Lifeline

by Susan X Meagher

  The blonde shook her head, smiling gently. "No, it wasn’t for some reason." She bent and kissed Mia, lingering for a moment to enjoy the taste of her lips. "That was the first time I’ve ever come out to anyone," she said. "Other than Ryan, of course."

  "It’ll get easier every time you do it. Jamie comes out to people on the street now," she said. "If she can feel that comfortable that quickly, so can you."

  "It’s easier with support from the people I love," Jordan said, giving her another kiss. "It’s nice to have open-minded straight people – like you – in my life."

  "I’ll give you a straight person," the laughing woman said, pushing Jordan onto the bed.

  "Now, now, I have to get to practice," Jordan said, giggling while Mia’s fingers found all of her ticklish spots. "I can’t let you have your straight girl way with me."

  "I’ll go easy on you now, but as soon as practice is over you’re gonna be mine."

  "I’m yours anyway," Jordan said, placing a gentle kiss on her lips before she hopped up to get ready for practice.

  Quicker than either woman was prepared for, they were thrust back into reality when they arrived back in Berkeley from the airport. Ryan was running late and didn’t have time to stop at home first, so she directed the driver to drop her off at the gym. She kissed Jamie quickly and hopped out, muttering, "I’ve still got sand in some very sensitive places. Sweating while I run up and down that court is not going to be fun."

  "Sorry, Tiger," Jamie said, waving goodbye as her cranky lover trotted away.

  She was nearly at the door of the gym when she saw them. Regrettably, they saw her at the same time, and descended upon her like a school of piranhas. "Ryan! What do you have to say about the article printed in today’s National Inquisitor? Is what they say about you true, Ryan? You have to comment sometime! Where’s Jamie? Are you still together, or has the publicity caused you to break up?"

  Staring at the ground, she tried to brush past the small but determined crowd. As microphone after microphone was thrust into her face, she raised her arms and clasped her hands together, her sharp elbows poised to jab anyone who got in her way. The school had posted a guard at the players’ entrance, and as she drew near he opened the door to let her pass, throwing his substantial bulk across the opening to stop the crowd from following her.

  She was nearly in tears by the time she made it into the locker room, feeling the pressure once again tightening in her chest. It was hard for her to breathe, and she knew that she was in no shape to play basketball at the moment. Since she was a little late, the rest of the players were already on the court, and she hurried to struggle out of her clothes, while pawing through her locker to find some clean practice shorts. Coach Hayes approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

  Ryan looked at her with a mixture of panic and revulsion. "Yeah. Yeah. I will be. I’m just having a hard time catching my breath. What in the hell were the idiots talking about?" she asked, her face contorted in stark confusion. "They were asking about Jamie and me."

  Mary blinked at her for a moment, then asked, "Uhm … don’t you know the latest?"

  "What latest? I don’t know a damned thing. I just got out of a cab from the airport."

  "Uhm … I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but the tabloids are now digging into your personal life," Mary said, feeling sick to her stomach at the heartbreakingly shocked look on the young woman’s face.

  "My … my personal life?"

  "Yeah. Uhm … someone close to you is obviously talking to the tabloids, Ryan. I … I … I don’t know why anyone would say what he or she has been saying unless …"

  Glaring at the woman, Ryan snapped, "No one close to me would do that. No one! The tabloids just make shit up."

  "Well … they’ve been printing some pretty specific details about you and Jamie. All sorts of things about how you first got together. They’re fascinated with the fact that you and Jamie are lovers." Stroking her back, the coach asked, "Your family knows about you, don’t they?"

  "Of course. We live with them on the weekends. We’re not in the closet, Coach. It’s just… it’s personal!" With a strangled groan, she got to her feet and kicked one of the lockers… then another… then another… lashing out against the inanimate objects with a fury that shocked the startled coach. The out-of-control young woman started to grab anything that she could reach, taking out her rage on the towel cart, the Gatorade cart, and everything else that wasn’t nailed down. Mary was sure she was going to hurt herself, so she got behind her and grabbed onto her waist, holding on for dear life as Ryan flailed away, screaming curse words at the top of her lungs.

