The Strawberry Heart Page 9

  “I need you to hear the whole story. Anselle, I haven’t left my apartment for almost two years. I don’t know if I will ever be able too. You need to understand why and decide if you can handle that.”

  “But I can feel that you’re hurting. I don’t want you to hurt.” She tried to control the emotion in her voice but failed, “I care about you.”

  Niav heard the emotion, “I care about you too that’s why I want you to know about me so you can decide if you want to stay. I hated being in hospital. They wanted me to stay overnight because of the potential concussion but I only wanted to get home. I called my girlfriend to come to get me and I walked out.”

  Niav was shaking a little more violently by then and Anselle really wanted her to stop. “That’s enough for today, I think. I know you have more to say and I’ll listen but I want you to stop now. You’re all tense and shaking and breathing hard. I want you to try and calm down. Take some deep breaths and let yourself relax. Okay?”

  The woman did as she was instructed and felt herself loosening up. She went back to doodling on Anselle’s shirt with her finger.

  “Are you still in touch with your friends?”

  “No. They stuck around for a while but they couldn’t handle it when I grew afraid to go out. Some of them got mad when I couldn’t ‘girl up’ and just ‘get over it’. My girlfriend at the time tried to drag me down the stairs and out the door. I had an attack on the landing and she just left me there. I never saw her again after that.”

  “None of them tried to help you?”

  “My girlfriend was the one taking me to see the doctors. I thought she was something special. But I guess she got impatient with me.”

  “I want to help you, if you’ll let me.” Anselle kissed Niav on top her head.

  “Help me?” Niav hadn’t thought about getting help in a long while. The artist was comfortable with her life the way it was. She had seen no reason to seek any more professional help. But now Anselle was there and she wanted the girl in her life. She wanted to be better; to get better; to do better. She wanted to fly to New Zealand and see the places Anselle had photographed. It would take time but with Anselle’s support she thought it may be possible. She dared to let herself hope for the first time in a long time.

  Something in the way Niav said ‘help me’ got Anselle thinking and she didn’t like where her mind went. Niav had had three attacks in front of her because of something she said or did. The last one was so bad Niav could barely move after it. Who was she to think that she was capable of helping someone who had panic attacks? Was she being too forward in collecting information on doctors and then expecting Niav to accept it? If Niav decided she wanted help then the first step would be for her to seek it herself, right? For the first time since meeting her neighbor Anselle began to doubt she was actually any good for the girl at all.

  “Anselle, what’s wrong? You went all rigid and you have a far-away look in your eyes now.” Niav had propped herself up on Anselle’s chest to look into her face.

  “I’m fine, it’s just…..nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  Anselle said a little more firmly, “I’m fine.”

  “If you say so,” Niav pushed herself up and collected the dessert dishes to bring them to the kitchen.

  Anselle thought, ‘Fuck’! She got up and trailed Niav into the kitchen. She stood with her chest to the woman’s back, “I’m sorry. I just got to thinking about some things.”

  “What things?” Niav turned off the water and spun around. She put her hands on Anselle’s hips.

  “Stupid things. It doesn’t matter.”

  Niav pressed, “Tell me. It’s your turn to talk.”

  Anselle took Niav’s hand and led her back to the sofa, “I want to help you, if you want me too, if you need me too. But I can’t stop thinking about the three attacks you’ve had since we met. They were because of something I said or something you thought I was going to do.” Anselle ran her hands through her hair. “I was wondering how good I would be at helping you when all I seem to do is hurt you.”

  Niav’s face fell into a deep frown, “What does that mean? You don’t want to help me anymore? You said you’d be there for me. You made me trust you. You said you’d fallen for me. What about all those other things you said? Did you mean any of it?” The artist stood up, stumbling as she turned around to walk away.

  Anselle stood and reached out to steady the artist, “Please, Niav, don’t walk away. I meant all of it. I want to help you. I just don’t want to hurt you anymore. I will be here for you as long as you’ll have me. I….I love you.”

  “You love me.” Niav continued to frown and keep her back to Anselle.

