Lifeline

by Susan X Meagher

  "Ryan, I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to convince you that you’re not a psycho. I’m out of ways to reassure you, honey. You’ve had enough stress to drive the healthiest person mad, but you’re getting through it. You’ve made tremendous progress, and soon you’ll be completely back to normal. But you’re not there yet, babe. That doesn’t make you psycho; that makes you human."

  Her chin rested on her raised knees, and Ryan stared out at the sea, unable to meet her partner’s eyes. "I had this image of you laughing and joking and having fun with him, and then thought of what it must be like for you at the house – with me moping around, barely speaking. I don’t blame you for wanting to get out and be around more interesting people – but it makes me jealous … and sad … and lonely."

  Shaking her head, Jamie said, "The thought of Chip being more interesting than you is too laughable to address. And I rather doubt he had the time of his life, baby. All I did was talk about you and how much I love you."

  "What? You … you came out to him?"

  Giving her a completely puzzled look, Jamie said, "Of course I did! Ryan, I know he has a crush on me, so I made it clear that he doesn’t have a chance. Honey, I’d never spend time with a guy and let him think I was single. I’m not," she said, her voice growing soft and gentle. She slipped off her golf glove to expose her ring. "I’m yours."

  "I worry," Ryan said, her face etched with tension. "I worry that you’ll lose patience with me and wish you could get away from me."

  Reaching over, Jamie took her hand. "When you get this way, you seem to forget everything that you know about me. I’m not that kind of person, and you know it, Ryan O’Flaherty. In the first place, things aren’t that bad between us. And secondly, if they were, I still wouldn’t want to get away from you. I want to get closer to you, Ryan, and that will always be my goal. For better or worse, baby. That’s not just an expression, that’s how I live my life."

  "Hug?" the larger woman asked tentatively.

  "As many as you can stand." Jamie scooted closer and wrapped her arms around her partner, holding her tight while they watched the waves crash against the shore, oblivious to everything else in the world.

  Maneuvering around the course, Jamie decided to go right back to where they had left off. It took a little while until they could sneak back on, but eventually the tee on 8 was clear and she couldn’t spot the group on 7. They played the round in companionable silence, Jamie concentrating deeply. At the end of the round they saw the poor souls who had paid their fees to follow them. All each reporter was left with was a $375 bill for greens fees and cart rental, as well as a growing realization that these two young women were not going to give in any time soon.

  After golf, they took a long nap, then ventured out again, going to dinner at a delightful northern Italian place in Carmel. Amanda had urged Ryan to continue to slowly stretch her comfort level, and she felt that she did well at the crowded eatery. When most people recognized them and heads slowly turned their way as they made their way to the table, Jamie just smiled at her partner and said, "I told you those new pants looked fabulous on you! See how much everyone likes them?"

  When they got home, Jamie started to get ready for bed, but Ryan seemed anxious and irritable. She paced around the large house, going through the routine she had developed. Methodically, she checked every window, every door, and then stood and stared out the kitchen window; obviously looking for some sign of activity in the large expanse of grass.

  She stood there for a long while, flinching dramatically when Jamie came up behind her and lightly touched her back. "Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I thought you heard me."

  "No." She moved away from the touch and said, "I’m gonna go play my drums. You don’t have to wait up."

  Jamie nodded, but Ryan didn’t see her response. She was out the door without another glance, leaving her partner feeling rejected and shut out once again – the slight progress they’d made that afternoon evaporated.

  The night was warm, although damp, so Jamie went to the coat closet and found a fleece jacket that belonged to her father. She put it on and went outside to sit in the garden next to the garage. Ryan had opened the window in the gym, and her frenetic drumming easily carried down to the blonde. Usually, the dark woman wore headphones, so that the only sound was the slapping of her sticks against the pads. But tonight she had hooked the set up to the massive speakers for the stereo in the gym, and the entire building nearly rocked. Jamie was sure the noise would give her partner a massive headache, or damage her hearing, but she didn’t intrude – knowing her interference would not be appreciated.