  Lynette came running in just as Mary yanked with all of her might to stop Ryan from dragging her into the bathroom enclosure. Her desperate grab caused Ryan to lose her balance, and both of them wound up on the floor, their limbs tangled together. "Jesus Christ!" Lynette cried, running to separate them. "What the fuck has gotten into you, Ryan!" Turning her head to the door, she yelled, "Somebody call the campus police!"

  "No! For God’s sake, don’t do that!" Mary pried herself away from Ryan, who was now babbling incoherently, curled up in the fetal position on the wet tile floor. "She didn’t try to hurt me, Lynette. She just flipped out, and I tried to stop her from hurting herself. She’s so damned strong, I was afraid she’d rip the sinks off the wall!"

  Mary crawled over to Ryan and tugged on her until her head and shoulders were resting on her lap. Soothingly, she stroked her, murmuring to her as she did so. Looking up, she saw most of the members of the team standing in the doorway, their eyes nearly popping from their heads. Turning to Lynette, she said, "Get rid of everyone, and see if you can get Jamie on the phone."

  When Lynette left, Mary continued to try to soothe her troubled player, rocking her like she did her own children when one of them threw a tantrum. Slowly, Ryan recovered, and she rolled onto her back, gazing up at her coach with a confused look on her tear-streaked face. "Fuck," she muttered. "I don’t know what the hell just happened."

  Mary didn’t say a thing, she just helped Ryan to sit up, then she got to her knees and stood. Extending a hand, she helped pull the sturdy young woman up, then put an arm around her waist and led her down the halls to her office. Once inside, she handed her some tissues and said, "We’ve been trying to get hold of Jamie, or your family."

  "No, no, that will just worry her," she said. "I’m fine now. I uhm … don’t think I should practice today, though."

  The coach looked at her player until Ryan raised her eyes and met her gaze. "You’re in no shape to play basketball, Ryan. You need to get some help."

  "I’m fine," she said, her voice rising in agitation. "I need to keep going! If I keep everything as normal as possible, I’ll be all right."

  "No." Mary shook her head slowly. "In the last week, you’ve had a panic attack, you accidentally took an overdose of sleeping pills and liquor, and now you practically tear the locker room apart. You’re not all right, Ryan, and until you get some help, I can’t let you play."

  "You’re kicking me off the team?" she asked, looking like she’d been struck.

  "No. You’re physically unable to perform, Ryan. I want you to see a psychologist or a psychiatrist to help you through this. You can’t play until your doctor says you’re able."

  "Fine." She got up and left the office, striding down the hallway to get her things from the locker room. Mary was right on her heels, and she grasped her sleeve as Ryan entered the room. The younger woman whirled and glared at her coach. "You don’t know what’s best for me! I’ll be fine if I can just go about my normal activities!"

  "You can’t, Ryan," the woman said. "Things have changed. There are reporters following you, and they’re going to be at all of our practices, all of our games. You can’t be normal, because they won’t let you. I have to know that you can handle the stress!"

  "I’ve handled more stress than you can imagine," Ryan growled. "I can han
dle this, too."

  "No, you can’t. Not while I’m in charge. I’m sorry Ryan, but I care for you too much to let you harm yourself."

  The young woman crossed her arms over her chest and asked, "Are you going to call my family and tell them this?"

  "No. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. I just hope you make the right one." She looked at her for another moment, then her expression gentled and she said, "I care about you, Ryan, more than I care about winning and losing." She patted her on the back and left the room, leaving the younger woman alone.

  She didn’t have her cell phone, and she had no money on her, since her things were in the cab with Jamie. Having very few options, she walked towards the players’ entrance, but stopped before she reached it. I’m not going through that again, she said. She began to prowl around the building, finding herself in the bowels of the new auditorium. She came upon some workmen unloading supplies from trucks, and realized that she was at the loading dock. Without announcing her presence, she sat down on the edge of the dock, then jumped, hitting the ground fairly hard. "Hey! You can’t leave the building that way!" one of the men yelled at her.

