Part Fourteen - Forbidden Love

Patty stood on the front porch, looking out at the familiar streets, her heart heavy. Diana had packed her bags and was getting ready to get back to her life. They had spent the past few weeks reconnecting and sharing their lives, but now it was time to say goodbye.

“Hello! Dears! It’s Patty,” Patty smiled wistfully toward her camera. “I sit here with a heavy heart. I knew she wouldn’t be here forever. I knew the pull of her old life would draw her away from me. I couldn’t really let her miss out on New Zealand. As she puts it, the long white cloud and the endless gorgeous Māori boys.”

Diana stepped out of the house, her suitcase in hand, and joined Patty on the porch. She was dressed in a stylish yet practical outfit. Her hair was neatly styled, and her makeup was impeccable, but there was a sadness in her eyes that she couldn’t hide.

“Well, sis, I guess this is it,” Diana said, her voice tinged with melancholy. “New Zealand awaits. I can’t stay here forever.”

Patty turned to her, a sad smile on her face. “I can’t believe you’re leaving. It feels like you just got here.”

“Oh honey! It has been one hell of a ride.” Diana nodded, her eyes misting over. “I wish I could stay longer, but duty calls.”

“And many more romances to be had,” chipped in her sister.

“Yes, well this visit has certainly made me a little man shy,” replied Diana.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the farewell settling between them. Finally, Patty spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m going to miss you, Diana. More than words can say.”

Diana set her suitcase down and pulled Patty into a tight hug. “I'll miss you too, Patty. But I'll send love from across the way. And who knows? Maybe I’ll end up back here.”

Patty laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “I’d like that.”

Diana pulled back, her hands resting on Patty's shoulders. “Remember, sis, you've got so much to give to this world. Don’t let anything hold you back.”

Patty nodded, feeling a surge of determination. “I won’t. And you take care of yourself over there. No more flings with exotic men.”

Diana chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “No promises.”

They embraced once more, holding on tightly as if trying to imprint the moment in their memories. Finally, Diana picked up her suitcase and walked down the steps to the waiting taxi. She turned back one last time, waving at Patty with a sad smile.

*********

The night sky burned. Thick plumes of black smoke twisted upward, swallowing the stars, while the orange glow of flames clawed through the windows of Lucy’s home, licking at the walls with a hungry rage. The roof groaned, the very bones of the house cracking under the heat’s relentless grip.

Patty ran. Her lungs burned, her heart hammered, but she didn’t stop—not until she reached the street, where a small crowd had gathered in silent, horrified witness.

She barely registered the screaming sirens, the firemen yelling over the chaos. Her gaze locked onto the inferno, the home she had visited countless times now collapsing in on itself.

Then—she spotted them. Myra. Cindy. Flo. Huddled together, their faces pale and stricken. Patty shoved her way through, gripping Myra’s arm. “Where’s Lucy?”

Myra’s tear-filled eyes flicked toward an ambulance parked nearby. “She’s in shock,” she whispered. “Patty, she—she did this. She set the fire herself.” Her brow furrowed, “She always did say if you want something done properly...get a housewife to do it.”

Patty’s stomach dropped. The roar of the flames blurred into white noise. She turned, pushing past a stunned policeman, ignoring his outstretched arm as she rushed toward the ambulance.

“Lucy!”

Lucy sat on the back bumper, wrapped in a grey blanket, her face streaked with soot and tears. Her hands trembled violently; fingers curled around the fabric like she was holding on for dear life.

Patty knelt before her, grasping her shoulders gently, “Lucy, look at me.”

Lucy’s wild, glassy eyes met hers, and for a second, Patty didn’t recognize her friend at all.

“I—I couldn’t let them take it,” Lucy whispered, her voice raw, cracked. “That house—my home. I raised my children there. If I can’t have it—” her breath hitched, “—then no one can.”

Patty swallowed hard, the weight of Lucy’s despair crushing her. She reached for Lucy’s hands, squeezing them firmly, grounding her.

Flo, ever the steady force, crouched beside them and placed a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “When you crack, you crack big time,” she murmured, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips. “I'm beginning to find you remotely interesting in your dotage.”

Lucy let out a weak, shaky laugh, her body trembling.

Cindy and Myra hovered nearby, their eyes wet, their hands uncertain.

A fireman shouted in the background, his voice cutting through the haze.

“Fires under control! It’s over!”

But it wasn’t over. Because Lucy was being led away, wrapped in that same grey blanket, her body fragile beneath it.

