credibility a bit and she did feel sorry for Hakim and Rob and the other guys who played with them.
‘Right, it’s a date then. I’ll come by at twelve. We can have some lunch before heading out; this place is nearer.’
‘Yes, sure,’ Bethany agreed, though not certain really what to.
Her response seemed to brighten up Zoë who leant in and then did that gentle ‘bump’ kiss on Bethany’s lips. Normally they simply hugged, but there were times Zoë felt compelled to do this, saying it was something from her childhood. Bethany guessed she could not complain especially as after this meet-up on Saturday, she was going to be fully scaling down her contact with the woman. Zoë held her hand as she walked to the door and Bethany went along with it. She smiled and gave a cute wave as Bethany closed the door. She waited until she heard the retreating footsteps before locking it, feeling it as much symbolic as practical.
For some reason, Bethany wanted to run over everything Zoë had said, but told herself it was pointless to get too wrapped up in what that woman was thinking. She guessed she had to be grateful, though, for her suggestion about tackling the problem of Antonio and going straight to him. With that decision feeling fixed in her mind, Bethany went off to make some dinner, feeling a little foolish for passing up on the muffins, which, if she had to tell the truth, had been delicious.
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