Page 46 of Obedience

Dylan huffed a laugh, the air puffing out of her nose in amusement as a wide-eyed Greta scanned her face. Canting her head, Dylan silently reiterated Priya’s question with a small shrug. Smiling Greta softly shook her head.

‘No thank you, Pri! We’re good!’ Dylan yelled back. She immediately lowered her voice, her gaze searching Greta’s tired, bloodshot eyes. ‘Are we good?’

Greta ran her hand down the side of Dylan’s face. ‘I have no fucking idea, Dylan.’

Still cradling her cheek, Greta’s gaze skittered over Dylan’s face. Dylan knew how haggard she must look; the heavy strain and exhaustion darkening her eyes was impossible to hide. Anchored to one another, Dylan held Greta to her body, the coat still clutched in her hand behind Greta’s back, as Greta’s head rested on her chest, her palm flat against Dylan’s sternum.

Greta filled her chest before blowing out a long sigh.

‘Are you okay?’ Dylan asked quietly.

‘Mmhmm,’ Greta hummed contentedly.

‘I’m so sorry I had to leave last night. I—’

‘No, Jesus, don’t, please. I understand now.’ Dylan squeezed her tighter. ‘I thought you were leaving because…well, I didn’t know. I’m such an arsehole.’

‘You’re not an arsehole, you arsehole,’ Dylan laughed softly. ‘I should be apologising to you. Leaving you after...well, after finally feeling that close to you. It broke me…and then when you didn’t answer my texts or calls, I thought you were having second thoughts… Regrets. I don’t know.’ Dylan paused, inhaling deeply. ‘I’m so fucking exhausted.’

‘I’m sorry, Dy— ’

‘Stop, Greta. Please.’ Dylan cut her off, genuinely unsure which of them was even apologising—and for what—anymore. ‘Lie down with me?’

Greta nodded against Dylan’s chest, her head brushing the soft cotton of the vest. Carefully, Dylan folded Greta’s coat in half and draped it over her mum’s Chesterfield chair in the corner of the room. Climbing onto the bed, she smiled and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers in a silent command for a hesitant Greta to join her. Greta looked completely drained, her shoulders slumped with a heavy fatigue as she heeled off her brogues before climbing onto the mattress.

Greta settled half on top of Dylan as they began to kiss again. The only sounds in the room were the soft beat from the speaker, their breaths, and the slow, gentle meeting of lips and tongues. With Dylan’s soft hands moving tenderly over her face and neck, Greta let out a breath that seemed to rise from somewhere deep inside her. A breath so big it sounded like she’d been holding for years. They lay pressed together, the warmth of their bodies melding as they dissolved into one another.

***

‘Dylly!’ Priya’s sing-song voice floated up the stairs, entering Dylan’s dream for a split second.

Dylan’s eyes flew open. ‘Shit!’

Blinking quickly, she looked out of the window at the dying sunlight, then towards Greta, who was lying across her arm, rubbing her eyes with her fingers in a similar state of sleepy confusion. Dylan gently slid her arm out from underneath Greta’s neck to reach her phone, touching the screen to illuminate it.

‘Bloody hell, what time is it?’ Greta asked. Voice thick and groggy from sleep.

‘It’s eight o’clock! What the actual fuck?!’ Dylan scrambled off the bed, the sudden movement sending a rush of blood to her head. ‘Wait there, I’ll be back.’

She cleared the entire flight of stairs in three bounding jumps, nearly skidding into the hallway.

‘Oh my God, Pri! I am so sorry! I fell asleep— ’

‘Oi,’ Priya cut her off, poking a firm finger into Dylan’s chest.

‘Ow!’ Dylan gave a crooked smile and rubbed the spot.

‘You needed that.’

By the knowing wink she gave, it was clear she was alluding to more than just catching up on missed hours.

‘I did,’ Dylan conceded, her shoulders dropping as she blew out a long breath. ‘I really did.’

Priya softened, running a maternal hand over Dylan’s cheek. ‘That must have been some sleep, Dylly. Your face is all creased up,’ she chuckled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning, hen. Get some more rest…you still look exhausted. Margs is good. Her chest has been rattling but we have cleared some good coughs this evening so keep a beady on her.’ Dylan pulled Priya into a fierce hug. ‘What have I told you about these bloody arms, Dylan St. John? Enough! I can’t take the crushing!’ Priya playfully slapped Dylan’s bicep and rolled her eyes, though she didn’t pull away immediately. ‘Take this.’ She handed Dylan the Margs monitor. ‘She’s all set. Now, get back upstairs and don’t disturb her, please.’ A wry smile tugged at her lips. She squeezed Dylan’s hand one last time. ‘Tell Greta it was lovely to meet her. She’s very beautiful, Dylan.’

Dylan nodded as tears gathered in the corners of her lashes as she offered a shaky smile. After Priya had left, Dylan poked her head into her mum’s room, pressing the side of her head against the door frame. She looked at the woman she loved most in the world—and who loved her most in return—fast asleep amidst the organised chaos of her things and the steady hum of her machines.

‘Night, Ma,’ she whispered, her voice barely there. ‘Lymsil.’