by Laura Leone
"Look, I just really never expected—"
"Of course, that was before I knew—"
"—that your 'someone'—"
"—that you don't even have the guts to tell Ryan how you feel about him!"
"—was another woman!"
Frustration welled up in Sara. "I have told him!"
"What does it matter that she's another woman?"
"But it's complicated, Miriam!"
"Why does anything about this matter to you except that I'm in love and I'm happy?" Miriam said.
"I'm entitled to be a little shocked when my sister suddenly turns around after more than thirty years of being normal—"
"Don't you dare say this is 'abnormal!' Anyhow, look who's talking!"
"—and tells me she's a lesbian!"
"What's so normal about being in love with a man you can't keep your hands off of," Miriam said, "and still being 'just friends' with him, because you're too afraid to risk—"
"You have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Well, why don't you just explain it to me, Sara? I had the guts to go out on a limb, acknowledge what I really wanted out of life, and go after it! Why don't you?"
"You're talking to me, of all people, about going out on a limb?" Sara said. "You, who've been discouraging me from my dreams ever since I lost my publisher?"
Miriam looked stunned. "What? No! I have never! Never discouraged... No. I..." She ran a hand through her hair. "Have I?"
Sara hadn't even realized how much she'd resented Miriam's lack of support until the words came out of her mouth. "Well... yes."
Miriam stared at her in consternation.
Sara tried to pull her thoughts together. "So you and she..."
"Jan."
"You and Jan..."
"We've decided to move in together."
"You... sleep together?"
"Yeah, Sara. When I said she was my lover, that's what I meant. I didn't think the word was ambiguous. Then again, I'd forgotten how long it's been since you had a lover—"
"Don't be a bitch."
"Sara, I see the way he looks at you. And I'm not the only one. What the hell is going on here?"
"I don't want to talk about—"
"He loves you," Miriam said.
"Please, don't."
"Why not?"
Pushed beyond her limit, Sara blurted, "Because he's a prostitute!"
Miriam's eyes bulged. "What?"
"There! Now you know! Happy?"
"What are you talking about?"
"He's an expensive male prostitute who sleeps with other women—dozens of women, maybe even hundreds of women!"
"He's a prosti—"
"And I'm so uptight," Sara said, "that I'm having a little trouble with that, go figure."
The kitchen door swung open. Ryan and Jan came into the room, carrying food trays and chatting.
Jan was saying, "Which is why I decided to get a Labrador. Because they have that...that great personality... which...uh..."
The two of them drifted to a halt, their expressions growing uneasy as they saw Sara and Miriam's faces. Given that the room was practically vibrating with emotion, Sara supposed they sensed the tension.
After a moment, Ryan asked Sara, "Is everything okay?"
Jan asked Miriam, "Are you all right?"
Sara saw the way the woman looked at Miriam, who tersely replied: "Fine."
"Miriam?" Jan prodded, clearly not convinced. Her gaze shifted to Sara, and her eyes widened. "Oh."
Sara opened her mouth, wondering what to say to her sister's lesbian lover.
Miriam said, "Don't say a word, Sara. Not right now." She said to Jan, "We're leaving." Jan looked distressed, and Miriam made an obvious effort to be more reassuring. "Everything's okay, but it's time to go."
Now Sara saw the way her sister looked at this woman. The way they looked at each other. What they shared.
Miriam said to Sara, "We'll talk later." Then she crossed the floor to Jan and took her hand. "Let's go."
Jan looked at Sara, then back to Miriam. "Are you sure? If you two want to talk now, I'll wait—"
"No, I've had enough of my family for one night," Miriam said. "Let's go home."
Jan looked at Sara again, her expression worried. "It was a lovely party, Sara. Thank you for having me."
"Mm."
Stepping into the breech, Ryan said, "It was nice to meet to you, Jan."
"Oh, it was very nice to meet you, Ryan."
"Drive safely."
