The War Within (33 page)

Meredith shook her head to assure Natalie that everything was all right. “I’ve never been able to listen to that song without thinking of you. In my heart, it’s always been our song.”

“And in my heart, you’ve always belonged to me.”

“Care to make it official?”

Natalie placed her fingers under Meredith’s chin and tilted her face upward so she could kiss her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“These are mine. You’ll have to fend for yourself.” Jordan held up a six-pack of beer. Each slot in the cardboard container was filled with a different brand, half of them domestic and the other half imported. “I need to drink as much as I possibly can today because I think Grandma Meredith had sex last night.”

Tatum backed away from the door. “That is so not what I was expecting to hear you say when you rang the bell.”

Jordan went inside and closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry,” she said, dropping a bag of DVDs on the coffee table. “Would you like me to try again?”

“Please.”

Tatum wheeled to the kitchen to check on the steak and vegetables that were marinating in a plastic container on the counter.

“Okay. Take two.” Jordan placed the six-pack on the kitchen counter, twisted the cap off one of the bottles, and took a long swallow. Sweat dampened the fabric of her Wonder Woman T-shirt as if she’d run the two miles from her place instead of driving. Lincoln leaned against her legs, waiting for her to say hello. She reached down and gave him a pat but addressed her comment to Tatum. “I think your aunt deflowered my grandmother.”

“Yeah, that’s way better.” Tatum selected a beer from the container, deposited the rest in the refrigerator, and placed several bamboo skewers in a bowl of water to soak. “How did you come by your information?”

“Let’s just say I witnessed the afterglow.”

“Meaning?”

“When I got home after my shift, Natalie and Grandma Meredith were eating potato salad and fried chicken. For breakfast.”

“People have breakfast for dinner all the time. Maybe Meredith and Aunt Natalie decided to flip the script.”

Jordan pursed her lips. “Gran was wearing your aunt’s shirt, a great big smile, and not much else.”

Her bottle of beer tucked between her thighs, Tatum headed to the living room. “Admittedly, it’s been a while, but that definitely sounds like afterglow to me.”

“I told you so.” Jordan sat on the couch and Lincoln draped himself across her legs like the lap dog he evidently thought he was. His wagging tail thumped against the seat cushion as she scratched him between his ears.

Tatum placed her bottle of beer on a coaster, reached into the bag of DVDs, and took a look at the titles. Jordan had brought a little bit of everything. The movies ranged from a documentary to a romantic comedy to a foreign language art film to an action-heavy Hollywood blockbuster.

“How do you feel about the scene you walked in on this morning?”

“I feel skeevy thinking about Grandma Meredith getting busy with someone. She’s seventy, for God’s sake. On the other hand, I’ve never seen her look so happy.” Jordan slowly lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “If she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Did you tell her that?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Uh, no. I figured she and Natalie wanted to be alone, so I went for a walk on the beach. When I got back, they were gone.”

“That’s right. It’s Saturday. Aunt Natalie had to work today.”

“And I’m sure Grandma Meredith went with her. They’ve been like a pair of newlyweds for a week now—joined at the hip and never too far from each other’s sight. If they reserve a room at the Remember When to spice things up when their relationship gets stale, you’re checking them in, not me.”

“I don’t see any chance of that happening. I think they prefer to do whatever they’re doing in the privacy of their own homes.”

“A few months ago, I might have said the same thing. I thought Grandma Meredith was a bit of a prude. Now I wouldn’t put it past her to have a sex tape on the market by the end of the year.”

“Do you practice the one-liners you come up with or do they happen naturally? Let me check the fridge. I may have some cheese to go with your whine.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so, too.” Tatum flipped over one of the DVDs to read the synopsis on the back of the box. “I’ve been meaning to ask. How did your meeting with Bud go?”

“It was interesting.”

“How so?”

“He offered me a permanent position.”

“Really? Are you going to take it?”

“I told him I’d think about it. I have another year left of school. If I changed my major, that one year could turn into two. I don’t know if he’d be willing to wait that long.”

