"Great. Just great," Ryan grumbled, still a little miffed at being killed.
"Quit crying, O’Flaherty," Jordan teased. "We have to do your stinking laundry for the rest of the week. That should give you some satisfaction."
Ryan immediately brightened at the prospect of her friend having to wash all of her very ripe clothing. "Now that you mention it, Jordan, I’m feeling better already." She smiled as she draped an arm around her new laundry woman, and they made their way to the bus for the short ride home.
The minute Ryan arrived at the dorm she tried her cell, grumbling to herself when she could not get a strong signal. Hmm…maybe it’s the building, she decided. Shrugging into one of the Cal Volleyball sweatshirts they had been issued, she went outside and turned on her phone, smiling to herself when the signal strength meter indicated that there was an acceptable level. I wonder if maybe I can get this a little stronger. She walked around aimlessly, not paying any attention to where she was headed, looking only at the level of the signal. She wound up near the tennis courts and took a seat on a wooden bench, spreading her arm out across the back of the bench as she settled in for a long chat with her beloved.
Jamie answered on the second ring. "Now there’s the voice that makes me smile," Ryan said upon hearing her partner’s warm tones.
"Ooh, that goes double for me, Love. I just want to listen to you breathe." She sighed heavily, wishing there was some way to crawl through the phone lines to wrap her body around her partner.
Ryan thought that was a pretty good idea herself, not wanting to go into any of the upsetting topics that she knew she had to broach. "I’ve uh…got a few things to talk to you about, Hon," she said. "Can I do that before I breathe for you?"
"Of course, Honey." She paused a beat adding, "Nothing is wrong, is it?"
"No, no, not wrong…but I don’t have a lot of good news," she admitted.
"What is it, Ryan?" Jamie’s voice was a little sharp now, and she felt her heart start to beat faster. "It’s so hard to do this on the phone," she moaned. "I can’t see your face and look into your eyes to see how you really are."
"I’m fine, Love," she assured her. "Let me stop torturing you and tell you what’s going on."
It took 20 minutes to discuss the revocation of the scholarship. Ryan had chosen this item first since she needed to talk to Coach Placer the next day, and she didn’t want to run out of time. As expected, Jamie felt strongly that the scholarship should have no impact on Ryan’s decision to play, and Ryan felt very secure and happy to know how enthusiastic her partner was in her support. Jamie’s point was that if her father gave them a hard time about the money, she would ask her mother for a loan. Ryan had never considered this option, but she had to acknowledge that it made sense. The suggestion made Ryan feel better immediately, and she thanked the heavens that Catherine was being so supportive of their young relationship.
As they continued to talk Ryan could tell that Jamie was fading fast, and she considered continuing their discussion the next day. But the incident at the Boardwalk had bothered her much more than she had let on, and she knew that Jamie would be angry if she didn’t tell her something like this as soon as she could.
"Anything else going on, Hon?" Jamie asked sleepily.
"Umm…" Ryan thought fast and made a decision. "Yeah, actually there is. I uh…got into a little scrape tonight and…"
"Scrape?" the sharp voice demanded, now very alert. "What kind of scrape were you in, Ryan?"
"Um…we were all at the Boardwalk and some guys were harassing two of the freshmen. I um…made them stop."
"Ryan," Jamie said slowly. "Did you get hurt?"
"No, no, really I didn’t," Ryan assured her. "My face is a little red where this asshole slapped me…"
"WHAT?! Someone slapped you?" Her voice was now firm and low, and Ryan knew that trouble was a-brew. "I’m coming home on the first plane," she announced, not sounding like this was a topic for discussion.
"Jamie," Ryan soothed, "please, Honey, don’t make this into a bigger deal than it was." Damn it, damn it, damn it! I knew this would upset her! I should have kept my big mouth shut!
"How can you even say that? Someone assaults you, and you don’t want me to make a big deal about it?! Have you been to the police station to make a statement?"
"Uhh…we decided not to press charges," she said weakly, immediately realizing that Jamie did not agree with her decision.
"Pardon me?" Each word was enunciated slowly as Jamie tried to understand her partner’s words. "You didn’t press charges…after someone HITS YOU!"