"Come on." Miriam tugged her girlfriend's hand, eager to leave. She paused in the doorway, though, glanced at Ryan for a moment, and then looked at Sara. "I guess we've both got bad news for Dad, Sara. But at least mine's Jewish." She started laughing.
The kitchen door swung shut behind them, Miriam's slightly hysterical laughter still floating on the air.
Sara avoided Ryan's gaze and slumped into a kitchen chair. He came over to the table and sat down, too.
He said, "So she told you."
Sara gaped at him. "You knew?" When he nodded, she demanded, "How long have you known?"
"Only a few hours." He put his hand over hers. "It was sort of obvious when I saw them together."
She made a rude noise. "Well, obvious to a sex professional, maybe, but I had no id—"
"Come on, Sara." He withdrew his hand.
"What?"
He seemed to be sorting through a multiple-choice list of possible comments. Finally, he settled on, "I thought you might be caught a little off guard by this."
"Well, yeah." She threw her hands up. "My stable, conventional sister, who's always been the normal one, is suddenly a lesbian, and I—"
"You mean, she's suddenly told you she's a lesbian."
That gave her pause. "Well..."
"Their relationship seems pretty serious."
"It is." Sara's head started to throb. "They're moving in together."
"If Miriam's got a serious partner now," he continued, "it's probably not because dumb luck struck her one day last week."
Sara remembered a phone conversation she'd had with her sister only days after moving in here. "No. They met months ago."
"And assuming that Miriam had to date a while, like most people, before meeting the right person..."
She held her head in her hands. "You mean she's been hiding this for some time. Keeping secrets from me." Feeling cranky, she added, "Like you."
"I don't think she'd like the comparison."
Realizing she had a confession to make, Sara said, "Ryan, I'm sorry. I told her. What you do. For work."
He drew in a sharp breath. "Oh?"
"We were fighting, she was goading me. About you and me. I was angry, and I just blurted it out. I'm sorry."
"Oh. Well." After a moment, he said, "I guess I'm not that surprised. She was giving me some 'If you hurt my sister, I'll castrate you' looks tonight. So I suppose she was bound to push you about what's going on between us."
"What is going on between us?" she asked plaintively.
He lowered his gaze and went very still. Sara watched his jaw muscle work tensely. When he didn't reply, she gave in to what she longed for and could no longer bear not to have. "Ryan, I want to make l—"
"Does it bother you?" he asked abruptly. "Two women together in bed?"
Surprised by the question, she admitted, "Yes. In fact, I'd rather we change the subject. I don't want to think about—"
"This trip I just took. To the island," he said. "I screwed one woman while her lesbian lover watched. Then I did a three-way with them."
She covered her eyes with her hands. After the initial, mortifying shock passed through her, she ground out, "Damn you, Ryan. You're the one who keeps saying that details aren't a good idea!"
"Still want me in your bed?"
She didn't answer. She was waiting for the flood of revulsion to subside.
"So Miriam was always the conventional sister, the normal one," he said, "and I guess you w
ere always the artistic one, the oddball."
Her blood was roaring in her ears. Unwanted images thundered through her mind.
Ryan. Fucking two women at once. Fucking one woman while another watched.
"In a way," Ryan said, "you and Miriam are like mirror images of each other. The normally conventional sister became the oddball in her sex life, in the desires that pumped through her blood and made her want something other than what she'd always thought she was supposed to want."
Ryan, performing. Like some kind of live porn show. In private. For two women.
"You're the unusual one—the original—in the other areas of life, but sexually," he said, "you do want exactly what you always thought you were supposed to want. You want a monogamous relationship with a sexually conventional man—"
"I want you," she said miserably.
"—and you're repulsed by the idea of anything else. For yourself. Or for others." He paused. "So if you thought about Miriam going down on Jan after they get home tonight—"
"Stop it!"
"—you'd be disgusted."
"I don't want to think about my sister's sex life! Or anybody's sex life! Sex is private!"
