"Something’s bothering you," Jamie said. "I can tell."
"Oh, it’s nothing important," Catherine said. She shook her head, then decided not to hold anything back from her daughter. "I got a call from Skip the other day and, while not saying so pointedly, he implied that you and Trey were in roughly similar situations."
"Pardon?" Jamie asked, not getting the reference.
"He seems to think that Trey’s drug usage and your lesbianism are equivalent," she said, her eyes narrowed.
"That’s a stretch."
"I’m guessing that you set him straight," Ryan said, seeing the fire in Catherine’s eyes.
"I don’t think it’s possible to do that, Ryan," she said. "He’s still in complete denial about Trey’s problems. Trey was supposed to be at the facility for 90 days, then it became 120, and now they’re delaying his release again. I can’t think they’re keeping him because he’s everyone’s favorite! And yet, his father has the nerve to say that he understands what it’s like to be humiliated in front of the family."
Jamie got up and sat on the arm of her mother’s chair. "Has that thought ever gone through your head – for even the briefest moment?" she asked softly. "Have I ever humiliated you, Mom?"
"No! Not once, Jamie. I’m proud of you, sweetheart, and no matter what our narrow-minded relatives think, you’re the best thing to come out of the Dunlop line in generations!"
"Atta girl, Catherine," Ryan said. "Give ‘em hell!"
When they arrived at the O’Flaherty house, Ryan noticed that she’d had her cell phone turned off again. She switched it back on and saw that she had a number of messages. The first one was from a stumbling, stuttering Heather. "Uhm… Ryan? Hi, it’s a… it’s Heather… from the volleyball team?" Ryan smiled at Jamie and motioned for her to come closer so she could hear the message. "Uhm… we saw that you’re not playing basketball, and Ashley and I… Ashley Bond… from the volleyball team? Uhm… we thought you might like to work out with us… you know… just to stay in shape? Call me… if you want to… you don’t have to if you don’t… uhm… well, bye."
Ryan was now smirking at the phone, and she waited for the second call to play. "Uhm… my number is 555-1832." There was a pause, and she added, "Uhm… it’s Heather… from the volleyball team. Bye."
"One of these days," Ryan said, "one of these days that girl is going to get over her nervousness around me."
"Uh-huh," Jamie said, always having been confident that Heather’s discomfort with her partner had more to do with a serious crush than mere nervousness.
"Hey, guess what?" Ryan asked brightly after having returned her phone calls.
"What, love?"
"Heather and Ashley are going to help tutor Jennie. They understand how busy I am, and how much worse it will be if I play ball again, and they’re going to help out. Cool, huh?"
"Indeed," Jamie said. "What will they do, come to the house?"
"We haven’t worked out the details yet, but it can all be arranged. I’m really proud of those two. They’ve turned out to be great teammates."
"What about your current erstwhile teammates?" Jamie asked, bringing up a sore subject. "I noticed that for the first time you said ‘if' you play again. That’s a switch."
"Yeah, it is," she said. "Amanda says that she’ll talk to coach if I want to go back. She thinks I can handle the stress at this point. But I don’t think I’m going to do it. I think I’m going to quit."
"Just quit?" Jamie asked, amazed that her partner would even suggest such a thing – especially after all she’d gone through to hang in this long.
"Yeah … just quit. First time for everything," she said, shrugging.
"Oh, honey, maybe you should wait a week or two. You’ve held out this long – what’s the rush?"
"Mmm … there’s a little something I might prefer to do," she said, a ghost of an impish grin settling on her face.
"What’s up, Tiger? Something is."
Ryan’s big blue eyes glittered a bit as she said, "Well … it seems my friend Heather is considering playing softball, and she asked the coach if he’d work me out to see if he might want me for the team."
"What?"
"I don’t know that I’d want to do it, but I hate to have my experience with the basketball team be my last collegiate sports memory."
Trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes, Jamie asked, "Ryan, isn’t getting ready for the AIDS Ride enough for one women?"