Oooh…sounds like someone else would hit me if she was in town. Thank God for Rhode Island. "Jamie," she soothed in her best placating voice, "I handled it, Honey. Believe me, I gave him a much harder whack than he gave me, and I got in a very good knee to his chest. He’s gonna have a bruise that will remind him of me every time he breathes."
"Did… you… start… the… fight?"
Oh boy…when it takes two minutes to get out five words, I’m in big trouble. "No, no, of course I didn’t. I was defending my friends, Jamie. He clearly asked for it."
"My point exactly, Ryan," she insisted. "Some thug hits you…you press charges. How could you let him off scot-free, Ryan? That gives him permission to do this again."
Okay, so I didn’t think of that, she admitted. So maybe I do need Jamie close by to keep me from doing stupid things. "I screwed up, huh?" Her voice was low and soft, and Jamie could just picture the big blue eyes peeking out through the long bangs.
"Yes, Honey, you screwed up. I’m proud of you for helping your friends, but I think you were wrong to let the guy off. People like that have to suffer some consequences or they have no reason to behave civilly."
"I’m sorry, Jamie," she said, very contrite. "I should have been thinking of the long term, but I just wanted out of there." Her voice grew quiet as she admitted, "The whole thing upset me, Honey, and I wasn’t thinking."
"Ryan, I’m going to come down there and make sure you’re really all right. I’m feeling very uneasy about this."
"Jamie, please don’t do that," she begged. "I’m absolutely fine, Honey, and if you came down I wouldn’t be able to spend any time at all with you. I swear it would be more stressful than reassuring for me." It was clear from the pleading tone in her voice that Ryan was serious, but Jamie had such a bad feeling about the incident that she had a hard time acceding to her wishes. "Please, Honey," the dark woman continued. "I really don’t want you to come."
With a heavy sigh, Jamie capitulated. "All right, Honey. I don’t want to make things worse for you." She sounded tired–defeated, and Ryan immediately felt guilty for the way she had presented her last point.
"Jamers," she soothed, using the pet name she invoked infrequently, "I always feel better when you’re with me, Love. You know that, don’t you?"
"Yes, Honey," Jamie replied softly. "I know that. This is just hard for both of us. My imagination runs wild since I know you downplay everything."
Thinking of a solution to the problem, Ryan said, "I’m outside now. Call me on the dorm phone in ten minutes, okay?"
"Okay," Jamie said slowly. "What’s--" But Ryan had hung up by the time she uttered her question, and she was forced to wait to determine the point of the exercise.
Exactly ten minutes later, Jamie dialed the dorm phone, smiling to herself when Ryan’s out-of-breath voice said, "Jordan wants to give you the story, Honey. She’s impartial."
"Hi Jamie," Jordan’s soft soprano voice said. "I’m looking at Ryan’s homely mug right now, and I promise that she’s no uglier than she was earlier in the day."
An amused chuckle greeted Jordan’s news, and Jamie asked, "Did she get hit on the head, Jordan? I don’t know if you know this, but she’s had a number of head injuries. She really has to be careful."
Recognizing the seriousness of Jamie’s question, Jordan assured her, "No, she didn’t really get hit, Jamie. The idiot slapped her on the cheek a
nd he’s the only one who touched her."
"How many were there?" Jamie gaped, not realizing there had been multiple assailants.
"Four," Jordan informed her. "She kicked one guy in the gut, two of them ran, then she took the last guy out. She did pretty good for herself, to be honest. I was there to back her up of course, but she didn’t seem to need it."
Ryan wrestled the phone from her friend’s hand, informing Jamie, "With backup like Jordan, I’d better carry a firearm." Looking up at the outraged look on her friend’s face she said, "Dismissed, pal. Thanks for your help."
"Anytime, Ryan. Remember, I live to serve."
As Jordan shuffled back to their room, Ryan said, "Feel any better, Love?"
"Yes, Honey, I’m sure Jordan would have loved to bust you if she could."
At her gentle laugh Ryan had to agree. "You’ve got that right! She’s worse than my brothers!"
