by KI Thompson
She sat on the bed and flipped through her high-school yearbook.
Images from the varsity tennis team screamed back at her.
There she was, in her tennis whites and letter sweater, racket held casually across her chest. At five foot seven, she had weighed one hundred and ten pounds, and could fly across the court to reach any shot her opponent could smash her way. With her abilities, the team had gone to state, only to lose in the finals, but it was the first time her high school had ever been there. They were the dream team.
A few pages further on, she paused at a photo from her junior prom. She looked so marvelously thin; it didn’t seem possible that her body would ever fit the clothes she now wore. Her hipbones were clearly prominent beneath her clinging dress and her face was angled and sharp. Ellen sighed. She had rarely eaten much of anything back then, knowing that the boys from the men’s team ogled the girls during practice. One poor teammate who had struggled with weight all her life was the target of their cruel teasing. Ellen helped defend her against the boys, but the comments served as a reminder to keep her own weight down.
God, one hundred and ten pounds. She couldn’t believe it had been twenty-five years since she’d weighed that much. Forty pounds.
Forty pounds she had gained since that time. Just the thought of it made her cringe with self-loathing.
“You know, I can always find you here when you’re upset.” Her mother walked in and sat next to her on the bed.
Ellen remained silent, not knowing how to explain to her mother what she was going through, because she didn’t quite understand it herself. It was all too new and complex for her to sort out on her own.
“What’s up, honey?” She ran her hand through Ellen’s hair and then slowly rubbed her back, the way she did when Ellen was a little girl. The familiar touch still soothed her.
“Oh, I don’t know. A little jittery about going out with someone, I guess. I haven’t exactly been the social butterfly of late. And my next-door neighbor is absolutely infuriating me at the moment.”
“What happened?”
“I brought her groceries the other day and she yelled at me and slammed the door in my face. I can’t think of any reason for her to do that and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Why, the ungrateful wretch.” Barbara stopped rubbing her back. “I’d tell her where she could get off in no uncertain terms.”
“Well, it’s not that easy.” Ellen backpedaled, surprised by her mother’s vehement comment. “She was in a terrible car accident and refuses to go out. I think she’s just lashing out because of her situation, not because of me.”
“Why on earth are you the one doing all this for her? Doesn’t she have family who can help her?”
“I guess not. I haven’t seen anyone. Maybe she won’t let them. It seems like she’s closed herself off from people.”
“Why are you so interested in this neighbor of yours? Why is she your responsibility?” Her mother’s scrutiny was intent and unwavering.
Afraid of what her face might reveal, Ellen looked away. “I don’t know, Mom. She’s all alone, and she needs me. She has no one else. I know there’s a good person inside of her and she just needs help until she can get back on her feet.”
“It seems you know more about her than the woman you have a date with tonight.” Her mother had a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know, this reminds me of the time when you were a little girl and you brought a baby bird into the house to care for when it fell out of its nest. Eventually you had to let it go, once it was strong enough to be back among its kind. You were heartbroken.” Ellen had completely forgotten the event, but it came rushing back. At the time, she thought the bird would remain her pet. Letting it go felt like a betrayal. For months she wondered if it survived.
Picturing it weak or dead, she felt responsible and couldn’t forgive herself for abandoning the poor creature to the wild to take its chances.
Her mother stood. “Be careful you don’t find yourself caring for another baby bird, Ellen.”
For a long while after her mother left the room, Ellen remained on the bed. She felt more confused than ever and knew she’d have to sort things out with Kate soon. The tension between them couldn’t go on forever. The whole thing was ridiculous. They were both adults and should be able to talk about the unfortunate incident. Kate was her neighbor and perhaps becoming her friend as well. Ellen didn’t need to let unrealistic daydreams get in the way of helping Kate during a rough period in her life. Kate needed someone, and Ellen was possibly the only person who could give practical support. She’d have to put aside her fantasies and focus on Kate’s needs instead.
❖
Kate had just finished lunch when the phone rang. She debated answering, seeing on the caller ID that it was her agent, but knew he would only call back. She needed to deal with this situation.
“Hi, Dean,” she said with little enthusiasm.
“Kate.”
He paused, and she knew he didn’t have good news. She braced herself, knowing what was coming but wishing somehow she could stop him.
“Kate…”
After a few more moments of hesitation, Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. “Just spit it out, Dean,” she snapped. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it.”
“Sorry…the station wants to buy out your contract. It seems like a pretty good deal, and as your agent, I would advise you to take it.”
He knew. He didn’t ask why, so Mike must have told him.
She could imagine them all sitting around the conference table, discussing her life. “Poor Kate,” they’d probably said, and then went about deciding what was best for the station, and for her, of course. In a single morning, they had determined her fate, before the inevitable lunch at an upscale Washington restaurant. She was furious she was so helpless, but she had no choice. Her anchor days were through.
“Send the paperwork over,” she said flatly. “I’ll look at it, and if it’s in order I’ll sign it.”
“Kate, I’ve been calling some stations out West and—”
“Well, stop right now,” Kate interrupted angrily. “I’m not interested in doing anything, either here or out West.”
