What goes round got to come around...birds are green and when you see one, you'll tell it isn't that green anyway.

"So you are saying she's your girlfriend?" I ask quizzically. The mysterious lady has gone by now amidst a dramatic fiasco in which Miss Havisham had to plead sorry a million times before letting go.

But so to speak, the fact that Miss Havisham was in love with her is just so heartbreaking and mysterious in itself.

She looks adamant in her reply.

"It's about our honeymoon, Alexas. That's why she's so mad at me. She says I am wasting lots of time. "

"I would be mad too if I was in her shoes."

"So, you're not mad at me for being gay?"

"Mad? Seriously? I wouldn't care for a single bit. The point is you being happy, that's all. And anyway, what difference would it make? You'd still be you, that'd change nothing, now would it?"

She looks relieved. Her cute face says it all. I stand perplexed as though in one past life, Miss Havisham and I were but sisters.

"So you're not mad at me for last night either?" She asks sorrowfully.

"Yes, about that. Actually, it's not about me really. Liz is literally close to those writing competitions and I'm no better at tutoring, let alone being an essay tutor, so she really needs you."

She looks perplexed, "Come with me inside. We'll talk this over a cup of hot coffee."

****

I nurse my cupcake and hot coffee gently. Miss Havisham sits cross-legged, her beautiful green eyes masking mine.

The chairs are antique beautiful too, emboldened with a crisp-touch of emerald where one normally finds old ebony.

"So you live here alone?" I ask, my head still not accepting the room's eloquence.

"Figuratively, yes. Though Monroe usually comes in every so often." She blushes.

"And I take Monroe is the lady who was outside a few seconds before wearing a cloak?"

"Yes."

"And your girlfriend?"

She seems slightly embarrassed and so am I. We both take a bite into our cupcakes. It's mouthwatering good.

"So where's your honey-moon?" I munch into my cupcake, sipping more black coffee. God bless my teeth.

"We're actually debating over it. Monroe wants Panama, but I'm thinking about going to Achill Island. It's really cool there. What's with the water and all, I can't put a finger to it." She rolls her eyes.

"And I guess Achill is on Mars." We both laugh.

"No, actually it's in Ireland." She says, and noticing my blank expression continues, "Are you alright?"

"Did you just say Ireland?"

"Yes, Achill Island is in Ireland. I know, right? Sounds boring and all, but when you get to see the splendid effort put into making the beaches, you'd be in for a surprise."

"But that's not why I'm in awe. Cathy lives in Ireland too. It could be a perfect timing if you too are going there."

"Oh, I thought you said she lives in German!"

"No, that's Adney. Cathy is the one that lives in Ireland."

"Incredible."

"So when are you going?"

"It's not so much of a topic of debate as it is of time. It's more of when Monroe is ready."

"So you are ready."

"That's a statement." She smiles.

"Are you ready?"

"Well, I guess so."

"Well, whenever you guys are going, count me in. I have to meet Cathy in whichever way I can."

Miss Havisham waves me off suddenly. "But she wants Panama, Alexas. Monroe thinks Panama makes the perfect spot for a honeymoon. I don't think anyone can talk her out of it."

"Is that why she left so sad?"

"You bet!"

"Well, try me. I'll talk to her. She won't resist my charm."

"Hooray to you then. She's all yours."

***

It's coming to evening, and still I can't deny Miss Havisham's influence on my psyche. It's definitely not something one can describe in plain words. It's beyond devotion anyway, for I am stuck here cleaning her laundry despite her refusal for me to do so.

I'd never even have thought myself much of a laundry slash chore-doing type, until I came here that is.

I dry wash as much as I can, cleaning the stains in a knight-with-a-sword fashion, before there is no more than a blanket and six knickers.

It's just too creepy having to do this but also greatly rewarding. Ridiculous as it sounds, doing her laundry kind of makes me feel closer to her than ever before.

I ravish her knickers perversely, soaking and rinsing them from time to time, so that when she comes in from the shower, the first thing she sees me doing is wringing them of water.

It's utter embarrassment for the second time.

