Everlee and Walnut

ONE

Melbourne, Friday, March 10.

Sitting outside the Moh-Kah Face Café on an overcast, mild autumn day, Taylor Greene scolded Nat Parker from across the table with an ostentatious eye roll. “It’s hardly brain surgery,” the plucky redhead asserted.

“No. I’m guessing brain surgery would be easier.”

“Just ask her, for goodness’ sake. Assuming she ever comes back.”

Nat gave her head a shake. “A brain doesn’t look much more than a wet cauliflower to me. How hard is it to dissect a cauliflower?”

“You know what, I get it. She is gorgeous. And let’s face it, you’re no Miss Universe.” Nat pursed her lips, only mildly offended and not at all surprised. Taylor chuckled. “Hey, I didn’t say you were a giant ugmo or anything.”

“I appreciate the pity you bestow upon me that I might enjoy our friendship.”

“What can I say? I’m a humanitarian.” Taylor lifted the mug to her lips, and then thumped it back down again. “Oh my god! Is that her?”

Nat followed Taylor’s wide-eyed gape across the quadrant. The thirty-year-old brunette, Everlee Bertrand, was dressed in a sharp black coat that hugged her voluptuous frame to the knees, and she strode with purpose in their direction. Sweat popped from Nat’s palms.

Taylor gripped Nat’s wrist. “If you don’t say something, I will.”

As Everlee drew nearer, Natalie dropped her eyes and hugged the warm cup between her hands. The clacking of heels grew louder, so close that Nat’s breath caught in her throat.

Then Taylor’s annoying rasp made its garish assault. “Hello there!” The clacking halted. “It’s Everlee, isn’t it?” Nat raised the cup to her lips and peered over the rim. Everlee carried the look of the mildly amused, a look Nat had seen countless times while admiring from afar.

Everlee replied, “Yes. I’m sorry, have we… have we met?”

“Not officially. I’m Taylor Greene. My daughter sits in on your reading group every Tuesday. She just adores you, by the way.”

Everlee married a palm to her forehead. “Oh, of course. Tammy’s mum. She’s a gorgeous young lady. And smart as a whip.”

“She’s missed you. She says Miss Bertrand hasn’t been reading to her for weeks, and ‘she needs to come back.’”

“I’ve… I’ve been out of town. An extended break. I do miss the kids terribly.” Everlee’s attention drifted to Nat, and she smiled. “I’ve seen you at the library too, haven’t I?”

Nat opened her mouth to reply when the blunderbuss declared, “This is my brain surgeon, Nat Parker.” Nat shot Taylor a scowl. Taylor patted her forearm. “Ever since the operation, she takes me out. I forget things: faces; places; underwear—”

Nat blurted, “I’m in admin. I am not a brain surgeon.” Everlee gave the faintest of smiles. Nat stammered, “I… I wouldn’t make a good neurosurgeon. I’ve only just this morning compared the brain to a… well, to a garden vegetable.” Thanks to Taylor’s explosive chortle, Nat prayed the earth might open up and swallow her, chair and all.

Everlee said, “Did you have a particular vegetable in mind?”

Cheeks burned. Nat replied, “A cauliflower, actually.”

Everlee’s right eyebrow tweaked. “Actually,” she said, “I think the brain more resembles a walnut.” Everlee Bertrand gave the most evocative grin Nat Parker had ever seen. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, then breezed past them into the café.

Nat’s heart was still fluttering from the encounter when Taylor slapped her shoulder and demanded, “You have to go in there.”

“What? Why?”

“That woman is just waiting to pull a Florence Nightingale on some helpless sap.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks.”

“Pity is your friend. Stop overthinking it and get in there… before she disappears again.”

TWO

Nat’s stomach was churning when she fell in behind the slightly taller Everlee. She smoothed her eyes over the woman’s lustrous chestnut mane, while her nose appreciated the sanguine, satisfying scent of jasmine.

Nat was trying to divine a witty opening, when Everlee peered over her shoulder. “Are you trying to decide if my brain resembles a cauliflower more than a walnut?”

Nat was encouraged by a playful tone. “I would never compare your brain to anything as mundane as brassica.”

Everlee chuckled. Then she turned so that they were face to face. “Are you sure you should leave your patient alone out there?”

“She’s not dangerous… for the most part. And she’s scheduled for a lobotomy, which her family are very excited about.”

“Well, don’t be too hard on her.”

“No?”

“She seems genuinely concerned about you.” Nat turned. Taylor was peering from the table through the open door, and she quickly sat back and lifted her phone to her nose.

Nat met the enchanting green of Everlee’s smiling eyes, and suddenly found her courage. “Listen, I… I don’t usually… but I was wondering… would you… would you like to maybe get a drink sometime?” The inviting smile didn’t vanish, exactly. But it faded, and already Nat was silently cursing her pushy friend.

Everlee replied, “That sounds lovely. Really. But I… I’m heading out of state in three weeks.”

