Because I Said So

by Karin Kallmaker

  “I don’t know that we’ll be able to change their minds. So I’ve been wondering about how we might slow them down. Like until Paz’s internships and degree program are all settled. That could be six to nine months from now.”

  “Josie won’t want to wait that long. To her mind microwave popcorn takes for-ev-er.”

  “Does she keep her promises?”

  Kesa blinked. “Yes.”

  “So does Paz. When they come up with their plan, we’ll need a bribe that will extract promises from them.”

  Kesa shook her head. “I don’t know. Josie can be inflexible when she’s committed to something.”

  “To tell you the truth, the more you tell me about her, the more I like her.”

  “Sometimes it’s not that easy to live with.”

  Shannon’s lips twisted in a half smile. “I get that.”

  “So…Paz. He was a foster kid?”

  “Yeah. He lived next door and over the years I guess you could say I took him under my wing. We shot hoops at first, then I took him to a Lakers’ game for his birthday. Paz taught me how to have fun. Joy was not in my aunt’s nature and it took me a while to get out from under that.” Shannon swallowed hard.

  Kesa remembered stirring in Shannon’s arms that magic Sunday afternoon and hearing a thud of a basketball against a backboard and the sound of voices mixed in competition. “So Child Services let him move in with you?”

  “No, he lived next door. Gia, his foster mother, was good for him. She was completely suspicious of me at first, but once I convinced her I was gay and there was no hanky-panky with this undeniably attractive teenager, we were cool. I took the boys to the beach a bunch of times. Cheap outing.” Shannon blinked and looked away. “It was a lot like having a little brother.”

  “So when he was released from Child Services he moved in with you?”

  Shannon’s eyes shuttered and her face stilled. “No, not exactly. He had to move to Portland. I decided to follow him.”

  Kesa knew her puzzlement showed on her face, even as Shannon’s expression sent a chill through her. “Why?”

  Shannon took a deep breath as she drummed her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. “A couple years ago he saw something. A very bad crime. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I got him into protected custody and he agreed to change his name.”

  “Oh my god. What—”

  “There was nothing official that tied me to him, and I knew the moment he was considered out of danger there he’d be in a new city and his payments for minimal rent would end. He had dreams, practical ones he could make happen. But he was going to pay and pay for being in the wrong place.”

  Kesa fought down a surge of panic. “Is Josie safe?”

  Shannon quickly reached across the table to squeeze Kesa’s hand. “I swear to you, she is. She is absolutely safe.”

  Kesa believed her. Shannon wouldn’t lie about Paz’s safety, and it wasn’t in her nature to care less about Josie’s. The warmth of her hand eased the chill of fear. I’d trust this woman with my life, Kesa thought. But not with my heart. I can’t do that again.

  “I believe you.” She withdrew her hand, ostensibly to sip her coffee. “So, you became an unofficial guardian?”

  “That about describes it. Gia’s love, the tough affection of the older boys, everything that had kept him safe and given him a shot at a level playing field in life was wiped out. And it wasn’t his fault. So I moved as soon as I could arrange it. Same job, different location for me. Then he got into UCLA and we came back. I tell myself he’s safe and he is. But I’m still me.” She gave Kesa a chagrined smile. “There’s nothing to worry about, so I worry.”

  Kesa’s fuzzy picture of Shannon’s last few years was coming into focus. Her own life had hardly altered its day-to-day demands.

  She wished, too, that the sudden departure to Portland could explain why Shannon had ghosted her, but the timing didn’t seem to be related at all. She wasn’t going to ask why, then. She shouldn’t have to, but it was clear that Shannon wasn’t going to volunteer the truth either. What did it matter anyway? Her heart was just as shattered. “I can see how he would be truly aware that life isn’t guaranteed. Josie feels that way. Maybe because our parents died when she was so little.” She struggled to find a smile. “I made a big mistake letting her see An Inconvenient Truth. She had nightmares and hounds me about sustainable fabrics.”

