Just A Little Romance

by Mary Jane Russell

  Sam double clicked on the blue lower case e and waited for her home page to load. She scanned the national news headlines, then went to her e-mail site. She’d save Facebook for later as a reward following time on the stair stepper.

  Sam opened her e-mail and groaned when she saw three messages from a woman she had met on Match.com several months earlier. It had been decades since she had such a faithful pen pal. The woman’s screen name said it all—TLCplease.

  Sam had surprised herself by striking up a friendship with TLCplease. She had almost passed over the woman because of her unnaturally black hair, smoky makeup, and dark clothing worn for the profile picture. “How could that be the best she can look?” Sam remembered wondering, then chastising herself for the thought.

  As best Sam could figure, and the profile on Match was sketchy except for the answers required from a member to be visible, the woman was a reclusive survivalist. TLCplease lived in the county west of Chesterfield where Sam lived just outside of Richmond. Buckingham County was gradually developing subdivisions but still contained large pockets of timberland and relied on logging for revenue for a large percentage of its residents. TLCplease was eight years younger than Sam and had only been in one real relationship whose demise left her reeling. Sam had no doubt that the woman’s career as a teacher had suffered. Frankly, Sam was amazed that the woman left her home five days a week. They were finally going to meet at the end of the month for a simple cup of coffee in the small shopping center halfway between them.

  “Dear Sam,” the e-mail began, “I must beg off of our meeting. I must continue to be careful not to rush into anything. I’m just not ready for a date, even though it’s been years since my relationship ended.”

  Sam hit herself in the head with the heel of her hand. “We’ve been e-mailing for three months. All I asked was that you meet me at Starbucks for a lousy cup of coffee.”

  She read further. “I know we are both anxious to put faces with names. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed in me. I’m not as outgoing as you are.”

  “I wouldn’t have used the word anxious.” Sam took a long swallow of beer. “Hell, I’ve never been hung up on looks—mine or my date’s. I just want someone to really talk to. I’ve traded more information with you than I have with anyone I’ve lived with. Now I’m reduced to sitting here talking to a computer monitor.”

  The words flickered. “I just think it best to postpone meeting for a while longer.”

  “Postpone. We aren’t even near the day we set. If you’re panicking already, I truly do feel sorry for you.”

  “Maybe the fall would be better; that will give me time to make myself more presentable.”

  “How about when I’m ninety and you’re eighty-two?” Sam said. “I should have known better than to let this drag on so long.”

  “I know you’ll understand. We’re building such a sound relationship this way. I have no time or interest for anyone else. I know you feel the same.” Sam rolled her eyes.

  “N-U-T-C-A-S-E.” Sam sang the letters in tune to the original Mickey Mouse Club theme song. “I don’t understand jack. I’ve diddled with e-mail because I’ve been too busy to commit time to anyone. I’m way overdue for meeting someone to go out with on a regular basis.”

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you, as always. Xoxo, TLCplease.”

  “Can we say, tell me your first name, for crying out loud? I feel as though someone signed me up for a bizarre mail order bride and forgot to tell me.” Sam sighed and stared at the keyboard. She couldn’t bring herself to hit the reply tab just yet. She felt at a complete loss for charm or empathy and hated being a jerk with anyone. She had to end this.

  Sam left the empty food container on her desk and finished the beer in one swallow. She turned on the television and found a rerun of Boston Legal. Sam climbed on the stair stepper and began a steady rhythm that she would continue for at least thirty minutes. Her machine was a simplified version of the intimidating models at the gym. She loved the way she zoned out with music or television, depending on her mood. She was convinced the simple exercise helped her to sleep.

  “Am I so terrible to want a real relationship? I have a home, money, my health, and all my teeth. What am I doing wrong? I put myself on Match. I go to Pride events. I sometimes attend the rainbow church.” Richmond actually had a GLBT church in the historic downtown area, abandoned by Southern Baptists who would have razed the building if they had foreseen its fate. “God, I sound pathetic even to me.” She exercised in silence until the commercial break was over, then stared at Candice Bergen. “Am I so awful to want just a little romance in my life?”