God, Nat. You’ve just made a complete fool of yourself. As if she wants to be hit on by some random-

Everlee touched her arm and offered warmly, “That’s not a brush-off, Nat Parker. I don’t do frivolous. I’m… I’m not really capable of it. I could be gone for a while, and I don’t want to start anything that might make it harder for me to leave.”

Nat wasn’t particularly good at reading people, but in this instance, she sensed a deep sincerity. “Do you have a pen?”

Everlee reached inside her jacket and pulled from her breast a silver-barrelled jotter. Nat reached around Everlee’s hip and took a serviette from the counter. With the pen she scribbled her name and number, and finished off with a crude doodle. Then she palmed Everlee both items. “Just in case you change your mind.”

Everlee scanned the napkin, and the corner of her mouth tweaked upward. “A walnut?”

“Frivolous, I know.”

“Maybe. But in the most adorable way.”

A lady called from the counter, “Number six.” Everlee pocketed the slip, then collected a hot-cup. She returned to Nat with a guarded smile. “It is nice to meet you, Natalie. I mean that.” She ambled for the exit, leaving Nat with a weight in her stomach. But it wasn’t the weight of rejection. Instead, she was reminded of a hospital bed, with her father lying in it and Nat close by his side, anticipating with dread his final breath.

The memory was vivid and odd, and without knowing why, Nat lunged off her feet. She ran outside and scanned the foot traffic, and Taylor said, “She headed towards Buckley.”

Nat tenderly squeezed Taylor’s shoulder, then blundered her way forward through an ill-timed glut of bodies. She caught glimpse of the coat and called into the strolling mass, “Everlee. Wait.” A moment later she was face to face with Everlee’s beleaguered brow.

Catching her breath, Nat said, “Give me three weeks.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You said you’re leaving in three weeks. I’ll take them.”

For the first time, Everlee sounded irritated. “I told you, I don’t do frivolous.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Then what are you asking? I don’t understand what you expect.”

The sun burst through the clouds, sending long amber fingers to the earth. They steered Nat to a memory, and she boldly stepped close so that hers and Everlee’s toes were almost touching. Everlee showed no sign of retreat, allowing Nat just a glimmer of hope. “Are you familiar with an author named Jamie Stevens?” Everlee’s cool expression thawed, like snowflakes on salt. Nat recited, “‘Through the trees I caught glimpse; an amber flash without feint nor form. Fevered I followed, not knowing the why, only sure that at the end I would be privy to some fantastic truth, the likes of which…’” Nat lost her train of thought when Everlee so delicately touched her hand.

With glassy eyes, Everlee murmured, “‘…the likes of which no words could impart, that no further revelation could upend.’” Nat was transfixed then, by a pair of emeralds that seemed no more capable of letting go. A ringtone from Everlee’s coat broke the spell. She fished a phone from a pocket, then grimaced after checking the screen. “I… I really need to go. I’m sorry, Nat.”

Disappointed, not knowing what else she could say, and realising just how invasive her proximity, Nat stepped back.

Everlee took her hand in a warm hold. “Dinner. Tonight. Franco’s, seven o’clock.”

Nat was no less giddy than she was surprised. “I’ll be there.”

“Don’t be late, Walnut.” Everlee Bertrand’s hand slipped away, and she departed with a grin.

THREE

Nat wasn’t late for dinner that night. Nor was she late for dinner the next. What began as two women enjoying a meal together, became two women enjoying a show. Then it became two women walking beaches, and visiting museums. It became two women debating ideas and discussing philosophies. It became two women laughing together, contemplating together, sharing in a manner that never digressed to impatience or ill will.

When Nat wasn’t with Everlee, she was thinking about her. About what wonderful place they might discover next, about what new things she might learn about a woman who was in the first instance guarded, but had since opened like a field of wildflowers, her colours rich, her mind sharp, her energy effervescent.

As overwhelming as Nat’s experience, the two had never touched beyond holding hands. Nat desired Everlee in every sense, there was no mistaking that. And she was almost positive Everlee felt the same. But for whatever reason, Everlee was holding back, and Nat wouldn’t do anything to endanger a connection she felt on such a new and intimate plane. She had had the most fulfilling three weeks of her life, and she wanted Everlee to know that her friendship was not predicated on the notion that Everlee would give more than she was willing. Nat hoped more than anything that in whatever form, Everlee would want to continue the relationship moving forward.

On the last night, Nat received a text. Everlee wanted to stay in, and offered to cook for Nat at the apartment.

After a finely prepared meal of stuffed mushrooms and eggplant parmi, they sat together on the small couch, in the glow of candlelight and sipping on a Moscato that gave a delightful rose to Everlee’s cheeks.

The contemplative lady ran a finger around the rim of her glass as she asked, “What is it you want from life, Nat Parker?” She looked up at Nat with her patience and her intelligence, and – Nat wanted to believe – her passion.

