Never Say Never (18 page)

He considered my words as he fingered the beard on his chin.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that “ Stubbornly, I refused to come to his rescue. I eyed him quietly, stung from the implications of his words. He sulked a little, then asked what had happened with Michelle.

“Nothing, really.” I shrugged, not giving an inch. “Michelle is okay with this. We weren’t serious about each other.”

“Does that mean you and Sara are serious?” He raised a brow, his voice biting and doubtful.

I became uncomfortable and defensive, choosing my words carefully. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.” It was the truth.

As close as we had become, we never spoke of the future. I let my mind dwell on this until Billy’s harrumph interrupted my thoughts.

“Don’t let her fuck with you, Leslie.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “Straight women and men are all alike. They fuck with you until they get bored, and then they go back to their own lives.” The bitterness in his tone was clear. He had been hurt in the past, it was obvious. But hadn’t we all? As much by a gay lover as by a straight one? A different kind of hurt, certainly, but a hurt all the same. As true as his words might have rung, I wasn’t prepared to listen. Not yet.

My voice was cool when I replied. “I’m sorry if that’s been your experience, Billy. But I don’t want to hear this right now.” His eyes glittered sardonically. “No, I’m sure you don’t.” He pushed himself from his chair and stood up, stretching briefly before strolling to the door. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you, doll,” he called over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Somehow I had managed for the most part to avoid my fears.

Now, after only one brief conversation with Billy, fear was alive and thriving, swelling inside me, clutching at my heart and suffocating the life out of me.

Damn. Damn. Damn.
Cursing, I turned in my chair to stare out of the window. Autumn had come to Atlanta. The trees were barren, reminding me that winter was just around the corner. Thanksgiving was only days away. The new year was fast approaching, and with it the conclusion of the project. We were scheduled to wrap everything up by the first week in January. I knew that, if anything, we’d beat the deadline, not go over it. I dreaded the thought, pushing it away, not wanting to think about what we would do, or how it would end.

“What’s wrong with Billy?” I turned to find Sara sitting in the chair vacated by Billy a moment ago.

I looked at her. I choked on my words. I wanted to take her hand and run away, insulate us away from the world, away from anyone who might interfere.

“Why? What did he say to you?”

“He snarled at me when I ran into him down the hall.” I picked up a pencil and tapped the desktop, looking at her sadly and contemplating how to phrase my reply.

“Billy’s figured out that there’s something going on between you and me,” I told her.

A frown creased her brow. “So? Why would that make him angry?”

I sighed and dropped the pencil, spreading my hands flat on top of the desk.

“It doesn’t, really. I think he’s projecting. You know,” I waved a hand. “Equating you and me with something that he’s been through before.”

She continued to frown, then raised a brow as a sarcastic edge crept into her voice.

“Ah,” she nodded. “I get it. The prevailing theme among you gay people.”

I was offended by her choice of words.
You gay people.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She kept her voice low. “Don’t get involved with straight women and men. They’ll only break your heart. Sound familiar?” My face grew red, and I refused to reply, not liking the tone in her voice.

“Michelle alluded to it too. That night when I went to see her at the bar. In fact, it was the last thing she said to me when she hugged me good-bye.” She looked sad.

“What did she say?” I prompted.

She looked at me, lips still pulled down in a frown. “She told me not to hurt you.”

I cringed at the words. “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have said that.”

Her features softened, and she brushed my apology aside.

“Don’t apologize. Obviously, there’s some significance if I keep hearing it from everyone.”

Her expression was serious as she leaned forward, adjusting the jacket of her suit.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Leslie.” The words stung. Of all the ways she could have said it, she’d chosen those specific words.

Not
I won’t hurt you
, or
I’m not going to hurt you
. Those words might have calmed my fears. But no. She chose
I don’t want to
hurt you.

She must have sensed the wound that was opening, because she stood, her eyes softening. “Come on. It’s getting late. Let’s go home.”