As she was helped into the ambulance, Patty felt something inside her twist and break.

“Stan blames her for everything. It’s all there in his statement over the stolen money. Lucy’s demands for a perfect life laid out in line items of accusations.” Myra whispered, “Isn’t that the kicker? Men do something wrong, and it is always the wife to blame. The final insult over this whole sordid business.”

The four of them—Patty, Myra, Cindy, Flo—stood in the flickering light of the dying fire, their friendship now carrying a new, somber weight. Lucy was gone, carted off to a place where she could finally get help.

But standing there, surrounded by the embers of Lucy’s life, Patty couldn’t shake the feeling that they had all just witnessed something deeper than destruction. They had watched a woman swallowed by the world’s cruelty, and in the end, she had burned the whole damn thing down with her.

*********

The smell of simmering tomatoes and garlic filled the house, mingling with the sharp, citrusy scent of freshly peeled oranges. Lizzy sat at Gina’s family table, sleeves rolled up, her hands sticky with flour as she helped press the dough for handmade ravioli.

Around her, Gina’s mother and aunts moved like a well-oiled machine—kneading, chopping, stirring, their voices rising and falling in rapid, musical Italian.

Gina’s cousins, all girls, worked alongside them, obedient and focused, their laughter subdued, their hands busy.

Lizzy had never seen anything like it.

At home, cooking was something her mother did while juggling a dozen other things, and Lizzy was free to read, experiment, and dream up inventions. But here, this was more than cooking—it was a lesson.

A lesson in how to be a proper woman.

“How are your hands so soft?” one of Gina’s older cousins asked as she rolled out dough beside Lizzy.

Lizzy blinked. “What?”

The girl smiled. “Your hands. You don’t do much work, do you?”

Lizzy frowned. “I do plenty. Just not… this.”

The cousin giggled, but it wasn’t unkind. “You’re lucky. My grandfather says a woman’s hands should always be busy. Always have purpose.”

Lizzy scowled. “That’s dumb.”

Gina nudged her sharply. “Lizzy!”

But Lizzy didn’t stop.

“Why do we have to do all the work while the boys get to run around and have fun?” she asked, brushing flour from her hands. “How is that fair?”

One of Gina’s younger cousins, a girl no older than nine, looked up hesitantly. “It’s just how things are.”

Lizzy felt heat rise in her chest.

She glanced out the window, where Teddy, Syd, and Angelo were running wild, their laughter echoing through the sun-drenched yard.

They were free. They weren’t being taught to be anything. They were just… being.

Lizzy’s jaw tightened, “Well,” she said, tossing her apron aside, “maybe things should change.”

It started with a single tomato. Lizzy hadn’t planned it—not really. But when she looked out the window one more time and saw Angelo and the boys, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, untouched by responsibility, something inside her snapped.

She picked up one of the plump, overripe tomatoes from the basket beside her, testing its weight.

Then, without hesitation, she hurled it.

It hit Teddy square in the shoulder, bursting with a satisfying splatter of red.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—chaos.

The boys yelped, scrambling, but it was too late—Lizzy had already thrown another, this time at Syd.

Gina’s cousins gasped in horror, but Lizzy just grinned, wiping her hands on her dress like a war general surveying the battlefield.

“Are you with me or not?” she challenged, eyes gleaming.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation.

Then, Gina—sweet, careful Gina—grabbed a tomato and launched it at Angelo.

Her cousins shrieked with giddy delight, and suddenly, the girls were armed, a rebellion rising in the kitchen.

Tomatoes flew through the air, smacking against walls, clothes, faces. The boys tried to retaliate, but the girls had the advantage of numbers and rage.

Lizzy had never felt so alive. Then, “BASTA!”

The thunderous shout from Gina’s grandfather froze everyone in place. The last tomato slipped from Lizzy’s fingers, hitting the ground with a sad little squish.

Lizzy sat on the stone steps outside, arms crossed, anger burning in her chest. Gina sat beside her, silent, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Well,” Lizzy muttered. “That was fun while it lasted.”

Gina sighed. “You don’t get it, Lizzy.”

Lizzy turned to her, frowning. “What don’t I get?”

Gina toyed with the hem of her dress. “You can just go home. This won’t change anything for you. But for me? I’m expected to do this. To be this.”

Lizzy’s anger faltered. She had been so caught up in fighting back that she hadn’t considered what it meant for Gina. Gina’s father had forbidden Lizzy from coming back.

