Watermark

by Karin Kallmaker

  "You don't understand." She stared out the window.

  "Yeah, I have no experience with it at all. Forget about my degree and my umpteen years in practice. I'm going to break all the rules of therapy and be a friend. And as a friend I'm telling you that Louisa would be the first person to kick you in the hinder. She wouldn't like this, not at all."

  That Louisa would deplore the state she was in was undeniable. She knew it as well as Judy did. But Louisa wasn't the one who had had to go on with living. A different kind of anger flickered and she clamped down on it. She would not be angry with Louisa. Louisa had not asked to get hit by a truck.

  Dedric turned from the mailbox and looked quizzi¬cally in the passenger window. "You coming in?"

  Judy opened the door and held out her hands. Dedric helped her up and kissed her the moment it

  was physically possible. Rayann kept the sigh to herself. Dedric was still head over heels for Judy.

  She weathered the traffic from the Fillmore district toward the Bay Bridge. Two lanes of Gough were blocked, so it was slower than usual but she didn't mind. She was in no hurry to get home or anywhere else for that matter.

  Traffic on the bridge picked up a little and she turned on the CD. The intricacies of Suzanne Ciani's Velocity of Love occupied her mind and she let the music and landscape flow past her in a blur of beauty that she hardly heard or saw. Louisa loved this song.

  The pace picked up after Treasure Island and she gazed at the row of white container loaders at the Port of Oakland. One of them had recently been painted yellow and it really bothered her. At least the hills were unchanging. The Campanile still glistened in the setting sun. She liked this span of the bridge and didn't understand why some people called it ugly. They were going to replace the eastern span because the existing one wasn't earthquake-safe. Something else that wasn't staying the same.

  She just needed everything to be the same for a while.

  The sunset in the rearview mirror was incredible. She only noticed it because it was another beautiful sunset she wasn't watching with Louisa. Another day of emptiness. Another night of knowing the pain would never end. Rayann could almost feel the nuzzle of lips against her throat. She made herself a gin and tonic for dinner and cradled it on her chest as she lay in bed. She switched off the bedroom light and stared up at the moons and stars intertwined in the tapestry

  overhead. When she closed her eyes she could see the briar border of golden leaves and red roses against her eyelids. She inhaled, imagining firm lips grazing her ear. When would she stop longing? It didn't matter what the book Judy had given her about grief and grieving said. She was never going to stop feeling this way.

  New Year's Eve morning, she wrapped herself in warm sweats, found her gloves and set out for a walk. She'd promised Judy she'd do just one thing from the book and this was it. The ice-edged wind blew her along the street and she welcomed the sunshine on her cheeks.

  She checked her watch. She was right on time.

  Her feet followed a path she had traced in her mind many times before. But until now, she had not actually walked it, not since then. At the corner of Lake Shore and Twentieth, she paused, let the light turn green, then stepped out into the six lanes of bustling boulevard. When she reached the fourth lane over, she stopped, checked her watch. On a brilliant, beautiful day, eight months and one week ago ... at this very moment it had happened.

  She shuddered all over, then broke out in a cold sweat, reliving not the moment of impact, but the shrill of the phone on her desk and the gravely phrased words of an Oakland police officer. Sweat poured down her back and she gasped for breath.

  A honk forced her eyes open and she confronted the line of traffic that wanted to move forward. Her green light was long gone.

  "What are you, crazy or something?"

  "Wanna get yourself killed?" The cars burst for¬ward as she made it to the opposite curb, accelerating hard as if to alleviate the annoyance of the drivers.

  "One damn minute won't kill you," she muttered. What was one minute anyway? The difference between safety and death, she reminded herself.

  She stumbled onto the walking path that circled the lake, a three-and-a-quarter-mile trek, and let her¬self get lost in memories again. Eight months since she had seen Louisa walk toward her and watched the line of her thighs brushing together. It just wasn't possible.

  "Lady, out of the way."