"I am very sure I told you not to wash them..." She stummers indefinitely.

I'm watching her naked in that towel, curious what she looks like when fully nude. It's really perverted but insidiously rewarding at the same time.

I stand facing her, my heart thudding. Can I really do it?

Can I kiss her once and for all? It sounds insane but something about those curves and circles is doing butterflies to my stomach.

I stop just a hair's breadth infront of her, and ironically, her eyes are closed as though she's anticipating it.

I catch myself before I fall for it. My body is on the verge of lying with her, and just devouring whatever perfection is left in her, yet in that strange moment when everything is coming to fruition, I just chicken out.

We stand together face to face, with her eyes now open. I bet she definitely feels the same way I feel for her.

I am not the only one trying hard not to fall for a make-out it seems.

The arrival of a Mercedes outside startles us into reality. Monroe is back and with her, a gazillion shopping spree list of items. Miss Havisham hurries past me into the dressing room, leaving me in a very awkward position.

Monroe is startlingly gorgeous. Now without the cloak on, she really resembles her nemesis Marilyn Monroe - blond, curvy, and with a puffed chest. She resembles a goddess in that golden dress perfected with a Pendant gemstone necklace.

Her eyes are fixated on mine, and her lips reddened with lust. Either my mind is going bazak or being around hot women has a butterfly trigger on me.

"Oh, you're back!" Miss Havisham walks in, wearing Eau de Perfume, a woody fragrance filling everything. "Alexandra this is Monroe Rodriguez. And Monroe, this is Alexandra- though I call her cute little Alexas."

"I'm not little." I fume, drawing soft laughter from Monroe with Miss Havisham joining in later.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Alexandra." She offers her hand, "Though I'm sorry you had to see what you saw previously."

"No, it's cool."

"Now, anyone ready for some cookies?" Miss Havisham says enthusiastically.

"I guess I'll first help myself to unpacking these items." Monroe says, catching a frozen expression on both of our faces.

"Oh, no need to worry. I'm going to help you." Miss Havisham says.

"No, you make the cookies, I'm going to help her." I say, matter-of-factually.

"Alright. I guess I'll just make the cookies. What with you two helping each other out."

After she's gone, me and Monroe share a giggle.

"You think she's cute, don't you?" Monroe asks freely.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Do you like her then?"

"To make you jealous, I'd say yes. Though I am really straight, so it kinda makes no sense falling for her, does it?"

Monroe looks at me with those big blue eyes, and I instantly feel she can see right through me and my devious lies.

Instead, she says, "Well, what can one say? Leaving with lesbians is a problem for most straight common people but I have a feeling you're not common, Alexandra. Isn't it?"

I nod, unpacking a doll from the shopping bag.

"For whom did you buy this?" I say, examining the soft teddy bear.

"Oh, that's for my cousin Patrick. He lives a few miles from here. It's just a way to say thank you."

"Really?!"

"Me and him have been through a lot. It doesn't come easy having a lesbian for a relative, now does it?"

"Now you sound piteous. There's nothing wrong with being who you are."

"Are you ashamed to say it?"

"What?"

"That I am a lesbian."

"Well, Monroe Rodriguez, you are a sweet charming gorgeous lesbian."

"Gorgeous? You think I am gorgeous?" She's blushing heinously. What with all the drama in this house?

"Yeah. I think you're gorgeous."

"Well, why don't you say it?"

"I just said it."

"No, you said you think. I want you to remove the 'thinking' part." Her blue eyes are now deeply pitched to mine, shunning butterflies at my stomach in their wake.

"Relax." She says finally, "I'm just kidding. You know it's really difficult not having a sense of humour when living with a lesbian."

"For heavens-sake Monroe, could we just drop the use of that word?"

"What word?"

"You know what word I'm talking about!"

And hence it's fifteen minutes of silence for both of us, unpacking more dolls, before Miss Havisham comes in.

"Hey, I guess you like them. They're chocolate flavoured ponced cookies."

"Uhm, I am really confused here. What does 'ponced' mean again?"