The message was clear: Lizzy was a bad influence. Too wild, too free. For the first time, Lizzy wondered if she had cost herself her best friend.

“I just wanted things to be fair,” she said softly.

Gina sighed, squeezing her hands together. “Maybe fair doesn’t exist for girls like me.”

Lizzy stared at her, heart sinking. The thought was too big, too unfair, too wrong but Gina was right.

**********

The bathhouse behind Gina’s family home was dimly lit, the scent of soap, damp towels, and warm water thick in the air. A single oil lamp flickered on the wooden shelf, casting long golden shadows along the wooden walls.

Teddy and Syd stood by the basin, stripped to their undershirts, scrubbing away the sticky mess left from the tomato fight. Red streaks still clung to their skin, mixed with the dampness of their hair, their laughter low and breathless.

Syd chuckled, tilting his head as he inspected Teddy’s face. “You’ve still got some on your cheek,” he murmured.

Teddy grinned, running a hand over his jaw. “Yeah? Where?”

Syd reached out, his fingers grazing the side of Teddy’s face, wiping away the last smear of tomato.

The touch lingered. Teddy’s breath hitched as Syd’s fingers trailed slowly, his touch warm, deliberate. Neither of them moved away. The air between them shifted, thickened, became something heavy, electric.

Syd’s dark eyes flickered over Teddy’s face, his thumb still resting against his cheek. Teddy’s heart pounded. He wasn’t thinking anymore. Then he leaned in. The kiss was tentative, testing, but the moment their lips met, something inside Teddy clicked into place.

Syd sighed into the kiss, his hands sliding up to the back of Teddy’s neck, pulling him in closer, deeper—

The door slammed open. Teddy and Syd jerked apart, breathing hard, their eyes wide—

Angelo stood frozen in the doorway. His dark eyes darted between them, his face twisted in something horrified, disgusted—betrayed.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then—Angelo let out a harsh, strangled noise, like he was trying to form words but couldn’t.

His face contorted with fury, “What the hell are you doing?” he spat, his voice thick with revulsion.

Teddy felt his stomach drop. “Angelo, it’s not—”

“Not what?” Angelo snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “I knew you two were getting… weird, but this?” His voice cracked, somewhere between anger and disbelief. He took a step back, like he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as them. “You’re—you’re disgusting!” he hissed, turning to look right at Teddy. “You—” He shook his head violently, his chest rising and falling too fast. “I heard what kids said about you but didn’t pay no attention. Until now. What is wrong with you?”

Teddy flinched, his face burning with shame. Syd, however, stepped forward, his body tense, defiant. “Don’t talk to us like that.”

“This is all you,” Angelo snarled, his voice shaking. His beady eyes boring into Teddy’s own. “You put ideas in his head, didn’t you? You turned him into—” He stopped, his face contorting with a rage so fierce it bordered on panic. “A fruit cake! Just like you!”

Teddy’s heart pounded against his ribs. “Angelo, please—”

“No,” Angelo cut in, his voice shaking. “No. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re both filth. Worse than filth. You’re…twisted bent bastards!” His gaze flickered to Syd, and his expression twisted further. “You two always had something I wasn’t part of….something I didn’t quite get…now I do.”

For the first time, there was something else behind Angelo’s fury—Something that looked a lot like jealousy. But Teddy didn’t have time to process it before Angelo took one slow, deliberate step forward. And spat in his face. Teddy froze. The warm wetness of it dripped down his cheek, and for a second, his entire body went numb.

Syd lunged forward, his voice sharp with rage. “You bastard—”

But Angelo was already storming out, his footsteps heavy, furious, kicking up dirt and dust in his wake.

Teddy stood there, stunned, shaking, his fists clenching at his sides. Syd reached for him, gently wiping the spit from his cheek, but Teddy barely felt it. Angelo was gone. And with him, the friendship they had all built together.

********

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the wall clock and the gentle hum of the kettle on the stove. The scent of home-made cookies curled in the air, but Teddy barely noticed it.

He sat at the kitchen table, his shoulders hunched, staring down at the half-empty mug of Milo in front of him, his fingers twisting around the rim.

Patty stood near the counter, pretending to busy herself with the tea, but her heart ached at the sight of him.

Teddy had always been a thoughtful boy, more comfortable in his own head than anywhere else, but this—this was different. This was sorrow.

She had barely gotten a word out of him ever since he got back, but when she finally coaxed him into the kitchen, the truth had spilled out in broken pieces.

Angelo had seen them. Had rejected who they were.