  She had come to a stop in the middle of the path, submerged in all the impressions of that horrible time. She was remembering things she hadn't noticed before — Teddy's grief, Danny's calm, her mother's stead¬fastness. And the source of her own guilt.

  She sank down on the damp, grassy slope. I didn't abandon you. She closed her eyes and saw the flash of Louisa's warm smile.

  She stretched out in the cold winter sun and let herself drown in the heat of the past. She curled up as the familiar longing seared through her. She pinned one of Louisa's arms and used her free hand to trail lazily the length of Louisa's torso. She kissed her fiercely and let her fingers tangle in the silky hair that greeted her. She could feel the prickle of the gray strands. She loved how they left her cheeks slightly raw, marked with proof that Louisa needed her, wanted her.

  Even as she moved to take Louisa, Louisa's hand was there, hard between her legs, given more force by the knee behind it — and she melted. All over again,

  in a few fevered heartbeats. She gasped, let Louisa take her, held on, found herself enclosed by the curtain of Louisa's beautiful hair, gasping in their private world which held only the fierce strokes of Louisa's fingers and Rayann's aching body.

  "More," she whimpered.

  "Ma'am, are you okay?" A jogger was looking down at her.

  She blushed and said, "I'm okay. Just a cramp."

  "Oh, okay." He loped away and Rayann marveled at how people seemed so impersonal until she wanted only to be left alone. Then everyone was asking her if she was okay.

  She finished her walk in the familiar daze, longing for Louisa with every step and unwilling to remember more. She took a deep breath before she opened the front door, just as she did every time she opened it. She still clung to the idea that she would get home and Louisa would be there.

  I'll never let go of you.

  The answering machine was flashing. Someone wanted something, wanted to make a date, wanted her to get out of the house.

  "Hi, sweetie, it's Mom. Liman's does have an opening for art director. You should go for it with both hands. They could really use you, and you always said they were the type of firm you could really enjoy working in. It's a place where you could make partner while you were still young enough to enjoy it. Talk to you later."

  Her mother was right. Liman's was a good firm for her. She liked their politics and their style. It was a small firm, nowhere as big as Tony's and nothing compared to the national firm her mother worked for,

  but that meant she could have an impact. She also had the resources to buy into a partnership if it was offered. It would be something to do with the money that was just sitting in the bank.

  But it would mean getting up every day, finding the strength to leave the house when she kept thinking that if only she stayed home one more day Louisa would walk through the door. If she wasn't there when Louisa knocked then she really would be dead.

  God, what an irrational thing to believe, she thought. She banged her head on the doorjamb. It hurt. "She's not coming back," she said fiercely to her reflection in the entryway mirror. "Get it through your head."

  With shaking fingers she looked up the phone number for Liman's and placed her call. She remembered to turn on the fax machine, and a few minutes later it dropped the position details in her hand. The receptionist had recognized Rayann's name and had seemed a little flattered by her interest.

  What did some receptionist know? She didn't know that the successful Rayann Germaine didn't go out of the house unless she had to. That Rayann Germaine made more dinners from gin than she wou
ld ever admit. She was flirting with alcoholism, and that was another thing Louisa would have hated.

  J don't want to do this.

  Louisa's voice was like a gong in her head. You have to.

  It had been Louisa who had suggested that the bookstore wasn't enough use of Rayann's talents. It had been Louisa who had lovingly bullied and bolstered her ego until she put together a resume and

  used her mother's contacts to get interviews in firms that never had to advertise openings.

  Just like then, it was Louisa who made her turn on the computer and bang out a letter to Philip Liman. It was Louisa who reminded her where the stamps were. And it was Louisa who made her fumble in the freezer for a frozen dinner instead of in the cabinet for the Tanqueray.

  / can't go on like this.

  I wouldn't want you to.

  She wrapped her arms around a pillow and fell asleep to Katharine Hepburn romping through Bring¬ing Up Baby. She could hear Louisa's husky tones... "I can't give you anything but love, baby..."