  "Says who?" she growled, not bothering to look back.

  Nearly a block from her home, she saw the news trucks double-parked on her normally quiet street. Suddenly, the place didn’t even feel like her home any more. The reporters had defiled the very ground that the building rested on, and she couldn’t bear the thought of going inside. All she wanted was to grab one of the cars and drive until she managed to elude the wolves. But both Jim’s BMW and the Boxster were in the driveway, neither doing her much good. While she stood on the sidewalk, looking as confused as she felt, a woman approached. "Hey, aren’t you …?" she started to ask.

  "Yeah, I am," she said. "Do you live here?" Ryan indicated the house that the woman stood in front of.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Could I please use your phone? I can’t get into my house, and I’ve got to see if my girlfriend is okay."

  "Sure, come on in," she said immediately. "Is Jamie all right?"

  Ryan blinked at her and said, "It’s so odd, hearing you talk about her like you know her."

  The woman blushed and said, "Well, I feel like I do. You two could have your own channel, you’re on TV so much."

  Ryan just shook her head and made for the phone, relieved when her partner answered. "Where are you, honey?" she asked, hearing noise in the background.

  "I’m still in the cab," she grumbled. "We’re close to the gym. I’m gonna brave the crowds to pull you out of there when practice is over."

  "It’s over," Ryan said. "Can you come get me? I’m a block north of our house."

  "Be right there," Jamie said, instructing the driver.

  They escaped their neighborhood without further incident, but just stared at each other when the driver asked where they wanted to go. "I have to go home," Ryan said, her voice breaking. "I have to see my family."

  Jamie immediately gave the driver directions, glad beyond words that he didn’t seem to recognize them, or think their behavior odd. Jamie reached Martin on her cell, and he instructed them to go to Niall’s house, since the media had not encroached upon his house in Sunset.

  They had the driver stop at a Bank of America so Jamie could get enough cash to pay the exorbitant fare, and he dropped them off at around five o’clock. It was dark, but Martin wasn’t taking any chances. He whisked the young women into the house, then went back for their bags, and to settle up with the cabbie after Jamie thrust $200 at him.

  Ryan stood in the hallway, tears streaming down her face, her partner holding on to her body tightly. Martin came back inside and wrapped them both in a fierce hug, holding on until his daughter’s sobs had calmed. He led them over to the redwood table and benches, the only furniture in the house. Ryan looked around, a desolate expression on her face. "I can’t stay here," she moaned, her voice rising in panic. "It’s like a prison cell!"

  "Sshhh, sshhh," Martin soothed. "I don’t want you to stay here, love. I just wanted to get your things into a safe place. The reporters are covering our house, too, sweetheart, so we have to get you in surreptitiously, and I didn’t want to chance it until after dark. But don’t you worry, Siobhan, I’ll take you home with me, and come back and get your things later."

  "Our house or your house?" she asked, her lower lip quivering.

  "Wherever you’ll feel better," he said, wrapping her in another embrace. "My poor, poor baby." He sat down on one of the benches and held her tight, cradling her like he had when she was a young child. Jamie sat on her other side and patted her thigh soothingly, just trying to stay connected.

  "What have we done to be hounded like this?" she asked.

  "Nothing, darlin’. You’ve done nothing to deserve this. They’re a pack of jackals," he spat, his anger rising precipitously.

  Jamie stood and went to her purse, extracting her cell phone. "I want to call my father and let him know we’re back."

  "He’s called the house every day that you’ve been gone," Martin said. "He’s very worried about you both."

  She nodded and waited as the speed dial connected to his apartment. He wasn’t home, so she tried his cell, and he answered quickly. "Daddy?"

  "Oh, Jamie, thank God," he sighed. "I was afraid you’d gone into hiding."

  "No," she said with a ghost of a laugh. "Although that’s very appealing."

  "Where are you, honey?"

  "We just got back to San Francisco. We’re at Ryan’s cousin’s house in Sunset."

