by Laura Leone
"So this goes back a long way," Sara said in surprise.
"Then I met a woman when I was working in the city, between college and grad school. I slept with her twice—and I was sober the second time. I totally freaked out about it. I was so sure I couldn't be that person. I was a 'normal' person who wanted normal things, including normal sexuality and a normal family..." Miriam sighed. "Well, this woman wanted a relationship with me. She pursued me. I wanted her, too, but I wasn't ready to see myself that way, to accept what I truly wanted."
"Oh!" Sara's jaw dropped as she put the pieces together. "The year you were working in the city—the year you got engaged to David."
"Yeah. David was right there, and he was convenient—for hiding behind, I mean. He'd been at the law firm for two years and was ready to invest in a wife and a house. I saw an opportunity for all the 'normal' things I wanted so much—"
"I'm sorry I used that word the other night."
"—and an easy escape from the 'abnormal' thing that was so tempting to me. So I threw myself into getting David to marry me, and I rejected this woman."
"Wow. I never had any idea." Sara was shaking her head, stunned at the emotional difficulties Miriam had faced without ever confiding in her. "Mir, I'm ashamed you felt you couldn't tell me. I'm so sorry."
"No, don't, Sara. It wouldn't be fair for me to let you blame yourself. I never even considered telling you. Or anyone. I pretended to myself that I just had a strange, unique attraction to this one sole woman, and that she was my only problem." Miriam added softly, "I hurt her when I rejected her. Hurt her a lot. In fact, I tried to hurt her."
Hearing Miriam's guilt, Sara said, "Six years of marriage to David seems like punishment enough for any unhappiness you may have caused her."
"To be fair to David—"
"Oh, let's not bother."
Miriam laughed. "Granted, he was not the most supportive or sincere husband."
"He screwed around on you!" Sara added, "I thought that was why you divorced him."
"I thought so, too. But, really, finding out about his adultery the second time, after he'd promised it would never happen again, was an escape hatch. All those tears I shed weren't because I cared about losing him. They were because I was scared of the future. And also because I felt guilty."
"Guilty?"
"I know you don't want to be fair to David, but I have to," Miriam said. "Our marriage was no picnic for him, either, Sara. I never really wanted him sexually. Not the way a person needs to be wanted by a spouse or lover. Even someone as self-centered as David had to find that hurtful. And I didn't love him, which couldn't have easy for him to bear, either, once he realized it."
"I didn't like him and I don't have to feel sorry for him," Sara said, "but I understand what you're saying."
"Since I had made a mess of my personal life by denying what I wanted," Miriam said, "a few months after David and I split up, I tracked down and apologized to the woman I'd rejected and dumped so I could marry him. And she was incredibly nice to me about everything. She has a partner whom she's been with for five years, and I became friends with both of them. They started introducing me to people... And I started dating."
"Dating women, you mean."
"Dating women."
"And keeping big secrets from me."
"Yeah. Which I did for too long, I know. I'm sorry."
"Well, I can understand that telling me wasn't easy." She switched the phone to her other ear and shifted in her chair. "Look, what I didn't like about David was that he didn't deserve you and didn't make you happy. I've decided that's what still matters most to me in anyone you choose. Not what gender the person is."
"Well, in this case, I'd say it's a question of whether I deserve her. And Jan does make me happy, Sara. I've been so happy since we met. So I knew that I couldn't keep hiding this from you. Besides," Miriam added wryly, "I was getting sick of Jan nagging me to tell my family about us."
"Then I'm glad you're happy, and I'm glad you told me about you and Jan."
Miriam asked, "So you're okay with this?"
"Yes, I am." She was only lying a little. "But it would help if I actually knew Jan, Miriam. Right now, she's just sort of a theory to me."
"I thought you could get to know her at your party. It seemed like a no-pressure way to introduce her to the family." Miriam made an amused sound. "But I should have remembered what your parties are like and realized you'd have no time to get to acquainted with her."