"Not this woman," Ryan said, just a hint of her mischievous smile in place.
"Honey, why is it so important to stress yourself like this?"
"Jamie," Ryan said, her expression sober, "if the opportunity was just right, and I was sure I could have a positive experience, I might like to do this. But I won’t even think about making a decision until you and I have talked it over thoroughly. Okay?"
"Okay," Jamie said. She let her mind wander to the possibility of having Ryan join yet another team, then her eyes brightened as she considered one benefit of Ryan competing. "Do they wear shorts?"
"Uhm … yes, as a matter of fact, on warm days they do. I think you’d like the outfits, honey. They’re not as good as the ones for volleyball, but they beat the hell out of basketball."
"Honey, those orange jumpsuits that they wear in San Quentin beat those basketball uniforms. That’s no contest at all!"
"Hey, Ryan, it’s Ally," Ally Webster announced when she called Ryan later that afternoon.
"Hi, there. What’s up?"
"Not much. I just thought I’d check in again. I haven’t spoken to you for a week, and you can get into an awful lot of trouble in that length of time."
"You’ve got my number, pal," Ryan said. "Things have been pretty calm here, actually. The media crush has died down a bit, and the tabloids aren’t due out for three days, so we’re having a little respite."
Ally’s joking tone ceased, and she said, "I know you’re not in the mood to hear my righteous anger on your behalf, Ryan, but I just have to say again that out of all of the people I’ve known, you’re the one least deserving of this crap. I’d do anything to get rid of this for you."
"I know you would," Ryan said, feeling her emotional control waver a bit. "Enough about me," she said. "How are things with you?"
"Good," Ally said. "I’ve been out with Sara a couple of times, and I really like her, Ryan. She has a really sweet soul, hasn’t she?"
"Oh, yeah," Ryan said. "She’s got a very good heart. She’s got a lot of great qualities, Ally. I honestly think you two could be very good together. I hope it works out."
"Well, I’m going to dinner at her house tonight. Wish me luck."
Ryan chuckled softly. "You’ll need it," she said. "Sara can’t cook worth a damn!"
"Hi." Sara Andrews smiled warmly as she opened the door of her apartment to greet her guest.
"Hello," Ally said, in her soft Southern drawl. She brushed past Sara on her way into the apartment, and the smaller woman felt her mouth go dry at the sensation.
"You didn’t have too much trouble parking, did you?"
"Trouble parking in the Marina on a Saturday night?" Ally asked, cocking her head quizzically. "Is that usually a problem?"
"Where did you have to park?" Sara asked, rolling her eyes and bracing herself for the worst.
"I’m not exactly sure," Ally said, "but I won’t say no if you offer me a ride back to my car. If I’d known it would be this bad, I would have walked!"
"There was a certain beauty to Palo Alto," Sara said. "I got used to being able to park a block or two away from my destination."
"How do you like being back in the city?" Ally asked as she took a seat upon a stool that was resting under a counter that served as a pass-through into the small kitchen.
"It’s very nice for work," Sara said. "And there’s a lot to do, of course, but it’s awfully congested over here. I guess I’d grown used to the more open, greener feeling of Palo Alto. But I’m certainly not going to drive into the city
from there every day. I value my sanity!"
"I miss North Carolina for that same reason," Ally said, a faraway look in her eyes. "I love San Francisco, and I can’t ever see myself leaving, but sometimes I long for the wide open spaces."
"Do you ever go back and visit?" Sara asked.
"No. Haven’t been back since the day I left," she said softly. "I left on bad terms, Sara. I wouldn’t be welcomed back."
Feeling her heart clutch in sympathy, Sara said, "I’m not welcome in my house right now because my father’s upset about my being gay. Is that it for you, too?"
Ally looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Sara came over to stand next to her. She placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You don’t have to answer if I’m prying. I just want to get to know you better." Twitching her head towards the kitchen she asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Yeah," she said quickly, nodding her head. "Sparkling water?"
