Nurture

by Susan X Meagher

  "I understand that, Jamie, but you don't have to let your notoriety run your life. You should only do this if you want to, not just because other people want you to."

  "I know that, but it's hard to ignore the pressure. Say, speaking of communities, how has yours reacted to the news of your divorce? Have you heard from many people?"

  "My phone has been ringing all day with condolence calls." She laughed mirthlessly as she added, "Most of them just want me to speak badly of your father, which of course I won't."

  "They don't know you very well, do they?" she asked, smiling when she considered how much she'd learned about her mother in the past year, and how nearly every bit of information she's gleaned had increased her love and respect.

  Now Catherine's laugh sounded genuine. "I suppose that's a good point. I don't really want that type of person in my life, anyway. Thanks for reminding me of that, Jamie."

  "That's my job," she said.

  That afternoon, Mia shared the results of her struggles with Jamie. "It was kinda humbling to find a teacher I couldn't have my way with," she said. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on her stacked fists. Her normally bright eyes were a little dull, and she had been uncharacteristically listless since she'd gotten home.

  "If you could charm everyone in the world, that would make life way too easy," Jamie teased. "Isn't it more fun when you have to work for it?"

  "No. This is a hell of a time to come up against a teacher who actually cares if I learn the subject. Why'd I have to take a class from a newbie?" She thought back for a minute. "I remember. This was the only class that fit my schedule, didn't require any papers, and just had a take home exam at the end of the semester." She sat up and banged on the table with her hand. "This woulda been so perfect!"

  "Well, at least you can get out of your other classes. When you come back to Cal, you'll only have to take one class."

  Mia nodded glumly. "You can bet your ass it's gonna be from someone who's about to retire."

  While Ryan was at softball practice, Jamie went outside to think. She sat in a chair in the quiet, cool yard, trying to sort through all of the ramifications that writing the article could have. It came down to the damage it would do to her relationship with her father, versus the good it could do for her community. In this instance, she decided that her community needed a boost-even at the cost of more dissention between her and her father.

  On a whim, she called Ryan, surprised to have her answer. "Can you talk?"

  "Seems like it," she said, stating the obvious. "What's up?"

  "I've got to do the article," she said. "I don't want to, but I have to."

  "I understand," Ryan said. "Really, I do."

  "I've got to call my father right now," Jamie said, sounding small and sad and defeated. "I'm not going to have a minute's peace until I get it over with."

  "Wanna wait for me? I can't be home until 7:00, but I'd love to be able to hold your hand while you do it."

  "Thanks, honey, but I have to get it over with."

  "I'm just shagging balls in the outfield," Ryan said. "I could sneak away, and no one would miss me."

  Jamie smiled at the image of her partner sneaking away from the field. "That's okay, honey. You go shag. I'll see you when you get home."

  "I love you," Ryan said. "I respect you, too."

  Jamie could feel herself starting to choke up, and she whispered, "Bye." She walked up the stairs, head bowed. She was both pleased and disappointed when her father answered his cell phone. "Hi, Daddy," she said.

  "Hi, honey," he said quietly. "I'm at a benefit dinner. Can I call you later?"

  "Uhm … sure. I'll be here."

  She heard rustling and he whispered, "Hang on." A minute passed, and he said, "I stepped outside. You don't sound like yourself. What's wrong?"

  "I, uhm … have something pretty serious to talk to you about, but it's not urgent or anything. I just wanted to -"

  "Jamie, I always have time for you. I'm not the guest of honor or anything here. They'll just think I'm conducting state business. Now, what's the matter?"

  They hadn't spoken since their fight over his comments to the San Francisco Chronicle revealing that he supported President Clinton's "Don't ask, don't tell" policy, as well as the Defense of Marriage Bill, and Jim could tell by his daughter's voice that this conversation was going to be uncomfortable.

  "I'm sure you realize how upset I was over your comments in the paper," she began.

