"Okay, staff meeting," Gene said. "Or she'll put stuff on our desks while we're away." He mimicked Leslie's higher pitched voice. "'Gene, be a darling and find out if there's some software that'll help us decide whether we should lease or buy the building.'"
Richard burst out laughing. His deep tenor sounded funny in falsetto. '"Richard, sweetie pie, the bank has messed up three times according to the CPA. Be a dear and check into that socially responsible bank you heard about.'"
Leslie tried to frown. "This is serious. I don't want to do this stuff and you don't, so who will?"
There was silence, then Sarah said in a panic, "Don't look at me!"
"Let's hire a financial manager," Richard said.
"And a bookkeeper," Leslie added.
Gene chimed in, "So moved."
"Seconded," Richard said. "All in favor?"
"Aye," they said in unison. Gene gave Leslie a high five.
"Let's let Leslie do the hiring," Richard said.
"So moved," Gene said.
"Seconded, all in favor?"
"Hey, wait a minute —"
"Aye," Sarah, Richard and Gene said.
Leslie pursed her lips. "Be careful what you vote for," she said in sinister tones. "You may get it."
"I'll help you review resumes," Sarah said. "And let's tell Melody that if anyone faxes one in it comes to you." She glanced significantly at Richard. "And no one else."
"High five, sister-friend," Leslie said. She smacked her palm against Sarah's, her face alight with laugh¬ter. Sarah felt a wave of pleasure. At last she was on the receiving end of Leslie's good humor.
7
The moments of the past do not remain still;
they retain in our memory the. motion which
drew them towards the future, towards a future
which has itself become the past...
(Marcel Proust)
Thanksgiving for two turned out to be a lot of fun. The apartment oven was "efficiency"-sized and would never have held a turkey. Instead, Sarah had seen an advertisement for "The Wine Train" leaving from Napa and making a three-hour roundtrip to St. Helena, during which there would be wine tasting from many of the famous California vineyards. The jaunt was fun and diverting, and replete with delicacies in keeping with Thanksgiving.
Sarah had even booked a room in a nearby bed and breakfast in Napa so they wouldn't have to drive after the train ride. They tumbled into their quaint four-poster bed with giddy giggles and slept late on Friday. On their way home, they stopped in Sausalito and window-shopped with steaming lattes to warm their hands, then they wended their way through misting fog to sample fresh lobster for lunch at a little cafe on the wharf.
"Four-day weekends are so delicious," Sarah said, after a lazy Saturday morning. She lifted her head from the pillow. "Right there, left a little, down, oh—" She squeezed her toes together as Melissa found the exact spot where her back itched. "That's delicious, too."
"I'm actually glad the group decided to take a little break," Melissa said. "Molly was pressuring me to start putting things down on paper, but I'm having some new thoughts that I haven't processed yet. I'm going to go talk to the foundation about them on Monday and see what they think."
Sarah seized the opening she'd been looking for over the last couple of weeks. "Do you have some sort of deadline?"
"Well, not really. They gave me a limited amount of money and I have to make it last as long as possible."
"They gave you all of it up front?" Sarah was startled at the idea.
"No, they reimburse as I spend. I've submitted some living expenses that I haven't actually spent — how's that —"
Sarah stretched her back. "Perfect."
"Anyway, I haven't spent some of the money they have given me for living expenses because you pay for almost everything. I can use the money to pay for things I didn't budget for properly. Like I think the camera crew is going to cost more than I thought. And there's a symposium for new documentary filmmakers in Los Angeles I want to go to week after next. And I thought someone would donate film and developing, but now I don't think so."
Sarah was glad her face was buried in the pillow. She knew the shock she felt must show. After a minute, she took herself firmly to task. You're as bad as Leslie, she told herself, putting off an unpleasant topic because you don't want to be thought petty. But she needed to talk to Melissa about money. She hadn't told her she'd taken a pay cut. It cost more to rent in the Castro than it did to buy in Seattle. She hadn't wanted Melissa to feel guilty. But Melissa obviously didn't realize that between the rent, both of them eating out all the time, her transit passes and Sarah's commute cost to work, not to mention the car insurance, the rent on the garage, utilities, the long distance bill and the increasingly frequent meals Sarah was buying for the group — all in all, ends were barely meeting. And that didn't include luxuries — archery range membership, movies, theater, cable. The list went on and on.