  Sam sweated out forty-five minutes and felt better for the extra effort. She showered just before bed, a habit borne from wanting to be ready for the morning as soon as her feet hit the floor. She read after watching the late news and turned her light off just before midnight.

  The sound that awoke her was not the voice from the radio but the jangle of her telephone. She groped for the handset.

  “Fifteen hundred words tonight. Touch me and feel the sizzle.” The man’s voice was teasing.

  “I’ll touch you and feel the lump rising.” Sam opened one eye.

  “Did I wake you?” He actually giggled.

  “No, I was lying in my bed, nice and comfy, wondering how far along with writing his next gay mystery my best friend is.” Sam yawned into the telephone.

  “Good to know you care. That was an awful sentence by the way.”

  “I’m awake enough to stomp over there in my sweats and kick your ass.”

  Paul Selz lived one block closer to Route 60 than Sam. They had met when each entered a bank’s trainee program, seen each other in passing thanks to Richmond’s GLBT organization, and become fast friends when they realized they were neighbors after repeatedly bumping into each other in the area shops. Sam’s last breakup had left her best friends with Paul—he had taken every call from her, no matter the time of day or night when she had a meltdown, and never chastised her about all the angst.

  “I’m just happy and wanted to share. See you soon. I owe you for waking you up.” Paul sounded as though he would be up the rest of the night on a writing high.

  “Damn right you do. Love you anyway, sweetie,” Sam said.

  “Don’t I know it? You too.”

  Sam was smiling as she fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Two weeks passed and Sam’s routine was basically unchanged. That night, she concentrated on following her trainer and smiled at herself for how seriously she took the workout. She had become used to her chubby Mii and the voice telling her she was overweight after the body test. Sam thought the balance board and the Wii Fit the best gameware to come along in years. At least it made her attempt at exercise less boring. She made sure to do some type of movement for thirty minutes each day. She’d just rather it was horizontal.

  “Samantha, concentrate,” she said to herself as she lost time with the aerobics routine.

  Her favorite thing about the Wii was that she didn’t have to dress for being out in public as she would for walking the neighborhood or going to the gym. The board was small enough to slide under the sofa when done. The space between the sofa and dining room table was ample for movement, and she could cheat by using the back of the sofa to steady herself during yoga exercises.

  Sam glanced at the clock—8:15 p.m. About another fifteen minutes and she was done—the Wii would prompt her of that also. She would shower, climb into bed with the new Kate Sweeney novel, and wind down for the day.

  Sam tilted her head toward the front of the house. She heard muffled voices from across the street. “Oh, God, not those two again.” She maintained her pace, trying not to overly think her movements.

  Sam had wondered about the couple across the street ever since the day she moved in. She had instantly recognized that she was not the only sister in the neighborhood. It was the couple’s dynamics that puzzled her.

 
Haley Thomas was a cutie—mid-thirties, short black hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, 5’6”, and a little heavier than fashionable, but the extra was in all the right places as far as Sam was concerned. Sam frequently caught herself looking longingly across the street and thinking how easy Haley was on the eyes. Haley was so shy that it was endearing.

  Sam had finally forced Haley to speak to her while both were mowing grass the first spring that Sam was in her house. Haley’s voice was low and soft, making her easy on the ears also. Now Haley smiled and waved no matter the time of day or night when she saw Sam. Sam openly encouraged Haley’s friendship. They giggled over cold beer in the summer, compared blisters from raking leaves in the fall, made up licentious limericks for shoveling snow, and howled at spring’s full moons.

  Haley’s partner was another story. Sam didn’t really want to understand the attraction between the two. KD Jordan was only an inch taller than Haley but at least forty pounds heavier with a ring of fat showing around her middle. She certainly bore no resemblance, or talent, to the singer who went by the same initials. She buzzed her hair in what looked like a 1950s crew cut. KD always wore black and favored wide leather bands around her wrists.