  "Yes, you made your feelings very clear," he said. "And I hope I was clear about how sorry I was that I upset you."

  "You were," she said. "But sometimes you have to do what you think is right-even when it hurts someone you love."

  He paused before he spoke, feeling like he was going to cry. "You have no idea how it makes me feel to have you realize that's true," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Just because I vote a certain way or support a certain policy doesn't mean that I love you any less, Jamie. I'm very proud of you, and I'm very pleased to see that you're creating a good life with Ryan. I can see how happy you are, honey, and I swear that's all I've ever wanted for you."

  "I know that, Dad," she said. "I hope you know that I love you, too."

  "I do," he said. "I truly do." He was smiling, feeling lighter and happier than he had in days. He was just about to tell her again how happy she'd made him when she spoke.

  "You know, I hope you really do believe that I love you, Dad, and that I'm doing what I'm doing out of principle."

  "What are you talking about?" he asked, trepidation in his voice.

  "Some representatives of a major gay and lesbian political action committee have asked me to write an opinion piece concerning Prop 22. They want me to write about my feelings on the administration's two-faced approach to gay rights. I've agreed to do it, Dad, and it's going to be published in the Chronicle next Monday."

  She could hear the breath he exhaled, and she waited expectantly for him to form a reply.

  "Are you just trying to get back at me?" he asked, his voice sounding weary and thin.

  "No," Jamie said emphatically. "Not at all. I'll admit to being really angry, and at first, I entertained the idea because I was so furious with you. But I've thought about it a lot, and this is something that I feel very strongly about. I won't get many chances to reach people in this way, and I feel like I need to seize the opportunity."

  "Will you at least send me a copy of the article so my staff can prepare a response? I'd like to minimize my embarrassment as much as possible."

  She wished she could think of something to say that would make him feel better but knew that she couldn't. "I'll send it to your home e-mail account. I'd really appreciate it if you could call me after you've looked at it. I'm willing to make changes if there's anything you find objectionable."

  "All right. I'll call you after I read it." He switched off without saying goodbye, leaving her feeling even worse than she had before she'd called.

  Arriving at home after softball practice, Ryan went upstairs and found her partner lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a vacant look in her eyes. "How'd it go?" she asked.

  "It went briefly," Jamie said. "I told him, he asked if I'd send it to him, then he said he'd call me after he read it." She turned to her partner. "He was really hurt."

  "Makes sense," Ryan said. "Maybe he'll feel better when he actually reads it."

  "Maybe," Jamie said. "Maybe not. Mind if I take a nap?"

  "No, of course not." She ruffled her fingers through the soft blonde hair and asked, "Do you feel like going out to dinner, or would you rather just stay close to home?"

  "Carry-outs," Jamie said.

  "No problem," Ryan said. "We'll just cocoon tonight."

  "Okay. Thanks, honey."

  "Want me to rub your head to help you sleep?"

  "Nah. I'm fine. Go order dinner."

  Ryan started to walk out of the room, but something held her back. Crossing back to the bed,
she sat on the edge and placed her hand on Jamie's cheek. "It's gonna be all right. He'll be angry, but he'll get over it. This is politics, honey, and he understands that."

  "You sure?" she asked softly, craving reassurance.

  "I'm positive. I really am. He loves you, and he won't let this little thing change how he feels about you."

  "Ryan?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Could I have that head rub? And maybe a little cuddle?"

  The larger woman smiled. "Absolutely. There's nothing I'd rather do."

  Jamie sighed when her partner curled up behind her and began to stroke her head.

  "Go to sleep, sweetheart. You'll feel better when you wake."

  Jamie snuggled tightly against Ryan's warmth. "No, I feel better when you hold me. That's the key."

  "That makes two of us," Ryan murmured.

