"Cat! No! No! I swear, nothing is going on between Kayla and me! I broke up with her the day after the Stanford game! I swear I've not touched her since!"
"Jim," she said softly, "why on earth should I believe you?"
"Because…because I don't lie to you, Catherine. I've always told you the truth, whenever you asked me about anything!"
"How do I know that?" she asked. "How do I know that anything you say is true? How do I know that the compliments you've been paying me are genuine? How do I know that, Jim?" she repeated, obviously not expecting an answer.
"You have to trust me," he said, finally seeing the truth of the situation. "If you can't trust me, we don't have much to go on."
His statement hung out there in the air, both of them knowing that it was an elemental truth. He was holding his breath, praying that she would concede that he was trustworthy and that they could continue on their path of reconciliation.
But his prayers were not answered. She sighed heavily and said, "I can't trust you, Jim. I wish with all my heart that I could, but I can't."
She started crying softly, and even though her words had devastated him, he wished he could be there to hold her and comfort her. "Please, Cat," he said, his hoarse voice just a whisper. "Please try to believe me. I'm telling the truth!"
"I can't let you hurt me again, Jim," she murmured. "I can't." Now she was sobbing harshly, crying in a way he had never heard from her.
"Please, Cat," he said, again and again. "Please, let me come home. I can't bear to hear you cry like this. Let me see you."
"No," she sobbed. "I've made up my mind. Don't come home. I can't stand to see you. It's over, Jim. It sickens me to say it-but it's over."
"Cat! Please!" He tried again, but the only sound was the flat, uncaring dial tone.
As soon as she could manage, Jamie was off to the library on Wednesday morning. Ryan had basketball practice at noon, and they were heading to Noe as soon as she was finished. Jamie guessed that she wouldn't get much done if she hung around the house, so she forced herself to maintain her discipline.
Ryan had finished her breakfast and was just about to start cleaning up when Jordan came down in just a T-shirt and panties. "Morning," she said as she came up behind Ryan and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Hi. Want some breakfast?"
"Yeah. Love some. Could I also borrow some clothes? I threw my wet stuff in my gym bag and got everything drenched. I wouldn't even try to fit into anything of Mia's," she smirked.
"Sure. You can go up and scrounge around. You know where everything is."
" 'Kay. Be right back."
A few minutes later she was back in a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Ryan's thick ragg socks were on her feet, and she looked much warmer. "So, what would you like for breakfast?" Ryan asked.
"You're gonna cook for me?" Jordan asked with a delighted grin.
"Sure. You name it."
"Hmm, I don't remember the last time anyone cooked for me. I need to exploit this opportunity."
"What part of eating with us every night isn't cooking for you?" Ryan asked with a crooked grin, ruffling Jordan's fine hair teasingly.
"You're cooking for each other," the blonde said seriously. "We're sponging off you. Big difference."
"You don't sponge," Ryan chided. "We like having you both with us. Believe me, I don't let people abuse me, Jordan. If I felt taken advantage of, I'd speak to either you or Mia about it."
"Okay," Jordan said, somewhat reassured by her friend's statement. "Still, this is the first time I can remember anyone cooking just for me." She looked over at Ryan with her eyes slightly hooded, and added, "It's nice." Jordan obviously didn't want to waste the opportunity, and she paused to think for several minutes until Ryan began to make suggestions.
"French toast? Pancakes? Oatmeal? How about scrambled eggs with smoked salmon?"
"Mmm…we have a winner," Jordan smiled.
Ryan quickly prepared the meal, setting it in front of Jordan with a flourish.
Jordan dug in and closed her eyes in pleasure. "These are divine, Ryan!"
"Thank you," she nodded. "My grandmother in Ireland makes eggs this way."
"My grandmother in La Jolla makes eggs by harassing servers in restaurants until they're ready to throw them at her," the blonde laughed.
"Is that your mom's mother?"
"Yeah. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" she asked wryly.