"I had no idea so many people would show up."
"It was nice of Ryan to let them into his home. I wouldn't have done that."
"Well, he's a pretty brave guy."
There was a brief silence before Miriam said, "I have to ask."
"I know. Don't bother. I'll tell you." The things Ryan had confided to her were private, so Sara only gave Miriam a quick outline of how he had become an escort and why he felt he couldn't give it up.
When she was finished, Miriam said, "Well, you can see how he'd be good at it. I mean, I'm finished with men and happy about it, and even I think he's sexy. In a classy way, too."
"But he's more than that, Mir. A lot more than that." No matter how appealing Ryan's packaging was, it wasn't what made Sara love him.
"So," Miriam said, "the problem between you two has never been that he doesn't find you sexually attractive, or that he cares about your age—"
"I'm only nine years older," Sara said irritably.
"If you recall, that's what I kept telling you—"
"Yeah, yeah."
"And it sounds to me as if, now that you know the truth, you still want him, and you don't care where he's been."
"It would be more accurate to say that I don't blame him for where he's been." Sara felt the familiar frustration start welling up again. "But I do care that he still keeps going there."
"Yeah. That's not something you can just..." Miriam sighed. "Well, I don't fault you for being 'uptight' about this, Sara."
"He doesn't, either."
"What are you going to do?"
She brushed her hair behind her ear. "I don't know."
"Well, whatever you do, I swear I'm going to be supportive. Because, well, you're right. I haven't been supportive of your choices lately. And I'm sorry about that, Sara. Jan says I always think I know best, and so I just steamroll over other people sometimes."
"Wow, she really does know you well."
"Yeah, yeah. Anyhow, I'm sorry. When it comes to your career problems the past few months, I've been someone you had to fend off instead of someone you could talk to."
"Thanks, Miriam. I guess I've had so much trouble believing in myself lately, I didn't even realize how much I minded your not believing in me."
"I do believe in you! I'm just worried about your impractical and risky... Uh, never mind."
Sara chuckled. "But I've been okay, Mir. Ryan has been there for me. Ever since we met, he's been incredibly supportive."
"Well, sure. Your life probably looks pretty stable to a homeless kid turned prostitute. But I've got a good professional job with a regular salary and benefits."
"And if that mattered to me as much as it matters to you," Sara said, "things might be different. But my passion for my work is much more important to me than the stability you need."
"Sometimes I envy you that," Miriam said, surprising her. "But I definitely don't envy you what you endure for your work."
Sara smiled. "I can't argue with that." After a pause, she asked, "When are you going to talk to Dad?"
"Oh! I didn't tell you. I've talked to him."
"You already talked to him? When?"
"Yesterday. I told him I was going to bring some Chinese food over to his place so we could have dinner, because I needed to tell him something important."
"And?"
"And I did it, Sara," Miriam said. "I told him that you're in love with a Catholic."
Sara sputtered with laughter. "Bitch."
"Okay, no, I didn't wa
ste my breath on it. He knows."
"He does?" Sara bleated.
"Yes. After he got over his shock about me and Jan—and, I have to tell you, he was so shocked, he didn't speak for about two minutes, which is the longest I've ever known him to be silent unless he was asleep."
"Was it very awkward?"
"At first. But then he recovered and focused on the important point, which is that Jan is—"
"Jewish."
"—and a liberal."
"You sycophant. You knew as long as you found someone with those qualifications, you could slip this 'and we're lesbians' thing right past him."
"Yeah, it worked out pretty well. Anyhow, then he got on this riff about grandchildren. He said at least he could hold out hope that you'd provide them, because you've been considerate enough to find a companion who's a member of the impregnating gender, even if he is a goy."
"Oy vay," Sara said.
"I thought you'd say that." Miriam was obviously enjoying herself. "Does Ryan vote Democrat?"
"We've never discussed it. You know I don't care about politics. But if I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't vote."
"Then just lie to Dad and say he's a liberal."
