by Joan Opyr
“That statement . . . you said there was ten thousand in that account?”
She shook her head. “Yes and no. It was only in there for a day before it was transferred out. I don’t know how my mother’s accounts work, or why she has so many. She seems to know what she’s doing.”
I could see that she was tired, and I felt stupid for not having come back sooner. I didn’t know where to begin. Sylvie had pulled her knees up and was regarding me cautiously, waiting. It was now or never. I took a deep breath and waded in.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run out of here like that. It was stupid. Even worse, it was unchivalrous and cowardly. I was . . . overwhelmed. Upset. Mostly, I was jealous.”
“I appreciate the apology,” she said, “but I’m a bit confused by it. First, why do you think you were unchivalrous?”
“You were tucking your clothes back in. I should have stayed, not left you on your own to smooth things over. That was pretty pathetic.”
She shook her head and smiled slowly. In the dim light of the living room, her eyes were a rich, dark green. “Nancy sees me tucking my clothes in all the time. She lives here. Besides, it was her turn to catch me in an awkward moment for a change.”
“Do you catch her a lot?”
“Fairly often.”
“I understand she wants to mend her ways and become monogamous. With you.”
“Who told you that?”
“I ran into A. J. in the parking lot. She’s the one who clued me in to Nancy’s true identity. I should have guessed that she was your roommate, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I saw you with her at Jackie J’s and recognized her from the Lesbian Avengers’ fire-eating performance, so I just assumed . . .”
“Assumed what?”
“That you weren’t just together, you were together.”
Though her arms were still folded across her knees, her face was beginning to lose its guarded look. “Why would you think that?”
“Because Nancy’s so goddamned ugly,” I snapped. “Come on, Sylvie. You live with a big lesbian wet dream.”
She tried to frown, but she was stifling a laugh. “You’re not doing a very good job with this apology,” she said, “but go on. I want to hear all about how attractive you find my roommate.”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that she’s . . . oh, never mind. I saw you together, and I thought you were lovers, and I flipped out. There, happy now?”
She certainly looked happy. She had let go of her knees and stretched out on the sofa, laughing, her feet just inches from my lap.
“Don’t look at me like it’s a physical impossibility,” I said. “Why wouldn’t you be with her?”
“I’ve never been interested in Nancy.”
“She’s interested in you.”
“It’s just a passing fancy. She’s got a big group of Lesbian Avengers to choose from. I’m sure she won’t go begging.”
“Not if A. J. has anything to say about it.”
“Does that bother you?” She wasn’t looking at me now, as if the answer didn’t matter one way or the other, though her feet had edged closer to my thigh.
“No, it doesn’t matter.”
“Nancy really isn’t my type at all, you know.”
“And A. J. and I have finally sorted ourselves out. I don’t like her, but I no longer feel morally obliged to hate her.”
“Well, that’s progress, I suppose. Do you feel obliged to do anything else with her?”
She looked at me now, and I met her gaze without flinching. “No.”
We sat in silence for a moment, she in her corner and me in mine, with her legs stretched out between us. The auto-reverse on her tape deck clicked and began playing another Sarah McLachlan album, Fumbling Toward Ecstasy. I stood up.
“Bil,” she said, tentatively, “I’m sorry to grill you like that. Please don’t leave.”
“Maybe this is too soon,” I said. I was immediately sorry, and I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d said it. Perhaps I was trying to force an admission out of her, something other than the fact that she wanted to sleep with me. I didn’t expect to hear that she was madly in love with me. I just wanted some indication that she might someday get to that point.
She looked away again. “Maybe you’re not as over A. J. as you think.”
I laughed, and she looked up quickly.
“You don’t know just how over her I am.” I sat back down on the sofa, lifted her feet, and put them on my lap. “I don’t care what she does. What I meant to say was maybe this is too soon for us. Maybe I’m pushing you.”
She flexed her toes and shifted her weight against the cushions. I lifted her left foot and stroked it gently.
“Harder,” she said, smiling. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I have a foot fetish.”
“Hmm, lucky me,” she yawned. “You’re not pushing me, Bil. I broke up with Ellie a long time ago. That was my first real relationship, and I had a lot of things to work out about who I was and what I wanted to be. The age difference didn’t help. She always felt awkward about me. She didn’t like to introduce this kid barely out of high school to her friends and then have to explain that I was her girlfriend. She was afraid they’d say she was a . . .”
“Cradle snatcher,” I finished for her. “I’m really sorry, Sylvie. I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.”
“Is that what you mean by a foot fetish?”
I laughed, and she shifted against the cushions, lifting her hips in order to stretch out more completely.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I wasn’t offended. The age difference wasn’t a big deal to me—in fact, I was glad of it. I wanted her to be in control of the whole thing, to be responsible for it. It gave me the space I needed to really come out to myself. I’d dated women my own age, and it always felt awkward and experimental. We were only together for a year, but Ellie gave me confidence. I’m grateful to her for that.”