"Sure." Sara poured her a glass of water, passing it through to her. "Uhm … do you mind if I have some wine? I know you don’t drink, and I …"
"No, it’s fine," Ally said. "Thanks for asking, though. I’ve been sober for quite a few years, and I’m rarely tempted. I can even go to bars now and not feel the urge."
Sara gazed at her for a minute and said, "If there’s ever a time that you feel a little tempted, just let me know, and I won’t drink around you, okay?"
"It’s a deal," the larger woman said, charmed by Sara’s attempts to be sensitive to her issues. "Do you need any help with dinner?" she asked, noticing something that smelled good, but not seeing anything on the stove.
"No, I’ve had all the help a woman can have. Are you ready to eat?"
"Yeah, I am," Ally said.
Sara opened the oven, and pulled out an aluminum tray of cannelloni with tomato sauce. She had to use folded dishtowels to extract the tray, since she apparently didn’t own hot pads. Ally helped her get it to the table, then Sara took out two different salads from the refrigerator, both in take-out containers. "Have you gotten the impression that I don’t entertain often?" she asked, setting the containers on the table. "I don’t have any cookware or serving ware yet, and I think the Pottery Barn price tags might still be on these place mats."
She was obviously a little flustered, and Ally slid a long, strong arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. "I appreciate that you invited me," she said softly. "My culinary skills lie in opening cans and ordering take-out food, so this seems very adventurous to me."
"Thanks," Sara said, looking up into her eyes. They stood just like that for nearly a minute, with Sara feeling like she could remain in that exact position for a very long time. She blinked slowly as Ally dipped her head and kissed her gently, holding onto her for another moment. As Sara pulled away, her eyes were a little wide and she felt like fanning herself. Ally had kissed her after their last 2 meetings, but both had been friendly ‘thanks for spending time with me’ kind of kisses that you might give to a good friend. This one, however, was a ‘I’d like to kiss you longer and harder, but we’re about to sit down to dinner’ kind of kiss, and Sara fervently hoped that dinner would be over quickly so she could find out if Ally had intended to send the message she had picked up.
Ally held Sara’s chair, gently pushing it under the smaller woman, then giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Everything looks great, Sara," she said as she took her own seat.
"Help yourself. I know you don’t eat much meat, so I bought the meatless tomato sauce; and I know you’re trying to keep fat from your diet, so I got the nonfat cannelloni. Is that okay?"
Ally gave her a warm smile and nodded. "I really appreciate that you tried to provide something I can eat. I can’t have much of the cannelloni, just because of the pasta, but I’ll certainly have a little." She took one tube and put a big bite into her mouth. "Mmm … I’d like to have this again after my competition. Where did you buy this?"
"Lucca Deli," she said. "I’m on a first name basis with the guys behind the counter. How about the salads?" Sara asked. "I made sure the dressing was on the side."
Ally reached across the table and took Sara’s hand in hers. "You are such a thoughtful woman. This is just perfect." One of the salads was a traditional three-bean concoction, and Ally added just a dash of Balsamic vinegar to hers. But she ate a very healthy portion, reassuring Sara that she wouldn’t go away hungry. The second salad consisted of various lettuces, along with a few fresh vegetables. Ally managed a good-sized portion, although she ate it completely dry.
Sara tried to follow her friend’s habits, but she had to put a little dressing on her green salad. "So, tell me about the event on Sunday," she said. "How long have you been training?"
"Since I was seventeen," the larger woman said. "I’m joking, of course, but bodybuilding is a constant pursuit. I work out anywhere from an hour to three hours a day, depending on what I’m working on. The training’s pretty constant. The really hard part is dieting. I start about eight weeks before the competition, slowly removing oil and fat and sugar from my diet. For two or three weeks beforehand I’m down to zero." She gave Sara a thin smile and said, "It’s really unhealthy, to be honest. You make your body start to cannibalize itself so you can get that ridiculously cut look. It’s honestly a stupid thing to do. My hair loses its shine, my skin is pasty, I bruise really easily. It’s very artificial, and I don’t like to be artificial any more."
