Like Jazz (12 page)

I couldn’t believe Sarah was backing me into a corner like this. I was so anxious about saying the wrong thing and scaring her away, my brain was going to hemorrhage. My emotions were getting the best of me and moisture was beginning to pool in my eyes. My hands started to shake. I wanted to be anywhere but standing here next to her, facing this question. Could I lie? I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. When I opened them, I looked out the window instead of at Sarah as I spoke.

“I was hoping you wanted to spend time with me. That we could hang out together, just the two of us. Obviously, amid a bunch of other people, but still. That’s all.” I responded truthfully. It took all my willpower not to caveat my reply by saying it was no big deal or adding a casual “whatever.”

Sarah closed her eyes briefly and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Exactly. That’s exactly what I wanted, too.”

“You did?”

Sarah smiled. Then she halfheartedly chuckled. “Yes, you numskull. I wanted us to hang out. Like adults, for once. The schmoozing part of the evening isn’t too long. Then I thought we could have dinner, go dancing, pretend we’re going to buy some of the silent-auction items…that kind of stuff. Plus…well, plus I wanted you to get a sense of what my dad does, because it’s what I want to do after college. Tonight we’ll hear from some of the people the foundation has helped and learn about various projects this event will help fund. It’s pretty cool. I mean, you know, for that sort of thing.”

I’d never seen it before, but Sarah was nervous. She seemed almost as nervous as I’d felt a minute earlier.

“You’re not upset with me?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

She shook her head. “I’m a little upset that you’re so hard on yourself, and that you always think the worst, but given your penchant for moving cross-country every other month, I’m trying my best to understand it.”

“Thanks, but that’s not exactly what I meant.” She had to know I was talking about our kiss. Kisses.

She gave me one of her trademark winning smiles. I had to concentrate to keep my knees from buckling from the force of her radiance. Instead of responding, Sarah took my hand, raised our arms until they were parallel to the ground, and held me at arm’s length to survey my ensemble.

“I see the package arrived.”

I indicated myself with my free hand. “Your foundation’s going to need a lot more donors if it keeps wasting money like this.”

She laughed. “In that outfit, I guarantee a minimum ten-X return in the form of contributions.”

I smiled and decided to try out my newly practiced response. After Sarah’s warning that I could expect some attention this evening, I’d spent some time talking to myself in the mirror, trying to get used to flattery and responding courteously.

“Thank you.”

“Wow, a thank you? We’re making progress.”

Possibly true, but it was time to change the subject to something other than me. “I hope I get to actually meet your father tonight, since I only got the flyby. Was he, like, twelve, when he had you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Get real. That man is not in his fifties.” Sarah didn’t respond, but gave me a look that said she knew of what she spoke. “No way.”

“Way.”

“Geez. With genes like that, no wonder you look like a supermodel.” At that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to say whether blood was rising to my cheeks or draining from them. I only knew that it seemed to be darting anywhere except to my brain. Sarah raised her left eyebrow, and the right side of her mouth curled up. I tried to act casual. “Tonight, I mean. In that dress, I mean. Never mind.”

Taking pity on me in my discomfort, Sarah tilted her head toward the elevator. “Come on. I want to show you something.” Her light-blue eyes sparkled and I didn’t hesitate to follow.

We went back upstairs. Behind the elevators on the 50th floor was a door over which a sign read, S
KYDECK
. Sarah pushed it open and we walked the length of a hallway to the corner of the building, where there was another, smaller elevator bank. She pushed the up arrow. Next to the control panel was a sign that read, D
O NOT ENTER THIS ELEVATOR IF YOU ARE AFRAID OF HEIGHTS
. A host of small print said something about unconditionally releasing the hotel of liability if you accessed the top floor. The metal doors slid to the side and we entered. Sarah pushed the up arrow again. The tiny elevator jerked slightly and rose. Similar to those of certain subways, the doors opposite those we entered opened a few moments later, and we stepped out into what looked like the observation deck from some sci-fi flick.