I shifted her feet and stood up again. She looked up tentatively, and I smiled.
“I’m not leaving,” I said, reaching a hand down to help her up. “But if one of us doesn’t get up, we’ll probably spend the rest of the day sitting here talking about our ex-girlfriends.”
She stood up, her face only a few inches from mine. “What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking that if we went into your bedroom and locked the door, I might be able to kiss you without disaster raining down upon us.”
“I hope you plan to do more than just kiss me,” she replied. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, her breasts brushing against mine.
“Are you sure?”
She shook her head and laughed. “Bil, you’re an idiot. I’ve been sure for ages. Do I need to drag you into the bedroom before you change your mind?”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“How can I be sure of that? Only a few hours ago . . .”
I kissed her. She fell back onto the sofa, pulling me on top of her. I gave a second’s thought to the possibility that Nancy might walk in again, but when Sylvie’s hands found their way under my shirt, I didn’t care anymore. I pulled it up over my head and tossed it into the corner. Sylvie sat up briefly and did the same with hers.
She moved down beneath me, trailing kisses from my neck to my navel. When she reached the top of my jeans, she unbuttoned them, and I sat up so she could pull them off.
“What is it about a woman in boxer shorts?” she asked, tugging at them.
I said, “If you keep that up, I’m going to faint. Come on, your jeans, too.”
“Whose idea was this anyway?”
She pushed me over onto my back, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, wanting to feel her weight pushing me into the thick cushions. She pulled off my shorts and threw them in the general direction of my T-shirt and jeans. Then she hesitated above me for a moment, her breath warm and fast.
“Don’t wait,” I said. I was already embarrassingly ready, and her hands were all over
me, the fingers skating around the edges. “Please.”
She leaned down to kiss me. Her teeth tugged at my bottom lip, and I kissed her hard, winding my fingers into her hair.
“Anything you want to tell me?” she whispered.
“I’m safe,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. I’m safe, too. Any other instructions?”
I thought for a moment. “I want to do this until we can’t walk anymore.”
She laughed. “It’s a shame you’re so shy.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
For the next hour and a half, I forgot about everything and everyone else. I didn’t care who came in the front door—Nancy, the Pope, or a marching band, it was all the same to me.
Afterwards, we were lying quietly, trying to catch our breath. Sylvie moved to get up. I pulled her back down on top of me. “Don’t,” I said. “I’m naked under here, you know.”
She laughed. “And I’m getting pretty cold up here. I thought maybe we could move to my bedroom. There are blankets in there, and my bed isn’t nearly as devouring as this sofa.”
I made love to Sylvie again almost as soon as we touched the sheets, moving quickly and confidently where I had expected to be slow and tentative. She said nothing, and I stopped at one point to make sure I was doing what she wanted.
“What you’re doing,” she said, pushing me back down and gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt, “is perfect.”
She came in a great, silent wave, overwhelming in its intensity. Her back arched and stiffened, and her thighs closed on either side of my head, pushing me in and holding me there. Then, she released me and was still. I moved up to lie beside her, and she smiled and stroked the back of my neck. She was beautiful, more so now than I ever could have imagined. I wanted to open her up like a birthday present.
“I’m going to kiss every inch of you.”
“Be my guest,” she laughed.
When I reached the slight curve of her stomach, just below her navel, I paused.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter.” I moved up to lie beside her, propping myself up on one elbow so I could look at her. She rolled over onto her side, facing me, and I rested my hand on the curve of her hip. “This morning, I told Tipper that I was in love with you. I should have told you first.”
I waited, letting my admission hang in the air between us.
She smiled. “You can tell me now.”
“I love you, Sylvie.”
“I love you, too. I’m glad you said it first. I was afraid to.”
I rested my head on her shoulder, and she combed her fingers through my hair.
“Bil?”
“Mmm?”
“What kind of relationship do you want?”
“We’ve only been together for a few hours. Are you sure you want me to answer that?” The fingers in my hair stopped moving. I opened my eyes and put my hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. What I meant was that my answer might scare you. Sylvie, I want to stay here like this forever. I’m thinking long-term and . . . exclusive.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“If that’s not what you want,” I said quickly, “it’s okay. I won’t show up at your front door tomorrow with all my worldly possessions, I promise, and—” I took a deep breath “—and if you want to see other people, I’ll understand. Well, I’ll try to understand.”
Sylvie laughed, and then she grew serious again. “I want to be long-term and exclusive with you, Bil. More than anything. I’m just afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve got so much strange history hanging over us. There are so many things that could go wrong, so much beyond our control.”
I climbed into bed, tucked the blankets around us, and held her tightly. “Nothing will change the way I feel about you. I don’t care what happened in the past, and what happens in the future doesn’t matter to me, either. I don’t want to think about my mother or yours, not now.”
