Chapter 15.

                                    

                                          
Kate finished work at her usual time, showered at work as per her daily routine with the industrial soap to wash the stench of death from her skin, and fought the late afternoon traffic out of the city to return home to the suburbs. She was tired. Exhausted after her midnight visitor the night before and the long day she had just finished. And she was looking forward to a nice relaxing glass of red, some soft tunes and a light meal, followed by an early night. 
                          
She loved Joan but she also found their relationship to be incredibly draining sometimes. Joan was different, she required more of a mental companion than a physical one and her emotional void was becoming more and more apparent as their relationship developed. She seemed to lack basic empathy and Kate wondered how deeply that extended, did she have any empathy at all? Or was she just extremely adept at pretending most of the time? And what did she mean when she had had said 'I'm not what you think I am'? Was this what she meant? 
                          
Joan had tried to explain it to her before, or perhaps it was less of an explanation and more of a self admission when she had said 'There's something wrong with me,' that night and told Kate about her lack of emotional understanding. Kate hadn't completely understood what she was getting at, but now she was starting to see the impact it had on Joan and how she dealt with the situations she was handed and the people around her, and it was beginning to worry Kate now that she was beginning to see the whole picture. It made her wonder what on earth she had actually gotten herself into.
                          
Kate had been unable to sleep one night and researched empathy through some of her medical databases she still had access to, or lack of empathy more to the point, and was intimidated by what she had found. She hoped she was wrong and through the long, tedious drive her brain mulled over the information it had collected. 
                          
Pulling into her street she saw that Joan was already home, her shiny black and chrome car parked neatly in the driveway. 
                          
Despite her concerns and the exhaustion from the day Kate smiled and her heart seemed to float in her chest. Joan still made her tingle. Joan still made her feel many things. For a moment she wondered what she made Joan feel, did she feel anything at all? Was it simply lust? Instinct? Was it control? 
                          
She turned left into her own driveway and saw Joan sitting on her front steps. Not on the rocking chair, not waiting at her own home for Kate to return, she was sitting where they had first gotten to know each other as they had watched the sun set. Where Kate had tucked a lock of that black hair behind her ear and watched as Joan's neck had turned red and her skin reacted in a trail of goose bumps. Kate found it odd, Joan wasn't one to sit somewhere that was possibly dirty, she detested anything that was less than spotless, why wasn't she in the rocking chair?
                          
Kate stepped from the car and grabbed her handbag; her brain was ticking around in overdrive wondering what was going on with her lover and what kind of drama would be discussed tonight. Walking around the garden beds and through the shrubs she approached Joan and they both smiled to each other. 
                          
"Welcome home," Joan stated in her low, soft voice. She was wearing a dark blue blouse with dark gray slacks, her hair was down, flick curls carried her hair away from her face on either side and the gray strands looked like streaks of silver in the golden sunlight of the late afternoon. On her hands she wore black leather gloves and held a single dark red rose with a long stem.
                          
All Kate could do was smile with weary exhaustion as she walked up to the steps where her lover sat. Joan rose to her feet on the pathway as Kate approached and planted a soft kiss on her lips. 
                          
"That's beautiful," Kate said, motioning to the rose in Joan's hand. 
                          
"I wanted to apologise for last night. I shouldn't have come by that late and dumped all my drama on you, it wasn't fair." She held the rose out to Kate who gently took it by the stem between the thorns. "I've been growing this variety in a planter box in my backyard since I moved in; its heritage stock from a rose bush I've been growing for more than 30 years. Every time I move I take the seedlings of the rose and cultivate new plants. Today this one bloomed while I was at work. I came home to it shining like a beacon of beauty and it reminded me of you."