Thank God I wasn’t afraid of heights. We were surrounded top to bottom in an all-glass enclosure. Extremely thick glass, I surely hoped, since there was nothing but darkness and twinkling lights underneath me. No obvious floor. It was disconcerting, yet beautiful. If Sarah hadn’t exited first, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to step out. The L.A. city lights glittered all around us in an astonishing 270-degree view. I never knew such a thing existed.

I stepped slowly to the corner of the small glass lookout, taking in the beauty of the night from the most wide-ranging vista. A three-quarter moon stood watch over the cloudless sky. Though there were too many city lights to allow us to see any stars, the sight was almost as breathtaking as the girl standing next to me.

“Why isn’t anyone up here? This is amazing,” I said.

Sarah shrugged. “You saw the view from the restaurant. I think people forget it’s even better up here.”

I kept staring out at the lights in the distance and below us. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“I thought you might like it.”

I couldn’t contain my awe. “It’s magical.” After several minutes reveling in the panorama, I turned to find Sarah watching me, not paying attention to the incredible spectacle below.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re such a contradiction, Cazz. You’re impossibly difficult to get to know, yet you make it so easy to want to try.”

My lips parted in surprise. When I couldn’t think of a response, I closed my mouth.

“I suppose it’s not fair of me to keep you up here for the evening when I’ve got to make the rounds for my father. We should go mingle before dinner starts.”

I didn’t want our time together to end, so I tried to delay our return by pretending I wasn’t done taking in the city lights.

“Do you like coming to these events?” I asked.

“I do. I enjoy helping my dad, and I believe in his organization. It’s neat to see him in this element, working the crowd. He’s a mastermind at fund-raising.”

“Yeah, I imagine. In the five seconds I saw him, he seemed very captivating. I see where you get it from.” I wasn’t sure what was with me tonight. I seemed to be opening my mouth and inserting my foot every few seconds.

She smiled. “You’ve been taking notes.” I blushed. “He likes having Mom and me at these events because he believes people are more comfortable giving money to a family man. It’s a relationship that gets built over time. Many of the people you see here tonight will still be prominent donors in ten or even twenty years. It’s about establishing trust. These people trust my dad. They know he’ll safeguard their donations and put them to good use, making sure people who need it most are going to get the help they need.” She spoke of her father like he was a prince, or Robin Hood.

“You seem to be good at that yourself.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “At what?”

“Getting people to trust you.”

She gave me a playful grin. “I do love a challenge.” The conversation swerved into personal territory.

“Is that what I am?”

I hadn’t meant anything in particular by my question. I hadn’t been taken aback by her suggestion that I was a puzzle she was trying to piece together. Aside from being concerned that we still had a relationship, I hadn’t wondered whether or how to define it. There had been no brooding over what it meant for my sexuality or my place in society. I knew only that wherever Sarah was, I wanted to be. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure what I felt. Lost and found, all at once. I couldn’t make sense of my feelings, understand why my entire being was mesmerized and possessed by her, or why I felt at peace in the very rightness of it. With Sarah, I didn’t think of the past or the future. I simply thought of her, of spending time with her, of being with her.

Her eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, and her smile lost some wattage as she grew contemplative. With her eyes on me, she took her time before responding.

“I don’t know how to categorize you.” She seemed hesitant, as if wondering whether to continue. Seconds later, she crossed to me in three steps, leaned her left thigh against me, and placed her left hand on my hip as if to steady me. She reached up to the single strap on my right shoulder and, using the back of the first two fingers of her right hand, ever so slowly traced a line under my strap, along my skin. The seductive trail ran from just beneath the tip of my shoulder to the dip in my dress’s sweetheart neckline, continuing along a path toward my other arm.

Her caress was deliberate. Sensual. Magnificent. My whole body trembled at the contact, and my breath caught. Her face was inches from mine, and her eyes followed the path her fingers outlined. I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t stop shivering, though with the heat of her touch, I was far from cold. It was a slow, delicious torture to feel her fingers unhurriedly gliding along my skin beneath the upper curve of the dress above my breast. When she finished, she removed her hand and searched my eyes. Mine hadn’t left hers since she began her travels, and I stared at her as I exhaled.