“But, Kate—”
“I said, forget it. Send me the paperwork tonight. I’ll get it back to you in the morning.”
She jabbed the Off button and flung the phone across the room.
She swore she wouldn’t answer it again, especially if it was Dean calling. Glancing at her watch, she strode to the bar off the kitchen and poured a scotch. It was too early in the afternoon for one, but she didn’t care. She needed it.
The first sip was strong and harsh, but after that, the taste was smoother. A couple of hours of channel surfing and several drinks later, she realized she had emptied the bottle. I better add that to my grocery list. Speaking of groceries. She glanced at her watch again; it was almost five o’clock. Normally Ellen would be home by now and would bring the items Kate was waiting for or come collect her list for the next day. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Kate read the note she’d found slipped under her door the day before. The ultimatum was clear: Call Ellen and apologize or go screw yourself and get your own groceries.
Nothing on her list was urgent; she had enough food to get by.
But the scotch was a different matter. Kate inspected her last bottle and chewed at her lip. She had enough to last her five or six hours; then she would have to leave the condo so she could stock up. She shuddered. The very thought of leaving her sanctuary to go out in public and be seen made her ill. Only a few people knew of her predicament and mercifully had kept it to themselves, so far. If she were to go out, some fan might surreptitiously photograph her with their cell phone and her damaged face would be plastered all over the news.
The more she thought about her situation, the angrier she got.
Fuck them. What did it matter anymore if people knew what she was hiding? Her career was in the trash and there wa
s no use pretending otherwise. If someone took her photograph and it wound up on the news, she’d merely get a head start on the station by beating them to the announcement. What was she going to do, otherwise? Stay in her condo for the rest of her life? The idea was absurd and infuriating.
If she was going to get on with her life, she had to start now by getting her own damn groceries. It was unlike her to be such a wimp over something so stupid. She just had to buck up and take the hard knocks, as her father always said.
❖
The symphony had definitely been the high point of the evening. The upscale bar had been rather awkward and unsettling, mostly due to Ellen’s insecurities about the dress as well as feeling uncomfortable on her first date in a while. She had forgotten how to talk to someone in an interesting, flirtatious manner. Her every word sounded superficial and trite. Thankfully their time at the Kennedy Center had preempted further conversation and she could relax somewhat until their ride home.
They were lucky to get a cab after only a ten-minute wait, but inched along due to the emerging crowd and traffic. Sandra attempted to fill in the silence with the details of her work, and Ellen tried to appear interested, but the specifics of passing legislation didn’t appeal to her and her mind wandered.
“I’m sorry. I must be a dreadful bore, going on and on about my work.”
“No, of course not,” Ellen quickly reassured her, guilty that Sandra had obviously noticed her disinterest.
“First dates can be rather awkward,” Sandra said. “You’d think at my age I’d be a lot smoother.”
Her sigh sounded so wistful that Ellen almost touched her in apology. “I’ve had a really nice time tonight. The wine was lovely, the music enchanting, and the company both. Thank you so much for an enjoyable evening.”
“Thanks for being so kind and for putting up with me.” The cab stopped at the curb in front of Ellen’s building and Ellen reached for the door handle. “Thank you again for such a wonderful time.”
“Here, let me at least walk you to your door.” As Sandra asked the driver to wait, Ellen climbed out, her heart racing. She hoped Sandra wasn’t expecting anything more than a kiss good night.
❖
Kate drew the hooded sweatshirt over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves. She stood in front of the mirror and saw a gangster in a B-movie. If I was the guy in the liquor store, I’d think I was being held up. She tugged at the sides, covering her face as much as possible. The shadowy look only made her seem more threatening, but she didn’t care.
While the irritating stitches had now been removed, the resulting white skin, speckled with dots where the stitches had been, made the damage look worse. Her arm had a similar scar, but under a sleeve it didn’t matter. The doctors had mentioned plastic surgery, if she was interested. She had seen the results of the cosmetic surgeon’s art firsthand. Several colleagues had gone under the knife, trying to extend the warranty on their time in front of the camera. But the wind-tunnel effect turned her off and the possible complications gave her pause. Still, she might look into her options. Improvement would probably come too late to save her career, but at least she wouldn’t be humiliated every time she showed her face in public.
She grabbed her keys and wallet and headed for the door when muffled conversation in the hallway made her stop and peer through the peephole. Ellen stood at her door talking with another woman.
Kate couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Ellen seemed to be asking the woman in. The woman shook her head and said something, an excuse of some kind, Kate supposed. Then the woman put her arms around Ellen’s waist. Kate was surprised and grinned when she realized what she was about to witness. Sure enough, the woman brought her lips to Ellen’s and they kissed.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” She let out a low whistle. It was a gentle, unhurried kiss, but not terribly passionate. It was definitely not the kind of kiss Kate would ever waste her time with, but she didn’t know what kind of woman Ellen was interested in.