"Here’s the deal, Babe. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you still feel all right. If you have any…and I do mean any…pain or stiffness or anything…you will tell me, right?"
"Yes, Dear. If I feel any pain other than the chronic pain from two-a-day practices, I will let you know. My health is worth more than this camp, Honey. I promise you that."
"Okay, Love," Jamie sighed. "I’ve got to get to bed, now, Honey. I’ve got to get up early for sailing."
"I love you, Babe. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Night, Honey. Love you."
Well, this is just not the night to tell her about her father, Ryan decided. One more day won’t make any difference at this point.
"Good morning," Jamie said to the assembled guests when she went down for breakfast. Much to her surprise her mother was already sipping a glass of orange juice, looking quite awake and perky.
"Morning, Jamie," the older woman said. "Ready for our sail?"
"Yep. I’m looking forward to it, actually. It’ll be nice to go out a little farther than usual." When she sailed with her father they almost always stayed within the confines of the Bay, not wanting to risk the unpredictability of the Pacific, and she found that she was enjoying the thought of a long sail on the calm Atlantic.
She looked around the table to see that all hands were on deck, save for Stephanie. "It looks like we’re almost all here," she said, smiling at Trey, who looked like he could use another five or six hours of sleep.
Carolyn spoke up. "I sent one of the servants to try to rouse my eldest. I swear, that girl would sleep until dinner if I allowed her to."
The servant in question returned to the table moments later, and bent to whisper into Carolyn’s ear. She folded her napkin and sighed heavily, pushing her chair back. One of the waiters was in the process of delivering her omelet, and she grumbled, "Just when my breakfast gets here, and I have to go wake that child up."
"Let me," Jamie offered, getting to her feet. "I haven’t even decided what I want for breakfast, Carolyn."
"Are you sure you don’t mind, Jamie?" Carolyn was already sitting back down, and her napkin was neatly placed on her lap by the time her sentence was finished.
"Not a bit." Catching the waiters eye, she indicated that she’d have an omelet too, and made her way towards the stairs.
"Oh, Jamie, here’s the key to her room. I doubt that she’ll answer your knock."
After the fourth round of knocking brought no response, Jamie inserted the key and poked her head into Stephanie’s room. The young woman had been occupying the room for less than a week, but it looked as though at least six people were squatting in the space. Clothes covered every piece of furniture, CDs, tapes, and other accessories of adolescence lay scattered across the dresser and the club table, and discarded shoes provided an additional hazard.
The room was pitch dark, even though it was a bright, sunny morning. Jamie didn’t want to wake her cousin too abruptly, so she stumbled around in the dark room for a few minutes, trying to reach the bed. She finally found it, and grasped Stephanie’s shoulder and shook it a few times. "Stephanie…it’s time to get up." No response. Three more tries finally elicited a response, but it was merely a very unhappy sounding moan. Well, at least she’s breathing.
Deciding that drastic action was called for, Jamie turned on the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the disordered room. What a pit! Jamie thought to herself. I would never have been allowed to leave my room like this! She stooped to pick up some of the discarded items that littered the area around the bed, grabbing a pair of jeans by the hems to fold them. A ticket of some sort fell to the ground, and she retrieved it to put it on the dresser. Hmmm…that’s odd. Why would she have a receipt from The Minuteman Mini Mart in her jeans? She looked at the paper idly as she placed it on the cluttered dresser, and almost gasped when she noted the time and the date. This is from Boston…and it’s from this morning! What in the hell was she doing in Boston at four a.m.!?
Turning back to the bed, she shook the frail young woman harder, not stopping until she got a response. The response was a mumbled, "Leave me the fuck alone!"
Jesus! I don’t think she knows it’s me trying to wake her up! Don’t tell me she talks to her mother like that!
Her patience at an end, Jamie got close to Stephanie’s head and insisted, "I’m not leaving until you get up, Steph. Let’s go!"
As the young woman rolled onto her back, Jamie crossed the room and flung open the curtains. The bright light that washed in glinted off a small, foil-wrapped packet lying on the floor, and Jamie bent to pick it up, also. "Stephanie," she said, much louder this time, "it’s time to get up!"
