I'm beginning the process of editing my novel now, and one of the first things I've done is return to the things I wrote before #NaNoWriMo began, in order to accommodate the fact that Emma and Sarah <a href="https://steemit.com/freewritemadness/@aislingcronin/freewritemadness-update-i-m-turning-emma-and-sarah-into-sisters-b6b50eea17bdb">are now sisters</a>, rather than a boss and employee. When I originally wrote this chapter, Emma and Sarah had not yet been made into sisters, so I edited a lot of the old content, and am now sharing it here to see what people think of it. 😊

For me, this scene touches deeply on two issues I want to explore in my novel: one of these is the under-explored impact that queer people's identities can have within relationships that would, on the surface, appear to be exactly the same as a relationship between two heterosexual people. Sarah is on the asexual spectrum, while her new boyfriend Mark is bisexual, so they each encounter struggles within their relationship that wouldn't be encountered by straight people. The second issue I'm aiming to tease out in this scene is the tense relationship that Emma and Sarah have with their very conservative mother Joanne: how their very different perspectives cause them to clash.

<center>https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmdJhzR3E4mPqALdQzZJD4wYpCyG3rJhKof8EJvmXd3v5B/CoupleWalking.jpeg</center>

<center><h3>～ I Never Asked For Your Opinion ～</h3></center>

'So, it's definitely winter. I've made my peace with it,' Sarah announces confidently as she links arms with Mark. They are walking down the quays by now, cautiously navigating their way through the crowds. The footpath is lightly coated with frost, so they must walk slowly. The air is frigid and their breath is visible - Sarah is grateful that she remembered to wear her gloves today - but the sky is a brilliant, cloudless azure.

'You've made your peace with it?' Mark exclaims. He turns to look at her, his deep brown eyes filled with mirth, and she experiences that familiar flip of her stomach at the sight of them. 'I'm expecting to hear another rant about how cold it is any minute now...'

She mock-glares at him – though a smile soon creeps onto her face, despite her best efforts to look angry.

'You're always ranting about it,' he insists, undeterred.

'Hey! I'm not always ranting.'

'Oh, sure...'

'Well, I like the weather right now. Cold but clear. I can deal with that. When it's cold and raining, though ... ugh. It's the worst.'

Mark laughs and pulls her close so that he can plant a kiss on her forehead. Sarah beams. She loves his little forehead kisses.

'What's the name of the restaurant you're going to again?' he asks her.

'Scotty's.'

'Ah, yes. Well, as I'm going in that direction, maybe I'll say hi, chat for a couple of minutes...'

'Are you sure?'

‘Of course.' He gently squeezes her hand. 'I'm going to be passing by, so of course I’ll say hello. Is that okay with you?’

‘Absolutely. I just think I should warn you that my mother can be a little ... abrupt.’

'Hmm. I shouldn't be scared, should I?' he jokes, with a slightly nervous smile.

'Ah, she'll probably be okay. It's just ... when she's in a good mood, she can be really nice to talk to. But when she isn't, she's a little scary! The last time we met, I had to endure a million and one questions about why I'm still working in Emma’s shop, am I even using that degree of mine, don't I realise I should start saving for my future, why haven't I found a man yet ... it was kind of excruciating.'

'Wow. Sounds like a barrel of laughs.'

'Well ... at least I can tell her I have the whole man part sorted out now.' She glances a little anxiously at him as she says this - they've only just begun to refer to themselves as a couple, so could that remark have been a bit too much?

Mark immediately sets her mind at ease with another warm smile. 'That's right. But now I'm afraid your mother will hate me on sight and try to talk you out of being with me...'

'She won't, she won't. She'd better not! Anyway, Emma already thinks you're great.'

They have soon reached Scotty's. Emma and Joanne are standing just outside the door. Emma recognises Mark at once and rushes forward, arms extended to welcome them both. ‘Ah, Mark! Lovely to see you again.’

'It's great to see you too, Emma. How are things?’

'Oh good, good. Not much to report!’