  “Given the weather lately, I’m not sure she’s wrong to panic.”

  “Mad Max Land, she called it. But she’s still too young, and I don’t think she gets the legal part of marriage. The financial entanglement, for one thing.”

  “Neither does Paz. Rather, I think he does get it. The problem is that I want him to care about it and he doesn’t.”

  “Josie would probably say that talking about marriage that way is being an assassin of love.”

  Shannon sighed. “Well, society forced people like us to weigh every unromantic aspect of legal marriage because we couldn’t have it until recently.”

  “True that.” Kesa broke the allure of warmth in Shannon’s eyes by glancing at her watch. “I really have to get going. An appointment.”

  “Okay. Um, maybe we could email if we think of a new approach?”

  Kesa extracted a business card from her purse as Shannon drew one from her pocket. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to email you via the marshals?”

  “Right.” Shannon took back the card and wrote on the back. “Use this one.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Get up, Kesa told herself. Time for a graceful exit. Do not think about the way her lips feel and the tenderness in her hands. For heaven’s sake, get up.

  Shannon was the one who shifted enough to break their eye contact. Kesa struggled to her feet and tucked her purse under her arm. At least she was wearing her boots and her path to the door was steady and quick. She didn’t look back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shannon watched Kesa’s small figure move through the parking lot with such purpose that a sensible person would think twice about getting in her way. Kesa was a packet of unexpected contradictions that was as fascinating as it was unsettling.

  Just as she was about to disappear around the adjacent building Kesa turned abruptly and waved toward the street. A young woman, too far away to discern more details than a splash of purple hair, was crossing toward her. Shannon got a good look at Kesa’s body, relaxed and unguarded as she bumped shoulders with the newcomer and they continued out of her sight.

  Was that the appointment?

  She stared into the bottom of her coffee cup and asked herself exactly what she had thought would happen here. Admit it, she told herself. You thought you might end up having dinner, then…

  Well, Kesa had closed the door very firmly on that. Shannon didn’t even know if Kesa had a girlfriend. She hadn’t cared to know and she supposed she ought to feel guilty. Guiltier. Kesa deserved someone younger, more carefree than Shannon would ever be.

  Seeing her again had swept away all her common sense. She didn’t like herself this way. She preferred a world that connected with clear lines. Puzzles solved. Order established from chaos. She’d thought about Kesa for months and had managed to forget about her—for a while—in Portland. Now Kesa was back in her head, making everything a jumble. She was already wondering how long it would be until she saw Kesa again.

  This physical thing, this connection, the sizzle and spark. It had been lightning the first time they met. It was lightning now. Brilliant and impermanent. They were meant to have fun together, Shannon told herself. If they could leave it at that it wouldn’t feel so dangerous.

  She glanced again at the spot where Kesa and the purple-haired woman had gone out of sight. It would be easier if that were a girlfriend, wouldn’t it?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cami matched her pace with Kesa’s as they crossed the street toward Auntie Ivy’s. “So who was that?”
/>   “Who was who?”

  “In Jason’s. Tall, white, definitely handsome?”

  Hell, Cami had seen her with Shannon. “A potential client.”

  Cami let the lie sit for a few paces, then said, “I walked right by you while you two were talking. About clothes, sure.”

  “Okay, not a client. It concerns Josie.”

  “She’s like a cop or something, right? She was very—like her clothes were deliberately plain. Razor-sharp creases on her slacks. Very Men in Black.”

  Surprised by Cami’s keen observation, Kesa explained, “She’s an ‘or something.’”

  “Is Josie okay?”

  “Yes. It’s not a big deal.”

  They turned the final corner toward Auntie Ivy’s apartment where Kesa usually took a moment to admire the music mural, especially on a bright, sunny day. But she was too unnerved by Cami’s knowing about Shannon to care.

  “I called out to you while I was in the line. Tried to catch your eye.”

  “It wasn’t an easy conversation.”