Teddy swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his eyes red-rimmed but dry, as if he’d run out of tears before he even made it home.

“I ruin everything,” he murmured finally, his voice small and hollow.

Patty turned, frowning. “Teddy, that’s not true.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Isn’t it? I finally had friends, Mum. Real friends. And now I lost one over my—” He stopped, his breath shaking. His hands curled into fists against his knees. “Because I’m disgusting! I’m perverted!

Patty moved before she could stop herself, sliding into the chair beside him, grasping his hands gently in hers, “Now, you listen to me,” she said, her voice firm but so full of love it ached. “You stop saying such things about yourself.” Teddy didn’t look at her. Patty squeezed his hands, forcing him to. “You hear me? You could never be disgusting to me. You're my sweet and joyous boy.”

His eyes flickered, wet and uncertain, but he still looked away, “I just—” His breath hitched. “Why can’t I be normal!” he began to claw at his arms with his fingernails, drawing blood, “Why am I like this! Degenerate! Diseased!”

Patty grabbed his hands away from his arms, stopping him from hurting himself. He began to fight her off him but Patty pulled the boy into a tight hug and didn’t let go until his flailing arms settled down, and the tears finally ebbed away.

She turned his face to look at her, “I know it hurts,” she murmured. “Losing someone you care about always does. But, Teddy…” She swallowed, brushing his curls from his damp forehead. “Sometimes we have to let people go if they can’t be a good friend to us.”

His lips trembled. Patty reached out, cupping his tear-streaked face in her hands, “You are so dear, Teddy,” she whispered. “You are kind and smart and so loved. And if someone can’t see that—if they can’t accept you—then that’s their failure. Not yours.”

Teddy’s chin wobbled, but he still looked so uncertain, so full of self-loathing. Patty pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his temple, smoothing his hair like she had when he was small.

“I love you exactly as you are,” she said softly. “And nothing—nothing—will ever change that.”

Teddy let out a shaky breath, pressing his face into her shoulder. Patty wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tight as she could, as if she could shield him from all the cruelness of the world. And maybe she couldn’t. But she’d spend the rest of her life trying.

*********

The house was eerily quiet as Patty tended her chores. Her thoughts were on her friend. The situation had finally broken her. She had been admitted to a mental health facility for treatment.

Patty heard the front door open spoiling her musings. Freddie must be home. She left the kitchen to find, Freddie, sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, looking utterly defeated.

“Freddie?” she called softly, approaching him with caution.

He looked up, and the anguish in his eyes struck her like a physical blow. “Phil... Phil’s had a serious car accident. He was drunk at the wheel.” he said, his voice breaking. “It’s bad, Patty. Real bad.” He shook his head with disbelief, “And it’s my fault!”

“I thought he was on leave?”

“I lied. I sent him away. I wanted him gone from my life,” Freddie looked up at her with tear-stained eyes.”

“But why? You were such good friends!”

“He wanted more than I could give him…much more. I guess his frustrations with me came out as jealousy.”

Freddie buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing quietly. Patty stroked his hair, her heart breaking for him. She knew how much he was struggling to keep up appearances, to be the perfect husband and strong provider. But inside, he was falling apart. Maybe she would finally get those nagging questions answered. The reason he wasn’t always present in their marriage.

“You aren’t making any sense! What did he want?”

“Me!” Freddie stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He looked up at Patty, his expression raw and vulnerable. “There’s something I need to tell you,” He whispered. “I have been putting it off for too long.”

Patty felt a pang of anxiety. “What is it, Freddie?”

He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. “Phil... he isn’t just a friend to me. He means much more.” Everything seemed to click into place in Patty’s mind. That was it! He gripped her tightly, “You don’t know how long I tried to resist these…urges. It was like fighting a demon inside the threatened to consume.”

They didn’t once look at each other. They just held on for dear life.

“Phil was the only one who could understand…he had such demons too.” Patty’s world began to tilt on its axis, “But we never did anything. I am a married man after all…but these feelings for him I couldn’t deny. Repressed. Primal. And at times, baffling.” He bowed his head unable to look at her, “I am…an abomination! A deviate! I am a man who loves other men the way I should love women.” Tears streaming down his face. “I'm so sorry, Patty. I never meant to hurt you. This whole mess is my fault. If I have been honest with you from the start.”

Patty’s mind raced. The perfect image of their life shattered in an instant. She wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out. But she held it together, for Freddie, for the children, for herself.

“You’re a homosexual!” Patty took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “I'm just... I need time to process this. To understand.”

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