“See what I mean?” she asked softly.

I could barely nod, rendered immobile by her caress.

“This thing between us,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what it is.”

I shook my head slightly to convey my agreement and bewilderment at what she could do to me with the slightest touch. She raised her right hand and placed it gently on my cheek as she kept her left hand on my hip. She looked into my eyes, shifting between them, examining me. She smiled and brushed my cheek with her thumb. Then she removed her hands and took a step back. I suddenly felt a strange void at being apart from her.

“I need to attend to our guests. Join me?”

The last thing I wanted was to leave this private haven and lose Sarah to a crowd of lustful old men, but I could empathize with them. Bewitched, I nodded, and we reentered the small elevator.

My mother delivered the bombshell the next day. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, after telling me we were moving again. “This is the first time I’ve seen you happy in so long. You know I wish there were another way.”

I’d be allowed one more week at Claiborne. That was it. I’d been so wrapped up in my new life I hadn’t noticed my father’s extended absence over the past week, a sure sign he was already committed to a new base and scouting for a neighborhood his wife and daughter could call their own. Up next: Fort Hood, Texas.

I think my mom tried to explain the reasons for the extraordinarily short stay, but I didn’t listen. It didn’t matter.

I was numb. I didn’t know how to respond—couldn’t respond—to the idea that I’d be torn away from Sarah, would never see her again. To say I was devastated would be the very definition of understatement. I was dismantled. Tears sped down my cheeks. I ran to my bedroom, threw on a T-shirt and a pair of old shorts, and dashed out the front door with my racket and a can of balls. Our rental was nearly an hour’s brisk walk from the high school, but I made it in a third of the time, as I part walked, mostly ran, to one of the backboards behind the courts. In an uncontained fury, I smashed ball after ball against it, praying for one to land somewhere that could alter the outcome of this horrible unfairness. After exhausting myself of anger, I collapsed to the ground with my back against the backboard and sobbed.

“Cazz?” I heard a familiar voice call out. “Cazz, are you okay?”

I glanced up to see Kip set down his bicycle on the half court and walk quickly toward me. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hands.

“Hey.” He knelt in front of me. “You okay?”

I couldn’t muster a verbal response. I shook my head slightly. I was distressingly far from okay. I buried my face in my hands.

“Hey.” This time he drew out the word soothingly. He moved closer, taking me gently into his arms and rocking me lightly back and forth as he spoke softly. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Though it was going to be anything but, I appreciated his compassion and concern. Kip was a gem, no doubt about it.

After several minutes, finally able to muster some composure, I wiped my eyes and nose with my sleeve and spoke. “Thanks.”

He pulled away from me and smiled, trying to offer solace. “Anything.” After some hesitation, he finally asked, “It’s that bad?”

I looked away and nodded, willing away the latest tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I nodded again.

*

Monday afternoon, after Wilcox’s class and before practice, I heard a familiar voice call my name as I walked through the quad toward the tennis courts. Sarah.

“Hey,” she said, joining me stride for stride.

“Hey.” I kept my eyes forward. No way could I face her.

“I saw Kip.”

I nodded, not needing more.

“Can you talk about it?”

I shook my head. The thought of only being able to see Sarah for five more days—four after today—forever—shattered my semblance of control. I choked up, trying desperately not to cry.

A few yards before we got to the locker room, I felt a hand on my upper arm, pulling me to a stop. Sarah tugged gently until I finally met her gaze. The concern in her eyes brought tears to mine. I couldn’t speak. I quickly turned away and wiped my eyes with my knuckle.

“Okay.” She didn’t press. She stayed by my side until we were in the locker room, where she moved to a separate corridor to let me change in peace. A match was scheduled for Wednesday that week, but I couldn’t be part of it. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, which wouldn’t be fair to my teammates.