The door to my hotel room had barely shut before her hands and mouth were on me. Lifting my skirt, cursing my nylon stockings, popping buttons as she pushed me back against the door. With her tongue in my mouth and hands on my breasts, I fought conflicting emotions. I was muddled in depression, wallowing in my fatalist attitude. Yet Sara was kissing and touching me with a fierceness that I hadn’t experienced with her before.

“Don’t do this,” she was saying between kisses. “Don’t shut me out. Don’t give up, Leslie. Give it time. Give us time.” How well she knew me, saw through me. She claimed my body totally, and as I stiffened defensively, she began anew, with a ferocity I’d never known she possessed. My nylons were in shreds, and her fingers pushed inside me, shocking me with their roughness, their insistence. She held me against the door as my body stiffened, bringing me roughly to orgasm before my body relaxed. Then she was cooing in my ear, her gentleness now as overwhelming as the wildness before. My legs grew weak, and I fell against her, strong arms holding me close, not letting me fall.

As the orgasm had ripped from me, so had the sobs. Tears fell uncontrollably, and she held me tight, soothing me, whispering to me. Then she moved me to the bed and undressed me, slipping her own clothes to the floor. She joined me on the bed, covering me with kisses, gently touching and caressing and coaxing me again. Making love to me again and again until at last sleep overtook us both.

Time was beginning to spin away from us, and each day my sense of panic grew. I looked forward to the long Thanksgiving weekend with trepidation, knowing that Sara would be apart from me and with her family for most of the time. I worried about the outcome and what impact the old familiarity would have on her and on us.

We arrived in Boston early that Wednesday afternoon, stopping at her apartment in the North End just long enough for her to pick up an overcoat before making our way to Susan’s house. After some initial awkwardness, I was surprised at the easy camaraderie that quickly emerged between Sara and Susan. Even as they teamed up to tease me mercilessly, my heart sang as I watched the two favorite women in my life test the limits with each other.

Sara and I spent the night there, curled up together on the little futon. In the morning, she gave me a long hug at the door and said that she’d miss me. “I’ll call later. I’m sorry I don’t know what my plans are for the rest of the weekend.” She kissed me slowly, and I tried not to let her see my worry. She tilted her head back and asked at me. “I really like Susan. Do you think I passed?”

I laughed. “I know you did.”

She grimaced a little and kissed me again. “Have fun,” she called and was gone.

As I’d expected, Susan couldn’t say enough about her. “I’m really surprised by her,” she told me as we sat across the kitchen table from each other, a mug of coffee in each of our hands.

“Why?” I grinned.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “She’s gracious.”

“Gracious?” What an odd term.

“Yeah. I can’t think of a better word. Very nice. Charming. Gorgeous.” Her voice was serious, surprising me, as she regarded me closely. “It’s easy to see why you fell for her.” I beamed happily. “You don’t blame me?”

“How could I?” I heard sincerity in her voice but saw something unspoken flicker across her face. I knew what she was thinking. My smile fell.

“Susan. I’m so scared.” Tears sprung from out of nowhere.

“I know, honey.” She reached over and wrapped a hand over mine. “Give it time.”

“We’re running out of time. The project’s practically over.” I sniffed and rubbed a sleeve across my face. “We haven’t even talked about what we’re going to do.”

“Sooner or later you’ll have to talk about it. But you can’t let the worrying get in the way, Leslie. You have to trust her. As hard as that might be.”

I knew that she was right, but it didn’t quell my rising panic.

Susan’s lover, Pam, had traveled to her family’s home in Rhode Island for the day, so Susan and I went to her mother’s house, as we had for the past four years. Feeling weary and stuffed, we returned home just after six o’clock to find Sara sitting on the front steps.

I was painfully aware of the haunted, faraway look in her eyes as I ushered her inside. Her teeth began chattering instantly, and I wrapped my arms around her, wondering just how long she had been sitting outside in the cold.

Susan lit a fire in the fireplace and busily set about making coffee as I tried my best to comfort Sara, steering her to the sofa and holding her loosely.