It was obvious that Melissa didn't expect to contribute any of her earnings — from any source — to the household budget. It also bothered her that Melissa had told the foundation she had expenses she didn't have. Technically, it was fraud, though Sarah knew that there was latitude in every contract.
Sarah wondered what she could have said or done differently. She was feeling more like a patron of the arts than a lover. How was she going to bring it up? She hated talking about money. She and Ellen had never had to talk about it — they both had good jobs. And she knew exactly how Melissa must feel — it was how she felt when Jane had wanted to pop off to Switzerland to ski and Sarah had had to accept the trip as a gift instead of paying her own way. She hadn't liked the feeling of being dependent and Melissa must not either.
"I didn't really understand the San Francisco landscape, you know," Melissa was saying. "It's a lot more complicated. There's less stratification, and I'm thinking that is part of the story."
Sarah made a noncommittal noise from the depths of the pillow. Was she being petty? Did it really matter as much as the heat from Melissa's hands over her back, the intimate tangle of their legs, the way Melissa was slipping her hand between her thighs?
Sarah sighed with a mixture of unease and passion, not really liking the combination. Melissa was stroking her more insistently and her breath was hot against Sarah's neck.
"I love the feel of you," Melissa whispered in her ear. "Especially when you're so ready."
"I'm always ready — for you." Sarah shuddered to her hands and knees.
Melissa's fingers were sure in their path, and Sarah arched her back with a gasp.
"Is this what you want?" Melissa trailed her tongue over Sarah's ribs and then blew gently.
Sarah's entire body goose-pimpled. "Yes," she said, pushing her hips back against Melissa. At the moment she wanted nothing more.
"Matt, this is Sarah MacNeil," Leslie said, aware that her son was kicking his suitcase and ignoring her.
"How do you do, Matt." She extended her hand and Matt finally shook it. "Where are you off to?"
"Visit my dad," Matt said. "He lives in Hartford."
"Excellent," Sarah said. "It's already winter there. You can snowboard."
Leslie thought Sarah was pretty quick on the uptake. Matt's inline skates were hanging out of his backpack. Snowboarding, skateboarding and mountain biking completed the average 12-year-old's X games.
"Yeah," Matt said, brightening a little. "Dad says we're going to go up to a ski resort one weekend, which'll be great because my step-mom can't cook."
"Matt," Leslie said in a warning tone, even though she knew he spoke the truth. "Your dad can't cook either, so be fair. And if you can't say something nice —"
"I know," he said. He went back to kicking his suitcase.
Sarah shifted the thick file she was holding to her other hip, and said, "When's your flight?"
"I dunno," Matt said.
Leslie held back a sigh. "A couple of hours," she said to Sarah. "I'll run him up to the terminal and be back
afterwards."
"Well, since you have some time, Matt, come into my office and I'll tell you how to make lasagna so you get at least one decent meal."
Matt looked less than enthused, but apparently it beat spending a boring hour with his mom. Besides, Leslie knew he'd perk up when she wasn't around. The sulks were for her benefit because she hadn't let him bring his Nintendo. Allan didn't want his other sons to be exposed to it, and she wasn't about to upset his household, not when she half regretted getting Matt the set he had. Matt could live without Nintendo for a couple of weeks, but he didn't think so.
A few minutes later she heard Matt laughing and she blinked back tears. She was going to miss him terribly, but it was his long break for the holidays and Allan's turn to have him for Christmas. He wouldn't be back until just before New Year's, nearly four weeks.
Sarah was making him giggle about something, then all was quiet for a long while. Leslie tried to work, but she kept looking at the clock and thinking it was another ten minutes closer to the time he would leave. She waited as long as she could, then went to see what Matt was doing.