  8

  Teresa checked her watch for the zillionth time. She had been standing in front of the party hall at the Hotel Regent for nearly forty minutes. The buffet dinner was well underway, the music had started, and there was no sign of Susan. She wondered if she should call or just accept the fact that Susan wasn't coming. She could not believe she was being stood up on New Year's Eve.

  She showed her hand stamp to the woman who guarded the door and wandered back into the party. At the moment the music was swing and she wanted

  in the worst way to dance. But the place was full of couples. Couples to the left of her, couples to the right. Into the valley of singledom she rode.

  She wasn't looking for a wedding. She just wanted a fun evening. Maybe a little passion of the unbridled variety. Was that too much to ask?

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall. Was she a troll? She didn't think so. Her hair was newly done. The stylist had raved about how thick it was, and it did look good shorter in the back and stacked up a little on the back and side. It showed off the faint red tints amongst all the black. The new haircut combined with the tuxedo she'd rented even made her a little bit butch. So how come heads weren't turning? At least not the heads she wanted to turn. The hotel bellmen did not count.

  She'd call. Maybe Susan was the type who ran late for everything.

  She had nearly given up after six rings when she heard the receiver lifted. She didn't recognize the voice. "Is Susan there?"

  "Nah, she took off for the weekend to ski. Who's this?"

  "Urn, well, I sort of had a date with her tonight."

  The woman on the other end of the line hooted. "That'll be news to Susie's girlfriend. You must have made the date during their latest spat."

  "I guess so. Thanks for the info."

  She blinked back tears. Vivian at this very moment was probably boffing like a double-backed aardvark at Kim's place. What was she doing wrong? She'd been to the bar dressed to the nines, to the gay and lesbian center at the library sporting the latest lesbian romance under one arm. She ought to Day-Glo her

  forehead so that in lesbian light her forehead would announce, "Single! No U-Haul!"

  Well, the ticket had been too expensive to waste. She drifted to the dinner buffet and helped herself to delicacies of the known and unknown variety. The salad looked like kale and arugala. She'd gotten used to the bitter flavor of arugala, but really — who had decided kale was food? She was frowning at it when the woman next to her said, "I hate it, too."

  Teresa took in a pair of light-brown eyes sur¬rounded by long black lashes. They were part of an olive-toned face that contained a very nice smile. Don't act desperate, she cautioned herself. "The first time I had kale in a salad I thought there was something wrong with it."

  "Kale? I thought you were looking at the caviar."

  "Caviar I can leave or take."

  The woman peered at her salad. "What's kale?"

  "I'm not sure. All I know is it makes my mouth go yuck." After a pause she added, "I'm Teresa Mandrell."

  "Dawn Yahama. Are you here by yourself?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. I got stood up."

  "What an idiot. Her, not you. There's a table of singles over there." Dawn pointed. "Friendly group. There just happens to be an empty seat next to me." She raised her eyebrows with a suggestive wiggle.

  The group at the single's table was indeed friendly, and after all the preliminaries of sharing where every¬one worked and lived, Teresa found herself dancing with Dawn. The evening was not a total bust, she decided.

  The music grew more frenetic toward midnight, reaching its crescendo during a twenty-second count-

  down to the new year. Mylar balloons cascaded from the ceiling until the floor was so thick with them that dancing became wading. The lights fell to a subdued sparkle. Dawn nuzzled her neck as they swayed to "Auld Lang Syne."

  The nuzzling felt quite pleasant. Very pleasant. Teresa did some nuzzling of her own.

  "I have a room," Dawn whispered.

  Magic words, Teresa thought. "I think I'm just about done with dancing for the night."

  "At least standing up."

  Dawn was a good kisser. Just the right amount of pressure followed by a nip on Teresa's lower lip. Teresa responded with a hungry nibble. It felt wonderful when Dawn's arms slid around her waist.

  They weren't alone in the elevator, but all the twosomes seemed to have the same agenda they did. The pheromone level was probably high enough to arouse a cadaver.

  Dawn's palms were hard against her ribs as she stood behind Teresa. They exited by themselves on Dawn's floor and kissed their way to Dawn's room. Inside, it was a matter of moments before Teresa had Dawn's blouse unbuttoned.