When the two separated, Kate studied Ellen with interest. She certainly looked good tonight; the dress she wore revealed a deep cleavage. Kate considered herself a breast woman and was surprised she had never noticed Ellen’s. Then again, she did have other things to think about of late. She watched the woman return to the elevator and Ellen retreat to her condo.
Her mind flew to the angry note Ellen had left, and the lewd thoughts she’d just conjured up about her neighbor disappeared.
In their place grew the determination to become independent once more and, for now, to replenish her damn scotch. She yanked her door open and was halfway down the hall when a heavy pounding in her chest made her stop. Her feet quite simply refused to carry her forward, and her breath came in short, labored pants. She stumbled sideways toward the wall and leaned against it, frantically trying to slow her breathing. The hallway seemed too narrow and stretched out indefinitely, and for a brief, panicky moment, she thought she wouldn’t make it back.
Glancing at Ellen’s door directly in front of her, she thought of knocking, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead, in one huge burst of adrenaline, she literally scurried to her condo and, once inside, collapsed onto the couch. Shaking and nauseous, she closed her eyes and listened to the pulse hammering in her ears. Okay, so maybe she still needed a little help. Two weeks of isolation was nothing. Hell, her bruises had yet to completely disappear.
Her eyes filled with tears. One thing was clear. If she was going to survive, she couldn’t manage without help. She would have to apologize to Ellen. Not only would the people who knew her be shocked at what she had become, Kate no longer recognized herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ellen absentmindedly placed her keys on the credenza and pondered that kiss from Sandra at her door—had it been only a week ago? She liked Sandra. They had a lot in common: a love of foreign films, fine dining, and a passion for politics, although in DC that was almost mandatory. Part of her was relieved Sandra had begged off that night, yet another part was disappointed.
She retraced everything she had said and done that night and couldn’t come up with a single misstep. Sandra seemed to enjoy her company as much as she had enjoyed Sandra’s. But the little voice inside her head insinuated itself into her consciousness— Sandra likes you, but not in that way. Ellen went into her bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror. If only she wasn’t so heavy, if only she’d met Sandra ten years ago when she was a size four. Sandra would definitely have stepped in for a nightcap then, early meeting or not.
She kicked off her shoes and changed into a sleep shirt. She was determined to plow through several chapters of her friend’s book on Lincoln, but once in bed, she read the same paragraph over and over. Finally, in exasperation, she put the book down, turned off the light, and snuggled deep into her pillows. She went through her mental checklist of things to do the next day, automatically including shopping for Kate before remembering that thankless task was no longer part of her routine. Knowing how Kate resisted leaving her condo, Ellen was surprised. She had expected a phone call by now, and perhaps a weak apology, but not complete silence. Had Kate found someone else to do her running around?
Simply the thought of Kate aroused her and she closed her eyes to conjure up an image of her. Strangely, when she thought of Kate, or dreamed of her, the scar never figured in. She saw only the dark hair and eyes, the firm jaw and full lips and the way she walked.
The entire package was too damn sexy, and the woman wasn’t even trying.
As usual, Ellen’s body reacted in all the right ways. She withdrew her vibrator from her nightstand drawer and turned it on low. It felt exquisite when she rested it near her clit, but not directly on it. She liked to tease herself first, draw the orgasm up slowly while she massaged her breasts and nipples. She fantasized Kate leaning into her at the door and kissing her, kissing her passionately, then ravishing her.
Kate was undressing her and grazing her way down her b
reasts, her stomach, and then between her legs. Ellen moved the vibrator directly onto her clit, flipped the switch to high, and pinching her nipples felt the rolling approach of the orgasm. It started at her clit, then worked its way up her belly and into her chest until she rocked hard, its force lifting her upper body off the bed.
Ellen fell back onto the pillows and simultaneously switched the vibrator to low. It continued to draw out the last echoes of her orgasm until she went limp and turned it off. She sighed contentedly, wishing for someone to cuddle and talk with in the aftermath of lovemaking. Perhaps Sandra? She wouldn’t know for sure for a while, but Sandra was certainly the nearest potential she had found in a long time. What would making love with her be like? She was warm, witty, and funny. Ellen felt comfortable around her in public, but how would she feel in private, and naked?
❖
Ellen climbed out of the tub and grabbed the phone she’d left by the sink. She’d been expecting Sandra to call all week and was trying not to read anything into the silence.
“Hello?” She dried her hair with one hand while holding the phone with the other.
“Hi, Ellen, it’s Kate.”
Ellen slowly let the towel drop to her side.
“Listen, about the way I acted last week,” Kate continued in the kind of tone newsreaders used when they tried to convey sincerity while remaining detached, “well, all I can say is, it must have been the pain pills. Too much, too little, I don’t know. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. That wasn’t right.”
Ellen was unaware she’d been holding her breath. When she finally drew in a gulp of air, she didn’t know if she would laugh or cry. “Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry I left that note. You didn’t deserve that. I was insensitive.”
“No, no, you were absolutely right,” Kate said. “I wouldn’t have been half as nice as you were if someone had been so rude to me. People have told me my temper would get me into trouble. After all you’ve done for me, there was no excuse. I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”