  “Yes. That’s kinda what I meant when I said that I’d fallen for you. It’s okay if you can’t say it back right now. I understand. I know you want to go slow.” When Niav still didn’t turn around or say anything Anselle added, “I’m sorry.” The silence grew uncomfortable for her so she stepped around the artist and headed for the door without looking back. But she just couldn’t leave. She turned back around, “Niav, say something, anything. Please don’t just let me walk away from you.”

  Niav stared up at the blonde in front of her, “I don’t know what to say. I think that if I move or say anything I’ll wake up and it will have been a dream. It’s been almost two years since I heard those words from someone and believed it.” She started to breathe heavily and tremble again.

  “Look at me Niav,” Anselle took the artist in her arms, “take deep, even breaths. Try to relax. You’re safe.”

  Niav continued to tremble in Anselle’s arms, “I’m not having an attack,” she sobbed.

  Anselle realized Niav was crying; she took the younger girl by the arms and pulled her back down to the sofa. “I love you. I’ll say it every day. I love you.” She pressed kisses to the tears on the woman’s face.

  “Do you know who the last person to say that to me was?” Anselle shook her head. “The last person who said that to me was my mom, right before she told me what a disappointment I was. She let my dad convince her that I had attacks because I was gay and that they wouldn’t happen if I was a ‘real girl’ and that the attacks were punishment from God. We had been so close but she couldn’t handle having a son who didn’t like girls and then add panic attacks on top of that well that was the final straw. They even thought being an artist wasn’t a ‘real job’.”

  “I love you and I don’t have a problem with the fact that you’re gay,” Anselle winked at Niav to get her to smile and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I think you’re a very talented artist,” she planted a kiss to Niav’s other cheek. “I think you’re gorgeous and funny and smart and a great cook and did I mention gorgeous? And I think you’re love of strawberries in very intriguing.”

  Niav laughed and wiped away a few tears, “I love strawberries. I always have them.” The brunette picked up her head; eyes twinkling and tackled Anselle to the sofa.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Niav didn’t sleep well that night. She tossed and turned going over everything she and Anselle had said that evening. She was sure she wanted Anselle in her life but was it love? Yes, she thought it was but she couldn’t say it just yet. She knew she had to get better first. She also felt that she had to leave Anselle with a way out if things didn’t go well and she didn’t want Anselle to feel trapped by an ‘I love you too’. If Anselle thought her feelings weren’t returned it would be easier for her to get out of the relationship if she needed too. The minute Niav said it there would be no going back. But Niav could do little things that would show the blonde how she felt without actually saying it. After all, saying it and showing it were two entirely different things. This morning she would make strawberry mini-tarts. She looked at the clock; 4 am; there was just enough time.

  She jumped out of bed, retrieved her recipe and gathered the ingredients. The first thing to make was the filling. She put a saucepan on the stove and added
the milk, vanilla bean and seeds. While that simmered she mixed together the sugar and egg yolks in a bowl. She strained cornstarch and flour into the egg mix and stirred. When the milk started to simmer she removed the saucepan from the heat and the vanilla bean from the saucepan and slowly added the egg mixture while whisking. The brunette returned the saucepan to the heat and whisked for another two minutes. After the mixture was strained the butter, zest and salt were added. She poured the cream into a bowl and placed a sheet of plastic wrap over the top to prevent a skin from forming before putting the bowl into the fridge to chill for two hours. She cleaned up the workspace then set about making the pastry. She mixed the melted butter, sugar, salt and flour until it was well combined; she lined the pastry cups with the dough and put them into the fridge to set.

  She had time before she had to finish the tarts so she sat down at her drafting table and added a puppy to the sketch of little Anselle sitting by the tree holding the upside down book. Satisfied with the outcome she scanned all the sketches and sent them in an email to her boss. She opened a new email and sent the scans to Anselle so she could send them to her mom.

  By the time the woman was done with the sketching and emailing it was time to cook the pastry shells. Once the oven came to temperature she put the pastry shells in to cook for twenty minutes. While she waited for the shells to cook and then cool she prepared the strawberries for the topping and more strawberries, oranges, melon and grapes for fruit salad. Once the shells had cooled completely she filled them with the cream and arranged the sliced strawberries on top. When she was satisfied with the arrangement of the strawberries she began to prepare the rest of the breakfast.