  “You’re not…” Cami abruptly stopped walking and glanced in the direction of the apartment, which was not quite yet in view. “If that was a date, I mean, you’re not avoiding saying so because it was with a woman, are you?”

  Surprised, Kesa asked, “Why would I do that? You know I’m gay.”

  “It always seemed kind of theoretical.”

  Ouch. True, but still ouch. “I work, you know how much. Plus, I can be a lesbian, be attracted to women, and not have to have sex with them to prove it.”

  Cami stared at the stoplight and it struck Kesa how vulnerable she was. “I kind of thought sex was the point.”

  “It can be. Depends on the people. I only know about me.”

  “How did you know?”

  It was a question no one had ever asked her before. “I guess I realized, like in movies. When Keanu Reeves kisses Carrie-Anne Moss in I forget which Matrix movie, I really wanted to be the one kissing Carrie-Anne Moss. I mean, I didn’t want to be Neo, I wanted to be me and kissing Trinity. Like a lot. And that happened all the time. Not even kissing, just being that important to someone. And the someone was always another woman. So, a lesbian.”

  Cami blurted out, “That’s how I feel sometimes,” then looked down as if she feared the ground would swallow her whole.

  “Cool.” Kesa had never had a conversation about the complexity of sexuality with Josie. She probably should have, now that she thought about it. But then Josie’s movie star crushes had always been rugged males. Talking about birth control had been the priority. “Thank you for telling me that, and trusting me.”

  “I don’t know how to tell lola.”

  “Auntie Ivy is pretty smart. When you’re ready, I bet you can trust her too.” What else should she say? Cami looked about to cry. “It’s not like you have to make up your mind. There’s no deadline.”

  Cami took a shaky breath. “Everybody says be yourself. Be true to who you are. Well, what if you don’t know?”

  “Maybe who you are is someone on a journey. Right now.” When Cami didn’t respond she went on. “Nobody starts out with all the answers. You go along and figure things out. Sometimes you find out the answers you thought you had were false.” Her voice trailed away and she looked back toward the deli.

  “Everybody at school is bi, or ace, or trans, or queer—they all know.”

  Kesa brought her gaze back to Cami’s face. Her eyes were dark with worry and still shimmered with tears. “I’ll let you in on a secret. The people who tell you they have all the answers haven’t asked themselves the right questions yet.”

  “So you don’t have all the answers?”

  “God, no.” I’m a mess, she wanted to admit, but it wasn’t something a seventeen-year-old needed to hear. “It took me a while, but now I can tell you the name of any fabric.” She touched Cami’s shirt at the shoulder. “Cotton knit blend with four percent Lycra. That’s experience. I can tell the difference now between damask, jacquard, and matelassé, but I still refer to samples to be sure. The trouble with feelings is that there’s no swatch book for them, and we only learn their names as we go along. So a lot of the time, you know you’re feeling something but you don’t have the words for it. Or you pick the wrong words and it all gets really confusing.”

  Cami stared at her shoes until the moment the light changed, then bolted across the street, leaving Kesa to trail slightly behind. She understood anger and frustration. Grief and weariness. Anxiety when she’d taken Josie to school for the first time and watched her disappear through the gate. Exhilaration when a client loved the garment Kesa had made for her.

  She’d thought she’d had the right word for how she’d felt about Shannon. Resting in Shannon’s arms that Sunday afternoon together four years ago, when knowing each other could be measured in hours, she’d been languid and spent. And certain, so certain, she knew the words to describe what she was feeling. The light had softened to gold, and she’d felt brave. Had said softly, into the warm, fuzzy glow of Shannon’s drowsy smile, “I love you.”

  Cami clattered up the stairs to the apartment and Kesa realized she’d forgotten to get lumpia. She called out that she’d be back in five minutes and Cami waved in response.

  I love you—the words still echoed in her head. Three beautiful words that became something else entirely when they weren’t answered.

  Chapter Twenty

  As Shannon navigated the welcome distraction of the bus-train links that would get her home, she pictured Kesa’s broad smile as she greeted her friend. She hadn’t relaxed that way around Shannon. Well, whose fault was that? Who let her go four years ago?