"Fuck off, Jamie," she growled, pulling the pillow over her head.
Hmm…maybe she just doesn’t like me, Jamie thought with a smirk. She unwrapped the tiny package and found a brownish-white powder. I might not know a lot about drugs, but this is certainly not marijuana! Damn…this sucks!
Now angry, Jamie grabbed her cousin's damp tank top and yanked hard, finally propelling the young woman into action. Stephanie threw her pillow across the room and sat up, scrubbing at her face with both hands. "What in the hell is wrong with you? The fucking door was locked!"
"I know that, Stephanie. Your mother asked me to come wake you to go sailing, and since you ignored the earlier attempts to get you up, she gave me the key to your room."
"I’m not going sailing or any other goddamned place. Now leave me alone!" She flopped back down on to the bed, the acrid smell of perspiration hitting Jamie as she did so.
"I’m not leaving you alone until I know why you were in Boston early this morning," Jamie demanded in her best no-nonsense voice.
"Go fuck yourself," Stephanie snapped, pulling the covers over her head. "What I do is none of your business."
Not to be deterred, Jamie grabbed the covers with both hands and yanked hard, pulling them completely off the bed. Stephanie was wearing a tank top and a pair of bikinis, and as Jamie got a good view of her emaciated body, she shuddered involuntarily. Her earlier guess of 95 pounds was a significant overestimate, as she now realized that her young cousin was probably ten pounds under that.
With an outraged squawk, the girl jumped from the bed, and Jamie feared for a moment that she would punch her. Instead the irate young woman stormed into the bath and slammed the door, locking it after her.
"I don’t know if this is cocaine or some other drug, so I’ll just take it downstairs and let everyone discuss it over breakfast," Jamie called to the closed door.
The door flew open, and Stephanie lunged for her older, bigger, and much stronger cousin. Jamie sidestepped her, causing the young woman to hit the carpet forcefully. "Gimme that!" she cried, her thin arms flailing.
"No way, Stephanie. Come downstairs with me, right now, and we’ll get this out in the open. You obviously have a problem."
"I do not!" she cried. "It’s Trey’s! He’s afraid that his parents will search his room, so I agreed to keep it for him! Don’t tell on him, Jamie. Please!"
"Oh, Jesus." Jamie sank onto the b
ed, holding her head in her hands. "And that’s a reason not to tell!? Stephanie, that makes it even worse! He almost died from a overdose!"
"He’s trying to stop, Jamie, I swear! I’m helping him to stop. That’s why I’ve got his stuff! He’s going to call his counselor from the last clinic he was in to see if he can get admitted. Come on…you’ve got to let him do this on his own."
"Why? Why does it matter who calls as long as he gets back in treatment?"
"His grandfather will disinherit him if he finds out he’s using again! He told him the last time that he would not stand for it if Trey had a relapse. You can’t let that happen, Jamie! Trey would be out on the streets if Grandfather told Uncle Skip to throw him out!"
Jamie considered this argument for a moment. David Dunlop had some very strong views on a number of topics, and one of them was drugs. He thought that illegal drug usage was a sign of weak character, and Catherine had confirmed that Trey was on thin ice after his last relapse. "So what’s his plan?" she asked.
"He’s going to try to contact his counselor today. If he can get in, he’ll just make some excuse to his grandfather and take off. Give him a chance, Jamie. Please! He’d never make it without his inheritance."
Jamie took a deep breath and locked her eyes on Stephanie. "Do you swear you are telling me the truth?"
"Yes. Yes, I am, Jamie. I swear it!"
"Okay, Steph. I’ll wait until tomorrow. But if Trey isn’t on his way to treatment by tomorrow evening, I’m going to talk to Skip."
"He will be, Jamie. I’m sure he will be."
By the time Jamie returned to the dining room, Trey was nowhere to be found. "Any luck?" Carolyn asked from across the table.
"Yes, she’s up. She should be down in a few minutes."
"Have you ever seen a girl who was more difficult to wake?" Carolyn asked, laughing softly.
"No, she’s something all right," Jamie agreed, forcing a smile.
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