  A woman ... Teresa felt like melting. The richness of skin, the texture of nipples — there was nothing that could compare to the feel of a woman's body against her own.

  Dawn's hands were finished with Teresa's pants' button and zipper. They snaked their way under Teresa's pantyhose, and Teresa's entire body shivered deliciously. "Constant Craving" began to play in her head. Every nerve felt alive and aware that she was breast to breast with a soft and strong woman, k.d.

  crooning in the background. It was so much better than in an alley with that woman —

  Teresa froze. The crooning stopped. Where the hell had that thought come from?

  "What's wrong?" Dawn's whisper brushed Teresa's ear in the darkness.

  "Nothing," Teresa assured her. "Nothing at all."

  "Let's get on the bed."

  A new voice cut across the room. "That might be a little difficult since I'm in it." The bedside lamp came on. "Surprise, honey."

  Teresa stared at the naked — and very angry-looking— woman in the bed, then at Dawn. Her libido had reached a nine on a scale of ten and it looked like it wasn't going to get to ten anytime soon.

  Dawn looked like she was going to faint. "You weren't — you're supposed to be—"

  Teresa addressed herself to a fickle God who had had just a little too much fun playing cosmic jokes on her lately. "I don't fucking believe this." She started buttoning.

  The woman in the bed threw off the covers, revealing generously rounded hips and breasts. Teresa put her tongue back in her mouth. This was just not fair.

  "I got back early, Dawn, honey, my faithful love. I told you I might. Who's this? Some hard-up bimbo looking for a quickie?"

  "Excuse me?" Teresa's voice hit an octave she didn't know was in her range. "I didn't know she had a girlfriend."

  The woman sneered. God, she had the kind of body Teresa loved — extremely squeezable. "I'll bet you didn't even ask."

  "She was at the single's table!" Teresa gave Dawn a look that should have reduced her to cinders. "I am not a bimbo."

  Dawn just stood there with her mouth open. She was such a good kisser, Teresa thought. I'm screwed. I can't even remember the last time I had sex and I didn't even'know it was for the last time ever in
my entire life.

  She zipped up her fly with all the dignity she could muster and walked out the door. She took a cab home. She quickly realized that for whatever reason Vivian and Kim hadn't gone to Kim's place. Boffing like double-backed aardvarks was putting it mildly.

  Maybe on her new salary she could afford a place of her own. Or better yet, she could rent a room in a nunnery. That way, there was a reasonable chance that "Oh, God" was actually addressed to a supreme being. The woman in the bed had pretty much been a supreme being. Dawn hadn't exactly been chopped liver either.

  She had not thought the night could get worse, but a few minutes later she discovered that Vivian had taken the last of the batteries.

  New Year's Day was a sale bonanza. Teresa drowned her frustrations in big discounts on shoes and jeans. She couldn't stay another minute in the apartment with Vivian and Kim making eyes at each other over their coffee. Loaded down with bags, she just made it to the IMAX theater in Yerba Buena in time to see the re-released Chronos. As she was

  leaving she bumped into one of the other museum assistants who had been let go and learned she was very fortunate to be working again so soon.

  Comfortably clad in black leggings, scarlet cash¬mere sweater complete with a Peter Pan collar and Aldos, she reported to Diego Monday morning with two dozen muffins as requested. With an evil laugh, he gave her a huge stack of art boards covered in red corrections.

  Settling in at her cubicle was easy. It wasn't that big. She clipped up her favorite picture of her dad and her framed Eugene Ionesco quote: A work of art above all is an adventure of the mind. Another minute or two to adjust the background colors on her computer display to her preferred settings and anyone observing her might think she'd been there for months instead of minutes.

  The high ceiling and good lighting kept her from feeling boxed in and it didn't take long for her to catch on to the chat and mail functions of the computer. She was introduced at the staff meeting, greeted warmly, then everyone scurried to their own business. The atmosphere was a few notches below frenetic, but everyone seemed in a good humor.