  She had no idea what demons were torturing her partner tonight, but she couldn’t rest until Ryan was a little calmer, and she vowed to stay right where she was until Ryan was ready for bed.

  When the din finally ceased, Jamie checked her watch and saw that it was nearly 11 o’clock. She pulled her jacket tighter and waited for Ryan to exit the building, but the minutes ticked by with no sign of her. Finally, at 11:30, she had to find out what her partner was doing. Ryan had promised that she wouldn’t drink to excess, but Jamie kept thinking of the well-stocked refrigerator in the gym, knowing there was always a bottle of vodka chilling. She hated to doubt her partner, but she knew that Ryan would do just about anything to stop the demons – and if her drumming hadn’t calmed her down …

  Stealthily, Jamie entered the garage and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to the gym was open, but she couldn’t hear a sound coming from the space. As quietly as she could, she poked her head in, and nearly let out a gasp of surprise when she spotted her partner. Ryan was stark naked, her wet body glowing in the dim light of a few large candles. She was seated on a large, square pillow, her body in a traditional yoga pose. Her hands rested, palms upturned, upon her knees; and her eyes were closed. In Jamie’s best estimation, she was sitting in front of a makeshift altar. A weight bench was covered with a white lace cloth, and atop it stood a Celtic cross – finely rendered in a gold finish – and three large votive candles. Ryan’s lips were moving slowly, but not a whisper of sound emerged. Soundlessly, Jamie went back downstairs, confident that Ryan was at least trying to calm herself down. Going back into the house, she made herself a cup of cocoa, needing the caffeine to keep herself awake, which she was determined to do.

  The cocoa helped, allowing her to stay awake for another half hour. But by the time Ryan came back in, she was sound asleep, her face resting on the hard, wooden table.

  What am I doing to her? Ryan asked herself, her heart gripping in pain for her partner. Squatting down beside her, Ryan gave her a gentle kiss, then tucked a hand under her knees and another behind her shoulders. Grunting from the effort, she lifted her and nestled her lover against her chest. She’d only traveled a few feet when Jamie’s sleepy voice traveled up to her. "Do you still love me?" she asked, in a heartbreakingly sorrowful tone.

  She was so taken aback by the question that Ryan nearly stumbled. Placing her partner on one of the sofas in the living room, she got to her knees in front of her and whispered, "Of course I love you! How can you doubt that?"

  "I don’t, I don’t," Jamie whispered, starting to cry. "I was having a nightmare … and I got confused. I didn’t know if it was real or if you were real …"

  "Oh, Jamie," Ryan sighed, holding her tightly. "I’m so sorry."

  "I dreamed that we never got back to where we were … and one day you told me that you didn’t feel the same way you used to feel. You said … you said you thought it would be best if we just started over … with someone else." She was crying heavily now, and Ryan just held her, unable to say a thing to ease her pain. "You said it was too painful to see me and be reminded of … stuff," she sobbed. She wrapped her arms around Ryan so tightly that she bruised her. "Please don’t let that happen. Please!"

  "It won’t!" Ryan whispered fiercely. "I swear it won’t!"

  "Hold me. Hold me and tell me everything will be all right." Ryan climbed ont
o the sofa, then tugged on Jamie until she was lying atop her. Her clothes were wet from sweat, but the smaller woman was oblivious to everything but her lover’s heartbeat and the strong arms that held her. "I know it’s hard for you to be close, but please, please hold me tonight."

  "I will," Ryan said, already feeling her heart start to race from the intimate contact. "I promise."

  It took Jamie a long time to understand why she was lying on the sofa in the living room. She was covered with a warm blanket, and when she sat up she found a neatly typed note lying on the table in front of her.

  Hi, sweetheart,

  I had to leave for therapy, and you were sleeping too soundly for me to have the heart to wake you.