“I’m okay,” she repeated the words several times under her breath as she gathered herself. Finally, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, her eyes touched Susan’s briefly before focusing on mine. “I really am okay. I’m just a little shocked right now. And getting angrier and angrier every minute.” She slipped a hand into mine, and I held it closely. Again she looked at Susan.

“I don’t know how you guys do it.”

“Do what? What happened?” Susan leaned forward across the coffee table.

Sara inhaled deeply. “We were all sitting around the table having dinner when my sister started ribbing me, asking me when I was going to bring my new boyfriend home to meet the family. I asked her what made her think I had a new boyfriend, and my mother chimed in that I must have met somebody because I never come home on weekends anymore.”

I stared at her numbly, able to guess at what must have happened, but unable to ask. Susan prompted her to continue.

“So,” she shrugged, “I told them that I was seeing a woman.” Susan whistled long and low. I kept my eyes on Sara, cringing openly. I hadn’t expected her to tell her family.

Anger crept into her voice. “The room went dead quiet like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Then my little sister started giggling and telling me what a good joke it was. I sat there staring at each of them, and I started getting pissed. I told them that I wasn’t kidding, that I was seeing a woman, and that we were happy. Then all hell broke loose.”

“What did they say?”

“My sister started telling me how gross and disgusting I was. My obnoxious brother said ‘Oh great, my sister’s a fuckin’ dyke.’ My dad screamed at him to watch his mouth. Then everyone was screaming, and my mother just started crying.”

“She started crying?”

Sara nodded. “Then she told me over and over that they’d help me get past it. She told me that maybe I should talk to our priest.” Her voice grew high and loud as she became more animated. “
Our priest,
for godsakes. Nobody in that house has been to church in twenty years.”

“Oh, Sara.” My heart was aching for her.

“What happened next?” Susan asked.

“I told her that I didn’t need a priest or a fucking shrink either. Then I left.”

“You just left?” I asked, and she nodded.

“Wow.” Susan was shaking her head, her brows knitted together.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What are you going to do?” Sara just shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. My family never argues. I’ve always thought they were so cool.”

Susan grunted. “Most families are rarely that cool. At least at first. You should have seen my family when I came out to them!” Susan spent the next hour telling Sara and me all of her coming out stories. I was thankful that she was there, taking control of the situation, helping to lighten the heaviness in the air.

Later that night, as Sara snuggled against me, I asked if she thought she should try to talk to her family again over the weekend, and she shook her head thoughtfully. “No. We all need some time to get used to the idea. They can reach me in Atlanta if they want to talk.” She asked me then how my family had reacted when they’d found out about me, and I tried my best to explain.

“My brother hasn’t talked to me in something like seven years. No great loss, really, because he was always a prick anyway. But I can’t tell you that it still doesn’t hurt sometimes.” I paused for a moment. “The rest of my family are pretty cool, actually. But we certainly don’t have the same relationship that we did.” I became thoughtful. “I can understand why some of my friends decide not to tell their families at all.”

She seemed appalled by this. “I can’t imagine that. Don’t their families catch on?”

“Probably. But most of them would rather just pretend they don’t know. It’s easier.”

Sara looked so forlorn at my words that I reached out to squeeze her hand. “I can’t help feeling responsible for all of this. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Leslie. It’s not like you seduced me or anything.” She eyed me carefully as a seductive smile touched her lips, causing my heart to turn over.

“I think it was the other way around,” I smiled.

“God knows I tried,” she smirked. “My mother would absolutely faint if she knew.” The thought made her laugh, and then she quickly sobered. “I hope you can be patient with me, Leslie. I’ve got to think through everything right now, okay?” We spent the rest of the weekend with Susan and Pam. Sara seemed to recover somewhat from the scene with her family, although I knew it weighed heavily on her mind. On Saturday night, the four of us ventured to Cambridge to go to a lesbian bar. We spent the evening drinking far too much and dancing nonstop. Sara completely enjoyed herself, and again I watched in fascination as she and Susan joked and laughed together easily.