Sara spent a moment looking at her friend, noticing things that weren’t so obvious at first. "Now that you mention it, you don’t look like yourself. You look almost gaunt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been sick." Cocking her head, she asked, "Is that really the look they want?"
"Well, I’ll look better after I put my tanning lotion on. Then I’ll look like a woman who’s been on a desert island, starving for a few months with no clothes and no sun-block."
"Sounds nice," she said, thinking it sounded anything but. "I’m not familiar with what happens during the competition," Sara said. "Do you lift weights?"
"Yeah, but we do that backstage, just to pump up our muscles. On stage, we pose. It’s pretty technical, but the goal is to highlight your best parts and minimize your worst parts. It’s really very draining to pose in the way we have to, and when the competition is over, I’m really wiped."
"Where is it being held?"
"Right down the block. It’s in the exhibition hall at the Palace of Fine Arts. It’s a nice hall, but they don’t have showers, which makes it kinda rough. I’m a sweaty mess when I’m finished."
"Oh! Well, why don’t you come over here when it’s over. I hate to think of you having to go home all sweaty. You’ll catch a chill."
Ally gave her a slow smile and said, "That’s very kind of you, but I might not be the best company. I’m usually pretty out of it."
"That doesn’t matter. Come by and shower, and we’ll see how you feel then."
"Okay, it’s a deal." Ally took another bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully. "I spoke with Ryan briefly this afternoon."
Sara’s eyes closed and she took in a deep breath. "I’m so angry over the way they’ve been treated. I’m not a violent person, but if I ever meet the person who spoke to the tabloids about Ryan …"
"I know," Ally said. "Two nicer people don’t exist – and yet, people will still sell them out for a few bucks. It’s just not right."
"How did Ryan seem? She was in bad shape on Christmas Eve. I’ve been worried sick about her, but I’ve been afraid to call."
"She wasn’t very gabby," Ally said. "She didn’t really seem like herself. I can only hope that this will pass soon."
"I do, too," Sara sighed. "Ryan’s had so much pain in her life. It just isn’t fair."
"No, it never is," Ally said, giving Sara’s hand a gentle squeeze.
After dinner, Sara got up to clear the dishes, and she commented, "You know, for someone your size you certainly don’t eat much."
"No, I don’t ea
t much," Ally said. "But I do eat often, usually five or six meals a day. I had a meal about this size at four o’clock today."
"Hmm … does that work for you?" Sara looked at her closely, letting her eyes linger on the rock-solid body and said, "That was a stupid question. It obviously works for you."
"I need to eat often to keep my energy level up. I switched from three meals a day to six about three years ago, and I feel a lot better."
"Well, you certainly look good," she repeated, letting her brown eyes rake slowly over the body once again.
Ally had been involved in this little dance far too often to not recognize the signs of seduction. Deciding that it was now or never, she walked into the living room and took a seat, waiting for Sara to join her on the couch. "I uhm … I’m ready to answer the question you asked me before dinner," she said, locking her eyes with the smaller woman’s.
"Okay," Sara said, remembering that the question still hung out there. "If you want to."
"I don’t really," Ally said honestly. "But if you want to know me, you have to know about my life." She took a breath and said, "I have an older brother who raped me when I was a child."
Sara reached out immediately and grasped her hand, chafing it gently between her own. She didn’t say another word, silently urging Ally to continue.
"He was the favorite of both of my parents," she said softly. "My family was pretty screwed up generally, but he was pure evil. He threatened me, and convinced me that our parents would never believe me if I told them. I’m sure he was right about that," she said bitterly. "Anyway, this continued sporadically until he left home to marry." She shivered visibly as she said, "I kept my mouth shut until he and his wife had a child. I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting his daughter, so I told his wife." She looked at Sara, and with a small note of triumph in her voice, said, "She believed me. Apparently she was unhappy in the marriage, and this was the final straw. He fought her tooth and nail, and of course it came out in court that he had raped me for years. My parents, of course, blamed me."
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