"Then don't think about it, Sara," he said. "Think about Miriam being happy, being satisfied with her choices, making a life together with someone she loves. I mean, it's not Jan personally that you mind, is it?"
"I hardly talked to her," Sara mumbled. After a long moment she admitted, "She seemed nice. Much better than David."
"David?"
"Miriam's ex-husband."
"Oh. Your father says he was a schmuck."
She choked on a startled laugh. "He was."
They were silent for a few minutes, Ryan sitting patiently with her while she pulled herself together. Finally, Sara scrubbed her hands across her face and looked at him. "You and two women."
His expression didn't change. "Yes."
"I suppose a lot of men fantasize about that."
"It was just a job, Sara."
She felt exhausted and depressed. "I don't understand."
"I know." He folded his arms across his chest. "And, well, there's something else you should know."
"I'm not ready for another shock, Ryan."
He ignored that. "You remember, I told you that when I first started out escorting, I told Catherine I wouldn't do men?"
"I don't think I want to hear this," she said.
"You remember, I told you we argued about it?"
"And she gave in because of what had happened to you."
He nodded, keeping his face inexpressive. "But the reason we argued about it, the reason she thought I might do it, is that..." He met her eyes. "She knew I had done it before. That's why she hadn't thought it would really be a problem for me, on occasion."
Sara said nothing. Just stared.
"To survive on the streets, I shoplifted, I picked pockets, I washed windshields, I even begged... And when I was desperate enough, I got down on my knees." Ryan must have thought her blank-faced shock indicated a lack of comprehension, because he added, "Oral sex, Sara. I gave blow jobs for cash."
"Oh, Jesus." She leaned over and rested her forehead on the kitchen table, feeling sick. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't stand this. Could barely find the words she wanted. "As a kid? A teenager? When you were, what, sixteen? Fourteen?"
"Uh-huh."
"Ryan..." She wanted to cry, but tears didn't come.
"Not often," he said. "Not if I could find money any other way—but sometimes I couldn't. And it was always easy to pick up cash that way."
"No. No..." She was trying to cry, but her eyes were dry.
"Just stand around and wait. In the right place. With the right attitude. Someone would walk up, or drive up. And for fifteen minutes of my time, I'd get enough money to eat for a couple of days." He added very quietly, "I didn't think about it while I was doing it. I didn't think about it afterwards. I turned off my mind."
"Oh, God..." She heard herself breathing in short, distressed pants.
"If I could just not think, then it was easy. Too easy, I guess. That's why so many street kids wind up doing it."
"Please..."
"They figure, hell, I could spend all day busting my butt and risking getting picked up by the cops for stealing or panhandling, and I might wind up with seven dollars to show for my trouble. But if I can just turn off my mind one or twice a night, just for as long as it takes for some pervert to get off—"
"Ryan."
"—I can get twenty, thirty, maybe even fifty bucks, just like that." After a moment, he said, "I know it doesn't make any sense when you're sitting here. But back then and there, Sara, sometimes it made perfect sense to me. And so I did it."
With her eyes closed, she took a shaky breath. "Wasn't it terribly dangerous?"
"Of course. That's how I got hurt so badly."
She finally lifted her head to look at him.
"One night," he said, "I went with the wrong customer. He decided he wanted more than I was willing to sell. When I wouldn't give it to him, he beat the shit out of me and took it."
Sara felt her face crumple, but she still couldn't cry. "If he'd had AIDS or something..."
"I know." He said with bitter irony, "Aren't I a lucky sonofabitch?"
"Oh, Ryan." Her throat ached and her chest hurt. "I wish I had known you back then."
That startled him. "What?"
"I was an adult. I could have helped you. Looked after you." Her eyes ached dryly. Why couldn't she cry? "If only—"
"Shhh. I don't do if-onlys and what-ifs, Sara. I learned a long time ago it does no good and hurts too much. So let's not start now, okay?"