Sarah hugs Emma, then turns her attention to Joanne, who is watching them curiously. ‘Mum – this is Mark. My boyfriend.’ A fresh wave of joy sweeps through her. She said it to herself a few times this morning, in the delirious aftermath of the previous day - when she had danced around the apartment listening to whatever sappy, romantic song she could find on YouTube - but this is her very first time saying it to another person. ‘And Mark – this is my mother, Joanne.’

Joanne smiles and reaches out to shake his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Mark.’

‘Great to meet you, Joanne.’

‘Will you be joining us, Mark?’ Emma asks him brightly.

‘I'm afraid I’m on the way to a meeting at the moment –’

‘A meeting?’ she exclaims. ‘Ah God, don’t tell me your bosses are calling you in on a Saturday. That’s ridiculous.’

‘Oh no, it’s the AGM for a group I’m in. We're all volunteers and Saturday was the only day that worked for most people. 
There's a whole load of financial stuff to sort out, and Rachel – the chairwoman – is already eager to start talking about our plans for the Pride march next year, so I said I’d help them out.’

Sarah glances a little nervously at Joanne. She can see some sort of reaction to what Mark has just said in her mother’s face: an almost imperceptible tightening of the muscles around her eyes and jaw. She has been known to be a bit funny about things like this. Hopefully she won’t say anything…

‘Oh well,’ Emma says regretfully. ‘We’ll have to get you another time.’

‘Definitely. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your meal.’

Sarah hugs Mark for a long time before he leaves, and spends a few seconds watching him walk down the street before turning to join her family. She has to laugh at herself sometimes. She is well aware of how sappy she has become lately ... but she is loving every moment of it.

‘Well, it was nice to see him,’ Emma comments quietly, allowing Joanne to go into the restaurant ahead of her. She winks. 

‘Things are going well, I presume?’

Sarah grins at her in return: a silent promise that she will engage in a proper sisterly chat about the whole thing another time.

In the restaurant, Joanne is looking around at Scotty's many eccentric decorations with an air of bemusement. ‘Hmm. Quaint place. Will we sit by the window?’

'That sounds lovely, Mum,’ Sarah agrees.

As they settle into their seats, Joanne fixes her eyes upon Sarah. ‘Pride?’ she remarks brusquely. ‘Sure, what’s Mark doing going to that? Isn’t that for the gays?’

‘Oh, he … um…’ For a fraction of a second, Sarah hesitates – wondering whether she should make up some kind of cover story – but quickly dismisses the idea. Why should she lie? She isn’t ashamed of Mark’s orientation. Yes, she had harboured insecurities about it at first, worrying that he would find other people more attractive than her, but they are long gone. She may once have been fearful, but she was never ashamed. She will take her cue from Mark himself: she will state the truth without apologising, making a big deal out of it, or turning it into a topic for debate or discussion. ‘He’s bisexual, Mum.’

Just then, a waiter approaches the table with their menus, and she seizes this opportunity to change the subject. ‘Oh good, here are the menus!’

‘Thanks very much,’ Emma says to the waiter.

‘That’s no problem, madam. I’ll be back to take your order in a few minutes. Can I get you anything to drink?’

The women agree that a jug of water is all they need for now, and the waiter smiles and departs. Emma turns to her sister.

<center>_________________</center>
<center><h4>"She may once have been fearful, but she was never ashamed."</h4></center>
<center>_________________</center>

‘Now, Sarahkins, what do you recommend? You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’

‘I love their chocolate fudge cake. It’s amazing.’

Joanne keeps glancing quizzically at her, and Sarah knows – she just <i>knows</i> – that she is trying to decide whether or not to launch into some self-righteous rant about Mark. Her stomach lurches uncomfortably.

‘Chocolate fudge cake?’ Emma gasps enthusiastically. ‘Ooh. I’ll have to save room for that at dessert … but what should I have before that?’

‘The tomato soup is great. They put three different herbs into it: basil, thyme, and oregano, as far as I know. And a few different kinds of spice as well.’

‘Great stuff.’