  Part Four

  Ryan had a short day on Tuesday and found herself with three hours between her last class and practice. There were a million things she could have done, but she found herself thinking about Proposition 22 in a way she hadn't done before. Something about the whole thing had been bugging her, and she wanted to get a few things straight in her mind. She made a call, set up an appointment, and raced across the Bay Bridge, considering while she drove what she wanted to get out of the impending discussion. By the time she arrived, she was resolved.

  A short time later, she settled her long frame into the straight-backed wooden chair in Father Pender's small office. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Ryan said. "I know how busy you are on Sundays, so I thought this would be a better time to talk."

  "My pleasure, Siobhan," he said, then corrected himself. "I mean Ryan. I know it's what you prefer."

  "It is, but as I've gotten older, I've come to like Siobhan again."

  "I suppose I've always referred to you as Siobhan since that's what your father calls you," the priest said, looking down at his hands. "How is he?"

  "He's good," Ryan said. "Married life suits him."

  "That's hardly a surprise," the priest said. "Some men are born to be good husbands and fathers. He's one of them."

  "That he is," Ryan said. "I hope I'm half as good a spouse. I don't have much time to work on my skills, 'cause Jamie and I are going to have our union blessed in August."

  Having spent years listening to people reveal their secrets, it was relatively easy for Father Pender not to rise to the bait of Ryan's intentionally provocative statement. He just smiled at her and nodded politely-leaving her room to expound on the thought if she chose.

  Having a different agenda item in mind, she didn't pursue it. Her face grew serious as she posed the question that had been on her mind since she'd heard the rumor. "Something's been troubling me, Father, and I wanted to see if you could shed some light on the issue for me."

  "I will if I can, Ryan. What is it?"

  "I heard that the bishops in California have pledged several hundreds of thousands of dollars to support Proposition 22. Is that true?"

  He leaned back in his chair, a pensive look on his face. Rocking slowly, he finally nodded. "Yes, it's true." He waited a moment to see if she was going to follow up with a question, but her big, blue eyes were trained on him, and he knew her question without its being asked. "The Church supports many propositions, and it's perfectly legal to do so. We're not supporting a political party here, so it's not a question of separation of church and state."

  With a puzzled look on her face, Ryan said, "I don't give a damn about the legality of the donation, Father. I'm sure the church knows what it can get away with. Yes, I'm questioning it, but not on legal grounds. I'm upset because my church is using funds that my family contributes to support a proposition that we strongly disagree with."

  "I can see that it might bother you, Ryan, but the Church has to take stands that it feels are supportive of the greater moral good-even if they're unpopular. Our stand opposing the death penalty and abortion has taken a heavy toll, causing us to lose many parishioners. But we have to do what we think is right. It's the only moral path."

  "I don't disagree with that either, Father. I understand that the Church is in the business of taking moral stands. And I support that, even though the Church's position differs from mine on things like abortion. My complaint isn't so much the stand you're taking, even though I'm confident it's misguided at best and intentionally discriminatory at worst. My complaint is that you're using our contributions to join up with the far right. This proposition is nothing but posturing-and I think you know that. If my guess is right, I'd say it's probably Archbishop Levada who's one of the biggest proponents of this contribution, and that just sickens me."

  The priest nodded, knowing that there was little common ground between this fiery young woman and his very conservative spiritual leader. "I don't know what to say, Ryan. Archbishop Levada has some very strong views on the sanctity of marriage, and he believes that Proposition 22 will help strengthen the institution."

  "I hope for his sake that he's not that stupid," Ryan snapped, reminding the priest of his old friend Martin, right down to imitating her father's facial expressions. "The guy is the leader of a city with more gay people than anywhere on earth, and he's more antagonistic to us than someone from the most remote backwoods village in the country."

  "That's hardly fair," Father Pender said, scowling at her. "Calling him antagonistic to gay people is ridiculous. He loves all of God's children. Just because he believes your conduct is against God's will doesn't mean he's antagonistic to you as people … as Christians."