"Yeah. And then I'll just breeze past Dad with this 'by the way, he's a prostitute' thing."
"Oops."
"Look, I've got to go. I'm wiped out," Sara said, feeling depressed again. "I'm going to hit the sack."
"Wait. Tell you what. So that Jan won't keep being just a 'theory' to you, why don't you come for lunch on Sunday? About one o'clock? I'll invite Dad and Aunt Minnie, too. Jan can start getting used to the family, and you can start getting used to us."
"That sounds good. I'll be there."
"Sara?"
"Hmm?"
"Well. I love you."
"I love you, too, Mir."
Chapter Fourteen
"Any involvement in prostitution?"
Ryan nearly flinched before he realized that Isabel was asking about Adam, not him. "I haven't asked, but I don't think so."
She gazed at him inquisitively, waiting for him to say more. Isabel was a no-nonsense woman, roughly Catherine's age, and she looked a bit like his cleaning lady. There was a gentle patience in her manner, but Ryan could tell she was also shrewd and observant.
"Does it matter if he's been hustling to survive?" Ryan asked, bristling a little. "If he has, does that make him less worthy of your help?"
"No," Isabel said, "I'm just wondering why you haven't asked."
"So that he doesn't think he has to answer the question to keep my friendship. Or think he has to lie to keep my friendship."
Isabel nodded and then returned to asking more questions. She was particularly persistent in discovering all the details of how Ryan had initially tracked down Adam and started winning his grudging trust. Getting tired of her interrogation after a while, Ryan said, "Look, I didn't go to that neighborhood cruising for boys, if that's what you're wondering. I don't do that."
"I believe you."
"Then what's with all the questions? How did I find him, how did I know his patterns, how did I convince him—"
"Why did you track down your stolen wallet yourself instead of notifying the cops the way most people would?"
Ryan met her gaze. "Oh. Well..."
Isabel tilted your head. "Those of us trying to understand street kids so we can help them know that there are two kinds of people who understand them better than we do, Mr. Kinsmore."
"Oh, call me Ryan."
"There are the people who prey on street kids. And the people who are—or were—street kids."
Ryan held her gaze for another moment, then nodded.
"How long were you on the streets?" Isabel asked.
"A little over two years."
"Then someone got you off the streets?"
"When I was sixteen." Ryan took a breath. "I don't think Adam can wait that long. And I don't want the things that happened to me to happen to him."
"What happened to you?"
"I didn't come here to talk about me."
"I'm sorry." Isabel smiled. "I got a little ahead of myself. I wasn't asking because I want to pry, or even because I want to hear your life story and make sympathetic noises."
"Then let's get off the subject."
She overlooked his chilly tone. "I'm asking because I think you could help Safe House."
"Me?" He blinked.
"As your friend Sara may have told you, Safe House was founded by a former prostitute. She wanted to get women off the streets. She's been doing incredible work, helping many women, getting a lot of attention for them, and for Safe House."
"That's good," Ryan said, thinking about Sara's exasperation with him. Because some people quit turning tricks and did something worthwhile with their lives.
"I joined Safe House two years ago," Isabel said. "I got the job by convincing the boss that this place should help kids, too. Now I direct our outreach, placement, and counseling services for youth."
He didn't jump on the word "placement" as he had with Sara. He'd been firm and direct at the beginning of this meeting; and Isabel had already assured him at length that Safe House would not detain Adam, report him to anyone, or coerce him in any way. Being convinced of that was the only reason Ryan was staying to discuss the specifics of Adam's situation with Isabel.
She continued, "I have the education, training, and experience to help these kids once they come in and ask for help. What I don't have is the ability to convince them to do that. Outreach begins in the streets, Ryan. It's incredibly hard to get these kids to take that first step and come here."
"Try offering free food."
"We do. They eat and leave. If we try to talk to them while they're eating, they brush us off, leave faster, or just stop coming."
He was nodding. "Of course."