“What about you? Could you see yourself living here?”

“For the summer, yes. For the rest of my life? I don’t know. Berkeley has me spoiled. I like the hustle and bustle of the big city. The convenience of being able to get whatever I want at any time of the day or night. Being here is like being back in Kenosha. Everyone knows everyone and everything closes at ten o’clock. If I were to move this far south, I’d want to live in Atlanta or Miami.”

“What about Savannah? It has big-city appeal in a small-town package. It’s a college town, so there’s a young, hip vibe, but it’s one of the oldest cities in the South so there’s history on almost every corner. And hotels are popping up all over to handle the steady stream of tourists.”

“I should hire you to be my tour guide. Either that or my guidance counselor.” Jordan leaned forward to take a closer look at the DVDs. “What are you in the mood for?”

“This one looks interesting, but it’s subtitled and we might wear out the Pause button if I leave to check on something in the kitchen or on the grill.”

“What about this one? Have you seen it?”

Jordan picked up the documentary, a film about a group of quadriplegic athletes who played full-contact wheelchair rugby for the US national team. The featured jocks were a bunch of tattooed badasses who played hard on and off the court. Tatum was impaired in only two of her limbs. The guys on the video had issues with all four, but they hadn’t let that hold them back.

“I saw it when I was in rehab after my first round of surgery. The doctors and nurses thought it would inspire me. I was supposed to watch it and realize I could still party, have a good time, and live a well-rounded life even though I was in a wheelchair.”

“Did it work?”

“I wasn’t in the right head space. At the time, I didn’t want to sit through anything designed to make me feel better. I didn’t want to be inspired. I just wanted to be left alone to brood. Fortunately, the personnel treating me didn’t let me have my way. If they had, I would have missed out on a great movie and I’d be even more antisocial than I am now.”

“That’s a scary thought,” Jordan said with a smile. She put down the documentary and picked up another DVD. “What about this one?”

Tatum looked at the cover. The box contained the first season of a cable reality series revolving around four wheelchair-bound women trying to navigate the rocky road of romantic and familial relationships in image-conscious Los Angeles.

“I watched the first episode out of curiosity because I’d read somewhere that one of the women in it had a girlfriend. I watched the rest of the episodes because, even though the woman and her girlfriend broke up a few weeks into the season, the producers managed to get everything right. The frustration, the stares, the pitying looks, the sense of betrayal brought on by a body that can’t do all the things it once could. All the bullshit I have to deal with every day was right there on the screen each week. The women on TV have an air of glamour and sophistication I could never hope to achieve, but their struggles were the same as mine.” She paused. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

“Yeah, I probably couldn’t have been more obvious if I’d brought over a bagful of afterschool specials. No life lessons or very special episodes. Got it.” Jordan laughed amiably and tossed Tatum another DVD. “Is that more to your liking?”

Tatum looked at the box in her hands. The movie, a romantic comedy, was a funny but touching tale of a woman who falls in love with her female florist as she’s walking down the aisle on her wedding day. Jordan had seen it so often she had the dialogue memorized, but the story sucked her in every time.

“Good choice.”

Tatum put the DVD in the player and queued up the movie. Jordan moved closer to her after she transferred from her chair to the sofa. Lincoln jumped down to make room. He circled three times and lay at Tatum’s feet.

Jordan could feel the heat from Tatum’s leg where her thigh pressed against hers. She wished Tatum had worn shorts so she could feel the sensation of skin on skin, but she figured Tatum didn’t want her to see her ravaged legs, the withered limbs crisscrossed with scars.

“This is nice.”

When the summer began, Jordan didn’t have any idea it would play out this way. Now she wondered how it would end. Would she and Tatum get even closer or would her lingering doubts keep them apart?

Tatum draped her arm across the back of the couch as the movie’s opening sequence began. Jordan curled into the crook of Tatum’s arm and rested her hand on her leg as if it belonged there. As if she belonged here.

“Can I get you another beer?” Tatum asked after the movie ended to the strains of the extremely hummable title track.

Jordan followed her into the kitchen. “No worries. I can get it myself.”