Nat took a sip of the pale-yellow nectar, cool and sweet on her tongue. “Up until three weeks ago, I had no clue. Now… now I know exactly what I want.” Everlee’s unflinching eye burned into her, so intently that fire rushed Nat’s skin. Nat added with a murmur, “What I want from life, Ev, is to not waste a single moment of it.”

Out of those kind eyes a tear fell, and it made a slow trek down Everlee’s cheek. She uncrossed her legs and placed the glass on the coffee table, so gently that it barely made a sound. She sat on the edge of the seat, with her elbows on her knees and her fingers at her lips. The room was so quiet and Nat so still, that she could hear – could sense – every movement, every impact on the air that Everlee exerted. An invisible energy was coming off her, coming off both of them, consuming Nat so fully that her own eyes watered. Everlee slid her delicate touch over Nat’s fingers, which were draped over her own knee. Everlee took that hand in a warm caress, then brought it to her supple lips.

Nat’s heart was pounding. Desire inhabited every cell, seized every sense. Everlee stroked Nat’s cheek with a touch that was slow, and delicate, her eyes no less caressing of the contours of Nat’s plain features, as if they were something so beautiful and precious.

Nat’s whisper was trembling. “Please, Ev. Make love to me.”

Everlee’s smiling reply thrilled her. As did the tender caress of her jaw; as did the craving glance at her mouth; as did the proximity of Everlee’s lips; as did Everlee’s hot breath fusing with her own.

Everlee drifted into her, and Nat closed her eyes.

The first kiss was lingering, soft and yet powerful enough to reach Nat’s belly.

The second was explosive, and reached every roused and rousing fibre.

Everlee’s tongue met Nat’s inside of a ravenous kiss that unleashed Nat’s pent desire, and with it she caressed Everlee’s finely clothed flesh, desperate to experience her naked; to taste every inch of her; to please every part of her.

Everlee slid her fingers along one side of Nat’s neck, while she rained erotic affection on the other. And then those supple lips were at her lobe. “Come to the bedroom, my darling Walnut.” They somehow made it to the bed – naked and ablaze – where Everlee granted Nat’s request in a manner anything but frivolous, with a passion she had never experienced.

FOUR

Friday, March 31

Nat woke at 05.03 the following morning, to Everlee packing a suitcase. The smell of coffee filled the room, and the space was dimly lit with just the glow of the bedside lamp.

Nat sat up, drawing Everlee’s attention as well as her affection. The woman came and sat by her side, cupped Nat’s cheeks and kissed her lips. Then she said, “I made you coffee.”

Nat clutched Everlee’s fingers and whispered, “Please don’t go.”

Everlee’s smile drained. “This was the deal, my darling Walnut.”

Nat didn’t want to argue. But the quelling of it forced her eyes to water, and her throat to close. Everlee looked away. Then she stood and placed her hands on her hips. Then she ran a palm over her scalp. Then she sat again and clasped Nat’s hands. “I want you to understand something. My leaving is… it’s something I have to do, it’s not something I want.”

“Why can’t I call you?”

“I’ll be unreachable, at least for a while. But listen, when I can, I’ll make contact. Okay?”

“How long?”

“I… I can’t answer that, Walnut. I know it seems unfair, and if you’d rather not hear from me because of that, I understand.”

Nat brushed Everlee’s cheeks and murmured, “I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll hate it, but I’ll wait.”

They kissed, and then Everlee said, “I’ve only got thirty minutes. I better get moving. You don’t have to hurry. Just lock up on your way out. Okay?”

Nat nodded. The words I love you were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. It had only been three weeks, after all. Could a person fall in love in three weeks?

True to her word and thirty minutes later, Everlee Bertrand was gone.

FIVE

Monday, April 3.

My dearest Walnut,

At this moment I’m lying in a hospital bed, awaiting surgery. Of course, any surgery is risky, but this one, the doctors say, is particularly problematic. I know I should be concerned with that, but all I can think about is you.

I should never have allowed what happened between us. I was selfish, I know that. But you weren’t the only one admiring from a distance. Perhaps I should be, but I’m not ashamed to say I have enjoyed every moment with you. And if you’re angry with me, my darling, know that you have every right to be. But I do hope you’ll forgive me some day.

I’m hoping I can reveal all of this to you in person. I want to believe I’ll be home soon, knocking on your door. I want to be able to tell you about the tumour, about how they successfully removed it from my cauliflower brain. I want to be able to tell you I’m fully recovered, and that I’m in love with you and so much want to be with you. I want that more than anything.

But if you’ve received this letter, it means I didn’t survive.

I’m so, so sorry, my dearest Nat. I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I know you’ll move on and not waste a single moment of this precious life. I know you’ll fill it with love, just as you filled mine.

I love you, Walnut: my fantastic truth that no further revelation will upend.

Yours. Always. Ev.

Thursday, April 6.

The postlady popped the envelope in the slot, then rushed to the next one. Her load was large, and it was going to be a very, very long day.