  The minute she heard her neighbor moving around in her flat Niav listened to the sounds of the blonde getting ready for work. It was like listening to the old Anselle, the Anselle she was before the flu knocked her out. And yet, she missed taking care of the sick girl. It was nice to have somebody around all day to keep her company even though the girl slept most of the time. It was such a welcome change from her normal routine; get up, dress, breakfast, check emails, research or sketch, lunch, check emails, more work, make dinner, work-out, shower, more work, bed; repeat same, six days a week for two years. Two lonely years. The seventh day was spent cleaning or cooking, and reading or watching movies. She thought she bore it rather well. She had her boss to talk to a few times a week, she talked to the grocer when she needed to place an order and there was the messenger who came when necessary. ‘God’, Niav thought, ‘what a pathetic life’. But now there was Anselle, a golden-haired, blue-eyed gift from God. If having panic attacks was a punishment then Anselle was the reward. ‘Okay, that’s enough of that’, Niav sighed and rolled her eyes at herself, ‘time for breakfast’.

  Niav had breakfast finished and ready just as Anselle knocked on her door which had been propped open with a book. “Morning,” Anselle called from the doorway before setting down her briefcase and the box of pictures and taking off her jacket, “I don’t know what you’re cooking but it smells great, like usual.”

  “Good morning,” Niav called back coming over for a kiss, “I went kinda crazy this morning. I have strawberry mini-tarts, eggs, bacon, toast, fruit salad, orange juice and coffee. You don’t have to eat everything. I thought options would be nice.”

  For a minute all Anselle could do was stare at the brunette in front of her and shake her head in disbelief. When she came back to herself she asked, “Just how long have you been up?”

  Niav shrugged, “I don’t think I ever actually went to sleep. I lay down but I tossed and turned so I got up and made tarts. Oh, and I also made you a sandwich to take for lunch if you want it.”

  “Was something bothering you that you couldn’t sleep? Maybe you were thinking about my kisses?” Anselle stalked her way up to the brunette and threw her arms around her waist and turned her face up to plant a kiss on the smooth jaw.

  Niav smirked down at the blonde, “yeah, I’m sure that was it,” she teased. “Sit and eat please. Everything is getting cold.”

  “Knowing you is going to make me so fat,” Anselle said sitting and surveying the bounty before her. “I should start giving you money to help pay for all this. I’m starting to feel guilty that you’re doing all this for me.”

  “Oh, stop. What else do I have to spend my money on? I enjoy cooking and doing it for someone else, for you, makes me happy.” She kissed Anselle on the top of the head before taking the seat across from her.

  “I don’t understand how you’re so thin with all this good food you make.”

  Niav blushed, “It’s easy. When I get my grocery delivery I portion everything out to meal sizes that way I only use what I need.”

  “And how does that explain your six pack abs?”

  At that Niav turned scarlet, “What? How do you know that?”

  “I had my hand under your shirt last night, remember? After you tackled me.”

  If it were possible for someone to blush any deeper Niav did as she smiled at the memory, “I remember.”

  “Well then, explain those abs. Come on, I’m waiting,” the Cheshire cat grin never left her face.

  “I work out for an hour six days a week. I have a weight set in the bedroom closet, I do sit ups and squats. The only thing I can’t do is run. I miss doing that. I used to run a lot. I was even thinking about training to do the marathon before…..you know. I’m thinking about getting an elliptical so I can do cardio.”

  Anselle took the woman’s hand, “I know. Gina used to run too, before she opened the steakhouse. I’m not sure she ever planned on doing a marathon though. I’m going to have to join a gym to keep up with you. Anyway you’re in really good shape.” Niav blushed again.

  They ate and talked more over breakfast; Anselle making all kinds of contented noises after every bite. When they were finished Niav filled a travel mug with more coffee for Anselle and handed her a bag with the sandwich in it. “Will you be home at the usual time?”

  “I should be. I’ll call you if I’m going to be late,” the blonde turned her head up for a good-bye kiss, "I love you."

  Niav asked, “Would you like to help me cook or would you like it to be ready when you get home?”

  Anselle replied, “I’d love to help but let’s see how the day goes. If I’m going to be late I wouldn’t want you to have to wait for me. Okay? I’ll call you later, yeah? I love you.” One more good-bye kiss and Anselle was off to work.