“Put the brownies in the oven while you’re at it. I thought we could have some for dessert.”

“Cool. If you have ice cream, I think I might kiss you.”

“Don’t say that too loud. I might hold you to it.”

The thought made Jordan’s stomach do a funny little flip as she tossed their empty beer bottles into the recycle bin. “What temperature should I set the oven for?” Tatum told her and handed her the batter-filled baking dish she had prepared earlier. Jordan set the dish on the counter and pressed some buttons on the control panel to let the oven preheat.

Tatum grabbed the containers she needed, balanced them on her lap, and rolled to the patio to light the grill. After the oven beeped to announce it had reached the desired temperature, Jordan put the brownies in to bake, plucked two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, and joined her outside.

“Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday,” Jordan asked, setting their beers on the patio table, “or are we going to pretend it never happened?” She raised the umbrella over the table and took a seat in one of the well-padded chairs. “I’ve got news for you: I’m no good at pretending. Especially with you.”

“That’s good to hear because neither am I.” Tatum held a hand over the grill to check the heat. Then she began threading the marinated meat and vegetables onto skewers. “I will readily admit I am attracted to you, but I sometimes doubt the feeling is mutual.”

“Whoa.” Jordan came halfway out of her chair before settling back into it. “Let me correct that false assumption right now. If you couldn’t tell by the way I responded to your kiss yesterday, let me say it loud and clear: I think you’re fucking hot.”

“But?”

“No buts. I think you’re fucking hot.” She poked her finger against the table for emphasis.

Tatum placed the prepared skewers on the grill and wiped her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder as the meat and vegetables began to sizzle. “Thank you for saying so, but there must be something holding you back. Because if I’m as fucking hot as you say I am, I think you would have tried to jump my bones by now.”

Heat rose to Jordan’s face, letting Tatum know she had hit on the truth.

“Now do you care to fill in the blank? You’re attracted to me, but what?”

Jordan decided to be honest. With Tatum and herself.

“I am attracted to you, but I wonder how far we can go.” Jordan paused between each word, unsure if she should keep talking or shut the hell up. Her eyes dropped to Tatum’s crotch. “If we were intimate and I touched you there, would you be able to feel it?”

“I’ve touched myself enough times in the dark of night to know the correct answer’s yes. As for the questions you didn’t ask, those are trickier to answer. When the time comes—
if
the time comes—would I be able to maneuver my body the way I need to in order to please you? Would there be awkward pauses as I struggle to get my limbs into position? Would I be able to give you an orgasm? And would I be able to feel comfortable enough with myself and the situation to allow you to give me one? Is that what you want to know?”

Jordan tried to speak but couldn’t. All she could do was nod. All she could do was feel. Confusion. Curiosity. Desire.

“Since you’re asking, yes, I have full sensation in that particular area.” Tatum took Jordan’s hand in hers and laid it over her heart. “But no matter where you touched me, I’d feel it here. Where it counts.”

Jordan looked at her, still at a loss for words. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. How much was she willing to give up in exchange for being in a relationship with Tatum? How much was she willing to miss out on by being with a partner who was disabled? Could she live without shared walks on the beach, bicycles built for two, or slow dances under the stars? Could she live with stares, handicapped stickers, and special accommodations?

She didn’t know if she could live with any of those things, but one thing was becoming increasingly clear: she couldn’t live without Tatum.

Meredith’s skin was warm from the rays of the morning sun streaming through the bedroom window. Natalie propped her head on her upraised right hand and ran the fingertips of her left along the length of Meredith’s bare back, exploring the plateaus, rises, and falls of every plain and valley.

A distinct musky perfume hung heavy in the air. The room smelled like sex. Meredith changed positions to get out of the wet spot. How had this happened and why? The how didn’t matter. Neither did the why. She hadn’t been so in thrall to her hormones since she was a horny teenager. And she was loving every minute of it.

Natalie tossed the top sheet aside and moved her hand lower so she could trace the curve of Meredith’s hips. Meredith squirmed and turned to look at her.