“How did you know?”
I smiled and kissed her lightly. “Why wouldn’t you be thinking about your mother? I was thinking about mine. It’s a supreme act of will to forget about my mother.”
“I wonder what Freud would make of that.”
“Believe me,” I laughed, “I wasn’t thinking about her the entire time. My mother is the original anti-aphrodisiac.”
At that, her hands began moving beneath the blankets again, and soon, I couldn’t even remember my own name, much less my mother’s.
I woke up at four o’clock, just as the first light of morning began to show through the blinds. I lay back against the pillows, savoring the moment and the woman next to me, who was still sound asleep. I eased my arm out from under her back and got up. She stirred, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
I opened the bedroom door and stuck my head out cautiously. The coast was clear—there was no sign of Nancy. I closed the door behind me and crept quietly down the hall. I found my boxer shorts and T-shirt and put them on. The manila folder was still on the coffee table where we’d left it. I read each of the articles again and then looked at the photos. Something about Frank’s picture still bothered me. I stared at for several minutes before I figured out what it was.
The blurring wasn’t a result of the photocopying. Burt’s picture was perfectly clear. If Sarah had copied them on the same machine, they both should have been clear. I suspected that Frank’s face had not only been cropped from a larger photo but blown up as well. That’s why the background was obliterated. I checked the clock. Sarah wouldn’t be in her office for another three hours. I put everything back into the manila folder and climbed back into bed.
Sylvie rolled over and wrapped an arm around my waist. I kissed her, and she murmured something against my lips that sounded suspiciously like my name. I thought about waking her up right there and then but decided that would be pushing my luck.
Chapter 25
Sylvie came into the kitchen just as I was dialing Sarah’s number. She kissed me and stumbled over to the refrigerator, staring into it as if it might hand her something to eat.
Sarah picked up on the third ring.
“Hi Sis, what are you up to?”
“Tearing my hair out,” she replied. “What do you want?”
“Information.”
“I’m going to start charging.”
I briefly explained what I wanted.
“Let me get into LexisNexis, and I’ll get back to you,” she said.
“Considering the sorts of things he got up to before he left Cowslip, he might have been embraced by the long arms of the law at some point. Is there any way you can check prison records or something?”
“Nationwide?” She considered for a moment. “I’ll talk to Susan Ferguson, the government documents librarian. I’ll call you back when I’m finished. Are you at home?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I’m not.”
“I thought it was too quiet. You know Emma bailed Sam out this morning. Another crisis has been averted.”
“What do you mean she bailed him out?”
“You mean you haven’t seen it?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Where have you been, Bil, under a rock?” She paused significantly and then laughed. “On second thought, don’t answer that. Just do yourself a big favor and take a good look at the billboard next to Safeway when you drive home. If you drive home.”
“Very funny.”
“It is, really. Don’t worry about Sam. He’s regained the use of his legs and is up to his old tricks again. I never thought I’d be relieved to have him arrested.”
“It’s mighty peculiar.”
“Everything is fine at home. Just drop by the Safeway sometime today.”
“I will. Why don’t we meet for dinner? You can give me the information then. The Golden Dragon at five?”
“
I don’t know,” she hesitated.
“There’s someone I want you to meet. You don’t have another date with Gary Smart, do you?”
She laughed. “For you, Bil, I’ll break it.”
“You can do better than him, Sarah.”
“Have you looked around lately? This is Cowslip, honey, not the Riviera. Good-looking men don’t just fall out of trees.”
“Gary Smart looks like he did.”
“Fine,” she said, laughing. “I just want you to know that I’m not giving up a free dinner. Bring plenty of money. I want the soup and the egg roll.”
“And lychee fruit for dessert. Gotcha. One more thing—what do you know about Agnes and Fairfax Merwin, Fred Maguire, and Millicent Rutherford?”
“The exact same things you do. Millicent is one of Granny’s oldest friends, if you use that term loosely. She and the rest of them are all community theater cronies. If you think I’m going to dig out twenty years’ worth of newspaper clippings about local productions, you’re crazy. Especially not for a cheap Chinese dinner. If you want information about Millicent and company, go straight to the source. Call your grandmother.”
“You’re a hard woman, Sarah. I’ll see you at five.”
I put the receiver back on its hook and turned to Sylvie, who was leaning against the kitchen counter. She yawned.
“You should have woken me up. I was afraid you’d absconded in the night.”
“Not a chance,” I replied. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“You’re an angel.” She’d put on a white T-shirt and a pair of underwear. I stopped on the way to give her a kiss.
“Hey, wait a second,” she said, pulling me back to her. “That was woefully inadequate.”
Several minutes later I said, “Satisfied?”
“Not yet,” she smiled, “but I think I need that coffee first.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Do you mind if I go sit in the living room? The tile on this floor is freezing.”
“You should steal a pair of socks from your dresser. That’s what I did.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”