"I don't know, pal," Ryan admitted. "As much time as we've spent together, I'd have to say that I don't really know much about your family. You're kinda reserved about the whole bunch."
"Mmm," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have much to say, Ryan. They're not my favorite people."
Ryan could tell that she'd divine little information from her friend, so she switched topics. "You haven't said what your plans are for the holiday. Are you going home?"
Jordan's head shook decisively, as she said, "No, I told my mother we're still playing. She now believes that the volleyball season lasts until just after Christmas." She laughed derisively, stopping short when Ryan placed a gentle hand on her arm.
"What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Jordan? Are you going to Mia's?"
"No," she admitted, again shaking her head. "She didn't offer. It's no big deal," Jordan added, with a forced brightness. "I can catch up on my classes. That's what I've done for the last three years."
"What about your father?" Ryan asked, knowing that Jordan felt a little warmer towards him.
"Oh, he and Candy are going to Vail for a couple of weeks. He's an avid skier," she said wistfully. "When I was a senior in high school, he and I went there for Thanksgiving. That's the last trip we had together."
"Has he been with Candy that long?" Ryan asked.
"No. He had another one before her. I forget her name," she said. "Joni or Jody or something like that. He's never alone for long."
"Will your brother be home for the holiday?" Ryan asked, knowing she was prying, but trying to figure out just what the dynamic in the family was.
"Of course," she said, her expression turning into a scowl. "The little prince would never miss out on an opportunity to wallow in self-pity with my mother."
Once again, Ryan was shocked by the acrimony that Jordan held for her brother, and she couldn't help but ask, "What is the deal with your brother, Jordan? Why so hostile?"
Jordan got up to take her plate to the sink. She started running water to do the dishes, and as she waited for the sink to fill she said, "I shouldn't go off on him. It's not really his fault, and I certainly don't want to trade places with him." She turned to Ryan and said, "It's always been the two of them against me and my dad. It wasn't so bad when my dad lived with us, but when he left…" she trailed off, her implication clear.
"So you felt that the two of them were against you?" Ryan asked, not really getting the point.
"No, not so much against us. That's not the right way to put it. It was more like they were the same person. My mom hates my dad, so my brother has to hate him, too. When I was real little, I was more of an outsider, but when my dad left, they both just kinda ignored me. I got more and more involved in sports as a way to be out of the house," she admitted. "Volleyball was great because there are a lot of tournaments and clinics that I could go to that covered almost every school holiday. During most summers I would go from one camp to the next, rarely coming home at all. So, I don't really know my brother that well, in a way. I've never called him on the phone, and I've never written to him. I'm not even sure I have his address."
Ryan did her best to hide her frank amazement at this situation. She had no idea what it would be like to have so little connection with one's family, and she was afraid she could not even empathize with her friend. She was looking at Jordan, her compassion evident in her eyes, when the blonde said, "I guess I don't talk about them much because they seem dead to me. I've tried to kill any longing I have to get mothering from her.
It's just not going to happen."
Blinking in shock, Ryan allowed herself to consider for the first time the fact that it was actually preferable for her mother to be dead than to have the distant, rancor-filled relationship that Jordan was left with. She approached her friend and wordlessly wrapped her in a warm hug, feeling Jordan's body relax against hers. "I'm sorry that's how it is for you, buddy," she whispered.
Jordan didn't reply with words, but she greedily soaked up the affection Ryan offered. "Will you come to my house tomorrow?" Ryan asked.
"Aw…I don't want to intrude, Ryan," she said. "I'm used to being alone on the holidays. Don't worry about it."
"Thanksgiving has a lot of meaning for me," Ryan revealed as she lifted her head to look directly into Jordan's blue eyes. "It lets me give thanks for all of the people who mean something to me. You're one of those people, Jordan. Please come to my house tomorrow and share the day with us."
The sad eyes grew a little brighter as Jordan looked at her friend for a long minute. "Did any woman ever refuse you?" she asked fondly, patting Ryan's cheek.