"You understand that, don't you? You could even have predicted it."
"I did it myself, Isabel."
"That's why I think you can help here."
He shook his head. "I'm not going to go around your soup kitchen pestering homeless kids while they're eating."
"That's not what I have in mind."
He frowned. "You have something in mind?"
"Do you think you could do for other kids what you've been doing for Adam?"
Ryan made a frustrated sound. "What have I been doing for Adam? I feed him a little, I give him a little cash, and the moment I leave, he's alone on the street again, with no future and no protection. And that's all I've been able to do for him. At least, until Sara thought of doing more."
"You did what you had to do when that was all you knew," Isabel said. "And when you knew better, you did better."
"That sounds like a quote."
She smiled. "It's the motto around here."
"Look, I haven't really done anything for him," Ryan said. "That's why I've come here."
"You're not viewing this clearly," Isabel said. "You've done a great deal for Adam. Just letting him know that you care what happens to him is more than anyone's done for him in a long time. You've shown him undemanding and unconditional friendship. You've been forging a bond of trust with him, and you've let him accept the relationship at his own pace."
"Well." Ryan looked down. "I remember that pace."
"You also remember what it would have taken to win your trust. You know how to talk to him, you understand his fears, even the ones he won't talk about, and you know exactly what can happen to him out there." She looked Ryan over and, after a pause, said, "It also looks like you learned to make a better life once you got off the streets."
This conversation was moving onto shaky ground. "In a way."
"You got an education—"
"Just my G.E.D."
"That's an education, Ryan. You can go on to college if you want—"
"Now you sound like Sara," he grumbled.
"Even without college, you obviously earn a decent living."
Cut to the chase, he
thought.
"Isabel, I'm an escort."
"Oh." She nodded. "I see."
"You know what that is?"
"A nice word for prostitute." She didn't look shocked. Not even surprised.
"Did you suspect?" he demanded. "Is that why you're pushing?"
"Actually, no. But I'm certainly not surprised. As I'm sure you know, it's not at all unusual for a street kid to wind up as a prostitute. What is unusual is that you're evidently making good money at it, based on those nice clothes and that expensive wristwatch."
He said, "Because of escorting, and because of the arrests on my record, I can't help Adam myself. That's why I'm here, why I want you to help him."
She hesitated, looking as if she still wanted to pursue Ryan's own story, then said, "You're right. Let's focus on Adam. Are his parents alive?"
Relieved not to be talking about himself anymore, Ryan told her everything he'd been able to learn from Adam. After they had talked a while longer, Isabel said, "Considering his age, that he still has a living parent, and what his past experiences are, I do have a couple of ideas to consider for Adam's remaining years as a minor. I want to make some calls, and then I can talk to Adam about this. Or talk to you again, if you don't think he's ready to come in yet."
"Not just yet." Ryan wondered whether it was Adam or he who needed a little more time to adjust to this new idea.
"But you will convince him." It sounded more like a statement than a question.
"I will."
Isabel nodded. "I'll talk to you again. Maybe even by tomorrow. I have your home phone number here. Meanwhile..." She beamed at him. "Do you have a little more time? I want to show you around the center. That way you can answer any questions Adam might have about it when you discuss it with him."
"Sure, I have a little time." He needed to keep an eye on the clock, though. Catherine had been unpleasant about his request last night, but she had rescheduled his appointment with Alice for later this afternoon. "I'd like to have a look around."
"Good!" Isabel rose from her desk and led him out of her office. "This way."
Physically, Safe House was not particularly impressive. It was in a characterless building on a dreary street not all that far from where Adam lived in a truck cab behind an abandoned warehouse. Although handmade and hand-me-down decorations tried to cheer up the place, the real cheer, Ryan noticed, came from the staff—counselors, administrators, a nurse, a number of volunteers. They were mostly women, and their ages and ethnic groups were varied. They bustled around with smiles, energy, and an obvious sense of purpose.