by Laura Leone
Aunt Minnie made an exasperated gesture, then announced she was going to check on the little pork-sausage appetizers she was heating up in the oven.
"I thought Jews didn't eat pork," Ryan said, sliding his arms around Sara's waist as Aunt Minnie abandoned them.
"Aunt Minnie is violently opposed to keeping kosher," Sara said. "She thinks it's a foolish custom invented by a misogynist patriarchy in primitive times and now clung to by credulous sycophants."
"I'm afraid of her," Ryan said.
"So is my father. Where is he, anyhow?"
"He was in the bedroom the last time I saw him. It sounded like he had found a Republican in there."
"Oh! Well, that'll keep him busy for hours, then."
He rested his cheek against her hair. "It looks like everyone you've ever met must be here."
She laughed. "No, no. Just everyone I like."
A tall, heavy, and lushly voluptuous black woman in a tight, floor-length, low-cut dress overheard this and said in a warm, earthy voice, "Just everyone she likes in the Bay area, she means." The woman grinned beautifully at Ryan and added, "Sara's parties are so famous, people in Portland, L.A., and Denver were thinking of coming!"
"How do you know people in all those places?" he asked Sara.
"Writers' conferences. Writers' e-lists. Writers' organizations," Sara said. "We meet each other everywhere."
"And so everyone hears what good parties Sara throws."
"Ryan," Sara said, "this is Delia. She runs an incredible bookstore in Berkeley, and she knows even more writers than I do. Delia, this is Ryan. He lives next door and keeps me from shooting the computer."
"Oh?" Delia smiled as her glance flickered over the two of them, Sara wrapped possessively in Ryan's embrace. "What else does he do for you?"
Suddenly aware of the impression he was creating, Ryan released Sara. "I'm guessing the crowd will keep getting bigger?"
Delia made an affirmative noise. "There are people I don't see here yet who told me they were definitely coming."
Sara added, "And the San Jose crowd isn't even here yet."
Ryan smiled at Sara and gestured towards his apartment. "Then I'll go open my doors, before you have to start making your guests wait in the street."
"I'll ask Miriam to bring some napkins and some food over there," she said as he left.
He pushed his way back through the crowd and out into the hall. Macy, attracted by all the commotion outside Ryan's front door, was lying with his head so close to it that Ryan accidentally hit him upon opening it. Macy yelped in protest, and several guests were inside comforting the dog before Ryan even finished inviting them to enter his apartment.
"He'll drool on you," Ryan warned.
The three women who were fawning on Macy waved aside this comment. One of them asked Ryan where he'd gotten Macy, then started telling him about the cats she'd adopted from various shelters.
"Cat," he said suddenly. "Excuse me for a minute."
He went into the bedroom, crouched down, and found her hiding under the bed, distressed by the sound of strangers in the living room. Realizing that all the company would be too much for her, and fearing that she might flee out the front door if startled by a well-meaning animal-lover trying to touch her, Ryan picked up his cat, put her in the bathroom with her sandbox, brought her water bowl from the kitchen, and then stuck a note on the closed bathroom door telling people to keep out. By the time he finished this task, a short, plump, dark-haired woman with glasses was looking over his shoulder at the note.
"Broken toilet?" she asked.
"No, it's Alley. My cat. She wants to be alone."
"Alley? As in, cat from the alley?"
"That's where I found her."
"That's perfect! I love it!"
She patted him companionably on the shoulder. Then she joined two other people who were sitting on his bed and arguing about "the princes in the tower," whoever they were.
Ryan went into the living room to make sure none of the guests there were foolish enough to disturb Mrs. Thatcher, whose cage sat covered in one corner. The three women who'd been fawning on Macy were now examining the fish in the tank. Sara's father was already sitting in Ryan's leather chair, as if he had preternaturally sensed its sudden availability all the way from Sara's bedroom and hastened here in response. Macy sat next to the chair, leaning his head against its arm while the old man scratched his ears with one hand and gesticulated with the other.
Abel Diamond was saying to an earnest-looking man of about thirty, "Why? Why would I have three books on this desert island? Why not two? Or ten? Maybe I could have one hundred classics on a CD ROM!"