  Picking over what she ought to have done didn’t solve the present. She had to get Kesa out of her system. Crazed, wild, jungle sex hadn’t done it.

  Lizard brain suggested they hadn’t done it enough and should try again.

  She swatted that idea away. She should focus on work, on her running, train for a 10K or something. She even got out her notepad and jotted down an action plan for it: determine reasonable training goals, estimate future readiness, find compatible event as deadline. All the while she relived the soft brush of Kesa’s hair on her back and ignored that behind that silken memory were battling emotions, neither of which she wanted to own.

  The aroma of Paz’s specialty chili greeted her when she reached home. Heavenly, she thought, and then, with a pang, she recognized Josie’s laugh. She was going to have to get used to them together, she told herself.

  “That smells amazing,” she called out as she put her things down on the oak sideboard that had been her aunt’s. It was one of the few pieces she’d kept when she’d sold the house in Boyle Heights. Aunt Ryanne had said it had been Shannon’s grandmother’s. It was literally the only thing Shannon knew for sure her mother had touched. Paz, she thought, didn’t even have that. Everything in his world had come to him brand new, yet he was standing in their kitchen hugging a girl he wanted to marry and ready to risk everything to share a future with her.

  She honestly did not know where he got his courage.

  “All this, and he cooks.” Josie was snuggled into Paz as he stirred the chili, and suddenly Shannon could see how her smile resembled her sister’s. Lucky Paz to be on the receiving end of the Sapiro charm.

  “Gia taught us all how to make eggs, boil pasta, grate cheese, and cook rice and beans. She said anything else was a bonus.”

  Josie tipped her face into the steam rising from the stove for another appreciative sniff. “I like the sound of Gia.”

  “She’s a good woman,” Shannon agreed.

  With a glance at Shannon, Paz said, “I was thinking of dropping by to see her sometime soon.”

  Shannon’s gut told her to discourage him. Contact with his past was risky. But she’d told Kesa that Josie wasn’t in danger because that was the truth. She had to start believing it herself. “I know she’d like to hear from you. You’ve turned out well, and she’s the
biggest reason why.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Paz dipped a spoon into the bubbling pot. “Here—taste.”

  Shannon watched as he blew on the hot beans before offering the spoon to Josie. In her mind’s eye she could see him offering the first bite of wedding cake to someone, but what had seemed to be Josie morphed into Kesa and then it wasn’t Paz at all. Her voice slightly unsteady, she asked, “When will it be ready?”

  “Maybe thirty minutes? Beans are still a little firm.”

  Josie made deeply appreciative noises. “They are, but it tastes so good.”

  “You keep stirring. I’ll be back in a minute,” he added, excusing himself.

  Josie took over the slow stir that Paz insisted meant creamier beans. “You did your part too, you know. With him.”

  Shannon fetched herself a glass of water before easing onto one of the barstools. “Gia undid so much of the harm from his early years. Bouncing around from family to family. He likes stability and Gia was fierce that way.”

  “It can’t have been easy for you, though. You’re like a volunteer mom. You didn’t have to.”

  Shannon considered her words carefully. “Nobody has to. A shocking number of people have children and don’t ever become parents.” She thought of Kesa, who had had a choice she hadn’t taken and maybe Josie didn’t realize that. “They hope someone else will take responsibility while they walk away.”

  Josie frowned slightly as she stirred. “I don’t remember much about my parents. I think we were rich. There are pictures of my mom with these rooms full of shoes and their wedding pictures are lavish. But if there was money when they died Kesa never found it.”

  “Hard work builds character,” Shannon opined. Good lord, she’d just quoted Aunt Ryanne word for word. Cut that out, she reminded herself.

  Josie’s mouth twisted in half humor. “Then Kesa is quite the character.” She glanced toward the hallway and lowered her voice. “I know it’s soon, but do you believe we’re in love? That we mean it?”