  The woman’s butch image was so fixed in Sam’s mind that Sam wondered how any mother managed to come up with Katrina Denise even when KD was a baby. KD usually glared across the street until Sam met her gaze, then she would smirk and duck her chin in recognition. Sam just smiled and waved and kept her feet moving. She had tried talking to KD once and felt as though she should change clothes afterward.

  KD was at least a year older than Sam. Sam simply couldn’t comprehend Haley and KD as a couple and was shocked when she found out that they had been together for ten years. “Damn cradle robber.”

  Sam’s pace faltered. She definitely heard at least one loud voice—KD. There was a fine line between checking on someone out of concern and interfering. Sam decided to wait a few more minutes. Abruptly, the decision was made for her. Someone was knocking on Sam’s front door with an urgency that demanded quick response.

  Sam glanced down at herself. “Great.” She stepped off the balance board and into flip-flops, quick stepping to the entry. She smothered the gasp that nearly escaped as she opened her door. Haley stood on the concrete stoop with a hand towel pressed against her lower face. Blood trailed down the front of her orange Virginia Tech T-shirt and spotted her jean shorts. Red splotches stained Haley’s light gray New Balance shoes. Sam glanced across the street. KD stood in the driveway, hands on hips, looking like a rhinoceros digging in for the charge.

  Sam caught Haley by the shoulder and pulled her into the house, closing and locking the front door behind her. “How bad is it?” Sam couldn’t tell the extent of damage because of the amount of blood coming from Haley’s mouth.

  Haley’s voice was muffled but understandable. “Split my lip. Loose or broken-off tooth or teeth. I’m starting to feel light-headed or I’d drive myself to the ER.”

  Sam shook her head. “Absolutely not. Come on.” She motioned Haley to follow her as she grabbed her keys and wallet from her briefcase on the narrow table between the front and basement doors. She flipped the light switch so they could see the stairs. “I’ll go first. Steady yourself on me, okay?”

  Haley nodded.

  Sam slowly went down the steps with Haley’s hand on her shoulder. She opened the passenger door of the Maxima and guided Haley in. She activated the garage door opener and locked them inside the car in case KD was waiting for them when they backed out into the street.

  KD watched from her own front door. Sam stared until KD turned away, telling Sam all she needed to know. Sam glanced at Haley and almost didn’t have the heart to ask the obvious. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two tonight?”

  Haley shrugged and pointed to the towel with her free hand.

  “Uh-huh.” Sam was thankful for the hospital on their side of Richmond; the subdivision was less than three miles from a major medical center without fighting evening traffic crossing the city.

  She sped through the subdivision back roads until a traffic light took her across Route 60 and onto the hospital’s main entrance. Sam had been admitted as an outpatient several years ago to clean up the inside of her knee after years of softball abuse caught up with her. She followed the sign to the emergency entrance. The parking lot was half full.

  “I’ll drop you at the door. Give me a moment to park if you don’t want to go in by yourself.”

  Haley nodded.

  Sam jumped out of the car, opened the door for Haley, and stood her against one of the columns of the porte cochere. Sam quickly parked and jogged across the parking lot.

  Sam guided Haley by the elbow as they entered through the automatic doors. “You’ll be okay. They’re very good here from everything I’ve heard and experienced.” She squeezed Haley’s arm gently. “Get your story together,” she said softly.

  One look from the admitting nurse, and they quickly bypassed the waiting area. Haley managed to give Sam her personal and insurance information to fill in the blanks on the admission form as they perched on chairs in the admission office. There was no question about Sam staying with Haley. Sam watched Haley for signs of fainting so that she could catch her. She kicked herself for waiting to intervene. They were led through a maze of curtained hallways into a cubicle with only one hard wall.

  The nurse motioned to the narrow bed. “Hop up. I’ll see which doc is available.” She hurried out after raising the head of the mattress.

  Sam studied the younger woman. “What happened, Haley?”

  Haley shook her head. “My fault. Fell on the elliptical. Clumsy.” She attempted a shrug and gave in to the pillows piled at the head of the bed.