"The point of the—"
"What am I doing on a desert island anyhow? How did I get there? It's a ridiculous premise!" Professor Diamond, who had earlier insisted Ryan call him Abel, saw Ryan and said, "Do you worry about getting stranded on a desert island with only three books? Is this likely to become a problem in your life?"
"I don't stay awake nights fretting about it," Ryan admitted.
"Who does? That's my point!"
"Ryan!" said Miriam, upon entering the open door with a large platter in her arms. "Sara told me you've offered to sacrifice your apartment to the cause. I come bearing food for the horde."
"Miriam!" Abel cried. "Do you ever worry about being stranded on a desert island?"
"In fact, Dad, I think about it constantly."
Her father made an exasperated gesture.
"Here, I'll take that," Ryan said, reaching for the platter of little party sandwiches which Miriam carried.
"No, no," Miriam said, "I've got it, Ryan. But why don't you help Jan?" She nodded over her shoulder to the woman entering the apartment right behind her. "Have I already introduced you? Janice Lieberman, Ryan Kinsmore."
Ryan took one of the two dessert trays balanced in Jan's arms. "Yes, you've already introduced us."
"Oh, okay. There's so many people here," Miriam said, "I can't keep track. How many people did Sara invite, for goodness sake?"
"She doesn't know."
Miriam rolled her eyes. "Of course not."
Jan Lieberman met Ryan's gaze and smiled. "The second introduction is handy, though. I'm afraid I can't remember all your names."
"I can't remember all our names, either," Ryan said. "Just put that on the coffee table, Miriam."
He followed the two women to the coffee table and chatted with Jan as Miriam arranged the food. Jan, who had come to the party with Miriam, was about thirty, of average height, and had light brown hair styled in an attractive cut. She seemed a little shy, but very good-natured, and she was clearly interested in the eclectic crowd flooding the two apartments.
"Are you a writer, too?" she asked Ryan.
"No, I'm just the neighbor. You?"
"No, I'm a physical therapist."
"Napkins! I forgot to bring over napkins," Miriam said, hands on hips. "I'll be right back."
"Want help?" Jan asked.
Miriam absently reached out to squeeze the other woman's hand, and they laced their fingers together for a moment. "Don't be silly. How heavy are napkins? Stay here and talk to Ry—Hey!" She let go of Jan and moved to block Macy's path as he ambled over to examine the food which she had so thoughtfully placed within easy reach. "Ryan, Jan, you are both on duty now. Keep this damn dog away from the food."
"Macy, no," Ryan said.
The dog gazed back at him with beatific innocence, as if wholly unaware of the sandwich tray sitting only six inches away from his nose.
"Macy," Ryan said warningly.
"Can't you lock him in the bathroom or something?"
"Miriam!" Jan chided. "He can't do that!"
Since Macy would whine and Alley would have hysterics, Ryan didn't contradict her.
"Miriam doesn't like dogs," Jan said to Ryan. "Not even mine."
"Oh, your dog is okay," Miriam said placatingly to her. "I'm getting used to him."
"Okay? My dog is the be
st." Jan said to Ryan, "Present company excepted, of course."
He smiled. "Oh, I love Macy, but even I have to admit he's an acquired taste."
"He's drooling. Ryan, he's drooling near the food!" Miriam said. "Do something about this."
"Macy," Abel called, noticing his daughter's irritation. "Come here, Macy. Good boy, Macy. Gooooood boy."
"Okay, Dad, you're in charge of the dog. Ryan, you keep an eye on the food. And I," Miriam said, turning on her heel, "will go get some napkins."
Smiling with fond amusement, Jan said to Ryan, "Sorry. She can be a little bossy."
He smiled back, wondering what Sara was going to make of this. He was certain she didn't already know. She'd have talked to him about it, or at least been so distracted by it that he'd have noticed her mood.
"Young woman," Abel said to Jan.
"It's Jan," Ryan reminded him.
"Jan," Abel said, "what do you think?"
"About what?" she asked, smiling at Miriam's father.