"Okay." Her voice was faint, her head spinning with sorrow and fatigue.
Ryan rose from his chair. "It was a great party, Sara. You have nice friends."
"I do, don't I?" Her head was muzzy, and her heart felt raw.
"Most of them seem a little eccentric." He smiled. "I've learned that I really like that in a person."
"Ryan..."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Get some sleep."
Then he was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan wasn't surprised that he didn't see Sara for the next three days. Despite his parting suggestion, he doubted that she'd been able to sleep in the hours after Miriam had dropped her bombshell and then he'd delivered one or two of his own. He supposed Sara had spent much of Sunday either dozing or puttering around the apartment in a half-hearted attempt to start cleaning up the post-party mess.
He also supposed she wasn't at all eager to see him. Her feelings for him were probably a little confused right now. Or maybe they were crystal clear: revulsion and rejection.
Ryan tried not to be upset about it. This was exactly why he had said what he'd said, wasn't it? He didn't have the will to let her go, so he'd given her a reason to let him go. If knowing that he bedded other women for money appalled her, it was easy to predict how she'd react to knowing that he had worked men in the street. And if her sister's unconventional sexuality disturbed her, he could guess how she'd feel about his own unconventional sexual experiences.
He had told her because it was the right thing to do. And because it was the only thing which was going to stop this train from moving forward. She'd have invited him to her bed—the words were tumbling out of her mouth at that very moment—and he'd have entered it, knowing full well that it was wrong. She'd be hurt by anything more that happened between them, and he didn't want that. So he'd sought a way to put a stop to this.
Besides, the truth would be even worse if she only discovered it after she'd let him into her bed. He hated to think of how disgusted she'd be, how betrayed she would feel, if she found out later instead of now.
It was good that he had told her everything. It was good that he'd been fair to her.
And since it was good, he wished it would stop feeling so awful.
He went about his business and tried not to thi
nk about her. But he hated not seeing her, not knowing how she was feeling, not talking with her, not even having a superficial chat so he could spend some time in her company. Initially, it made him lonesome, unhappy, and distracted. By today, he missed her so much it was making him cranky. He'd snapped at Adam this morning, who was so offended that he refused to let Ryan buy him a meal. For a hungry street kid, that was seriously offended. Ryan knew he'd have his work cut out for him tomorrow, trying to regain some of the ground he'd lost with the kid today.
Ground for what? What am I going to do?
He tromped morosely up the long, steep stairs to his apartment, unlocked his front door, greeted Macy, and was closing the door behind him when he heard Sara's door open.
"There you are!" Evidently unaware of his startled expression, she stalked across the hall, pushed past him, and entered his apartment. "Hello, Macy."
Ryan stared at her. "Hi."
She finished patting Macy with one hand, using the other hand to clutch a big pile of paperwork to her chest. Then she turned on him with an exasperated glare. "It's late. Where have you been?"
"Um, working."
She rolled her eyes. "Lovely."
"Sara..."
"I've been waiting for you for hours!"
"Uh... Sorry."
Her gaze flicked over him, and her expression changed as she noticed his expensive suit. "Why don't you change? Then we'll talk."
"O...kay."
When he came out of the bedroom in sweatpants and a T-shirt, she was sitting on his couch. He hesitated until she patted the place beside her and said, "For God's sake, Ryan, I'm not going to bite you. What on earth is the matter with you today?"
He sat down a couple of feet away from her. "Well. We had a pretty frank talk. And then I didn't see you for three days. I thought—"
"Is it three days?" She looked surprised. "Oh, you're right. Well, I had a difficult night after the party was over. I fell asleep about two hours after dawn, and I slept through most of Sunday. Yesterday I was busy all day with this." She indicated the paperwork she was spreading out on the coffee table as she talked. "Today I was busy with this again, but you haven't been around much today, anyhow. And I've spent all evening waiting for you to come home." She frowned at him. "I can't keep doing that. You have to give me your cell phone number."