<div class="pull-right">https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmNj6q163q46Wgu2nLqX6YAXxyW1uB3vN24Gs5ZEoXBvse/WomanWithMenu.jpg</div><p>Sarah can see, out of the corner of her eye, that Joanne is <i>still</i> staring at her. Oh, crap. It’s all very well to be high-minded and honest in theory, but when it comes to her mother … she should have known better. She should have said something vague about Mark having friends at the meeting, or something along those lines, though even that might have sounded suspicious.</p>

‘What do you think of the raspberry scones, Sarah?’ Emma asks her. ‘I know I said I’d have the cake for dessert, but looking at those scones … my God, they look nice. I’m a bit torn…’

‘Oh, I actually haven’t had them, Em. I don’t know what they’re like.’

‘Hmm. Ah sure, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Emma laughs. ‘What am I doing? Drooling over desserts when I should be thinking about my main course! Any idea what you want, Sarah?’

‘Oh, I’ll definitely get that soup as a starter. Still not sure about my main course…’

‘How about you, Mum?’

‘I haven’t decided either,’ Joanne says a bit brusquely, moving her gaze to the menu.

The waiter briefly returns with a small bread basket and a jug of water. As Emma begins pouring water into everyone’s glasses, Joanne clears her throat.

<i>Please don’t make some awful comment, please don’t make some awful comment…</i>

Sarah tries to telepathically beam this message into her mother’s head as she reaches for the bread basket. ‘So! This bread! It’s really good. I don’t want to eat too much of it – it’ll ruin my appetite – but I do like a bit of restaurant bread before my dinner, I have to say.’ She grabs a knife and begins to cut open one of the rolls.

‘Are you sure you want to be involved with this young man, Sarah?’

There it is. Sarah feels as though a lead weight has been dropped into her stomach. Whatever else Joanne has to say can’t be good.

‘Mum…’ Emma lowers her menu and glares pointedly at her.

‘Ah now, Emma, I have Sarah’s best interests at heart. We all do. I’m just concerned about this man and I want to know if she –’

‘Mum, come on. Let’s just enjoy our dinner,’ Emma hisses, to no avail. Joanne completely ignores her: instead leaning further across the table towards Sarah, determined to emphasise her point.

‘Sarah, I hope you understand that there are … certain risks involved with this new relationship. Risks that wouldn’t be there if you were going out with a normal man.’

‘A “normal” man?’ Emma splutters.

Joanne makes an impatient shushing motion in her older daughter’s direction, without once looking away from Sarah. ‘Now, I know HIV isn’t the big killer it used to be, but even so, it’s no laughing matter, and Sarah, if you’re going to be involved with a man who is … well, at risk in that way, that is something you need to be aware of.’

‘I swear to God, Mum…’

‘Well, there’s a reason they can’t donate blood, that’s all I’m saying. I’m not trying to offend anyone here, I’m just stating the facts.’

‘Ah, that policy is ridiculous,’ Lynnette scoffs. ‘Doesn’t every donation have to be screened for diseases before they allow it to be used? And don’t they have no problem whatsoever accepting blood from straight men who go around sleeping with different women every other night? Pure homophobia, that’s all it is.’

Joanne glances angrily at her. ‘<i>I’m</i> certainly not homophobic, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Look, Sarah, I’m only telling you this for your own good. I just think: if a man is gay, great – let him go and find another man. I have absolutely no issue with that. You know I’m fond of that André friend you have. I think it’s sad, to be honest, that this new boyfriend of yours is going back into the closet and you’ll be the one who ends up getting hurt by that, at the end of the day.’

‘He isn’t gay, Mum, he’s bisexual. He’s not going “back into the closet” by being with me.’ Sarah’s voice cracks as she says this. She woke up this morning thrilled about her day with Mark, excited to be referring to him as her boyfriend at long last, joyously anticipating their cinema trip tonight … and now Joanne’s awful words have torn it all away. She is on the verge of bursting into tears.

‘Ah, I don’t believe in that. People are either gay or straight, at the end of the day.’

‘This is outrageous, Mum,’ Lynnette fumes. ‘You wouldn’t dare say one word of this to that poor boy’s face. I know damn well you wouldn’t.’

Once again, Joanne ignores her and continues to stare at Sarah. ‘Do you not worry about him running off with a man?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s a good person,’ Sarah replies curtly, ‘and I trust him. End of story.’

Joanne bristles at her tone. ‘There’s no need to be rude about this, Sarah. All I’m saying is, I can’t be comfortable with this. I can’t support it. I just have to be honest about that.’