"Oh, Alexandra. God bless your heart. Clearly Havisham here is using a very dirty word and you know nothing about it."

"Don't believe her, now. Ponced means seeking to obtain something without paying for it."

"Or, another explanation would be living of a prost..."

"For godssake Monroe, could you be any sour?"

I love their 'moments' and they surprisingly seem unbothered by my presence as they tongue-wrestle each other out.

"In conclusion, I got these from that guy at the mall. Remember him Monroe?"

"Oh, that geek who fancies you."

"Yes. And no, he doesn't fancy me."

"Oh, come on. Everyone around here knows he does." Monroe blurts out.

"But I don't fancy him if that's what you're getting at."

"You don't have to. The poor guy doesn't know you're not his type anyway. And besides, I once heard him tell his colleagues, he's dating you."

"Now, that's so sneaky of you, Monroe. Of all people at least, you should know I don't like him."

"Guys, S-T-O-P." I blend in calmly, "Is it like this every waking moment of your lives?"

"Told you living with lesbians isn't for commoners."

"Monroe," I say resentfully, "I told you not to use that word again!"

"I'm sorry."

"You should be . And you, Miss Havisham..." I point my finger at her. I am surprised she is calm.

"Call me Havisham, Alexas. That way, I'm younger and fun."

"You're not getting young, lady!" Monroe dives in.

"I think you missed the part where I am supposed to be the one talking and you're supposed to be quiet as hush."

"I'm listening army-lady." Monroe says, smiling.

I stiffle a laugh, "Alright, we need new rules around here. First, we all have to make sure the laundry is always done. It doesn't matter if it's snowing outside or there's a honeymoon coming up. Rule number two, no use of the word lesbian ever in this house."

"Wait, but that's what we are. I mean, me and Havisham, that is."

"Yes, I understand. But you," I point at Monroe, "You are using it for self-pity, and that's besides the point."

"Which is?"

"Which is that you're meant to be strong, independent, and brave. You're against the common norms and society rules and pressure. If there's anything but bravery in that, I don't know what it is."

"Alright, I get it. But these rules so to speak, need you to be with us twenty four seven, because clearly, I don't trust Monroe will respect them."

"Well, I don't trust you will respect them either, you nasty lesbian."

"Well," I say, "guess we have our first punishment for the day. No cookies for Monroe for disobeying the rules."

"Oh, come on. I didn't do anything. I just called her a nasty lesbian. There's no self-pity in that, is there?"

"Now that you've used it again, you're scrubbing the toilet."

"Oh, come on!" Monroe mourns. Havisham and I stiffle a giggle.

****

"Is it always like this?" I ask Havisham. It's now past midnight. Monroe has gone to visit her cousin Patrick. Liz is probably worried about me.

"You mean the drama?" She says rhetorically. It never crossed my mind that two extremely beautiful women would be in wrangles all the time.

"If anything, me and Monroe aren't that tense and all. It's just a way of teasing each other. A way of finishing off our daily turmoil."

"Turmoil?"

"Well, it's more than that. Monroe's parents are so against her sexuality that they kicked her out of their family when she came out. As for me, I'm just lucky my mother is more loving than any I've ever met. She supported me all the way through, and I am glad to say I owe my life to her.

"My father is more like Monroe's parents. She kicked me out so to speak, only paying my university tuition in the process. My mother became my sole comforter."

"I'm so sorry." I feel the need to hug her, and close the distance between us but I withhold myself.

"Don't be. These things happen, Alexas. You just need to be strong throughout it all."

"I'm really sorry, Miss Havisham."

"Drop the formality."

"Oh, sorry. Havisham it is then. So, when did you find out about your sexuality?"

"Well, I'd say the moment I lay my eyes on Monroe, but that sounds far-fetched. Well, right from high school, I always felt I wasn't made for dicks and stuff, if you'd forgive my language. I wanted to be dominant not dominated. It was instinctual, the way one runs for safety when threatened. To answer your question, it in high school."

"Jeez, I almost forgot." I say, "Can I sleep here tonight?"