  "Let me come get you," he said. "I can have a limo pick you up – and I’m quite sure the police department will stop the reporters from following you."

  Jamie took one look at her partner, her dark head cradled against Martin’s chest. "We need to stay here, Dad. I think it’ll be okay once we get settled."

  "Jamie, I’m so sorry about everything that’s come out," he said, sounding heartbroken.

  "What is it, Daddy? I’ve been in a cab for hours. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  "Someone who knows you spoke to the press. I’m not certain, but I think it was Cassie Martin."

  "Oh, God." She sank onto the bench, and leaned heavily against Ryan. "Why do you think that?"

  "The things that were printed are the kinds of things that only Mia or Cassie or Jack would know, honey. I know Mia wouldn’t do that to you, and Jack is far too honorable to betray you like that. I don’t think Cassie has the same moral code as Mia and Jack do."

  Sighing, Jamie asked, "Okay, give it to me. What did she say?"

  Jim paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to present the things he had read. "She had two main points. One, that Ryan uses women for what she can get out of them – casting them aside when she’s finished; and two, that she set out on a path to destroy your relationship with Jack. The implication was that she’s using you like she’s used the others – and that once she has taken as much of your money as she can get her hands on – she’ll leave you for a real lesbian."

  "I am suddenly so damned tired," she said, "I don’t even have the strength to get angry."

  "I understand, honey," Jim said, "but it’s clear that you can’t continue to ignore this. It’s not going to go away on its own. You have to have a spokesperson. I understand that you don’t want to talk, but I think you need an expert to guide you through this morass."

  "Fine," she said wearily. "We’ll be at …" She looked at Martin, who mouthed, "My house." "We’ll be at Martin’s," she informed her father, giving him the telephone number and the address. "Oh, and Daddy, make sure this person knows that the house is surrounded. He or she will be harassed just trying to get in."

  "Public relations people are used to that, honey. It’s how they earn their living."

  When Jamie hung up, she gazed at her partner for a moment, then said, "Given how upset you are, I have a feeling that you know about the tabloids."

  Ryan’s dark head nodded,
but she didn’t say a word.

  "Do you know who sold us out, honey?"

  With her eyes blinking slowly, Ryan said, "I didn’t before, but I do now. I hope that she’s made her peace with God – ‘cause she’s gonna meet him soon – as soon as I get my hands on her."

  Hearing that the girls were back in the neighborhood, Conor was dispatched to the Necessaries, and stood in front of the magazine rack, reading the entire article from the tabloid. When he was finished, he approached the owner of the store. "Hey, Mr. Kim? How much money do you get for selling one of these?" He held the magazine up by the corner, touching it with only his thumb and index finger to avoid having it taint him.

  "Oh … about twenty-five cents," he said.

  "If you don’t sell them, can you return them?"

  "Oh, sure, sure."

  Conor counted the supply and made an offer. "I’ll give you thirty cents for each one if you return them all."

  The man nodded for a moment, then asked, "Do these hurt Ryan?"

  "They do."

  "Then I send back. No need to pay, Conor. I make plenty from reporters drinking coffee, anyway."

  Conor gave the man a warm smile and said, "Thanks, Mr. Kim. I can’t have my sister walk in here and see these."

  While pushing her food around her plate, Ryan gave a brief, emotionless account of Coach Hayes’ asking her to leave the team temporarily, leaving out a few important details – such as her emotional meltdown.

  Jamie could tell that Martin was steamed, but he wisely said little, trying not to work his daughter into even more of a state. "This will all be over soon, Siobhan. Then you can go back and finish out the year in peace."

  "Right," she said tersely, giving no indication that she believed one word of his statement.

  For the rest of the night, Ryan sat in front of the television, flipping between CNN, MSNBC, and all of the local news outlets, seemingly transfixed by the coverage. No one had anything of substance to say, of course, but that didn’t stop the drone of talk. Jamie couldn’t stomach the coverage, so she went to Kevin’s old room and wrote in her journal, trying to relieve her stress.