‘No, Mum,’ Sarah snaps. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes. ‘You don’t have to be anything at all, actually, because I never asked for your opinion.’ She pushes her seat away from the table and gets to her feet. ‘I’m going to the bathroom.’

A few seconds later – ignoring their mother’s indignant squawks – Emma has raced across the restaurant to be by her sister’s side.

‘Sarah! Sarah, love, are you alright?’

‘No.’ Almost blinded by her tears, Sarah runs down the corridor that leads to the bathrooms.

‘Don’t mind Mum, you know what she can be like…’

Sarah bursts into the bathroom – which is mercifully empty right now – and leans over a sink, reaching out for a nearby roll of toilet paper so that she can wipe her eyes.

Emma catches up with her – Sarah glances up into the mirror and sees deep concern in her sister’s eyes. ‘Sarah … listen. Listen to me,’ she says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you happy with him?’

‘Yes,’ Sarah replies, blowing her nose: her voice slightly muffled by her tissue.

‘Does he treat you well?’

Sarah thinks about Mark for a few moments – his kind gestures, his many ways of putting her at ease around him, his silly jokes – and she cannot help but smile. ‘He does. He really does.’

‘Well then, isn’t that all that matters?’ Emma asks gently, then beams at her. ‘I’d love to him over for dinner some day soon.’

Sarah gives her a watery smile. ‘That would be nice, Em. I just wish Mum wasn’t so … so … I don’t even know what to say. I don’t want to describe her as bigoted. She’s my mother and I do love her, but –’

‘Mum can’t <i>possibly</i> be bigoted, Sarah,’ Emma says shrilly, widening her eyes in an expression of faux-shock.

Sarah giggles as she finishes wiping her eyes.

‘She’s not trying to <i>offend</i> anyone,’ Emma goes on. ‘She’s just stating the <i>facts</i>.’

‘And she only has my best interests at heart, right?’

‘Of course,’ Emma quips, winking, before her expression grows more sombre. ‘She’d better apologise to you, after all that. She went too far – even for her.’

‘I won’t hold my breath,’ Sarah responds wryly, now fixing her eyeliner in the mirror. ‘I don’t want to go back out there, to be honest.’

<center>_________________</center>
<center><h4>"We're never going to agree on this issue."</h4></center>
<center>_________________</center>

At this point, a couple of women enter the bathroom, laughing and chatting about something. Emma glances at them, then quietly tells her, ‘well … we do have to go back out at some point.’

Sarah closes her eyes and exhales deeply. ’Yeah, I guess … it’s not going to get any easier if I just stand around in here. Let’s do it.’

The two sisters make their way back to the table with some trepidation. As they take their seats again, Joanne fixes her eyes on Sarah once more. She is frowning slightly.

‘Sarah, listen, I’m sorry if I was too harsh with you,’ she begins brusquely. ‘I shouldn’t have phrased things in quite the way I did. I realise that now, but … look, I suppose we’re never going to agree on this issue, so let’s just leave it at that.’

Sarah feels her stomach lurch again. <i>We’re never going to agree on this issue.</i> So, in Joanne’s eyes, Mark – her sweet, caring, funny Mark – has been reduced to an ‘issue’ of some sort: a problem to be tolerated, or perhaps overlooked, for the sake of preserving the peace with her daughter.

Emma looks incensed by this – Sarah senses that she is planning to fly off the handle again – but with a pleading glance at her older sister, she begs her not to. She doesn’t have the energy for another fight.

‘Okay. That’s fair enough, Mum.’ Though there is a lump in her throat and she still feels close to tears, now that she knows for sure that her mother doesn’t approve of Mark, she does her best to disguise it. She opens the menu again and hides her face behind it. ‘So. What will we order?’

<b>Image Sources</b>

<i>Couple walking down the street: </i><a href="https://www.stocksy.com/952082/cute-couple-walking-down-cobblestone-street-in-paris"><i>Stocksy</i></a>
<i>Woman reading a menu: </i><i><a href="https://www.rand.org/blog/2014/12/calorie-labels-wont-fix-americas-problem-with-away.html">Rand</a></i>