She found Matt in the middle of a huge mess — he'd emptied all of the boxes in Sarah's office and was making stacks of gigantic books. "Matt, what on earth have you done?"
"I'm alphabetizing," Matt said. "Sarah said she never got the chance to put them in order."
The books were apparently law books, and each was as thick as a large rump roast. "Oh," Leslie said. "Thanks for giving her a hand."
"No problem," he answered.
"He's doing a great job," Sarah said to Leslie.
"Mom, look at these pictures I found. Sarah said she hasn't had a chance to hang them yet. She knows how to shoot bows and arrows."
Leslie studied the two framed photographs. It took her only a moment to pick Sarah out of the trio of women in each photo. Each stood beside an unstrung bow cradled into the crook of their arm. Leslie knew that Sarah taught archery. "You're just babies," she said.
Sarah nodded. "Don't we look young and brash? This one — from Los Angeles..." she took the photo and dusted the faces with her finger. "We do look like babies. I really changed a lot in the next four years."
"You grew your hair out," Leslie said, looking at the more recent photo. The light brown curls had given way to a sophisticated knot more like the one she wore now.
"I had to pull it back or it would blow in my face at exactly the wrong time. It's hard to aim at something with hair in your eyes."
"Cool," Matt said. Leslie hid a smile as he carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't know anyone who can shoot a bow and arrow."
"I'd be happy to teach you sometime," Sarah said.
Matt jabbered questions at Sarah, as animated as Leslie had seen him in recent months. Sarah answered him patiently, shooting a conspiratorial glance at Leslie. Leslie smiled her thanks, then felt herself getting misty, so she ducked out with a mumbled explanation and headed for the ladies room.
She was blowing her nose when Sarah came in, a sympathetic look on her face. "How long is he going for?"
"Four weeks. It'll be our first Christmas apart in three years. His dad was really great about the last couple years, but he's getting old enough now — Matt, not Allan. I mean, Allan doesn't need him any less than I do just because he's got two more boys," Leslie said, knowing she was babbling. "It's not fair to Matt. He's really excited about going, but we had a fight this morning."
"He won't sulk about it for long, he doesn't seem like that kind of kid," Sarah said. She scooted up onto the counter and swung her jean-clad legs. "My parents got a divorce when I was eight. My mom had me for the school year in San Diego and my dad for the summers wherever he happened to be — and I stayed a lot at my Grannie's. I don't think I ever left my mom without having a fight beforehand. But I was glad to see her when I went back. At least until I got older and fighting became our only way of communicating. I was not the daughter she... expected."
"We don't fight much," Leslie said. "We squabble over little things, like lights out, and snacking between meals, that sort of thing." She flashed suddenly on what she would find when she got home — his cereal bowl waiting to be rinsed, the swags of red and green construction paper loops across the living room, and the tree they'd put up this past weekend for their own holiday celebration. "I'll be fine—" she said, and then to her mortification, she began to sob like a child.
Sarah slid off the counter and pulled Leslie into her arms, patted her back and whispered, "There, there, it'll be okay," as good as any mom. Leslie hadn't realized that Sarah was several inches taller, and she let herself relax for a minute, soaking up Sarah's sympathy, then she straightened up, aware that she was liking the warmth of Sarah's body a little too much.
"I told myself I wasn't going to cry this time until after he got on the plane. I'm always a mess when he goes away."
Melody came in, took one look at Leslie and said, "He'll come back." She glanced at Sarah. "I forgot this was the big day or I'd have brought some of my mom's chocolate toffee in."
Leslie blew her nose and splashed water on her face while Sarah and Melody discussed the merits of homemade toffee. "I look like hell," she said to her reflection. "He's going to know I was crying."
"He's going to know you're human," Melody said. "He's a lucky kid, and he knows that too."
From the doorway Sarah said, "I'll go find out what he's up to. He was eyeing my computer when I left, and I'll bet he's playing Free Cell."
Leslie nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm going to be okay," she said to Melody. "I usually only cry once, and I thought I'd make it until after he was gone."