Ryan listened to the subsequent conversation while his mind wandered. When two people habitually touched each other in affection, and apologized for each other, and started learning to compromise over things like pets...
Sara stuck her head in the door and looked at Ryan. "How's it going in here?"
"Fine," he replied. "Who are the princes in the tower?"
"Good grief, someone's on that riff again? Here, I brought wine." Sara came over to him and unloaded the three bottles in her arms. They stood close together for a moment, smiling into each other's eyes. Then Sara looked over Ryan's shoulder at Jan and said to her, "I've come in the nick of time. You need a top-up."
Jan replied, "Oh, no, thank you, Sara. I'm fine."
"Well, no one's allowed to leave until we've gone through more of this food and drink," Sara said.
Sara was sexually conventional, perhaps even more so than she herself realized. Ryan suspected that Miriam knew this; and she was probably anxious about it, given how close the two sisters were.
Sara put a hand on Ryan's arm and started to say something to him, but Miriam exclaimed from the doorway, "Did you bring napkins? I thought I was supposed to bring napkins! I've got napkins here."
Sara turned slightly, still holding onto Ryan, and said to her sister, "Yes, you're in charge of napkins. I've got to get back to my kitchen to help Aunt Minnie. When I left, she was doing something athletic with a bowl of whipped cream."
"Thank you for that mental image," Miriam said, arranging the napkins by the food.
There was a burst of uproarious laughter from the stairwell, and then a shrill whoop. Sara chuckled and leaned against Ryan as she looked up at him. "That's the San Jose crowd. Here at last."
"Maybe I'll go hide in the bathroom with my cat."
"Courage!" She kissed his cheek and then trotted out his front door.
Miriam was looking at him with a speculative expression.
"The corkscrew is in the kitchen," Ryan said, turning to leave the room and escape that piercing stare.
When he reached the door of his kitchen, though, he found his way blocked by more people. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Miriam whispering into Jan's ear.
"Hi, there!" A pale, dark-haired man in the doorway of the crowded kitchen said to Ryan, "I think Sara pointed you out earlier. Is this your kitchen?"
"Yes. Can I get pas—"
"Thank God!" cried a blonde woman with wire-rimmed glasses. "We're looking for a corkscrew."
"It's in the drawer below the microwave," Ryan said. "Yes, there, that's right."
"I'm Joe." The dark-haired man tried to shake Ryan's hand. "Oh... Here, let me help you with those bottles. Look, guys! More wine."
"Any beer?"
"It's in Sara's apartment," Ryan said.
"I thought this was Sara's apartment."
"No, next door. I live here."
"Oh, I thought you lived with Sara!"
"No, I—"
"They're just dating, dummy."
"But Delia said—"
Ryan said, "Actually, we're not—"
"Oh, now you guys are embarrassing him," said Joe.
"No," said Ryan, "but we're not—"
"I'm sorry!" Joe exclaimed. "I didn't even get your name!"
"Ryan."
"Well, Ryan, I'm not going to pry." Joe rolled his eyes at the derisive noises his friends made. "I'll just say that Sara is the best."
Ryan smiled. "Yes. Sara is the best."
"Hear, hear!" The blonde woman waved the corkscrew in the air and said, "Let's drink to Sara!"
Joe grinned at Ryan. "Any excuse will do."
#
"Oh, Mir, you don't have to do that," Sara said as she entered her kitchen to find her sister washing dishes.
Miriam waved a soapy hand at her. "It's okay. Just clearing up a few things."
Sara crossed the floor and gave Miriam a hug from behind. "Thank you so much for all your help tonight!"
"No problem. It was a good party." Miriam finished rinsing a serving platter. "How many people are left out there?"
"Apart from Jan and Ryan, there are only three people left in my living room. And they're on their way out the door." It was after two o'clock in the morning. Sara was happy but exhausted. "Aunt Minnie finally got Dad and Lance out of Ryan's apartment about ten minutes ago." Lance had arrived shortly before midnight, and he and Abel had soon fallen into an animated discussion.
"Yeah, Jan said that Dad had bonded with your crazed landlord. Figures." After a moment, Miriam added, "And it looks to me like you've been bonding with Ryan."