Ryan smirked at her as she said, "Not a whole hell of a lot of 'em. You're not gonna spoil my record, are you?"
"Not a chance," she said with a grin. "Add me to your list of conquests."
Mia stumbled into the kitchen as they were still holding each other in a loose embrace. "Get your hands off my woman," she growled playfully, pointedly removing Ryan's arms from her lover's waist.
"We were just making our Thanksgiving plans," Ryan said, obliquely chiding Mia for not bothering to make sure Jordan had a place to go.
The smaller woman looked up at her and twitched her head towards the door, giving Ryan a none-too-subtle hint to take her leave. She did so, patting Jordan on the back as she left.
Mia led her friend over to a chair, waited for her to sit, then perched on her lap. "I've been working on my mom all week, but she's adamant that Thanksgiving is just for the four of us. I don't know why she's so hardheaded about this, but she won't let any of my other relatives come either. It's just a thing for her, I guess."
"That's okay," Jordan said softly. "I don't really mind being alone. It seems important to Ryan that I go to her house, so I will, but it really doesn't matter to me. It's just a day to eat too much."
Mia knew it was more than that, and she suspected that Jordan wanted more than that, but didn't think she'd ever get it from her family of origin. "I wish we would have thought this through," she said, leaning her head against Jordan's. "I would love to go up to Tahoe with you. Maybe rent a little cabin. We could have a big feast in front of a roaring fire." She started to run her fingers through Jordan's hair, knowing that her touch always calmed the larger woman. "Then we'd make love all night long in front of the fire, sharing a few glasses of wine and just being together." She sighed heavily and said, "Doesn't that sound nice?"
"Yeah, it does." Jordan's voice was wistful and bore an element of hope. "Maybe someday?"
"Count on it," Mia said, kissing her soft cheek. "We just need to figure out who's gonna prepare that nice dinner for us, 'cause it sure isn't going to be me!"
"Hey, don't look at me," Jordan smiled. "I can just manage to make cocoa on a cold night."
"I'd have plenty to be thankful for if I had you all to myself, a big fire and a mug of cocoa," Mia decided.
"Can you build a fire?" Jordan asked, her blue eyes dancing.
"You and a mug of cocoa is plenty, too," Mia corrected. "And just for the record, the cocoa's optional."
Jordan graced her with a full, relaxed smile, and Mia found herself drowning in those pale blue eyes. "I have to leave soon, honey. Will you come upstairs with me and let me show you how much I'm going to miss you?"
"Yes," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Mia's mouth. "If I can show you the same."
Ryan sat in her room as she contemplated the phone call she knew she should make. Gathering her courage, she checked her organizer and dialed the phone.
"Morris and Foster," the receptionist announced.
"Hi. I'm looking for an associate named Sara Andrews."
"Her direct number is 312-3344. Please hold, and I'll connect you."
"Sara Andrews," she answered almost immediately.
"Hi, Sara, it's Ryan," she replied.
"Hi," she said rather winsomely. "I guess you did recognize me."
"Of course I recognized you! But why didn't you say hello?"
"I don't know. I saw your whole family there, and Jamie, and I just thought it was best if I didn't. But I couldn't let you play a whole season without seeing at least one of your games. You don't mind too much, do you?"
"Why would I mind? I think it's sweet that you cared enough to come."
"Ryan, I care more than I can say," she said softly. "I will always care for you."
Feeling the stab of longing she always felt when her friend expressed her emotions, Ryan tried to fend off the mood with a little humor. "So…what did you think? Do I still have it?"
"You've still got the magic," she said with a chuckle. "I thought you were good in high school but…"
"Okay, okay, I've fished for enough compliments. Now tell me how things are going for you."
"Things are okay. I was spending most of my time on the freeway, so I got an apartment in the city."
"Really? Where?"
"Marina. Where else should a young corporate attorney live?"
"So, is the job okay?"