"Well, look at it this way," Melody said slyly. "This time it was Sarah's shoulder you got to cry on.
"What's that supposed to mean!" Leslie rounded on Melody in indignation.
"I just meant that her gay little shoulders probably felt better than my straight ones." Melody was looking far too innocent.
"There's nothing wrong with your shoulders," Leslie muttered. "And Sarah's are a little pointy, if you must know." She tossed her tissue into the trash and headed for the door.
"Um-hmmm," Melody said. "Methinks—" Leslie closed the door before Melody got as far as "doth protest."
Matt's sulks were a thing of the past when Leslie finally went to collect him from Sarah's custody. She didn't look too weepy, she hoped, and Matt, proud of the neatly arranged books he'd put on Sarah's shelves, didn't notice anything amiss.
Or at least she thought so, but as they pulled into the airport parking garage, he said, "I wish you could come with me."
"I know, honey. And I wish I could too. But it's not the way things are."
"I know." He helped pull his suitcase out of the trunk and set it on its wheels. "But you gotta promise you won't sit around and eat chocolate while I'm gone. It's not good for you."
His tone was such a close match to her own when she nagged him that Leslie almost laughed, but she knew he was sincere. She followed him through the parking lot saying, "I promise. I'll go to the movies. I'll buy myself some new jeans. Hey, I'm going to a fancy dinner on Thursday night with Sarah."
"You are?" Matt pulled the suitcase onto the elevator. He was looking speculative.
"Sarah has a girlfriend," Leslie told him. "It's just a business dinner."
"Oh."
"But I'm sure I'll have a lot of fun. And I'll turn the temperature on the hot tub up to where I like it."
Matt wrinkled his nose. "Just remember to turn it down before I get home."
"I will." She was proud of herself when she didn't cry, not even when Matt gave her one of his rare kisses. She waited until his plane taxied away from the jetway. Back in the car, she sniffled in privacy and did not think about Sarah's shoulders, nor the empty house that would greet her.
"So how did your meeting with the foundation go?" Sarah bit into the spring roll she'd liberally spread with hot mustard.
"Not very well," Melissa said, not
unexpectedly. Sarah had known something was wrong from the moment she got home.
The hot mustard made her eyes water. She blinked furiously. "Wow, that sure does clear the sinuses."
Melissa smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.
"They weren't very supportive of my new idea even though I think it'll be a better documentary if I change things." She pushed the chow mein around on her plate. "I didn't realize how integrated San Francisco is."
"Integrated? You mean racially?"
"No, men and women," she said as if stating the obvious. "The lesbian and gay communities are really woven together. A lot of the lesbian projects are given venues by gay men."
"Well, isn't that just an example of noblesse oblige on the part of the men?"
Melissa shook her head. "I don't think so. Because the artists are pleased with the display space, and the men seem to want to keep everything the way the artist intended. They're not imposing their ideas on the artist, but instead giving them exactly the space they need."
"Oh," Sarah said, feeling completely at a loss.
"And a lot of the gay art projects are done collaboratively by men and women. If I want to talk about the women's projects I have to include the men because it's relevant. The grant money was raised specifically to highlight lesbian projects, so the foundation doesn't want projects co-produced with men in the documentary."
"Well, it is what you originally proposed, isn't it?"
"Yes, but now I know better. I can even get free studio time from the public TV station, which will save oodles of money, so I'll have more for other things. Like Janica has spent a lot of time on interviews and wants to do a preliminary videotape, and of course she expects to be paid something for her work, which is only fair. So if I got the free studio time I could pay her, and it's a gay man that's offering it. Everywhere else I've lived the men have been real condescending and standoffish. But it's different here."
"But what about—" Sarah realized she was on the verge of sticking up for Janica.
"What about what?"
"Well, isn't one of Janica's points that it's really hard to do anything without the men getting involved? That sometimes they're helpful to the point of smothering? And other times won't lift a finger to help a lesbian project?" Melissa had been the one to stop working on a book because her collaborator had borrowed money from a man to finish it. Sarah caught back the words because she didn't want to... start something that might not end well.
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