"We've become close," Sara said as she got some plastic containers out of a cabinet, preparing to put away the leftover food.
"Is that a euphemism?" Miriam asked, wiping her hands on a towel and turning to face Sara.
"No." She met her sister's inquisitive gaze. "We're not sleeping together."
"You're kidding me!" Miriam put the towel aside. "I mean, when I saw you two together tonight, I was a little surprised you hadn't told me. But, well, it seems so obvious, now I'm really surprised by this."
Sara started packing away the olives. She wasn't sure what to say. Miriam's comment didn't surprise her. By now, too many party guests had already revealed their assumption that she and Ryan were a couple.
Clearly impatient with Sara's silence, Miriam said, "The two of you can't be within three feet of each other without touching. And you're telling me you're still just friends?"
"Yes." They'd been affectionate tonight because it felt deceptively safe with her guests all around them. "We're just friends."
"Why?"
Sara was tired and wished Miriam would drop this painful subject. "Do you think I should save these sandwiches? They'll probably be soggy tomorrow, won't they?"
"Sara, what's going on?"
She sighed. "It's complicated, Mir, and I don't feel like—"
"My God, was I wrong? Is he gay? Because if he is—"
"No."
"—then it's pretty shabby of him—"
"He's not gay."
"—to keep stringing you along—"
"He's not gay!"
"—just because he likes the companionship—"
"Would you stop?"
"—or likes the way having you on his arm makes people think he's straight."
"Are you listening to me? He's not gay!"
Miriam paused for a moment, then said more mildly, "I guess I'm just con—"
"Would you get off this?" Sara felt irritated and defensive now. She was annoyed with Miriam and... yes, sexually frustrated and, because of that, suddenly angry at Ryan, too. "Would you get off this, once and for all? God, Miriam! I'm sick of this! Why does it matter to you so much if—"
"Because I'm gay," Miriam said in a rush.
"—I sleep with Ryan or just stay friends with... with..."
"Oh." Miriam put her hand over her mouth.
"...with..." Sara's brain was working slowly
&n
bsp; "I thought you were going to ask—"
"What?" Sara said.
"—why it matters so much to me if he's gay, not why it matters to me—"
"What did you say?"
"—if you sleep with him."
Sara stared at her. "What did you say?"
Miriam took a breath. "I'm gay."
"What?"
"Jan's not a friend. She's my girlfriend."
"Huh?" Sara said.
"My lover, actually."
"What?" Sara couldn't believe her ears.
"Do you like her?" Miriam asked hopefully.
"She's your what?"
"Sara—"
"Tell me I didn't hear you right!"
"She's my lover!" Miriam snapped.
Sara stared at her sister, aghast. "What do you mean, she's your 'lover?'"
"You know what I mean."
"But you're... you're not... not..."
"I just told you, Sara. I am."
"No, you're not!" Sara insisted.
"I'm gay!"
"But you're..." She fumbled for a rational thought. "You were married!"
Miriam made an obvious effort to regain her composure. "I know this is a big surprise, and I wanted to tell you in a more—"
"You're telling me that you and she—"
"Her name is Jan."
"—are... a couple?"
"Yes. We're a couple. A serious couple. I'm in love with—"
"Oh, my God. No wonder you were asking me all those questions a while ago! Was I prejudiced about gays, what did I think of lesbians?" Sara threw up her hands. "Well! I might have thought through my answers a little more carefully if I'd known my own sister was a lesbian!"
"Oh, do you really think you might have, Sara? That certainly would have been a nice surprise!"
She took a breath. "Okay, I'm sorry. I guess I'm not taking this very well."
"Gee, y'think?"
"But you've really kicked my legs out from under me," Sara said.
"Right. Because God forbid you should have a sister who's a lesbian!"
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Didn't you?" Miriam challenged.
"What did you expect me to say?"
"Pretty much this, in fact! You are so uptight, Sara!"
"Miriam, that's not f—"
"But I guess I hoped that because you've found someone," Miriam said, "you'd be happy that I've found someone."