  ***

  Things were kind of slow for Anselle at work so she pulled out the information she had on the psychiatrists in the area. She knew that Niav had to seek help for herself but there was nothing stopping her from getting some advice. She called the first number but was advised that she’d have to make an appointment for a consultation which she didn’t want to do yet. The second number was answered by a service; she left a message for the doctor asking her to return her call. She also had to leave a message for the third doctor who was with a client.

  Through the day both doctors called her back. She explained to each about Niav’s situation and asked what she should do to help. Only the second doctor was willing to discuss the case with Anselle without a fee and over the phone. What she told her confirmed what she had read online and she told her that she was doing the right thing by educating herself. She told her to stay calm when Niav had an attack, reassure her that she was safe and you won’t let anything happen bad to her, acknowledge her small victories and praise her when she tries something no matter how small, listen to her if she wants to talk, be patient and don’t force her into anything she’s not willing to do and most importantly try to get Niav to seek professional help. She even told Anselle to make sure her own quality of life didn’t suffer while Niav worked through her problem. If she had plans she should stick with them but that helping Niav overcome her disorder could be very rewarding for their relationship. It could improve communication, foster trust and enhance intimacy. Anselle’s kindness, empathy, patience, understa
nding and love were the most effective instruments for Niav’s recovery.

  Anselle asked her if she would see Niav at her flat if she would accept her help. She was so relieved when she said she would. She couldn’t go over what kind of treatment she would recommend because that would depend on Niav and what she required but she did confirm that some sort of medication would probably be needed and it would take time to find the right one and dosage. She thanked her and told her that either she’d call her again or hopefully Niav would.

  The next thing she did was call Niav and tell her that she’d be home on time and that she’d love to help cook their dinner.

  ***

  On the menu that night for dinner was Greek Skillet Lasagna with a small side salad and Galaktoboureko for dessert. Niav placed her grocery order with a few extras added for the dessert. After Anselle called to confirm what time she’d be home Niav set her time table for prep. She’d make the dessert ahead of time so it would be ready after they ate the main course. She’d have Anselle do most of the work on the entrée and they’d make the salad together while the lasagna cooked.

  While waiting for the groceries to arrive Niav decided to take the first step in her recovery. She Googled psychiatrists in the area but, like Anselle did, she opened several websites but didn’t see what she was looking for. She changed her search criteria to ‘psychiatrists for panic attacks’. She called the first number but the receptionist said the doctor didn’t make home visits. She skipped ahead a few results and called another number but had to leave a message. The woman went back a few entries and dialed another number and left another message. After leaving messages for two more doctors Niav was done. She had such hopes when she began but after getting nowhere with the doctors she was crushed. She flung herself down onto the sofa and drifted off to sleep.

  An hour later, awakened by the grocery delivery Niav had everything put away except for the ingredients for the custard pie. She began by adding the milk to a saucepan and setting the flame to a medium high. While waiting for the milk to boil she beat together egg yolks and sugar. After the milk just came to a boil semolina was whisked in. To temper the egg mixture she added a ladle full of the hot milk and stirred then poured the egg mixture into the saucepan with the milk. The woman whisked the milk/egg mixture until it thickened then removed it from the heat to stir in the butter and vanilla. She set that aside to cool, set the oven to temperature and began work to work with the phyllo sheets. She cut the large sheets in half to make two piles, one pile she covered with a wet towel so they wouldn’t dry out. The other she began to layer into a buttered nine by twelve baking pan; each layer brushed with butter before another layer was added. Two sheets from the first pile were layered half in and half out of the pan, the custard was poured in and the flaps from the two sheets were folded over the custard. The rest of the dough sheets were layered in and buttered. The artist placed the baking dish into the freezer for ten minutes before scoring the top into serving sizes with a serrated knife. She baked the dessert for forty-five minutes then set in on the counter to cool. While the custard pie cooled the brunette prepared the syrup by boiling the water and sugar in a saucepan with lemon rind, orange rind and lemon juice for fifteen minutes. She removed the rinds and let the syrup cool to room temperature. When both the pie and the syrup were cool the syrup was carefully ladled over the pie so it could be absorbed.