  Her face flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "He's not antagonistic, but he's willing to spend my money to deny me my civil … and I do mean civil … rights. This isn't about whether the Church will let me marry; this is a proposition to prevent the state from marrying me."

  "That's true," he admitted. "But many issues cross into the secular." He leaned back in his chair and rocked slowly for a moment or two. "Look, I'll admit there's a large gap between your beliefs and his," Father Pender said, "but he comes by his beliefs from a position of prayer and contemplation, Ryan. You can't fault a man for disagreeing with you."

  "Of course I can!" She got to her feet and paced behind her chair, too agitated to remain still. "When he's making decisions that I find not only offensive, but morally wrong, I most certainly can fault him." She stopped abruptly and gazed at the man, trying to remember how close they had all been for so many years. "Look, Father, I think it's obvious we're never going to see eye to eye on this. I just want to make a few points."

  "Of course," he said calmly. "Why don't you sit down?"

  "I think better when I move."

  "I know that, Ryan, that's why I suggested it." He tried to suppress a grin.

  She smiled back begrudgingly, but kept moving, covering all of the available ground in two long strides, then turning to go in the opposite direction. "Here's the deal. I don't know of many groups that need the support of the Church more than gay people. So many of us are tossed away by our families, and because of that, we desperately need a place that accepts us and loves us unquestioningly. In my opinion, that should-no, that has to be the Church, if the Church has any intention of following in the footsteps of Jesus. But not only do you not welcome us, you go out of your way to discourage us from belonging. I know for a fact that you wouldn't be comfortable with my being a Eucharistic minister."

  The accusation hung in the air for a moment before he answered. "No, I wouldn't," he said quietly. "You're in open dissent with the Church, and it wouldn't send a good message to allow you to dispense Communion when it's common knowledge that you're a practicing lesbian."

  "I've been practicing since I was seventeen," she said, making him blush. "I think I've got it right by now."

  "There's no need to be snide," he said.

  "Yes, there is! You allow single people who live together to hand out Communion. Why is their sin less grievous than mine? What about all of the people with only one or t
wo children? Are they all infertile? Of course not! They're using birth control, and everyone knows it! But that's okay. You're willing to ignore those sins. It's only homosexuality that rises to this level of censure." She stopped and gripped the back of her chair with her hands, her knuckles turning white from the pressure she applied. "You're singling out gay people for particular discrimination, Father. This is an archdiocesan-wide practice, and I'm sick of it!"

  "I don't think we do that," he said quietly, his eyes locked upon hers. "It's not the fact that you're gay that's the problem, Ryan. It's that you're so vocal about it. You introduce Jamie to everyone as your spouse, making it very clear that you're sexually intimate. You can't expect to act like that and then have me ignore it. Of course I know that people live with their boyfriends and girlfriends, but they don't make an issue of it. They're discreet," he insisted, puzzled that she didn't understand his logic. "The entire point is your discretion … or lack of it. You act like having Jamie around is perfectly normal, but it's not. I've gotten more than one complaint about the way you two behave in church."

  "I have nothing to be ashamed of." Ryan's voice was quiet but full of anger. "I love Jamie with all of my heart. I desire her sexually. I express my love for her in a carnal fashion, and I will continue to do so until I am carted away by the anti-gay police!"

  "Ryan, you're taking this to extremes," the priest said patiently.

  "No, I'm not," she insisted. "If you're able to limit my participation in the Church-which is my birthright, as a matter of fact-you're, in essence, supporting other institutions in their efforts to push homosexuality back into the deepest, darkest closet imaginable. You can't discriminate and then say that you're opposed to discrimination; it's untenable!"

  "I'll admit that this is a complicated issue and that there are many views, Ryan, but I assure you that I do welcome you at Mass. I welcome you and Jamie. I wish you'd be more discreet, but even if you won't, I'll defend your right to attend Mass."

  "Big of you," she snarled. "But you wouldn't bless our union."