  I spent a little time this morning trying to get my thoughts down. I know it’s awfully late to be telling you these things now, but I’m working as quickly as I can, and this was honestly the first time I’ve felt able to do this.

  First things first: You and I are together until death parts us. I think I clearly showed how I react to a stranger trying to separate us. I’m sure not going to do something like that myself. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart. So even though I know I drive you mad sometimes … okay, frequently … there is no option to return this particular purchase.

  Now, for the hard part. Four big things are bothering me, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get past them. Here goes:

  1- I’m wracked by guilt because I couldn’t make myself do what I thought was right. As soon as I got the gun in my hands, I knew I should kill the driver. I was confident that I could kill him with a single shot to the head, and I thought I had a good chance of being able to steer the car once I pushed his body out of the way. If the passenger didn’t behave, I knew I could take him out, too. Obviously, this was a gamble, but I thought it through thoroughly, and I was confident that it was the right move. Here’s the problem – I couldn’t make myself shoot him. Even though he was trying to kill us all, I wasn’t able to shoot him. I go over the scenario in my head – dozens of times a day. Every time I let it play out, I come to the same decision: I should have killed him. But I was too afraid. I let my fear stop me from doing what I knew in my heart was right – and knowing that about myself makes me question who I am. I doubt everything about myself, Jamie, and that’s never happened to me before. I thought I knew myself well – but I obviously don’t. I’m a coward. That’s incredibly hard to admit, but that’s what I am.

  I doubt that I’ll ever forgive myself for giving his life the same value as yours. I just hope that you don’t loathe me half as much as I loathe myself for what I was unable to do. Letting him live nearly cost your life. I don’t even have words for the terror I feel every time I allow myself to consider that thought. I think I have a little insight into why so many military veterans lose their minds. It’s not so much what you do in times like these – it’s what you fail to do that drives you mad.

  2-Failing to kill the driver was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. The second biggest was saving both of their lives. I risked your life and I risked my own by doing that, and I’ll never be able to apologize sufficiently for that. I know it was just a reaction, and I know that I didn’t think it through – but that’s no excuse. I promised you once that I’d be very careful to take care of myself so that you and I would be together for a very long time. I broke that promise, and I will never be able to find words to express how sorry I am.

  3-I’m also unable to get over feeling responsible for killing another human. No matter who he was, or what he did, he was a child of God, and my soul aches for contributing to his death. The worst part is that I’m glad he’s dead, and I hope that an even worse fate awaits his brother. I have fantasies about becoming a prison guard, just so I can kill him with my bare hands, taking out all of my rage on him as the life drains from his worthless body. I hate those men with every breath I take, but my hatred fills me with a darkness that threatens to consume me.

  4-As angry as I am with them, what they did wasn’t personal. They just wanted the car, and they were too stupid to get it without trying to kill us. But someone we know has intentionally tried to make our lives substantially worse during this terrible time. I can’t speak or even write her name, and I worry that I’ll finally gain my nerve and be able to kill someone if I see her on campus. She haunts my dreams, Jamie, and the things I imagine doing to her terrify me. I’m not that kind of person, but, like I said, I feel like I don’t know myself any longer. I’m worried – very worried.

  Those are the big four, sweetheart. Guilt, fear, self-loathing, and hatred are the only emotions I seem able to feel any more. To be honest, I haven’t made much progress with any of them. I still have nightmares every night, and I still have intrusive thoughts that torment me all day. But Amanda has really helped with the reporters. I’m okay with them now, so I think it’s best to go back to Berkeley. I’m afraid I’m going to be struggling with this for a long time, babe, but we can’t hide out here forever.

  I truly wish I could be more open with you, and let you help me through this, but it’s just not possible at this point. I desperately want to be close to you, Jamie, but I start to panic when we get too close. My mind starts to race and I remember how you looked on that examining table in the ER when you were nearly blue with cold. Images of your lifeless body fill my head and I feel like I’ll die from fright. The panic is as terrifying as the fear, so it becomes a vicious circle. Please, believe me when I say that I’m trying the best that I can, but it’s too soon for me to be fully open with you. Amanda assures me that we’ll get back to where we were, and she’s not lied to me yet – so I’m gonna choose to believe her. Please believe in me – and in us, Jamie. I do. I swear that I do.