  “Yeah, right.” Sam frowned and helped Haley raise her feet.

  The curtain was drawn back. A nurse in navy scrubs entered the treatment area. Sam’s eyes were drawn to the dangling badge identifying the RN.

  “Let me take a look, sweetie.” The woman was two inches taller than Haley and about the same size. She had short blond hair purposely showing dark roots. She had likely begun her shift with spiked hair. Tiny diamonds glittered in her earlobes. Her scrub pants were a little too long and dragged the floor at the heel of her athletic shoes. She pulled on latex gloves and a mask. “I’m Lisa Ramey. I assess what’s going on with you, then the doc will be in.” She gently moved the towel from Haley’s face.

  Sam was relieved to notice that the bleeding had slowed considerably.

  “Damn. Someone did a number on you, girlfriend. Your lower lip is split in two places, upper in one.” She ran a finger along both rows of teeth. “Several are loose, but none knocked out. That’s good, sweetie.” She placed a fresh 4x4 against Haley’s lip. “Apply light pressure to that for me.”

  Lisa jotted down information on a rolling laptop she had brought into the room with her, glancing at Sam. “Do you need to report how this happened?” she asked Haley.

  “Slipped on the NordicTrack. My fault. No one else involved,” Haley said. She was unable to make eye contact with Lisa or Sam.

  Sam sighed. She positioned herself at the corner juncture of the curtains and looked away as the nurse gave the rest of Haley a cursory examination.

  “So you just fell on your face. No abrasions on your arms or legs that I can see.” Lisa shielded Haley from Sam and took a peek under the front of her shirt, then moved to the other side of the bed and rolled Haley to her side. Her assessment made the explanation sound even less credible. She leaned closer to Haley and lowered her voice. “Few injuries cause forward falls.”

  Sam felt her gaydar going off and was ashamed of herself. Lisa was about Sam’s age and had the self-assurance of someone who routinely dealt with crisis, making her all the more attractive as far as Sam was concerned. Sam caught herself studying the way Lisa’s uniform was filled out—nice hips and tight butt, firm stomach, full breasts. Sam froze. She looked down at her clothes and was immedia
tely embarrassed. She was out in public in her exercise shorts and tank top with no bra. Her breast size went with her height—38DD.

  Lisa turned and looked at Sam as though she had enough of Sam’s eyes on her. Sam actually blushed. Lisa gave Sam an appraising look up and down. “If you can’t control your temper, at least take your damn ring off.”

  Sam was stunned. She glanced down at her hands and saw Haley’s blood on her from checking her out at the house. Sam always wore her school ring. She remained loyal to the woman’s college that had just gone co-ed—a huge mistake as far as Sam was concerned.

  Haley tried to protest. “I slipped and fell.”

  “And I won the lottery this morning but came to work for the sheer fun of it,” Lisa said. She stared at Sam again. “You need to wait out front. Shall I call security?”

  “We’re not a couple.” Sam motioned from Haley to herself. “I’m just her neighbor. She came to me for help.”

  Lisa frowned at both women. “You look guilty as hell about something.”

  “I want her to stay,” Haley said.

  Lisa looked from one to the other. “All right, girls, but in here, you behave yourselves. Any drama starts playing out and you’ll be escorted outside if I have to throw you out myself.” She pointed deliberately at Sam.

  “Promise?” Sam couldn’t help herself. Her smart-ass hormones always managed to kick in at exactly the wrong time and place.

  “Women like you two make all of us look bad.” Lisa paused at the curtain. “I’ll find you a gown since the cold is bothering you.”

  Sam glanced down and saw how pointed her nipples were. She wondered if there was any chance at all that the concrete floor would open and swallow her. “At ease, girls,” she whispered. She looked at Haley. “Do you think she meant women in general or women as lesbians?” She didn’t give Haley a chance to answer. “Damn you and KD, by the way. I’ve just made a fool out of myself because of KD’s sorry-ass temper.”