"It's about what I thought it would be. There are some nice people that I work with, but it's not too exciting."
"Hey, don't you get bar results this week?"
"Did you have to remind me? My stomach is in full spasm," she admitted.
"I thought you weren't that concerned. You told me this summer that it didn't worry you a bit."
"Wishful thinking, I'm afraid. If I don't pass, I have to take three months off work and study like a maniac again. Add to that the humiliation of everyone at the firm knowing that you failed, and it doesn't help me sleep at night."
"I uh…I spoke to my Aunt Maeve," Ryan said. "She saw your mom at church on Sunday."
"Did she tell her about my little coming out party?" Sara asked wryly.
"Yeah, she did. Was it really bad?"
She sighed and said, "In a way, it was as bad as I'd ever imagined." There was a short pause and Sara added, "But in another way, it was much easier than I had dreamed. I did it, and we're all still alive." She chuckled softly and said, "I used to dream that my dad fell over with a heart attack when I told him."
"Your mom said that your dad is being pretty rigid about this. What are you going to do?"
"Not much I can do," she admitted. "He said this is the last chance I have to turn around. He thinks that if he gives me his permission, there will be no reason for me to try to change."
"Does he really think that you can switch your sexual orientation on and off?" Ryan asked incredulously.
"Apparently so," Sara replied quietly.
"I'm really sorry to hear that, Sara. I can't imagine how it must feel to be estranged from your family."
"I'll survive. I just feel like I had to draw a line in the sand, Ryan. It's not like he just disagrees with me; he feels like he can force his opinions on me, and I just can't tolerate that."
"So what will you do tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I've got a couple of invitations, but it just feels weird to be with someone else's family."
"Would it feel weird to be with mine?" Ryan asked softly.
"What?" she shouted so loudly that her secretary got up and closed Sara's door.
"You obviously heard me. We're having a huge crowd, so it won't be anything formal. Some other friends of mine will be there, so you won't be the only one who's not related…"
"Ryan, I appreciate the invitation, but your father would rather have the Ulster Unionists there than me."
"That's not true in the least, Sara. We had a party after the Stanford game
and my father was entirely pleasant to Jim Evans, and he practically tried to have me killed."
"So you're saying they'd welcome me with open arms, huh?"
"Well, no, I didn't say that," she admitted. "But they'd rather have you than Jim Evans."
That caused Sara to let out a long, low laugh, and Ryan knew she had her. "Oh, Ryan, I miss your sense of humor. Nobody here can make me laugh like you do."
"Then come over tomorrow and get your fill," she demanded. "There's only one way to get comfortable being with each other again, and that's the total O'Flaherty immersion program."
"Okay, Ryan, you know you could always talk me into anything. But I'll only come on one condition: Jamie has to invite me."
"Huh?" she replied weakly.
"You heard me," she said. "I'll only come if Jamie wants me there."
"Boy, you picked the right profession," she mused. "You drive a very hard bargain." She paused for a minute then asked, "Why is that important to you?"
"Because of where we left things, Ryan. You made it clear that you didn't want the temptation of being around me. It's one thing for you and me to assume the risk, but this affects Jamie, too. If this is going to cause one problem in your relationship I will not come."
"Okay," Ryan said. "I'll talk to her."
"That's my final offer. I'll be here until five or so, but I'll give you my home number, too. If Jamie isn't as enthusiastic as you are it's perfectly all right, okay? No hard feelings."
"Okay, Sara. I'll talk to you later," she said as she hung up quietly.
Well this should be fun, she thought with a shudder.
Jamie got back from the library nearly an hour after Ryan's practice finished. When she walked into the bedroom, the computer was on but Ryan was lying on the bed with her eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. She was a little afraid of announcing her presence, since Ryan's trances were often the precursors to some breakthrough or another; but they had to leave soon to avoid Thanksgiving traffic, so she slid onto the bed next to her partner and wrapped an arm around her waist.
Journeys - SF10 Page 26