  Love always,

  Ryan

  Jamie sat staring at the note for a very long time. She read it over and over again, finally lying down to let it all sink in. So many thoughts, so much guilt in that sweet, sweet woman’s heart. I’d do anything to purge her of it – but I can’t. All I can do is support her, and love her as best as I’m able. Dear God, please let it be enough.

  Later that morning, when Ryan stood to leave Amanda’s office for their last in-person visit, she reached for the hand the older woman extended. But Ryan couldn’t repress her physical nature, and she took the offered hand and pulled the woman in for a robust hug. "Thank you so much," she whispered. "It’s going to be odd just talking to you on the phone. Hell, it’s gonna be odd not talking to you tonight. But my family will be here late this afternoon, and I don’t want to have to be on the phone for an hour."

  "I think it was a wise choice to only see each other once today," Amanda said. "And I’d much prefer to see you in person, too, but I’m willing to see how it goes speaking on the phone. We made it work once before – I see no reason that it won’t work once again."

  "I’m not sure I’m ready to go," Ryan worried, "but I know I’ll be furious with myself if I don’t graduate. School starts on Monday, and I’ve got to be there."

  "You’ll be fine. Just remember, if you want to find someone in Berkeley, I won’t mind a bit. I want you to do whatever feels right, Ryan."

  "No, I’m not much for change," she said. "I know you, and I trust you, and I don’t want to have to build that trust up again."

  "You let me know when you think you want to return to your team, okay?"

  "Yeah, I will. I’m not there yet, though. I need to ease back into things slowly."

  "I couldn’t agree more, Ryan. You’re not ready yet, but when you are, I’ll be happy to talk to your coach."

  "Okay. I’ll let you know."

  Amanda smiled at her and said, "Have a very good time with your family this weekend, Ryan. I’ll speak to you on Monday – same as always."

  Ryan poked her head in the back door of the house and looked around the room, expecting to find her partner nearby. After her therapy session, she’d gone for a long walk along the cliffs, then bought a newspaper and whiled away another hour i
n a coffee shop. She knew she was being a big chicken, but she was afraid to see Jamie after delivering her note, and she debated whether to make a run for it before she was spotted. But she finally steeled her courage and started looking around the house. "Jamie?" she called a few times, receiving no answer. When she reached the second floor she didn’t call out, thinking her partner might be back in bed. It was just noon, but their sleep patterns were so screwed up that either of them could be asleep at any hour of the day or night.

  She found her in Catherine’s sunny office, staring out at the ocean, oblivious to Ryan’s presence. "Hi," the dark-haired woman said quietly.

  "Oh, hi," she said, turning to give her a warm smile. She was sitting on one of the long chaises, and she patted the cushion. "C’mere."

  Ryan did so, standing awkwardly next to the piece. "Yeah?"

  Jamie grasped her hand and said, "I’d like to pull you down here and hug the stuffing out of you, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Are you in the mood to be cuddled?"

  Gratefully, Ryan clambered onto the chaise, managing to fit her entire, long body onto the remaining cushion. Jamie wrapped her arms around her and held her so tightly her own arms ached. After a long while, she said, "I know you’re uncomfortable talking about things right now. I think writing down your thoughts was a very wise thing to do. So, let’s do that for a while, okay? It might be safer for both of us."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, really. I can organize my thoughts better when I write them down, and it makes things less emotional. Actually, Anna suggested that I write down how I’m feeling every night before I go to bed. I’ve been doing that for a few days now, and it’s really helped."

  "You haven’t woken me up with a nightmare in a couple of days," Ryan said. "It must be working."

  "It lets me put a lid on things," she said. "You might want to try it tonight."